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The Babe's court date is coming up. Soon.

The state is asking to terminate rights on the parent who still has them.

Relatives have come forward and stated they would like to gain custody, but they have failed to keep The Babe safe over the last three years, and The Babe was actually removed from their guardianship (not The Babe's mom's custody) and placed into foster care way back when.

It is up to the judge. I know this judge. I've been in his courtroom a few times for work -- but I have no clue which way he'll go.

My family's lawyer will be attending the hearing for us, if only because I'm the first person he'll call when the judge issues a decision, and also because his spending a morning sitting in court for me will pay off some of his debt to us. I wasn't going to go to the hearing, then I was going to go, and now I'm not sure. Maybe I'll just go to my mom's house with The Babe that day and try to "sit tight."

I thought I was handling this very well, but I'm a shivery bundle of nerves right now. What if I get a phone call saying, "pack him up, I'll be there to take him home in two hours." I want to throw up on my keyboard just thinking about the possibility that might happen.

I'm just getting used to this "mommy" thing. The new espresso machine seems to be the key to parenting. Those of you who are childless and waiting, you need an espresso machine more than you need a carseat. Without a carseat, you just can't leave the house. Without an espresso machine, you can't leave the bed when "a night's sleep" = 37 minutes.

Nothing in The Babe's case has changed in the last month, but it still feels like a crapshoot now, whereas 33 days ago, it seemed like a sure thing.

And while we were out Saturday, the mailman tried to deliver a certified letter from CPS. I can't get it until 9 AM Monday, and it has me a bit stressed, the not knowing what the letter is.

I have to tell myself that whatever happens, it will be for the best. If The Babe goes home, I hope it is because real, lasting change has occurred in the last five weeks. I hope he stays home, and does not re-enter the system. I hope that if he does re-enter the system, he will be only a little more damaged than he is now.

Crap. I was going to write a bunch more, but now I'm quite-a-bit upset, so I'll just sign off instead.

Good morning, dears. Have a good Monday.