The first visit at Rebecca’s home was planned for Saturday afternoon. Claire and James drove there with Lily’s diaper bag, the routine folder, and the knitted hat Rebecca had made. The weather was mild, and the streets were lined with trees beginning to turn gold.
Rebecca’s house stood on a quiet road with a small front garden. A child’s bicycle leaned against the porch, and a chalk drawing covered part of the walkway. Claire noticed a wooden swing in the backyard through the side gate.
Rebecca opened the door before they reached the step.
“Come in,” she said. “I’ve made tea, though I’m not sure anyone will drink it.”
The attempt at humor helped. Claire stepped inside, taking in the clean living room, the basket of toys near the sofa, and a folded play mat on the floor. The house looked lived in rather than staged. A pair of shoes sat crooked by the hallway. Someone had left a schoolbag beside the stairs.
Sophie appeared from the kitchen. “Hi, Lily.”
She spoke softly, as if the baby might understand that the greeting was meant for her alone.
Max came behind her, holding the stuffed rabbit. He looked at Claire, then at Lily.
“Can she see my room?”
“Not today,” Rebecca said gently. “We’re going to let her get comfortable here first.”
Max nodded, though disappointment crossed his face.
Claire sat on the sofa and began explaining Lily’s routine. Rebecca had already read the folder, but she wanted to hear the details directly. Claire described the baby’s feeding cues, the way she rubbed her cheek when tired, and how she sometimes cried for a few seconds after being laid down before settling.
Rebecca listened without interrupting. She asked thoughtful questions and wrote down a few notes. James demonstrated how he supported Lily’s head when lifting her from the play mat.
The first hour passed quietly. Lily explored the room from Claire’s arms, turning her head toward unfamiliar sounds. Rebecca offered a soft toy and let the baby examine it. Sophie sat nearby with a picture book, reading aloud even though Lily was too young to follow the story.
At feeding time, Claire prepared the bottle while Rebecca watched. Then she handed it over.
“You can feed her,” Claire said.
Rebecca took Lily carefully. For a moment, the baby fussed and turned her face away. Rebecca adjusted her hold, then waited. When Lily opened her mouth, she guided the bottle gently and began feeding.
Claire sat very still. The sight was ordinary, almost identical to a hundred moments in her own kitchen. Yet it felt like watching someone else step into a role that had become part of her daily life.
James placed a hand on Claire’s knee. She rested her fingers over his.
After the bottle, Rebecca burped Lily and walked slowly around the living room. The baby’s eyes grew heavy. Rebecca sat in the chair near the window and rocked her.
“She’s getting sleepy,” Claire said.
“I noticed.”
“Sometimes she likes a little humming.”
Rebecca began to hum, uncertain at first. The melody was not the one James used, but Lily did not seem to mind. Her eyelids lowered.
Melissa, who had joined them for the visit, observed from a chair near the doorway. She spoke briefly with Rebecca about the next steps, then reminded everyone that the visit would end after two hours.
When the time came, Claire stood and reached for Lily. The baby stirred but did not cry. Rebecca handed her over with a careful movement.
“Thank you for today,” Claire said.
“Thank you for helping us.”
On the drive home, James asked whether Claire thought the visit had gone well.
“Yes,” she said. “Lily seemed comfortable.”
“And Rebecca handled everything.”
“She did.”
Claire looked down at Lily’s sleeping face in the rearview mirror. She wanted to feel only relief. Instead, she felt the first sharp edge of goodbye.
The next visit took place three days later. This time, Claire and James stayed for only part of the afternoon. Rebecca cared for Lily while they sat in the kitchen with Melissa, discussing the transition schedule and the possibility of an overnight visit.
“Not yet,” Melissa emphasized. “We want to see how Lily responds to longer periods in the home first.”
Claire agreed. She was grateful for the caution, even as she knew every successful visit brought the move closer.
When she returned to the living room, Rebecca was sitting on the floor with Lily in front of her. Sophie had arranged soft blocks nearby. Max was showing the baby his rabbit, making a quiet hopping sound each time he moved it.
Lily watched him with solemn attention. Then she made a small, breathy sound that might have been the beginning of a laugh.
Max froze. “She smiled!”
Sophie laughed. “She does that.”
“She smiled at me.”
Rebecca looked up, smiling at her son. Claire felt a wave of tenderness so strong that she had to look away.
The visit ended with a short walk around the garden. Rebecca carried Lily in a secure infant carrier while Claire walked beside her. James followed with the diaper bag. The garden was small but full of life: a rosemary bush, a few pots of flowers, and a patch of soil where Max had planted seeds for a school project.
“This is where she can sit outside when she’s older,” Rebecca said. “Not in the sun too long, obviously. But I want her to know the garden.”
Claire nodded. She imagined Lily learning to walk across the grass, Sophie teaching her how to pick flowers, Max racing around the yard. The image hurt because it was easy to picture.
When they returned to the house, Claire said goodbye to Lily before handing her back. She kissed the baby’s forehead and held her a moment longer than usual.
James noticed but did not rush her.
That night, Ethan asked whether the visit had gone well. Claire told him about the garden and the children.
“Did Lily like it there?” he asked.
“I think she did.”
Ethan looked down at his hands. “Then maybe she should go.”
Claire sat beside him. “You don’t have to make that decision.”
“I know. But if she likes it, I don’t want to be selfish.”
The words made Claire’s chest ache. She pulled him into a hug.
“Missing someone isn’t selfish,” she said. “You can want her to be safe there and still wish she could stay here.”
Ethan rested his head against her shoulder. “I wish both things could happen.”
“So do I.”
The following week, the agency approved a longer daytime visit. Lily would spend most of Saturday at Rebecca’s house, including a nap and a meal. Claire and James would bring her in the morning and return in the late afternoon.
They prepared as if for a small trip. Claire packed extra clothes, bottles, diapers, and the familiar blanket. She included the routine folder and a list of emergency contacts. James checked the car seat twice.
At Rebecca’s home, the children greeted Lily with growing confidence. Sophie had cleared a shelf for baby supplies. Max had placed his rabbit on a chair beside the play mat.
Rebecca took Lily and carried her into the living room. Claire watched as the baby settled against her shoulder.
“We’ll call if anything comes up,” Rebecca said.
Claire nodded. She felt reluctant to leave, though Melissa had encouraged them to give Rebecca space to build her own routine with Lily.
“We’ll be back this afternoon,” James said.
Claire kissed Lily’s cheek. The baby turned her face toward Claire’s voice, then looked past her at the room.
“Have a good day, sweetheart.”
She walked to the door. Halfway down the front path, she heard Lily begin to cry. Claire stopped instinctively.
James touched her arm. “Let’s give Rebecca a chance.”
They stood for a few seconds. The crying continued, then softened. Through the window, Claire saw Rebecca rocking Lily while Sophie sat beside them. Rebecca’s mouth moved as she hummed.
Claire forced herself to keep walking.
The hours at home passed slowly. Claire tried to clean the kitchen, but she kept glancing at the clock. James attempted to read work emails and gave up after ten minutes. The boys were restless, each finding a different reason to ask when they would collect Lily.
At three, Rebecca sent a message: She ate well and slept for nearly an hour. She’s doing fine.
Claire read it twice. Relief spread through her, followed by a small, unexpected sadness. Lily was doing fine without her.
When they returned, Lily was awake on the play mat. Max was showing her a picture book. Rebecca looked tired but pleased.
“She settled after a little while,” she said. “The nap was easier than I expected.”
Claire lifted Lily and breathed in the familiar scent of her hair. The baby looked at her, then reached toward the necklace at her throat.
“You did well,” Claire whispered.
On the drive home, James said, “That was a good day.”
Claire nodded. She knew he was right. But as the house came into view, she realized that the first goodbye had not happened at the agency or in a conference room. It had happened on Rebecca’s front path, when Claire heard Lily cry and kept walking.
The transition had begun. And now Claire understood that every step toward Lily’s new home would ask her to do the same difficult thing: trust that caring for a child sometimes meant letting someone else hold her.
Click here to continue reading: PART 20: What Love Leaves Behind
The Phone Call That Dragged Me Back Toward a Future I Had Spent Years Learning to Abandon
Part 19 of 20
