Jailhouse blues

TODAY I MET THE PARENT of the infant who was placed in foster care yesterday. As soon as we told her that her baby had been temporarily placed, she broke down. She understands. She's in jail; she can't bring the baby into the jailhouse.

Her pain was palpable.

I cannot pretend to understand her predicament. Here she is, healing from a Cesarean birth, in a cell with a stranger, grieving the loss of her just-born child who was literally taken from her womb, and then taken from her arms. Yes, she made her bed. Yes, she used poor judgement. And she states she has been clean for two and a half years. And she wants her baby back.

Seeing all sides of the situation adds another dimension. The joy on the foster parent's face; the pain on the mother's face. The foster parent's inability to understand the plight of the biological parent. The gratitude and sorrow felt by the mother toward the foster care system.

I hugged the mother as she wept. She seemed so all alone in that cell, without her baby whom she has been with in a very real way for nine months. She is a human being who made a big mistake. She said she can't stop crying. I told her it was okay.

Crying makes perfect sense to me.

~Ms. T. J.