"So how's it going with the baby?"
Laurie, our caseworker from the Department of Family and Protective Services, sits with me on the couch in my apartment. Her kind smile is non-threatening. I like her. I feel like she has our best interests at heart. She's visited with us a couple of times over the last month, and I always enjoy talking with her.
While I had been granted emergency custody of Chance the night of the accident, there is still a long road ahead of us. In order to obtain permanent custody or adopt, the state still has to do a complete home study, I have to take some parenting classes, and a few other things have to be processed to get through the red tape.
They're still looking for Chance's biological father, because the law requires it, but Laurie assured me they weren't having any more luck than I was. That will make the entire process a lot faster since I'm Chance's only blood relative, which I am grateful for. Laurie is a really nice woman and seems to really want to help us, but being held accountable to anyone for things happening in your home gets daunting really quickly.
I take a deep breath. "It's still hard," I respond. "Do babies grieve?"
She crinkles her eyebrows and cocks her head at me. "Still having a problem with the crying?"
I nod. "I've tried gripe water for his tummy and laying him on his stomach, rocking him, talking to him, even turning on cartoons. You name it, I've tried it." I shake my head in exasperation. "When he's sleeping, he's fine. You hear him now," I say, waving at the swing where he is snoring softly. "And when he wakes up, he's happy, even when I talk to him from across the room. But it's like as soon as he sees my face, he realizes I'm not her, and he starts crying again."
"Wow," she says. "It does sound like he's misses her."
"It's the craziest thing. I'm not trying to replace her. She will always be his mom. I just wish I could help him."
"It honestly sounds really normal."
"How is this normal?"
"Think of it from his perspective for a second," she says, putting her notebook and pen aside. "He spent nine months living inside Sarah's body, right up underneath her heartbeat. Then for the first two months after he was born, she was with him at all hours of the day. She provided for all his needs. From what we can gather, she was breastfeeding exclusively, too, right?" I nod, trying to put myself in his shoes. "Now the person that was his safety and comfort is completely gone, ripped away from him. You live in a different place, you probably use different perfume and laundry detergent. You even use bottles. So his tiny little self is having to get used to Sarah being gone, all while he's getting used to different smells and sounds."
"And I probably sound like her, but it confuses him because I'm not her."
Laurie nods.
"That makes me want to cry, too."
Laurie pats my leg. "Keep doing what you're doing, Quincy. Sarah is irreplaceable as your sister, but to a certain degree, you are having to replace her as his mom."
She's telling me the hard truth but that's exactly what it is. Hard truth. I can't be his aunt, his friend, his guardian. If I'm going to give him the emotional stability he needs, I have to find a way to be okay with being his mom. Sarah would want it that way.
"Tell me about his day care," she says, switching topics. "Did it work out with your friend's sister for weekends?"
We chat a little while longer about how Monica is watching Chance while I work and how much money the sale of Sarah's things brought. Laurie reports this is proving to be an open and shut case, so far. The only thing I really need to worry about is asking for permanent managing conservatorship or adoption.
The difference? If I adopt, Sarah's name will be removed from Chance's birth certificate and mine will be put on it instead. I know we talked about me being his mother, but this still gives me pause. Laurie reassures me it's not a decision I have to make now.
By the time he wakes up from his nap, Laurie has enough information to tell her supervisor and the court everything is running smoothly here. Well, as smoothly as it can with a newborn.
I no more than shut the door after walking Laurie out when Chance starts crying again.
"Hey, little man," I call as I measure the formula for his bottle. I have learned he cries less if I can put a bottle in his mouth as soon as I pick him up. "You had a good long nap, didn't you? Do you feel better?"
When he sees me walking toward him, he calms… until I appear in his line of sight. Then the tears start again. I unbuckle him and cradle him in my arms, kissing his wet cheeks and starting his feeding immediately.
As I predicted, as soon as he starts eating, he stops crying.
I sit down on the couch, feet tucked under me, and talk to him while he eats, rubbing my hands over his head and down his nose, over his eyebrows, and around his ears, telling him about everything from Laurie's visit to the trinkets Geni and I brought over from the apartment.
He eats a couple of ounces and pushes the bottle away with his tongue. And then the most wonderful thing happens. He looks up at me, and coos.
I smile at him. "Well, hey there," I say gently, enjoying the first time I've held him when he wasn't crying or sleeping. "Are you full now? You feel better?"
He coos again.
My eyes fill with happy tears, and I kiss his sweet face and nuzzle him to me. "I'm your Aunt Quincy," I tell him, looking him in the eyes. "But I'm gonna have to be your other mommy now, okay? Sarah will always be your mommy. I'm just gonna take care of you while she watches us from heaven, okay?"
He gurgles at me, and I finally see the draw of motherhood. It's hard, but these little moments make it worth it. I can do this. We're going to be fine.