Chapter 35: Bonding Evaluation #1

The extent of Josiah's attachment to us is evaluated twice by two different psychologists:  one for the Defense (the parents' side which is hoping to give custody of Josiah to Brenda, his great-aunt) and one for the state (DYFS, who I believe wants us to get custody???).  I can't even tell anymore.  Today we had the evaluation with the defense's psychologist.  Next Wednesday, we are seeing the other.  

It was a whirlwind of a day.  We were scheduled to have our evaluation at 4:00, but we had to get there by 2:00 for Josiah to be evaluated by his parents.  We got a call at 10:30 or so from Josiah's law guardian saying that they never got in touch with Josiah's parents and they did not know if they were coming.  So...there was a slight possibility that they could see us earlier.  At 12:30 I got another call from the law guardian saying that the doctor could see us in 45 minutes.  *panic attack*  Josiah was still napping and the place was half an hour away and he still hadn't eaten his lunch.

I jumped into "make it work mode," made a quick grilled cheese sandwich, packed up some cantaloupe and crackers, a few toys and books, and quickly ran up to Josiah's bedroom to rouse him.  When I went to get him, he was already standing in his crib, bright-eyed and giggly saying, "Amen?  Amen?"  aka "Time to say grace so I can eat."  Happy kid: answer to prayer #1.  

We packed up the car and high-tailed it into the office.  We climbed the stairs to the second floor.  Just as we reached the door to the office, we heard Josiah's brother, grandparents, and Brenda come into the building on the floor below.  (I guess that they called them early in as well.)  We found the right office suite, gave our name to the secretary, and we waited for the doctor.  I'm pretty sure I was only slightly hyperventilating when the doctor came to greet us.  We shook hands and he told us to find a seat amongst the six or so rolly desk chairs that were scattered around a small office room with an overly large oval desk in the middle.  We found a seat, and I got Josiah's juice cup out that he hadn't finished from lunch yet.  

He told us the purpose of the meeting was just to observe us with Josiah and for us to interact as natural and normal with him like we usually do when we're home.  The defense is trying to determine if it would be detrimental to Josiah if they were to remove him from our home at this point.  (Yes- I could have answered that for him.)  He asked us a few questions, answers being:  

from birth- right from the hospital, four days old.  

almost 17 months now.

Yes, sir, all of his developmental milestones.

Yes, an 11 month old little girl, Molly.  They are best buddies. 

and He has seen his aunt regularly since February.  

His response was "I need to rule out that he isn't bonded to anyone else who has only seen him half a dozen times and think they have a relationship as strong as yours."  I like this guy's tone and where this is going.  Answer to prayer #2.  

Justin and I stand up, roll the chairs out to the far corners of the room, and get on the floor with our "Little Man", "Buddy," "Cutie," "Sir," and by accident three times "Josiah."  (I know we should have called him by his given name, but I just can't bring myself to do it.)  Josiah is an absolute DOLL, despite his poor night's sleep the night before and wacky nap and eating schedule.  We play with the bouncy ball that I packed.  He rolls the ball across the desk where the doctor is sitting, trying to involve him in our little game.  The man chuckles, rolls the ball back, and tries not make eye contact.  (Yeah, he's adorable. You can just go ahead and say it. We already know.) Justin and I are deliberate about referring to ourselves as "Mama" and "Dada" as we read his favorite books, show off every single one of the animal sounds he knows (13 in all.), sing our favorite songs (Itsy Bitsy Spider, Wheels on the Bus, and what Josiah calls "Ba ba ba" (our Sweet Molly Grace song).  He eats a few crackers while sitting on my lap, hands propped behind his curly head of hair.  Every so often he clasps his hands together and says "More, more" in sign language.  And we play "put-it-in" and "take-it-out of the bag" with toys and books about a dozen times until I think the man got bored of watching us.  He says that it was now Brenda's turn.  I couldn't believe how quickly forty minutes had passed.  I was having too much fun to be nervous.  Answer to prayer #3.  

The doctor asks if we wanted Brenda to come back to the room, or if we wanted to take him out to her.  We opt for the latter, just so I can have an extra 20 seconds with him in my arms.  I want Brenda to see how much he loves us, even though she already knows and chooses to ignore it.  I ask if we should leave his diapers and toys in the room and the doctor replies, "If they don't bring diapers and things for him to do, that tells me a lot about the seriousness they have in taking care of him."  As we walk out of the office, I see she only has a small stuffed animal (which I know he will have no interest in) and a bag full of goldfish (*stink* she knows that crackers are his kryptonite).  No diapers.  Awesome.  

The doctor tells us that we won't hear any results until the next court date- October 4th.  Just wonderful.  I love to wait.  I tell him how painless this has been and how much I enjoyed just spending the time with our sweet boy.  Then he says, "Well, he's been with you since birth, and he acts like it."  He gets it.  Answer to prayer #4. 

The 45 minutes we spent waiting for Josiah to be done with Brenda were agonizing.  After the stress of feeding him, getting him all ready, and trying to find the office as quickly as possible, I finally had a quiet moment in the car to let my nerves bubble up.  Justin and I talk about how it couldn't have gone any better and how adorable and sweet our Josiah was.  I say a quick prayer hoping that he is being awful for Brenda, and then quickly recant after I realize how much I just want Josiah to be happy and comfortable.  I love that kid.    

After forty minutes or so, we go back up to the office to pick up our Josiah.  Brenda puts him down and he runs to us with a big grin, his chubby cheeks bouncing up and down with every step.  I was mad the doctor turned his back before he could see that.  We politely chit-chat with Josiah's family about plans for him spending time with his grandparents again on Saturday.  They take the elevator.  We scurry down the steps to avoid any more awkward conversation.    

I have no idea about how things went with Brenda, nor do I think I will know until October.  I don't think I want to know if things went well.  I want to imagine that things were awful, that he tore the room apart out of boredom, and that she could only control him by shoveling fistfuls of goldfish down his throat.

I'm glad that today is over.  I feel a sense that God is in control and that I am not.  

But just in case I am- even just a little- I dressed us in matching blue shirts and khaki pants.  I figured, the subliminal message of "Hey look, doctor man, we go together" couldn't hurt.  :o)  

God is awesome, and you partnered with us today in prayer so that we could see that, feel that, and know that.  I thank you.