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  • On August 15, 2008 I participated in a Child Placement Review Board call about my then foster daughter. She had already been with us for almost a year, since she was just 3 days old. They kept referring to her as "the baby". This is the poem I wrote after that call:

    Its lonely here
    and frightening.
    Things are going well, I hear-
    Just going through the motions.
    But this feels like more than
    motions-
    the "what ifs",
    its always there
    in every new expression,
    new sound,
    new stage she reaches,
    my baby.
    My baby-
    how could anyone ever think she is not
    MY baby?
    I hold her-
    her dreams,
    her fears,
    She is mine-
    My Mia.
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