I have this dream that comes up periodically.  Because it is a daydream, I have the option of allowing it to manifest in my brain and to take the associated emotional ride.  In the dream I am standing in the courtroom, only unlike other hearings, this time it is to finalize the adoption process.  We are all dressed up including my foster son in his little two piece suit and bow tie.  The courtroom is packed with people, friends and family, neighbors, his day care teacher–everyone who loves him and us.  The judge is there–it is probably the best part of her day.  There are many tears and good will and love that surround the scene.  And the center of the universe, the little man in the little suit seems oblivious to what is taking place.  All he knows is that all of the people in his life and ours is there, many grandparents, uncles and aunts and he has hugs for everyone. 


In the past I have been afraid to let this scene play out in my head.  It feels like there is some kind of taboo associated with indulging this fantasy.  Right now it just makes me sad–the fact that I am having to debate in my head and in this post whether I should think about that elusive day.  And the fact that I am again, once again, writing about the woe-is-me situation that I find myself in, having taken in a foster child and what feels like the whole fucking foster care system.  Sometimes I wish that I didn’t fall back into this kind of story.  I wish that I could just move on.  But I seem to be stuck here until it all unfolds.  As I was thinking about all that I have written in this blog, I began to wonder what I would write once it does unfold.  What kinds of things will I be able to say if he leaves?  How many times will I be able to write about the sadness and the pain that will envelop us?  And how many times is anyone–even those who love us–going to want to hear about it, going to want to dwell on it with us? 


Then I remembered that the Daddy Diaries did not start out this way.  It began very hopeful and full of promise.  There are pictures of both of us on the day that we received our training certificates.  Those smiles weren’t manufactured.  We knew that we were one more step closer to having a family.  The posts were full of hope of what was coming.  After T came to us, we continued to hope for his future and ours together.  Then we began to think of the rest of our family.  I remembered that there will be more children, the family will change, we will all get older and continue on our journey.  It does not end with our foster son’s fate.  It just seems that way.  I remembered the final entry on the Meet the Fosters, Not the End of the Story post.  I remembered that it ended with hope: 

There is always hope because there will always be children.  We are hopeful daddies who seem to have love just waiting to land on the next little kid(s) that somewhere, forces beyond our control will bring into our lives. 


It is still true.  I have no idea what our family will look like in three years, or five or ten.  But there will be a family and that in itself is enough to keep me hopeful, even if I sometimes am not about our foster son’s future.