Wish I Could Hold You

I have not heard of any adoptive (or birth) parents who like placement, at least not fully. Some say that it is the worst part of adoption. Placement is when the birth parents sign the legal documents relinquishing their rights as parents, the adoptive parents sign the legal documents saying they will take custody of and care for the child (you don't actually legally become parents until finalization which is about six months later, but that's another story), and then generally the adoptive parents take the child home. It is a heartbreaking event. Birth parents have already made the decision before placement that they will give their parental rights to the adoptive parents, but still, heartbreaking.The wording of the documents the birth parents sign is "in your face" blatant about the fact that signing this means that legally they will never be this child's parent again, ever. They want to make sure the birth parent understands there is no turning back, but it is harsh. Our placement was a little different than most because Cheyenne didn't relinquish her rights the day we took Abby home from the hospital. We'd had Abby for about two weeks when Cheyenne signed that paperwork, we weren't there for it. She waited to sign because Abby's birth father had 30 days after birth to file for parental rights, without filing his rights were automatically terminated at 30 days. We didn't think it was likely that he would file, but Cheyenne didn't want her rights terminated before his. When we were getting discharged from the hospital Cheyenne signed paperwork giving us the right to take Abby home and care for her. We signed all the paperwork we would have at placement, but another form that said we realized it was a high risk placement and that if Cheyenne chose to change her decision before she relinquished her rights that Abby would then be taken from us and there would be nothing we could do about it. But even though Cheyenne still had the right to be Abby's one and only mom, that day at the hospital was tough. She knew it was the last time (unless she changed her mind) that she would be her primary care giver, the one in charge, that it would no longer be so easy to visit, that she wouldn't just be able to hold her whenever her arms were aching, that the change was coming and it was huge. It is unbearably heartbreaking to watch someone you care about in pain, and when you know that the joy you are experiencing is coming at the cost of someone breaking, well... Let's just say when she broke I broke too. I was broken for her. I did have joy, but heartache as well. I still do. I know that she still struggles. Cheyenne has never been open with me about her struggles, I only get occasional glimpses and insights. There have been times I have so wished she was more open with me about her pain - I want to be able to hold her, I want to be able to understand so I can have more compassion and better comfort, I want to be able to alleviate her suffering as much as possible. But one of my awesome adoption friends told me that it's good that I'm not that person for her, and so I try to trust in that. But still, I wish I could do more than pray.
My song for today is what I wish I could say to Cheyenne, what I could do for her. "I Won't Let Go" by Rascal Flatts https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BW9zMSwKIdU