Notice: this blog is being repurposed to chronicle my experience as a foster dad. Foster with intent to adopt, if you want to be precise.
Yesterday, we received custody of Lillie. She is six months old, is beautiful, quiet, and happy--though as the letter from her previous foster family notes, "she can get real mad when she's ready for her bottle." We spent the day in a cloud of happiness and vague awareness that difficulties would ensue, but that for the time being all was perfectly blissful and so let's just enjoy the moment.
And so we did.
Later, we can get into details--of my and my wife's particular forms of first-time parenting cluelessness, of her current physical condition, of the feelings that welled within me every time I looked at her or at my wife, of the much different feelings that welled up whenever I contemplated the journey ahead of us. Let's just say for now that difficulties did indeed ensue, right around bedtime. But difficulties and all, Day 1 was utter joy, happiness, and relief.
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