The last two days–including a tiny bit of the holidays as well–has certainly made for some stressful moments for me.  Allow me to summarize what has happened with my nephew of late.

Just before Christmas, my nephew–my 16-year-old nephew–told me that his girlfriend was pregnant.  On Christmas Day, when both of them were with me for my journey out to Carroll County see my mother’s side of the family, they told me they were about a month along.  Furthermore, they have only shared this information with a select group of people.  Neither my nephew’s foster mother nor his girlfriend’s parents were told of this turn of events.

Needless to say, I gave both of them the appropriate stern talk.  I told them that whatever they choose, their lives are irrevocably changed.  I told them what their choices were, and I told them that time is of the essence depending on the choices they made.  I also told them that they should decide what their course of action was going to be before informing her parents, thinking that if they come to the parents with a firm decision, it was going to be a bit more palatable than, say, coming to them with no thought to the choices before them.  I ended by saying the choice is theirs, and, that, whatever they decide to do, their family will support and love them.  I told my nephew I was disappointed in the choice he made, but I was certainly not going to disown him for it.

When last I spoke to him after New Year’s Day, they had still not made a decision.  Nothing much had changed beyond our discussion on Christmas Day.  I again reminded him that time was of the essence.

While at work on Monday afternoon, after returning to my desk following a meeting, I was met with an instant message from my nephew asking me if I had talked to his social worker today.  I replied that no, I had not as I was in a meeting and left my personal cell phone at my desk.  I looked at my phone, and I saw there was a voicemail waiting for me.  I asked my nephew what was up, and he replied that he could no longer live with his foster mother.  I told him I would discuss the matter with his social worker, but I had yet another meeting to run to for the end of the day.

I spoke with his social worker, and she apprised me of the situation.  My nephew and his foster mother were at an impasse, and the best situation was for him to be placed somewhere else.  (For some background, my nephew has complained of his foster mother, but most of his complaints sounded to me as the typical teenage angst, if you will.  Nothing terribly bad, but the typical teenage “I know everything” line of thinking.) Again, as in the not too distant past, I was asked if he could be placed with me.  I explained to the social worker that I just could not do so.  It’s a decision I have pondered off and on through the last few years, and something I have discussed with close friends.  At the end, though, I just do not think it was fair to him or I if we chose that course.  Given the current situation, I offered to her that he could stay with me while she worked to place him in a new foster home.  She could perform her walkthrough to check my home, and I would pick him up when I was told I could do so.

When I got home from the office late on Monday night, I engaged in another long instant message session with my nephew.  He was understandably upset, and he wanted to be with a “real family.”  He wanted to be with a relative or a family friend, and he did not want to go back to another foster home.  He threatened to “take matters into his own hands” and run away.  I countered that given the choices before him, he could choose to make things worse or try to make the best of a bad situation.  We went back and forth, with him not seeing the issue from my perspective.  We ended at that, as I was tired from spending a long day at the office and he could do nothing more to persuade me.

So, yesterday, the walkthrough was completed with no issue whatsoever, and I picked up my nephew that evening and gathered his things. I swung by the grocery store on the way home to get some food and to see if he needed anything else.  We talked about what has happened.  His girlfriend’s parents now know of her pregnancy, and they will not allow an abortion as it is against their beliefs. I asked him what he thought about that, and I asked him does he realize how much his life is going to change.  He said he does, and that the new child will have to take priority.  He realizes that he could have made a better choice, but the dice have been cast.  As he said, “I made my bed, now I have to sleep in it.”  In some sense, wisdom beyond his years.

Now, I am at the end of the first of two days where I am working from home while he stays here.  I have been making sure he is fed and clean, and he seems to be happy.  He especially seems to enjoy gobbling up the bandwidth at the house.

While I feel bad that I cannot be the shelter that my nephew so dearly wants, I truly think it is best.  I really cannot say I know how he feels.  I do not, nor will I ever.  I can only imagine what it feels like from his perspective, to think that no one really cares about him to make the committment to be his shelter.  At the same time, I know that I am not ready to take on the responsibility of taking care of a teenager.

Here I am, a tortured soul of sorts.  On one hand, I am providing shelter and encouragement.  I am being that place where my nephew can get refuge from the storms that have battered him of late.  On the other hand, I know I can only be a port of sorts where he can spend a few days.

It is this conflict that led me to say to someone the other day,

“Sometimes, I wish I never did return to Baltimore following college.  I should have just kept going elsewhere. I would not have surprised my friends or family by making such a choice.”

I came back to Baltimore to be close to family–my grandparents and my mother.  Well, now, my grandparents are both gone, and my mother is still in Virginia.  Yet, here I am.  I realize of course that much has changed in the last ten years to make such a move a serious undertaking.  I have different reasons to remain anchored here–I own a home, and I have a good career.  Times like this, though, are trying.

In light of the situation, I am doing the best I can.  I am not normally an optimist, but I know that some good will come out of this somehow.