2012 News Jan 10
And I'm thinking back, to when I had a little yellow tub, and bathed him , one arm the length of his body, his head resting in the crook of my elbow, and then cautiously washed his body with the lukewarm water. It was not easy being mother to this infant, born to another mother, and brought straight from the hospital hours old. He was perfect, and Jim and I wracked our brains to find a name, to bring with us to the hospital, to bring our baby home.
They called a few hours before, telling us to pick up this child, "No, we have no information, yet. Just a baby, that's all. We need a foster home by Friday at five. Can you be there?"
I had to get clothes, diapers, car carrier, you know all the "stuff" you need. I decided to call the hospital, "I am the foster mom, and need to prepare for the baby. Could you give me information?" That is when we found out it was a boy, healthy size, eight pounds, and African American. We were overjoyed. of course, we knew it was a Foster placement, and that meant he would be moving at some time.
So bath time at first was on the counter in the bathroom. He cried at first, but after a while it was more fun, and he would splash and play in the water. He sat and crawled normally, and we loved the fact that his name, Weslee, fit him perfectly. In six months we found out we would be able to adopt him, and by June of that year, about a year after we had brought him home, we legally adopted him.
When he was ready, we would put him into the bath tub, and sometimes even let him bathe with two older brothers, with loads of suds. Kids love bubble baths! Dad would carry him wrapped up in a giant towel to me, still wet from a bath, and have me kiss the little baby. This was a ritual we insisted on, for a long time- I still recall it when he was maybe four or five years old.
At some point, he began to take his own baths, and I still checked the temperature of the water. He would call for a towel, for the soap, or if he needed something. Growing up.
Soon he stopped baths, and started only showers. I was no longer a part of the routine. I heard a lot of singing and dancing from the shower, but I was not "in there". He was in his own world.
All I have are the memories of the journey.
They called a few hours before, telling us to pick up this child, "No, we have no information, yet. Just a baby, that's all. We need a foster home by Friday at five. Can you be there?"
I had to get clothes, diapers, car carrier, you know all the "stuff" you need. I decided to call the hospital, "I am the foster mom, and need to prepare for the baby. Could you give me information?" That is when we found out it was a boy, healthy size, eight pounds, and African American. We were overjoyed. of course, we knew it was a Foster placement, and that meant he would be moving at some time.
So bath time at first was on the counter in the bathroom. He cried at first, but after a while it was more fun, and he would splash and play in the water. He sat and crawled normally, and we loved the fact that his name, Weslee, fit him perfectly. In six months we found out we would be able to adopt him, and by June of that year, about a year after we had brought him home, we legally adopted him.
When he was ready, we would put him into the bath tub, and sometimes even let him bathe with two older brothers, with loads of suds. Kids love bubble baths! Dad would carry him wrapped up in a giant towel to me, still wet from a bath, and have me kiss the little baby. This was a ritual we insisted on, for a long time- I still recall it when he was maybe four or five years old.
At some point, he began to take his own baths, and I still checked the temperature of the water. He would call for a towel, for the soap, or if he needed something. Growing up.
Soon he stopped baths, and started only showers. I was no longer a part of the routine. I heard a lot of singing and dancing from the shower, but I was not "in there". He was in his own world.
All I have are the memories of the journey.
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