Yesterday I found myself at the same hospital where I gave birth to Jude.

They made me walk round and round the maternity ward during my four day stay so I couldn’t help but recall those first frustratingly painful steps I took in the hours after the unexpected c-section. When I felt like giving up or crying I’d be reminded of the amazing baby swaddled up in the bassinet next to my bed. He was worth it and so much more.

I’m always fascinated when I see various paths and places intersect – it reminds me that the world which seems so big is actually quite small.

This time I trekked the same halls 2.5 years later on behalf of my other, older child.

Peach’s mom gave birth to baby #4, a girl, and I was there to visit and take photos. No matter what happens or where the child ends up years from now I feel good knowing I can at least pass along pictures.

Because of the ‘no contact’ order I went by myself. I was relieved when I walked in and found it was just S, her boyfriend, and the baby because his mom is often around and has been confrontational in the past – the time she repeatedly screamed “baby snatcher” at me was particularly memorable.

I try to stay positive when talking to S but yesterday as I held her newborn daughter I couldn’t help but feel terribly sad. When she goes home today this will be the first time she’s had two kids in her care at once, and they’re only 13 months apart.

While I hope for the best I’m not naive about the possibility that this little girl may someday be in the same situation as Peach.

For the past few months S has been promising me and the social worker that she’d finally get her tubes tied. With two kids in foster care and now two kids at home she verbally recognized that her best bet for success was to focus on her 1-year-old and the newborn. “I can’t have more kids,” she said. “I know it’d be too much for me.”

But then yesterday at the hospital S told me she changed her mind about the procedure.

She wants to have more kids someday.

As I said my goodbyes and walked back down the hall I felt defeated.

Believing that she was really trying to better herself I’ve gone out of my way to be supportive – picking her up in the middle of the night, giving her tons of baby stuff, canceling a trip so I could babysit when she was desperate.

Because of my love for Peach I’ve been secretly hoping I could somehow help save her birth mom. But I can’t.

I finally feel free to let go and watch her life unfold from a distance, no matter how disappointing it may be. If she needs me I’ll respond, but I’m not going to let her problems become my problems anymore.

You can’t make people change if they’re not ready.