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Court is tomorrow.

It’s the date we’ve had set in place for the last 6 months. Inching ever closer, feeling forever away . . . except it’s here. It’s caught up with us. The day the judge will likely decree that Baby Z goes home.

What can I say? I feel like we are all standing on train track watching a freight train come barreling toward us, and no one can move. I can’t protect my baby. I’m not supposed to think of him as my baby.

Maybe this isn’t what I am supposed to feel. Or say. Or think. Maybe my perspective is all wrong, and somehow I’m supposed to find joy in this.

I don’t.

It’s a freight train. That’s what it is. Just a freight train.

I am scared and numb. And we’re all frozen on the tracks.