I broke down and called the foster mother tonight. I had to...I couldn't wait a minute longer.
Her first words to me: "You, my dear, are the luckiest woman in the world. He is a WONNNNNNN-derful baby."
I simply can't convey what that did for my heart. Not that a fussy baby or a not-so-perfect baby would be any less of a joy for me. But, in a strange way, I was "proud" of him for doing so well after the transitions he's been through.
She indicated that he's a great sleeper and that he is so often content to just hang out watching everyone. She described his fingers as "long, piano-playing fingers" and said that he has the cutest, longest legs that kick out as she tries to button his sleepers... on his last visit he was right at 8 pounds and 22.5 inches long.
I just can't describe the longing I felt in my heart. She said she wants me to be with him more than anything but that she would certainly be sobbing when it came time for us to take him home. I assured her that they would always be a part of his life story...his angels.
She then kidded that she takes him to her ladies' "circle" at church and that they're sewing a diaper bag and blankets, etc. for him to take with him. God bless this couple for taking such good care of our child. Her comment was "he may never remember us, but I want him to know that while he was with us he was warm, safe and very loved."
In this situation, who could ask for more?