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Rick was due to go home to bmom. She found a one room apartment and had moved in. The plan was for me to start taking Rick over for unsupervised visits every day for a week until he was to move back in with mom. The visits would start at one hour and increase throughout the week. By the end of the week he was to have spent a whole day with mom.
Caseworkers would drop in unannounced, just to check on mom and son.
The first day Rick was to go for his visit, mom called me. Could I come get her and take her to her new apartment. She had spent the night with ‘a friend’ and didn’t have transportation. I picked her up, (after documenting the call for the caseworker) and dropped her and Rick off at her new place. She hadn’t really moved in yet and there were a few boxes around, some dishes in the sink and a couch sitting in the middle of the floor. I had a few toys in the car and so I left those for Rick.
I ran to the hardware store, and came back to pick him up one hour later. They both cried, but he knew that he would get to back tomorrow, so the visits were a lot less traumatic than they had been in previous weeks. She sent him home with a change of clothes and a snack.
Things were looking up. I was letting go of little Rick whom we loved dearly, and mom was stepping up and taking care of her son.
The next couple of visits were ok. I noticed the unpacked boxes were still sitting on the floor, but she seemed to be focused on getting her son back, not moving in.
On the fourth day I dropped off Rick. It was one o’clock in the afternoon and mom answered the door in underwear and a robe. She peered at me from under swollen eyes. “Is it that time already?” She didn’t invite me in. I trusted she was ok, (she didn’t act drugged out- just hung over) and I left to enjoy a free afternoon to myself.
I pick up Rick just before supper time. This time she opened the door to her apartment while she went to get him from watching TV in the bedroom. I saw a ½ eaten pizza on the floor with several cigarette butts and ashes in the box. There were clothes strewn about, the unopen moving boxes still there, the dirty dishes now piled up and spilling over the sink and onto the counter. I smelled a poopy diaper and saw it was in the corner of the room.
My heart was sinking.
Was she going to be a fit mom?
(part IV following later today)
