Last night, I finished the baby’s blanket. The ends are all weaved in, it’s been washed, it’s folded in her crib. The blanket is ready for the baby, and for the social worker to see it.
The social worker was supposed to see it today. She was supposed to conduct a home inspection. We were finally making progress, after such a snail’s pace since September. Yet, just when I thought we could really make it to the next step, we now have to wait even longer. The social worker called to reschedule the appointment due to the weather. As far as I know, the appointment has been moved to this Thursday.
I don’t know for sure, though. Not that I don’t want to know, but just that I’m so disappointed. I had allowed myself to actually get excited about the home inspection because it means we’re moving along, but I now see that was not wise on my end. I stopped intellectualizing the process and started feeling the process. Of course, I understand the cancellation. Many schools were closed today (mine included) and travel conditions were surely treacherous in many places. Yes, yes. I know that.
Perhaps this wouldn’t be so frustrating if the social worker we have were more communicative, were in touch more often, even if just to say she doesn’t have any new information. Perhaps I want to know someone is out there with us, that we’re not just dangling by ourselves, in the dark, not having any information to work from. I can’t help thinking other people are luckier, other people have an advocate. I don’t feel we have an advocate, just someone putting in her time, but not her heart.
I don’t want to feel that way. Especially when I finally allowed myself to feel the process. Now I’m back to intellectualizing everything. I’ll believe forward motion when I see it.
Until then, I can look at that blanket folded in the crib. And wait. And wonder. But not feel.