Transition Time

The four weeks of weekend visits with the paternal grandparents were intended to make moving Timothy from our home to theirs, permanently, easier for everyone.

The first Friday night that we met them in the designated parking lot, we both got out of the van, held Timothy, hugged him as we prayed silent prayers of protection over him, and thought there would be at least a moment of casual conversation, perhaps to share his routine or confirm a pick up time. However, what happened seemed to solidify our concerns for this move in the first place. The grandmother got out of her truck, grabbed Timothy, sat back in her truck and shut the door. I can't even confirm he was buckled in his car seat before they drove away. It was a pit of the gut, sinking, helpless feeling I knew would be with us the entire weekend. We sat in our van, unsure what to think or say to each other. Eventually, the silence was broken by Mason and we headed home. What a miserably slow weekend that was, as we busied ourselves with Mason, willing, this time, for time to speed up.

For 4 weeks we went about our weekdays as though Timothy and Mason were our own, living, loving and laughing. But then the weekends would come and we would pray over Timothy, cry, fret, worry, pray for God to take our worry and replace it with reassurance....it was such a horrible feeling from Friday evening until Sunday morning.  We never knew where he was, who he was around, what he was, or was not, eating, what he may be exposed to, whether or not he was safe.  It was so unsettling, even to this day, to know we will never know what he went through during those days. With each Sunday morning that we got him back, we were both thankful he was home safe, and increasingly sad, as the weeks went so quickly.  

After the fourth weekend visit we were scheduled to have court again on Wednesday to make the move to his grandparents official, but that Monday we received a call from the boys social worker stating that the grandmother had requested another months worth of weekend visits to 'make sure' they wanted him. We were elated! While we dreaded the visits, this meant there was a better than average chance they were going to back out. The following week he called back to say the visits were cancelled! The grandmother had literally walked into his office,  put her fist down and said, "I don't want him back in my house." While the tragedy of this is surely obvious, the reality is, it was a blessing. Timothy had a Great Gram, two sets of Mimi's and Papaw's, an Onka Gang (Oklahoma Grammy) and a Grandpa who loved him, and would walk the Earth for him, if need be. And, he had us, his home, his brother and our extended families that would never be the same without him.