How Green Becomes Wood

Dark didn't say a word as they were out in the hall. Every worst case scenario was rushing through his head. She had a birth mark on her left shoulder, what if it was mistaken for a bruise? What if it was used as evidence? He had told Daizi about it, but would she mention it? Would she think to? She was small, did they understand she was preterm? What if they didn't have that information? Her size was good, considering, but for a one month old she was small. He stared into the middle distance for four minutes and twenty-three seconds and thought. It was a horrible thing to go through with the twins, but at least they could speak up for themselves.

For once, Daizi didn't correct the prefix used to address her. She didn't even hear it, she was busy dressing Ivy again. It was November, it was cold, she didn't like leaving her exposed for too long, "No," she said, still in a small voice, "I don't like leaving her on a floor I'm not on. We have a cradle downstairs, I can bring her with us." She didn't know if Mrs. Smith would argue that point, she didn't know if it was some rule that the baby needed to be elsewhere while they spoke, but if it was, she'd fight against it. It was bad enough she needed to strip her baby down for a stranger, she wouldn't leave her where, if something happened, she would need to dash upstairs to help.
 
"Very well," Mrs. Smith said neutrally, making a mark. Most parents would choose to leave their children in another room so they wouldn't have to be around the stress of the conversation, even if they didn't understand the words. It was neither a negative nor a positive thing, just a note. It would be a short conversation. "As long as she is in a secure environment. It would probably be for the best if you were not holding her." She turned and let herself out of the room.

"To the living room?" Mr. Constable asked, pushing himself up from the wall. "Right, then. Not you two."

Xander glared at him. "Why?"

"Because your fosters are stressed enough without worrying about how you're going to react," he replied calmly. Lowering his voice, he added, "Ain't nothing stopping you from listening in on the stairs, though." He winked and headed downstairs with Mrs. Smith.

Alec pressed up against Xander, watching worriedly.
 
"Why?" Daizi asked, even though she wasn't planning on holding her during the conversation anyway. But she didn't like being ordered not to hold her child. And the sound of the Mrs. Smith writing made her want to scream, what had she said? Only that she wanted to be nearby in case something happened, why would that need to be marked down? Or had she seen something in the nursery? What if they had some toy that had been recalled while they were in the hospital?

"She has a birthmark on her left shoulder," Dark said as soon as he saw Mrs. Smith, "it is not a bruise, it is a birthmark, I can show you pictures, she has always had it. And she was born six weeks early, we are still a little while before her due date, so you cannot expect her to be the size she would be if she was meant to be born in October." He watched her intensely for any reaction, following her to the living room, taking a quick look back at his boys, wishing there was something he could say. A new thought popped into his head: If they took Ivy, would they take Alec and Xander too? He knew he and Daizi hadn't done anything, but he knew the world was unfair and he knew sometimes people had their kids taken off them even if they hadn't done anything, because sometimes the system failed.

In the living room, Daizi gently placed Ivy in her cradle and bent to kiss her forehead. Ivy fussed a little upon being set down, but settled quickly when Daizi spoke sweet words to her. It was not until she was completely confident Ivy was calm and resting that she sat down, and she and Dark gripped each other's hand tightly.
 
Xander and Alec huddled out of sight at the top of the stairs, listening intently.

Mrs. Smith sat on 5he edge of the chair. "Yes, I saw the birthmark, very cute," she replied amicably. "How premature was she born?"

Lance Constable stayed standing, moving to the farmer's side of the room and trying to discreetly check his phone messages.
 
"Six weeks." Daizi murmured, "She was born at 34, and only came home at would have been 36."

"She has only been home for two weeks and already someone has reported us for neglect and abuse." Dark said flatly, and for the first time he felt not only fear and panic, but anger. Two weeks. It had taken two weeks for them to be accused of mistreating their daughter.
 
"It happens," Mrs. Smith said vaguely. "All it takes is one misunderstanding or one scene out of context. Alright, so for the record, that would make her four weeks old, correct? And you do not have any nannies, babysitters, or family members with exclusive access to her when you are not around?"
 
"Four weeks, yes," Dark answered, "She weighed four pounds, eight ounces when she was born, and obviously she weighs more than that now, so you cannot claim she has not been fed. And Daizi is a milk donor."

"What do you mean 'exclusive' access?" Daizi asked, "My aunt stayed with us for a week, but her visa expired and she needed to go home. We have friends who are willing to watch her, we don't have any blood relatives this side of the Atlantic, but she eats so regularly we haven't left her in anyone else's care."

"The boys are here, they help to take care of the house and our pets," Dark added.
 
"By exclusive I mean extended periods of time alone," Mrs. Smith replied, making a couple more notes. "Which it does not sound like it applies. She is responsive, so that's good, lays down well." She paused and added a couple of notes. "Purely an off-the-record recommendation, but you might want to consider a baby monitor. They make some excellent models these days with minimal static so you can properly hear everything going on, and some have video feed. Even apps for your phone. It might give you some freedom and peace of mind when nap time comes." She closed her book and stood up. "And that's it. Thank you for your time."
 
"We have a baby monitor," Dark said, "but it is recommended to have the baby sleep in the parents' room for the first six months, and we were told not to have her on a different floor than us."

"Wait, what do you mean 'that's it'? Are you sorry for wasting our time? Or are you going to escalate this? You can't just leave without telling us anything, this is our lives." Daizi asked, near pleading. This intrusion was bad, a hanging axe was worse.
 
"Apologies, I hadn't seen the monitor," Mrs. Smith calmly. She turned to Daizi, frowning. "Ma'am, please relax. I said that is it, and that is what I meant. You have two fosters. Surely you must understand how this system works. It is incredibly rare for a first-time visit to end in us immediately taking away children. No one is cowering in fear, no one is hiding signs of injury, no one is obviously malnourished, your home is one of the cleanest I've ever seen, and your baby is alert and responsive even when freshly fed. Yes, we are far more proactive with infants than older children, but I think you can understand why that is. Unless I get another call, there is no reason for us to escalate anything, and if there was a reason, I would have said so. Did you not attend any of the foster parent seminars?" She seemed genuinely puzzled and confused with a bit of frustration as to why Daizi seemed so certain she was going to take the children or really do anything at all.

"It was a sudden event thrust upon them, not a volunteer situation," Mr. Constible said, stepping forward. "They missed out on a lot of the usual stuff, but I did leave them some pamphlets. When I saw them for their foster kids."

"Ah, that explains a few things," Mrs. Smith sighed. "Everything looks fine. So now we'll be on our way. We have a few other stops to make and paperwork to do, but as far as we are concerned, unless there's another call, you are in the clear."
 
"I don't think you understand what it's like to be on this side of things," Daizi murmured, feeling stupid and ignored, "I was only asking questions." She was sleep deprived, near enough to the birth that she was still bleeding, and scared. And she feared why they had been so swiftly reported.

Dark held her hand more tightly, "And if there is another call? Then you come back and put us through all this a second time, and if there is a third? I do not suppose we will ever be allowed to know why people think we are doing something wrong."
 
Mrs. Smith sighed and sat back down. "Look, people report these things for all sorts of reasons. For some, it is as simple as seeing a parent lose their temper and yell at their child. It might be the only time they have ever lost their temper and quickly regained themselves, but someone saw and thought it was something they should report. Sometimes, it is stupidity and ignorance, like seeing a Middle Easterner with two very white children and deciding that they are being kidnapped. The same can happen with biracial couples when the baby favors one skin color over the other. Stupid things happen. However, there are also times when abuse is not reported when it should be, or it is and we get there too late, or it has been an ongoing problem. Why you got a call about your infant and not your two boys, I don't know, but it happened, so I am here just to make sure these claims hold no water. I will never be sorry for what you might view as a waste of time. As frustrating as it is, I would rather answer every single call no matter how unnecessary if I can save even one child from a harmful life and even death. I am here to make certain the children are safe. Your children are safe, you are clearly doing a good job, so there is no reason for you to be afraid. If more people call, and you are still doing a good job, then we'll just go through this again and that will be that. It is far from a perfect system, but it's currently the only one we have, so I am trying to work with it. Again, if you aren't doing anything wrong, then you have no reason to fear no matter how many calls we get and how many visits you have to endure. It has to be proven that something is wrong before we even begin to take steps to consider removing your children. It's not something we actively want to do. Okay?"
 
Dark inhaled, and thought about if he was just going to let it go, but ultimately decided to say, "Look. It is not that I have a problem with what you do, believe me when I say I understand why it is important. But you are a stranger coming into our home, we are required to do whatever you say, and the entire time we know that if we try to say no, it might be perceived as us hiding something. And there is nothing we can do about it, we are barely sleeping as it is, and part of that system is undressing our child for a stranger, or letting a stranger undress her. Even though the diaper stays on, it is not comfortable for us, but we cannot say no. We both understand why it is important, but understanding it does not make it feel any less violating, and it is not like there are not cases of children being taken without cause." He pushed his hair back and looked at Mrs. Smith through exhausted eyes, "so you are ethical, okay. But what if you get sick, or go on vacation, or get transferred, and some new case worker comes, and they are a bit ableist or they are jaded and tired or something happens, and we have this history of being investigated. Do you really expect us to go through it as if it were nothing more than a hangnail or a trip to the DMV?"
 
"If you ever want to have a lawyer present or any other representative of the law, you are more than welcome to call them in," Mrs. Smith told him. "You will never be asked to leave the child alone with any of our agents at any time, and if any of them do ask you to do so, I would personally encourage you to send them on their way and report them immediately. Most likely if they did ask you, it would be because they are new and made a mistake, but we never take chances on things like that. If I am not available, then my notes are on file, which will be looked at alongside any future caseworker's assessment. You also have Mr. Constable's notes on your file, and he has an impeccable reputation in the office. You can write to the head office or call them and speak to them directly if you ever feel you are being misrepresented, but I can personally vouch for at least half of the staff currently on hand that no matter how tired or jaded we are, we will not just willy-nilly remove your children. It does not work like that. The cases of children being taken without cause are rare and almost always linked to problems within the family and, sadly, money and power." She paused and pulled out a card from her pocket before presenting it to Dark. "This is the phone number to the head office. You can find it online, but it is a bit tucked out of the way to avoid spams and pranksters. This is faster. I will repeat myself again, it takes more than just a visit to decide to remove any child from an environment unless it is deemed as being hazardous to the child's life to let them remain, and that involves a lot more than just one agent. We call the police, one of the other agents, it's a whole process. Yes, getting visits from us is annoying, but unless I have actual reason to believe that something is wrong, it will never go farther than a conversation. I doubt I'll ever even have to ask you to undress Ivy-Qadire again."
 
"Qadira," Dark corrected, putting the card in his pocket. He knew it wouldn't be an immediate removal, he knew that. But one bad visit led to another visit, and things could spiral. Both he and Daizi felt like she was refusing to acknowledge how a visit like this is, inherently, frightening, it wasn't just an annoyance. They sat still and silent together, still gripping hands. It wasn't an ambivalent, laissez-faire agent taking their children into custody on a whim that scared them, it was the possibility, however small, of a gradual, false, case building against them.

Daizi wanted to ask how they were expected to call their lawyer if CPS was going to show up unannounced in the evening-- at the time most law offices were closing up, but what was the point? They were caught in a loop of having concerns and being told why they shouldn't have them, as if they should have known already, and as if they were foolish to have ever had those concerns at all. It wasn't just annoying, and for godsakes it had only been two weeks and already they were here.

"I can show you out," Dark said flatly, rising to his feet.
 
Mrs. Smith rose to her feet and walked with him. "I understand you are tired and stressed, but I visit a lot of houses that I never see again. The odds are good this is the only time I will be here. So, just enjoy taking care of your children."

"If you weren't foster parents and I didn't need to check in once a month, you wouldn't even be hearing from me," Lance Constable said with a quick grin. "You have my number. If you have more questions, just call me. I can make an appointment to sit and chat any time."
 
Daizi sat alone on the couch, sinking into herself. Even if it was true nothing would happen, and everything would be fine, it didn't make the immediate fear she felt go away. It didn't make how she felt as she removed her daughter's onesie any better. She scooted herself closer to the cradle and reached in to lay her hand on Ivy's chest, just to feel the rise and fall of her breathing.

Up in the front hall, Dark took a long look at Lance, trying to think of something to say. Ultimately, he only murmured, "I will see you next month." Then, after a brief pause, "You did not send a card."
 
Mrs. Smith walked swiftly toward the car parked in front, already checking for their next destination.

"A card?" Lance repeated, a little confused. He couldn't instantly think of what the card would be for, so while he tried to remember that, he gently and briefly clapped Dark's shoulder. "I know you're scared, especially your wife, but I swear upon my beard you have nothing to worry about. It's just stupid people. That's all." He dropped his hand. "A card for the baby?"
 
Dark nodded, looking up at the ceiling and crossing his arms, "We both know there is a reason, or a few reasons, why we were reported. We have been nowhere except the pediatrician, have never yelled. Someone out there sees us and thinks we must be doing harm. And that is never going to change." He moved from beneath Lance's hand at the same time Lance dropped his hand, "Yes, for the baby. We called to cancel our last meeting. We only got through to the secretary, though."
 
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Lance rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I got you one and filled it out, but it's still sitting on my desk. Like the one to my niece for her birthday." He heaved a sigh. "If you think you're being targeted, I suggest you contact the police. I'm afraid I don't have much I can do from my office."

Alec risked coming down the stairs and sat next to Daizi.
 
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