The back-up plan (part 1)

I mentioned in a previous post that I recently became an aunt. He was born just five weeks premature, and a tiny 1504g. Severely undernourished in the womb as a result of calcification of the placenta, he was tiny and weak; dried twigs wrapped in crepe paper, a web of faint blue veins running under flimsy, translucent skin.

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Somehow (don't ask me to explain), he had personality in abundance. I don't know how one so small, and who doesn't even have the strength to feed himself, can have that much character, but he did. He was a 1504g bundle of pure happiness and light, and they named him KJ. In the space of the moment it took me to find him, tiny and fragile amidst the blankets he was bundled up in, laying in his humidicrib, I fell madly in love. Prior to this, I'd had no idea it was possible to be this in love with someone who had only been alive for 24 hours, but in that instant, the tiny, fragile waif of a boy became the centre of my life.

But you knew all of that. I've told this part of the story before. What I failed to mention the first time around was that KJ was born into a less than ideal family situation, the son of an unemployed, uneducated teenager, who herself had spent part of her life in foster-care. DOCS (child welfare) was watching the situation closely, and, from the beginning we were all very aware that my sisters baby could be removed and placed into care any day.

And if that happened? It was discussed in depth, and decided that, as the most functional member of my family, I would apply to become KJ's carer if he was taken from my sister.

I didn't really consider the reality of the situation at the time (this all happened within two days of KJ's arrival, six weeks ago). Of course, I joked about the irony of it all; me, the pure, virginal, straight edge sister becoming a single parent, but the practicalities and consequences of the decision didn't cross my naive mind.

I made the 11 hour round trip to the hospital where KJ was being cared for every weekend after that. I'd pray for him, talk to him about his future career options, and argue with mum about what music he was to be brought up on. It was cuddles and falling more in love, but I was still the aunt, and all my plans for him were made to be orchestrated from a distance.

It wasn't until four weeks after his birth that things came into focus. I was at work, and my sister texted me..

"Mel, can you get mum to call me. DOCS have decided to put KJ into foster care."

I cried, and then I yelled, and then I went home from work early, but it wasn't until later that evening that the reality of what had just happened truly hit me. Plan A had fallen through, and plan B was... me. I'd promised that I'd do everything in my power to take him if his mother couldn't, and I was planning on keeping my word.

I was going to be a mama... by Friday.

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(to be continued)