The first placement review was scheduled for the following Tuesday.
By then, Lily had been living with us for nearly two weeks. The house had adjusted to her presence in small, uneven ways. Bottles occupied the kitchen counter. A folded blanket had migrated from the nursery to the living room. The baby monitor sat beside James's laptop, and I had begun measuring my days by feedings rather than by the clock.
The boys had developed their own routines around her.
Ethan liked to read aloud beside the crib, even though Lily was too young to follow the stories. Ben insisted on telling her about every interesting thing he learned at school. Noah sometimes brought her toys that were far too large or complicated for a newborn, then looked disappointed when I explained that she couldn't play with them yet.
I encouraged their involvement without making them responsible for her care.
They were her brothers, not her babysitters.
Still, the adjustment was not effortless.
Ethan had become unusually quiet at dinner. Ben complained that I spent too much time upstairs. Noah occasionally woke at night after hearing Lily cry and came into our bedroom asking whether something was wrong.
I tried to give each boy individual attention, but there were days when the schedule seemed impossible.
One Thursday evening, I promised Ethan that I would watch him practice baseball in the backyard. Lily had just finished feeding when he appeared at the nursery door with his glove.
"Are you coming?"
I looked at the clock.
"I'll be there in five minutes."
He nodded and ran outside.
Then Lily began crying.
I picked her up, checked her diaper, and tried to settle her. Five minutes became fifteen. By the time I reached the backyard, Ethan had already finished practicing.
He stood near the fence, holding his glove.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He shrugged.
"It's fine."
But his face told me it wasn't.
I crouched beside him.
"I promised I'd watch, and I didn't."
He looked down.
"You always say that."
The words hurt more than I expected.
I sat on the grass beside him.
"You're right. I've been making promises without thinking about whether I can keep them."
He rubbed the edge of his glove with his thumb.
"I know Lily needs you. But I need you too."
I pulled him into a hug.
"You're right. And I'm going to do better."
That evening, after the boys went to bed, I told James what had happened.
He listened quietly.
"We need to adjust the schedule," he said. "I'll take the early morning feedings when I can. You can spend more time with Ethan after school."
"That means you'll be more tired."
"So will you."
I looked at him.
"We can't solve everything by working harder."
He nodded.
"Then we'll ask for help."
The next day, we called my mother and James's sister. We arranged a few afternoons when one of them could help with the boys or watch Lily while I attended appointments.
It wasn't a perfect system, but it gave us room to breathe.
Meanwhile, the placement review approached.
Melissa had explained that the meeting would evaluate Lily's adjustment, our ability to meet her needs, and the progress of the search for permanent arrangements.
I prepared a list of questions.
Had the authorities found any additional relatives? Was Rebecca still interested? What would happen if she were approved? Could we remain involved in Lily's life if she eventually moved?
I wrote each question in a notebook and kept adding to the list whenever another concern occurred to me.
James tried to reassure me.
"We'll get answers on Tuesday."
I nodded.
But I knew that answers did not necessarily mean certainty.
On the morning of the review, I dressed Lily in a pale yellow sleeper and packed her diaper bag. James checked the car seat while I gathered the placement documents.
The boys were at school, and the house felt unusually quiet as we prepared to leave.
At the child welfare center, Melissa greeted us and led us into the same meeting room where we had first discussed temporary placement.
Daniel was there too.
He asked how Lily had been sleeping, whether she was feeding consistently, and whether we had noticed any medical concerns.
I described her routine and explained that she had begun settling more easily in the evenings. We had arranged a pediatric appointment, and the doctor had been satisfied with her growth.
James talked about the household schedule and the support we had received from our families.
Then Melissa asked how the boys were adjusting.
I answered honestly.
"They love her. But there have been some difficult moments. Ethan feels that I'm less available, and Ben has been frustrated about the changes."
"How have you responded?"
"We're trying to protect individual time with each child. We've also asked relatives to help so that the boys don't feel every family activity has to revolve around the baby."
Melissa nodded.
"That's encouraging."
I looked at Daniel.
"Have you made a decision about Rebecca?"
He opened his folder.
"Her assessment is continuing. She has expressed a strong interest in caring for Lily, but the team still needs to evaluate several factors."
"What factors?"
"Her household's readiness, the practical support available, and the longer-term implications for everyone involved."
James leaned forward.
"Is there a chance Lily could move to her home soon?"
Daniel took a moment before answering.
"It's possible, but no decision has been made."
I felt my stomach tighten.
I had known this conversation was coming. Still, hearing the possibility spoken aloud made my chest ache.
Melissa noticed my expression.
"I want to remind you that temporary placement is designed to protect children while decisions are being made. It's important that you continue to focus on Lily's immediate needs without assuming the final outcome."
I nodded.
Then I asked the question I had been carrying since the first day.
"If Lily leaves our home, will she know we cared for her?"
Melissa's expression softened.
"Her records will reflect the care she's received. Depending on the final arrangement and what is appropriate, there may be opportunities for continued contact. But we can't promise that until the legal and placement questions are resolved."
I looked down at Lily.
She was sleeping in her carrier, one hand resting against her cheek.
The thought of her leaving was painful. But the thought of pretending that our attachment gave us ownership over her future was worse.
I took a slow breath.
"We want what's best for her," I said.
Daniel nodded.
"That's the foundation of every decision we're making."
After the meeting, Melissa asked whether we had time to speak privately.
James and I followed her into a smaller office.
She closed the door and sat across from us.
"There's something important I want to discuss," she began.
My hands went cold.
"Is it about Rebecca?"
"Partly."
Melissa explained that Rebecca had completed more of her assessment and had asked to spend time with Lily under supervision. The team believed a meeting could help everyone understand whether a family placement was realistic.
I looked at James.
"Would that happen while Lily is still with us?"
"Yes. If the meeting is approved, Lily would remain in your care unless the authorities determine that a change is necessary."
I nodded.
"What about the father?"
Melissa opened another document.
"He has not requested custody. However, he has now agreed to provide additional information about Anna and the circumstances surrounding the marriage."
I stared at her.
"What kind of information?"
"That will depend on the interview. We don't want to speculate before speaking with him."
James leaned forward.
"Has he asked to meet Lily?"
"Not at this stage."
I felt a flicker of anger.
The man had declined custody, and now he was offering information about the woman who had died and the baby he had refused to raise.
Part of me wanted to demand that he explain himself.
Another part understood that Lily might someday need accurate information about her biological father, even if she never developed a relationship with him.
"Will we be told what he says?" I asked.
"Any information relevant to Lily's care and welfare will be shared as appropriate."
We left the office with more questions than answers.
On the drive home, James remained unusually quiet.
I finally turned toward him.
"What are you thinking?"
"That Anna's life had so many parts we never knew about."
I nodded.
"Her marriage. Her friends. The years between our meeting and the hospital."
"And now the father is talking."
I looked through the windshield.
"Maybe there are things Lily deserves to know."
James tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"Yes."
That evening, after dinner, I took Lily upstairs and settled into the rocking chair. She had been restless all afternoon, but now she seemed content to lie against my chest.
I looked down at her face.
Her eyes were closed. Her mouth moved slightly, as though she were dreaming about something too small and distant for me to understand.
I thought about Anna's letter.
If you cannot help, I hope someone kind will.
For weeks, I had interpreted those words as a request James had failed to receive in time. Now I understood them differently.
Anna had not been asking for a particular man to save her daughter. She had been hoping that someone would make sure Lily was loved.
That was a promise I could make without knowing what the authorities would decide.
I kissed Lily's forehead.
"Whatever happens, you're going to know you were wanted," I whispered.
Then my phone vibrated on the side table.
A message from Melissa appeared.
She had spoken with Lily's biological father. He had shared information about Anna that the case team believed might be important to our understanding of the situation.
Melissa wanted to arrange another meeting as soon as possible.
I stared at the message while Lily slept against me.
The story of her birth mother was still unfolding, and the next piece of it might change how we understood the family we were trying to build.
Click here to continue reading: PART 13: What the Father Finally Told Them
The Phone Call That Dragged Me Back Toward a Future I Had Spent Years Learning to Abandon
Part 12 of 20
