Georgene Smith Goodin
Dependency Court
Edelman Children’s Courthouse, the court for Los Angeles foster care, has a display of stuffed animals in the lobby.
Sorry your life’s in tatters, kid. Have a bear.
The Bonus Baby
Even though we are only certified to foster two children, when The Mother gives birth again, we are asked to take the newborn.
“I’m old enough to be The Mother’s mother,” I say. “Can’t I just adopt her?”
The answer is no.
Time Distortions
We are only supposed to have the Bonus Baby for a few weeks, but courts are clogged, the continuances are endless. She, and her sisters, will stay with us another fourteen months.
The Middle Girl
Even though she is just a year old, she rages.
She doesn’t yet have words, not even sounds that could be construed as phonemes, so she communicates with her tiny fists. She bruises my arm, cracks the thick white plastic high chair tray.
When she finally makes the “mmm” sound, I coax that into “more.” Most people would turn that into Mama, but what if she calls me that and The Mother is upset?
The Father
When the lawyer says, “the foster parent is present,” Papa stands to look for me, stumbles in his shackles. I’ve been told he has gang ties, has committed armed robbery, but he flashes a grin I swear means, “thank you for taking care of my girls.”
I decide I like him.
Reunification
The girls are returned to the care of The Mother. At her request, the judge orders me to stay involved. The Mother knows losing her own mother damaged her; she thinks her girls will be damaged if they lose me.
Family Court
The Mother is not concerned about the girls’ losing Papa. She rushes to obtain sole custody, allows him only one phone call from the prison.
“He called me his princesa,” the Oldest Girl exclaims, the next time I see her. “He wants to take me fishing.”
The Mother
The Mother calls me her “other mommy.”
She texts on Mother’s Day to thank me for being her daughters’ second mom.
911
When I pick up the girls to babysit, the Bonus Baby is black and blue. Her eyes roll around. She struggles to breathe.
When I call for an ambulance, the dispatcher wants more info.
“Please just send help,” I beg.
“Can you hear those sirens?” she replies. “They’re almost there.”
The Police
The first set of detectives interview me in a hallway at Children’s Hospital. The second interview happens at my dining room table. Laundry is piled in neat stacks at one end of it.
A detective asks, “Would the two of you be willing to take a polygraph so we could eliminate you as suspects?”
“Polygraphs are pseudoscience,” says my husband.
The detective correctly infers that this is our refusal.
The Press
The Bonus Baby is included in an editorial in the Los Angeles Times. “An as-yet unnamed 2-year-old girl who also was on the DCFS’ radar,” they write “very nearly died on July 9.”
The Dependency Investigator
The DCFS Social Worker says, “Foster parents are supposed to walk away when the case ends. But your boundaries are so bad you became suspects in a felony child abuse case.”
“If my options were to be a suspect in a felony child abuse case,” I respond, “or free and clear in a child murder case, I’m happy with my choices.”
Later in this interview, she will say the police were “stupid” to list us as suspects.
Criminal Court
Two other cases are quickly handled before The Mother pleads “no contest.” I sob openly at the words “grave bodily harm to a two-year-old,” cry so loudly, people turn and stare. I fumble for a tissue, come up empty-handed.
The Mother is given three weeks to get her affairs in order before going to jail. I stand and meet her as she walks down the courtroom aisle.
Victim Notification
I’m at the park with the kids when the text comes. The Mother has been released after serving 21 days of a one-year sentence.
The Bonus Baby spent more than twice that in Children’s Hospital.
Video Visits
Middle Daughter, during her first video visit asks, “Why are you crying Papa?”
Papa says, “Because I want to be there with you.”
The Child Family Team
After parental rights are terminated, The Mother blows off a meeting to plan continued contact with her kids.
I refuse to reschedule.
Adoption
The judge says she likes to inject humor into hearings but people who say they’re funny never are.
“Through this adoption,” she says, “you have agreed to confer upon these children the same rights and privileges as your natural born issue.”
“Yeah,” yells the Middle Daughter, “like trick-or-treating.”
The Family You Choose
Middle Daughter, during her second trip to the prison to visit asks, “Why are you crying, Papa?”
He says, “Because sometimes good things happen to good people.”
Postscript: We were excited for Papa, Kelvin Rivera Membreño, to participate more fully in our family when he was paroled but he was turned over to ICE instead of being freed into the community. Upon arrival in El Salvador, he was incarcerated due to a tattoo. He is currently housed at CECOT, where no one has been able to communicate with him.
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Georgene Smith Goodin’s essays have appeared in The Washington Post and The Boston Globe. She is currently working on a memoir. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, the cartoonist Robert Goodin, and their four children. Follow her on Bluesky, @gsmithgoodin.bsky.social.