Croi and I have gotten into some funny conversations of late. She knows my tendency to plan 17 steps ahead, and does not want me (or her) to be heartbroken if things do not go according to plan.
At first, we weren’t going to tell anyone that we were applying to be foster parents until we were actually licensed. Fear of embarrassment if we were denied. Well, that was her plan. I’m not sure I ever agreed to go along with it.
Then, we slowly started telling a few people. And, it seemed pretty natural, so we told a few more.
We were walking down the street, and several pregnant women passed. I was telling Croi that I try to figure out “how pregnant” we are. She insisted we are “not pregnant” yet and reminded me not to put the cart before the horse.
We talked about what “being pregnant” when you are foster to adopting means. Does it mean you know there is a baby coming? When it that magic time for fostering? We walked in silence for awhile, thinking about the babies out there we are already trying not to get too attached to.
Then it hit me–we filled out our paperwork and mailed it in. In about two weeks a social worker will come to our house. They won’t license us that day, but we are hoping for a “thumbs up.” As in–yes, your house looks ok, you two look ok, I would continue the planning process. Go ahead and paint the nursery!
It’s a two-week wait.