It is a process

It's a physical ache. A pain in the middle of my chest.  And it causes hot tears, the kind that sting my eyes.  It settled over me today and I couldn't shake it.

It started with news that more people in our lives are expecting and today, I just couldn't muster the happiness.  I heard complaints of not feeling well and my ability to plaster the smile on my face just vanished from my body. I left the house to "run an errand" but really I just needed an escape.

All week I've been able to communicate and tell people about Solana leaving without any trouble.  I probably sounded like a PSA for "How to be the role model foster parent".

People were asking:

So will you get to adopt the little one? Is she staying?

Well no, actually.  She is going home in a few weeks. That's the goal of foster care. We are really happy for her dad. He really gets it. We've built a relationship. I'm so glad she doesn't have to go through the pain of adoption or languishing in foster care. 

Isn't it hard?

Well it is. And of course the kids are taking it pretty hard but we have more support this time around and we have a better understanding of what to expect.

I don't know how you do it! God Bless you. I raised __   kids and they were my own!

Well my kids are my own.

I bopped along same busy Foster Mom R. Smoothing everything over. Happy for everyone.

And then BAM.

More people who you have to be excited for are expecting and your baby is going home. And all the feelings about infertility, and failings as a mom, and frustration with the system, and loss, deep, deep loss hit me.  And I'm feeling the memory of sitting in another baby shower, smiling and pretending that everything was fine, when nothing was fine - and I just couldn't hold it back any longer.

And then tonight she just wouldn't go to sleep.  She's been doing this all week. Screaming at bedtime. The same primal scream she uses at daycare when I drop her off.  And without fail the teacher murmurs - "I know, Mommy is best. Mommy will be back. Mommy always comes back."

Except I don't. And she knows it. She knows her weeks aren't the same. She knows she's been disappearing and staying somewhere else. And I have all this guilt and the real mind f*ck of it is -

I DIDN'T CAUSE ANY OF IT.

I didn't do this. Her mother did. The same mother who called in sick to her visit last week.

CALLED IN SICK. She gets 4 hours a week and she opted out.

W.T.F!? Parents don't get sick days. In fact my work "sick days" are typically used when my kids are sick. My ass was at a 7:30 AM meeting to discuss potential support services for a child she neglected - but she wasn't feeling well so she went ahead and cancelled?

I must have missed where that was an option when I signed up for the things I'd have to do as a parent.  Must have been under the check box of catch puke in your hands, clean poop off of hand towels, argue about why "we won't be going to Starbucks at 9:15 PM on a Sunday".

And YO! It's the Christmas Season! The month where everyone you haven't seen for like the past 10 months decides you need to be at their function for festiveness. And your kids have several layers of trauma and some teacher decided that the Elf on the Shelf was great fun and now your child won't shut up about it. She only wants an Elf on the Shelf or an iPad. Heads up child - you must be on the "fantasy list" because neither one of those things are going to happen. You will be lucky if Mom gets the darn tree up. And I'm not so secretly excited for next year when we can stop this whole "Santa" thing because I don't agree with your father that Santa gifts should be wrapped and I just spent a small fortune taking you on a flipping cruise.

So clearly, I'm just a tad bit out of sorts and not very "foster care positive" on this night before Solana's next overnight visit.

So I did some self care.

1) I shared with all of you.  We aren't alone. I know that. I appreciate everyone of you who take the time to read, comment, and like my Facebook posts.
2) I bought some LuLaRoe today and I ordered a fun petticoat for underneath it for one of the obligatory parties I mentioned above.
3) I watched TV tonight even though I still have "real" work to do and some thesis writing to wrap up for the semester.  I watched "This is Us" hoping it would make me cry so I could get it out, but the mid-season finale was so good I was just left on edge. - If you have not seen This is Us, I urge you to check it out. Bi-racial adoption, reunification, body issues, family drama, grief. It's all in there.

Tomorrow is a new day. As I hit save, I will recommit to my heart that going home is best for Solana and that her address doesn't matter. I will stop the timer on this grief, and I will resolve that others' happiness does not have to trigger my pain, nor do I have to feel guilty that my pain is triggered by their happiness.

Bedtime

Solana, the happiest baby on Earth has decided that the terrible twos will actually start at the age of 1. She is stubborn, independent, and loud. Really loud. 

She's always had this fake scream that sounds alarming unless you knew it was fake which she uses often when she is displeased. However, her latest thing is to throw full on tantrums. Screaming, crying, hitting. She's quite the frustrated drama queen. When she is really mad she will bite you and then scream "De-De-de-de-de!". Clearly telling you to go take a flying leap. Bedtime has become challenging. My sweet little baby who would go down without so much as a peep, threw a full on tantrum on the stairs when I told everyone to say goodnight to her. An hour and a half ago.

During this rough night I had her rocking in my arms, quieted down but still whimpering from being upset. She was clutching my shirt, my bra, for dear life. As I kissed her tears, mine started to fall.

I whispered to her "I'm not your forever mama. I'm just temporary. One day it will be someone else putting you to sleep.You will have to learn to fall asleep in another home so please let's get through this phase because you have been here 75% of your life and if this is how you react to the familiar, I'm afraid the unfamiliar will be too much for your Papi."

And then my head wandered to the dark place where I wished that maybe she would react this way and he would decided this was too hard and call me up to come get her, forever. And then I felt immediately guilty and selfish and I started to cry harder because how could I wish such obvious misery and pain on my beautiful baby girl Solana. 

Do You Call Her Your Daughter?

One of my colleagues inquired about how Solana was feeling after being sick last week. She couldn't remember her name and then said, "I don't know how to refer to her. Is she your daughter? Do you call her your daughter?"

It's been a while since someone asked me this kind of question. Interestingly, I've  not really self identified as a "foster" mom for a while. I mean, I introduce myself as a foster mom. I offer foster mom advice. I advocate for kids in care and educate about trauma. But somewhere over the last six months I've lost the "foster" mom identity in the way I think about myself in relationship to the kids. And this question caught me off guard.

These are my kids- and no one questions it. They answer to a name I gave them. They call me Mom. They list my family members as their family members and no one questions us. We are far more likely to be approached with compliments vs questions when we are out in public. 

Maybe it's the length of time they have been my kids. I remember struggling to feel that connection when they first moved in. Stuck between the incredibly messy place of grieving children who once occupied all of my time and opening myself back up to the fear that if I let them in, it would happen all over again. But for a solid while now, there hasn't been a question of those feelings for them. Those are my kids and you best act accordingly.

This colleague only met me after I arrived at that place where - I just had four kids. No descriptive adjective (foster, adoptive, biological) and I forgot that for people who aren't informed about these things, these types of questions come up. She of course knows we are a foster/adoptive family and that Solana is in foster care so I understand why the question came up. She was trying to be mindful of the situation and use the correct terminology. 

I answered, "Yes I call her my daughter." Because she is. I have 5 kids. Because at the end of the day, I am just "Mom". To all that matter, I have no adjective. I am  Mom who answers questions about why legs hurt when they drink water. I am Mom who asks when they last pooped. I am Mom who negotiates hot lunch and ice cream day. To the ones that matter,  I'm Mom and they are my kids and that's that.

If Solana hadn't had a visit, today would have been a day where I might have forgotten our "foster" status because it was decidedly "typical". Band concert, parent meeting about the gifted program, homework. I cherish these days as they balance out the days where foster care sucks (and we have had plenty of those in the past year).

I know I will have to reprise my role as foster mom soon enough and deal with all of the crap that goes with that (you know, opinion being ignored, schedule disregarded, kept in the dark) so for now I'll cherish the little bit of "normal" we achieved. We- my four girls and son.

Fab Four

At the beginning of December I stumbled across a fabulous coat sale at Macy's So I bought my kiddos coats and also some for the Fab Four as well. I haven't seen them since July but we have Facebooked and texted here and there. So I totally guessed at the sizes. 

The weekend I had planned to give them the coats we were supposed to go to the indoor Waterpark with them. Then Solana came, all of us were sick and it just seemed to hard to make it happen. So the coats sat here because the Fab Four live an 1 1/2 away now and it's too hard to get out there with 5 kids and all the other stuff we have going on. 

We had had a pretty mild winter so far but the temps in Chicago dropped way down this weekend and I wanted to get the coats to the kids. Hubby volunteered to bring them out there and we face timed for a good 20 minutes. 

Jelly Bean and Gabby had the most to say. I actually haven't seen Jelly Bean since June and she has hit puberty which was a little shocking for me. She is in 6th grade now and seems to be doing well. She mentioned her and Gabby are getting along better (they are now in the same school) but that she doesn't have any really good friends at school. (This doesn't surprise me. Jelly Bean has a hard time with her emotions and social appropriateness.) She of course asked to see Solana because she loves babies .

Gabby told me she quit band. She's got solid Bs so far for 8th grade and she chopped her hair off. She shared that they are moving to a rented house next month and she's worried about making new friends. 

Mr. Mohawk was actually more interested in talking than normal. He of course asked to see the dog even though he didn't remember the dog's name. He spent some time showing me some things and spoke about school. When I said goodbye and told him Ioved and I missed him, he shrugged and said "goodbye".

I have to say, that moment was a little hard as I've watched my own kids do the same thing to Sheila. He doesn't remember me as his Mom. He has no connection to me, other than through his sisters, and therefore he doesn't love or miss me. I suppose I feel grateful that he doesn't remember foster care but the part of me that stayed up with him through nightmares, and stomach flu and wiped his chocolate frosting smears off the walls misses that little boy. Of course, that little boy no longer exists either. It's a very odd thing.

Little Mama did have much to say. She said hi and then went to her room. Which I suppose is normal for a teenager. 

Hubby called on the way home. He was very upset and crying. (He doesn't not cry. My grandmother's funeral, when the kids left, and the few times we've seriously discussed divorced are pretty much it.) I normally don't share his feelings (because they are his) but I think this illustrates how hard this can be. We talked about why he was so upset. He said he felt distant while there. He said he didn't know if it was like that because they have moved on without us or if it was where they have moved on to. The life they lead is very different from ours and it reminded him that the dreams we dreamt for them while they were "ours" are not the dreams we hold for them now.

Maria is doing as well as she can and is hoping to move to a rented house next month. She dreams of buying it which is amazing and so far from where she was 2 years ago. But it means a school change for the kids and further from her support network and that could be hard on the family and their stability.

I pointed out its been almost 6 months since we've seen them and the last time it was in the role as "parent". I also pointed out that seeing them may have ripped off the bandaid covering the grief of their leaving and with Solana having a return home goal, that some of the fear about her leaving was probably bubbling to the surface.

Everyone always says, "I don't know how you can say goodbye. It would be so hard." And the truth is, it is. And it continues to be. We made the best of it and when they went home our biggest fear was they would disappear and we wouldn't know where they were in the world. I think it's hard to see them now because they have, to some degree, disappeared. The children who lived with us only exist in our hearts. In the photos that captured those moments. Now we can only standby and watch.

The idea that we may have to have this same experience with Solona is terrifying. I cannot begin to explain how quickly and completely I loved her the minute she was placed in my arms. And the same goes for Hubby, who never, ever wanted a baby. I think it shocked him, actually and I think the possibility that one day we will have to hand her over and then pick ourselves up really scares him too. 

So we cried together on the phone trying to understand these emotions that come out of nowhere. These are emotions no one ever talks about in the training. This is what after the goodbye is like. It still fucking sucks. Not as much as not knowing anything at all, but it still sucks.

I HATE the not knowing part of foster care and we thrusted ourselves right back into it. We spoke with the therapist at length about this, this week. She said we have to do what's best for Solana. And what's best is to be all in so that her attachment to caregivers is healthy and strong. And I have thrown my whole self into it. It came so much easier than it did when the kids came to live with us. But here is my deep dark secret: what if she goes home and I get knocked down so hard, I can't get back up? The therapist told me not to "borrow trouble" which was excellent advice. However, we were so broken when the Fab Four left and this time it's not just Hubby and me. 

I know our reasoning was sound and I have faith it's all going to be ok because we've come this far. But if I'm being really honest, these thoughts have been weighing on me and seeing the Fab Four brought them out in the open. 

Like a fix to an addict...

Information. Information is to a foster parent like a fix is to an addict.  They need it. they crave it. its never enough. You always want more. It makes you do crazy things.

• Stalk stranger's Facebook, My Space, Instagram, Twitter.
• You learn the circuit clerk on-line records search, checking it multiple times a month.
• Comb through stacks of papers hoping something was missed in the sweep for confidentiality.
• Read the caseworker's notes upside down.
• Scribble down everything the judge says in court as if you were the court reporter.

At the most recent ACR, I was handed the kids' current case plan. I usually have to beg for these and it's usually several months after the ACR that I receive it. Normally the case plan is redacted and pages of information are missing as it deals with the "family history".  I think that kind of makes it hard to take a team approach and generally creates more issues. Personally, I don't think that everyone should get to hide behind "confidentiality" because really why is it confidential? Certainly nothing in my home.  If it happened to the kids, I should get to know about it even if it was witnessing Mom get beaten up. (See point 2 above. I already know about the charges and case outcome.  My life would be way easier if you just coughed up the details, thank you very much. And certainly, the records belong to the kids.  Shouldn't they have access to their own history?)

Caseworker #3 handed the packets to me with a smile and said "there is more information on here". (CW #3 appreciated my addiction resourcefulness. She understood.) Since the goal is now adoption I got to see more. I also got the benefit of having an office close to our home so I was able to attend my first ACR in person in 5 years.

Early on, the therapists told me we probably won't know all that happened to the kids.  They also said it didn't really matter.  We would treat the symptoms and assist with healing the unspecified trauma and focus on how they were progressing.  As a Mom, that is very, very hard for me.  They are my kids.  I'm supposed to know.  I'm the keeper of their lives.  How can I help them if I don't know what happened to them? How can I absorb the awfulness if I don't know what it is? I'm the adult, I need to carry the heavy stuff for them and let them be kids.

I didn't read the Case Plan until I got home. The information Caseworker #3 was referring to was a new summary of all of the indicated events that brought the kids into care. There wasn't just one. There were more than 4 at different periods of time. I learned the names of different boyfriends that abused her. I learned the last name of one of the other siblings. Failure to protect or prevent harm. Over and over again. I cried.  Just this little piece of information and I couldn't understand why it took so long for them to be protected from harm. Clearly these kids needed help.  It was like reading the newspaper articles about the department when a kid in care dies. 

I'm going to need a stiff drink when we get their subsidy packet back.  I have a feeling there is a lot worse in the files. 

Dear Foster/Adoptive Mom on the First Day Of School

This post is for you. This post doesn't talk about your children as babies or birthing them. The reminiscing of pregnancy will not be found in this post because I know for many of you, you didn't experience that. You've probably never seen a picture of your child before they came to live with you and if you have, it's probably not a baby picture or one that you would display because, when you look at it, you see a child who is scared and sad. It was likely swiped from a Facebook page of someone you've never met and is a window into atrocities that should never happen to any child, anywhere. There is no letter to my child's best friend Lambie or back-up Lambie because my child came with all his worldly possessions in a trash bag.

As back to school time rolls around so does the reminder of how much you've missed out on in your child's life. This might be the 1st time you are enrolling a child in school or it might be your child's 6th school in four years. It's a lot either way. Those other back to school articles, while touching and appropriate for the majority of Moms, leave you on the outside because your child, your experiences are different.  I'm here to tell you, you aren't alone. I'm here. I'm experiencing it too. Those articles, they rub me the wrong way. They make me feel less than. They make me hurt for my child and you probably feel it too. They make me angry that I am the one here and not the parent that brought them into the world and at the same time my breath catches at the thought they could be gone based on the decisions of people who probably haven't met them and certainly don't know that we picked the purple backpack because pink is "for babies".

While other parents might worry about the walk to the bus stop and finding the bathroom, you worry about your child's PTSD.  You worry that they are so behind they won't catch up. You will worry their visit tomorrow will mean they can't handle learning today and will present itself as behavior issues that the school will blame you for and make your job harder. You worry that someone will ask why all of your children have different last names and you won't be prepared with the prefect answer that shuts them down and shows your kid you love them.  You worry that you are sending them off to another school that they won't finish the year at. You worry that this being your 3rd time through grades 1, 2, 3, and 5th you will loose your mind when the animal research project comes home and it's the damn Arctic Turn again.*

I have no idea what it is to be a Mom of "typical kids". It doesn't make the worries of those Moms less valid, it just seems to me that mine are probably more serious at times. I sat and listened at the welcome night as a Mom complained that her child had to walk 2 blocks to the bus. Until last week, my kids were worried they wouldn't have a permanent home. And that's when I get angry about the fact my kids got the short stick and have to fight for so much just to be "typical". 

Back to school for many kids with trauma  is often triggering. And as a trauma parent you might be ready for that nonsense to be O.V.E.R. You may be hanging by a thread and that makes the first day of school a blessing and a curse because with it probably comes a different battle, to get your child the help they need. 

You foster mama- you are not alone. You can do it. Because you said yes when others walked away and said no. And you stay even if it's hard because it's not their fault. You love them and they love you, as much as they can, even if it doesn't feel that way. You are giving them what others couldn't or wouldn't. And that is more valuable the perfect chalkboard captioned pictures and tears at the bus stop. This day starts a new path. A path of hope. A view into how life should look and feel. For both of you because you and them are not less than. You are more. Way way more. And together, you make a difference. 

* (It's a bird, apparently children in my home have never heard of pandas. For once I'd like to research pandas...)

Lucky 7

We spent all of 4 minutes on the impending baby. I really thought Stella would take the news of the baby quite hard.

I was 180 degrees wrong.

She literally jumped out of her seat with joy and enthusiasm. 

Yippee! Does that mean the baby will come live with us?

That's not the plan. The plan is the baby will live somewhere else.

Is that because a baby might be a lot of work? When will the baby be born? Is it a girl? Is my mom's belly really big? Will we get to see the baby? Oh yeah! 7 kids in my family!

I'm not even sure how to wrap my head around the excitement and joy she had. I am really worried that she is going to grieve hard when she realizes that this baby really isn't going to be in her life. 

Simon kept saying "maybe it's twins".

Sarah had a few questions and shortly after had a mini meltdown over something else.

Smiley had no reaction but I suspect she was jealous. 

Surrender

Its been a hectic and interesting week.  I'm busy with the move, grad school, and a lice infestation. (Seriously the grossest thing I've had to do as a mother.  I'll take stomach flu over lice any day.)  And of course this is the week that Caseworker #3 reaches out about Bio Dad possibly relinquishing his rights.  He wants to know if he did sign a surrender, would we still involve him in his children's lives and allow him to maintain a relationship with him.

My head may spin off.  For real.

Not because of the question but because of the timing. 

PEOPLE LISTEN UP! I can't handle one more thing that requires concentration. Or thought. Or empathy.  My brain is mush and I have a Strengths Assessment from the folks over at Gallup that says empathy is not one of my strengths. Seriously out of 35 strengths, empathy doesn't make the top 30.

Something as important as the discussion of openness in adoption requires careful consideration.

Not seeing his Bio Dad again would crush Simon.

I met Bio Dad once when I picked the kids up from a visit.  We have a service that transports the kids to and from visits which are 45-60 minutes away from our house so run ins are rare.  (The kids get transported to a fast food place near Bio Dad. And I've said over and over we have one 10 minutes from our house and doesn't it make sense for the Bio Dad (who is supposed to be working towards getting his kids) to have to travel instead of the kids but that falls on deaf ears...) You either meet parents at court or case reviews.  Because we work and the case review is in the county handling the case for DCFS, and not the county where the children reside, we mostly do those and family meetings on the phone. Bio Dad has not been to court when I have been there.  We have not gone the last few hearings because they don't really pertain to the kids (these have been about scheduling the TPR Trial), court runs late, and the courthouse is 1 1/2 hours from our house. 

Bio Dad was nice.  He was dressed nice, he smiled, seemed happy to meet me and let me snap a few pictures of the kids with him.  Aside from his lack of consistency with the visits and non-compliance with the case plan, he has been appropriate with the kids.  He brings activities for them, provides meals, and sends gifts that are age appropriate.  He also sends shoes which is fantastic! Kids always need shoes.  (They do not need: candy, chips, nail polish, glitter make-up, or another doll that looks like she's dressed in lingerie. Seriously.  The kids came home with another of this same doll.  Now tell me she doesn't look like a hooker?)

All I know about this guy is that he beat up Bio Mom while she was pregnant with Sarah.  Got Bio Mom pregnant a second time, and then was sent to jail for beating her up again after breaking into her house. His kids really love spending time with him. He has at least one other child. And now, he would consider surrender if we'd be open to allowing him contact with his kids.

I'm sure I've got a very limited view here.  Similar to Maria, I can only see a very small window into this person. And now we've got to decide what a relationship would look like.

I started with asking Caseworker #3 what "involved" and "maintain a relationship" means to him.  I think at a very minimum, we would require some sort of meeting with the therapy team so that he can understand more about the mental health of the kids.  A lot of our decisions about contact are going to be based on where they are at emotionally with adoption and their mental health treatment plans.

Can he be respectful of boundaries we set up? Will he be sober? Does he understand everything will be supervised? Will he respect our role as the parents? Does he understand he won't get a voice in decision making pertaining to the kids?

Maybe he just doesn't want to lose track of them? Maybe a shared Facebook Page and a semi-annual visit plan would be enough?

Last month this wasn't something he was willing to consider.  Maybe his attorney advised him that he may have better access to the kids if he volunteers to sign the surrender.  (We never offered this, but its the logical conclusion.) Maybe his attorney told him he has no chance of keeping his rights in tact because he didn't work the case plan (again).  But I think it was the Christmas gift we sent.  A framed professional portrait of Simon and Sarah.  Their adorable dimples and huge grins in a blue frame that they lovingly picked out.  I also sent a copy of the photo and their school pictures.  Such an easy thing to do and it may be the olive branch that allows my kids to have less loss in their life.  Both kids told both Hubby and I separately that their Dad said he loved the photo and to thank us for sending.





 

Shared Children

As a foster/adoptive parent I have to share my children with others.  Others have loved them. Others have known them as well as I do. Others have made decisions about their lives.  As we head into our adoption (legally the case is pending TPR which still has not been scheduled) our therapy team has begun to talk a lot about claiming as part of attachment.  The kids need to claim us as their family and we have to claim them. (They/Us are not objects.  We are talking in an emotional sense.) I spent the past 48 hours "claiming my family as my own".  We took a break together in the midst of all the crazy that will happen in the next month. It was amazing and I feel re-charged and ready to claim our next chapter as we move as a family.

But I'm struggling with something that happened this week and it occurred to me that those reading might have to endure or have endured a similar situation.  I know sometimes just knowing you aren't the only one is helpful. So I decided to share this particular issue.

One of the realities of sharing my children is that often others feel they know best. Bio parents, relatives, former foster parents.  We are all guilty of this, especially me.  I've written an entire blog worth of posts about how I knew what was best for the 8 children in my home over the course of 4 years. Of course we know best, we are the people who love and care for children! Of course we do the best we can, with what we've got, at any particular moment.  We are all praying for the best and try to make sound decisions, but we don't always get it right.  I myself, have been known to fail spectacularly.  Or be proven wrong. But I try my darndest.

Stella and Sarah's former foster Mom reached out this week.  I haven't shared the sordid details but I have shared my thoughts on my interactions with this person. Last year after the girls moved in we had scheduled sleep over visits to continue contact. We firmly believe that kids shouldn't loose people because they move, if those people are safe.   The week of the 2nd visit we were asked to not only extend the amount of time of the visit but also allow the Smiley and Simon to go on the visit.  We had plans and politely declined.  Then less than 24 hours later we received word that they were cancelling the visit and wanted no further contact because they just felt it was too hard on the girls.

I was floored.  Because to me, it seemed like a big old tantrum. I didn't get my way, so I'm going to take my ball and go home. It hurt my kids tremendously.  We were left to try and explain the unexplainable: These people say they love you but they hurt so much they don't want to see you. How do you explain that to kids? How do you explain that to foster kids, who are forced to see people that have hurt them on a weekly basis?

Then a few months later we were contacted and told they were moving out of state and could we let them see the girls to say goodbye? And we agreed because Stella was still struggling with no closure from her loss.  This was the 1st Mom who cared for her in a nurturing way.  We asked that the therapists assist with this goodbye and they did. Stella asked some tough questions like why did they make her move out of their house and why did they have to say goodbye.  We told her the judge was looking for a forever family for all four of the kids and the other family wasn't a forever family for them.  Blaming no contact on an out of state move was the simplest reason.

But as most things, it isn't enough for Miss Stella.  She always pushes her boundaries. Not in a defiant way. Rather, she really wants to understand the parameters she's being given. And even though she know something to be true or not true, she will insist on the opposite in hopes it will become true.  (For instance at least once a day she tells me we are going to Disney World in 2 years.  We have no such trip planned. We have not discussed this in any real way.  But she will tell you, as surely as she would tell you her name, we are going to Disney World in 2 years.) I think in her heart, Stella knows that the reasons she was given for the loss of contact don't really hold up.  And she would be right.  There was no reason that she should have lost contact.  But it wasn't her decision and it wasn't mine.

So this week FFM (Former Foster Mom), reached out through the other former foster Mom.  Apparently she has not moved and would like a second chance to form a relationship with us.  I'm annoyed by the way this information made its way to me.  I'm annoyed she put the other former foster mom in the middle.  I'm annoyed at the message that was shared and I'm annoyed that this woman is occupying any more of my mind.  (I'm also annoyed that the other former foster mom brought it up.  She didn't witness all that took place and she is coming from a view point that this situation is workable.)

My initial thought was what for? Its clear we don't like each other.  She is only doing this for her own heartache.  I totally get that.  I would be devastated if I could not see the Fab Four.  But then again, I worked really hard to ensure that I could see them by building a positive relationship with Maria. I have nothing to gain from a relationship with her.  When I could have used insight into the girls or Sheila's history, she refused to help me.

 But as her Mom, I always need to think about what's best for Stella. This person holds part of her history. This person cares for her, even if I think she had a funny way of showing it.  But the his person also hasn't been consistent in her follow through and she has failed to support Stella in her placement in our home. Right now on the cusp of changing schools and changing goals, we have to say no to this person coming back into her life.

As a foster Mom, this hurts me because it's so unnecessary. It didn't have to be this way. But as Stella's Mom, I have to protector her and I feel this is the right decision. I feel it's one of those decisions that looking back, she might question my motivations because it goes against my nature to be inclusive.

It's Not About Me

I've been having a rough week. We all have them. It's not surprising, especially during the holidays for there to be some stress  but I had some added stressors this week and so I need to remind myself that when my kid works on something really hard and decides to wrap it up and give it to his Biological Mom, that it's not about me.

The sting I felt when he said "I made this for my Mom" was real. I'm a person. I have feelings. Last week if he had said, "I made this for my Mom" I might not have even pondered it. But as I sat waiting for the four of them to wrap up therapy, thoroughly exhausted from all that transpired this week, it hurt my feelings.

Let me be clear- I am glad my kid feels they can ask me for help with something as important as a handmade gift for their Mom. And I want to support positive feelings, interactions and memories about their Mom. (And to be fair, I got a beautiful picture drawn just for me last week when I was sick.) 

And his reason for making the necklace was heartbreaking.  It was "so my Mom doesn't forget about me." My poor baby. So afraid that he could be forgotten. It makes me angry and then I got mad at myself.

This is an honest piece of fostering/adoption. There are always those "others" who play and important role regardless of how poorly they have acted. Kids don't measure it that way. Nature doesn't build us that way. We are meant to count on our parents when we are young and then some. And parents are meant to support their children. Sometimes it doesn't work that way due to addiction or mental illness. 

We break that cycle now for these kids.

My Mom, Grandpa, Aunt and Goddaughter all showed up for Simon this week. We didn't forget his concert. We clapped and waved and smiled from the audience as he sang his heart out. And when he got to tell everyone what he liked best about the holidays he said:

"I love the holidays because I get to spend time with my family."

His family.

Yes buddy we are and we can't forget you. No necklace needed.

Court Postponed

The court hearing was extended to mid-January.  Which means the TPR trial date will not be set until then.  I'm not surprised. And I have no specific feelings on if this is good or bad- it just is.  I can't change it so I don't need to worry about it.

See how much I've grown in the last 4 years?

We saw the Fab 4 last week. I told Mr. Mohawk I missed him. He told me he mostly missed the dog.  Hey- it was honest.

Jelly Bean reported Maria hit her to a teacher so an investigation was opened. JB admitted she lied because she was angry at her mom. The other kids supported Maria's accounting of events (that JB lied) but it cause Gabby to have some pretty big flash backs to being removed.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think JB would falsely report and put her family at risk. Nor did I think I'd ever be in the position to doubt a reporting kid.  This all gets crazier by the week.

Can I call a time out? 

And of the Wednesdays

I think this is the part where we start to unravel. Perhaps the honeymoon phase is over. Perhaps they are attaching and therefore have big emotions. Perhaps it's just Wednesday....

I received an email about Sarah. She is having trouble turning in assignments (that she did) and her hand writing has turned "angry". Did I have any insight as to why?

God Bless her teacher. This woman had Gabby, Jelly Bean, Stella and now Sarah. 

I don't have to explain to her the trauma. She understands it. And my answer was: upcoming birthday, bad storms, inconsistent bio parents, and beginning to understand her Mom's issues with the therapists.

Received an email about Smiley yesterday. She seemed sad and tired. (Smiley's teacher had Mr. Mohawk. She is also amazing.) Was there anything going on? Umm well she started this thing where she throws a crying fit at bedtime. Nightly. Even after she's been calm and tucked in. She is complaining of bad dreams but hasn't woken me up or talked about any the next morning.

Simon was totally overwhelmed at dinner. We were in a restaurant so I'm wondering if it was the sensory overload. He could handle eating nicely and was shoveling the food in he's mouth with his hands. He then melted down when we corrected his manners.

The only one who did cry was Stella. But she nearly gagged on her food at the idea of calamari.

Thankfully we have therapy tomorrow. Maybe hey can help.

Emotions

The therapists looked at us tonight and said "you don't seem phased" in response to the recounting of the illness, post visit behavior, and big feelings that appeared this week at our house.

Sadly, we've had much worse. And maybe that's where the anxiety that I've been feeling all week is coming from. That and we are nearing closer to the permanency hearing and all the decision makers are saying goal change. Which inevitably means more behaviors, more big feelings, more fear and more grief. 

Grief. Such a tiny word for an enormous concept. And such a heavy burden for little kids. Adults struggle with losing loved ones. Now my kids are going to be losing an entire family, again. I know a little of what that feels like. And to be quite honest- I'm really scared about what that is going to look like for us.

Are they going to accept us one day? Will they love us like they love their biological family? And how often will our status as their family be challenged? Will the therapy, interventions and support be enough to overcome such a high hurdle?

Am I enough of a Mom? 

And then the thought hits, what if someone made a mistake? What if I've started to believe they are mine only to have someone tell me it's not true. What if I lose my kids again? 

I know it's not a bad thing but:

I love my kids. I am terrified someone is going to take them away and my prayer is that they do take them away, from another mom. 

That's such an honest, raw statement and I can't begin to explain how awful that makes me feel. The rational side of me says that these kids need protecting. They needed permanency because she can't do it. It's clear to everyone and she had plenty of chances. The kids deserve better.

The emotional side of me is chastising Itself for rooting for another human being to fail. What an awful, awful thing. This women gave birth to these beautiful children. I care for her. I am blessed because of her. And all of these emotions are twisted inside of me. 

And since I've been honest, I'll continue with the thought that adopting these children probably means that we won't be pursuing fertility treatments. So maybe I'm grieving that at the same time. 4 children with some serious emotional needs doesn't create an ideal space for a baby. Neither does a too small house and a full time job. 

I don't have time for the emotional pity party I want to throw and there are not a lot of people that we know that understand these feelings. But thank you for reading this. I've shed some very cathartic tears while writing this post. Enough, at least, to get up tomorrow and try to help these kids through the muck that is foster care.

1/2 Marathon Complete, Now What?

Two weekends ago I ran a 1/2 marathon. We'll okay. I ran the first 8 miles of it. The last 5 were more walking fast. 13.1 miles is a long way. I set the goal in January as an outlet. A goal for me to have control over. Something noone else could dictate to me. We had so much of that last year and are starting to see it again with this case. (Evidenced by the email I got one Friday morning to "please make the children available for this appointment on Monday at 6PM".). 

It was a beautiful day for a race. The weather was perfect. The only drawback was it was in Bio Mom's town. I spent a lot more of the nearly four hours thinking about our journey and trying to keep her out of my head than I planned. I couldn't help but wonder where she was in relationship to me as I ran through the town.

I thought about the Fab Four and the Quartet. About all of the things we've overcome. I thought about the heartache and how my physical pain while training never came close to feeling that awful. I thought about the chemical pregnancies and the crushed hope of the positive pregnancy tests that two days later turned into a period. 

I reminded myself that I am strong. That my feet have not failed me. Nor has my heart. I have done some pretty amazing things in my life and even though every step of mile 12 was painful I was adding a 1/2 marathon to that list. I just had to keep going, a mantra I've been chanting for the past four years. 

As I rounded that last bend and I saw my Hubby, brother and sister-in-law cheering for me I got tearyeyed. That's how all big accomplishments should end. A cheering squad of people who love you. 

People always talk about how running allows you to clear your head and cleanse the mind. I've found that to be true. It's not the actual running I enjoy. It's the way it makes me feel when I'm done. It took me almost six months to consider myself a runner. I'm not fast. I'm not thin. (Although I'm several inches thinner than when I started.) But I showed up to the start line and crossed back over the finish just like everyone else.

I will tell you this: being a foster parent is way harder than running 13.1 miles. That takes somewhere between 2 and 4 hours of a weekend. Foster parenting is every day. It's got bigger hills and harder road and takes way more fight and an even bigger heart. 

Just like foster parenting, I'm going to keep going. I'm registered for two more runs to continue to train for the Disney 1/2 marathon in February. I'm not going for a "goal change" now!

14 Kids on Vacation, Sure Why Not?

I.am.exhausted. We just got home from a weekend at the Waterpark resort with The Quartet, The Fab Four, and Simon and Smiley's former foster Mom who has 6 kids currently. 14 current or former foster children, ages 1-13. (Maria had to work.)

It was a great weekend. Pretty amazing when you think about how foster care normally works. Here were all these kids with former connections to other adults and kids who got to be all together again.    And the best part was they mostly got along. Mr. Mohawk and Simon looked like twins in their water wings battling the waves. Sarah and Jelly Bean were, of course, partners in crime. Stella and Gabby became pals and Smiley hung on Little Mama's every word. The big kids helped the littles and everyone survived.

Although, one of the kids (not with me) did let themselves out of the hotel room at 2 am and went missing for a few moments. Luckily, a security guard found the child (who was knocking on doors asking for food), and Hubby happened to hear them down the hall. This is a new placement and its clear that this child has some deep, deep trauma and neglect going on. No eye contact. No fear of others. Shaking the moment he was in trouble. Tantruming in public. Constantly hungry, terrible teeth, and craving sugar.

I have learned to not care why others think, but I was curious as to what was going through people's minds when we rolled into the pool with 14 kids: 8 Mexican, 6 African American, and three white parents. Only one person was brave enough to say anything. She remarked that we had a lot of kids to supervise and she thought 2 was hard. Lady, you don't know the half of it. If you heard the life stories of these children you would have signed up to give them an unforgettable weekend too. 

I got to connect with all of my kids this weekend. Even getting this letter from Gabby. She knows I love explaining how if you are getting hate mail, you are parenting the right way. Inside was a heart that said, "I will always love you."

We have come a long way in the last year. I continue to surprise myself with the fact that my heart just keeps growing bigger allowing more special people in. Never would I have though this annual trip would look like it did this weekend. Which is similar to last year when we spent the weekend with Maria and the Fab Four. I never imagined a family experience quite like this....this is way better.

Yours?

Serves me right for thinking that thus far, people hadn't really commented on the fact that I'm white and my kids are tan. Always a hot topic in Foster Care and Adoption are the things that people say to families that look different. I imagine this applies to families that are made up of two moms or little people or those with physical disabilities as well. But people really have no idea how to mind their own business.

Often the questions or comments come from a place of genuine curiosity or admiration. People are impressed with a family of four children since large families aren't as common. And my kids are beautiful and have adorable personalities. And because they have had multiple caregivers and attachment issues, they are also very outgoing towards strangers.  So people can't help themselves. 

While at the wholesale club tonight we had our first encounter with a stranger exclaiming, "Are all four your kids?" in front of the kids. Now the Quartet doesn't seem to mind telling people they are in foster care. I've heard them explain in very simple terms that their Mom needs help and they live with us, their foster parents, until she gets better. But it isn't something we publicize or share with strangers.

I watched as Sarah turned to look at me after the well meaning woman asked the question. I smiled and said, "Yep. They are all mine!" The woman replied that they were all so beautiful! Such cute kids.

She's right, they are. They have jet black hair. Sparkling brown eyes. Dimples and smiles that are infectious. It's meant as a compliment. I take it as one. I ignore the idea that she can't believe I could birth such cute kids. Or that I could have four. And I ignore the obvious, that our skin does not match. I simply said thank you and moved on. Because really, who wouldn't be in awe of the Mom in the club store with four children in tow? Sometimes, I amaze myself.

Sunday I had a different experience. The person was being nosey. And I try to forgive that because I am nosey by nature also and I'm sure the comment wasn't meant for me to hear. It reminded me that at times others can be rude about the make up of our family and I hate having those reminders.

I ran a 5K on Sunday in honor of my Grandmother. As I rounded the corner towards the finish line the kids were standing there waiting for me. I waved and they came running towards me to grab my hand and run with me to the finish. 

It was an awesome moment for me as a Mom. They were excited that I was coming and I was proud to be the example of setting a goal and completing it. As we ran past the spectators cheering the runners in their final leg, I heard a woman say to the person next to her, "Is that their Mom? Can't be can she?".

I wanted to go back and say, "As a matter of fact, yes I can. Maybe you mean, biological Mom? But I can assure you I am their Mom in the truest sense of the word. I may have only been their Mom for four months but I show up for them every day and do all the things a Mom is supposed to do."

For a second or two that comment stole my thunder. But then Sarah squeezed my hand and said, "Come on Mom! You can finish!". She held my hand all the way to the finish line. 

I'm sad for families that can't be as unique as mine. We have some pretty spectacular moments...

Still Grief

My brother and sister-in-law came over for dinner tonight. No special reason other than I thought I had made too much corned beef. (Turns out it was a perfect amount and was very delicious.) we spent the evening chatting and catching up on life.

The conversation turned to the kids.I was   talking about different they were and how well the all got along when all of a sudden it hit me that it's March 7th and they went home in April.

It had almost been a year since they lived with us. This time last year we were handling overnight visits, family meetings and talking about giving our notice.

And the sadness was overwhelming. I have no idea why, but the tears came. So I went back and read some of the posts from this time last year. I'm not sure the writing conveyed how awful I felt inside. And the band aid that was on the grief was ripped off.

At the end of it all, I still lost my kids. 

There is still a hole in my heart where they were. And while I am so glad that they have been successful and I feel blessed that they are still very much apart of our lives, I miss them. And our relationship is different (as it should be).  I am reminded of them all the time and it doesn't usually bring me to tears. 

Maybe I blocked all of the dark time out. Maybe it's the trauma anniversary phenomenon that I'm experiencing. I had all these upcoming dates in my head and I couldn't figure out why they felt familiar. Then I matched them up with the events of last year and it made more sense. They were dates of things that happened as the Fab Four left. We have a permanency hearing for the Quartet on the day the kids started their 10 day visit for spring break. I'm going to a baby shower on the anniversary of the kids leaving. 

Maybe it's the guilt of loving additional children and putting their needs ahead of the Fab Four. Or the guilt that we have so much in terms of resources, and they do not. Maybe it's the realization that a year later I'm not positioned much better to be a forever mom. While much, much better, maybe the pain will always be there in some form or fashion. 

I ran into Stella's teacher this week. She was also Jelly Bean's teacher last year. She said to me, "You look really great!" And then repeated it before we parted. I thought about the compliment and thought that probably the last time I saw her was a year ago when my life felt like it was crumbling around me. I'm going to focus on how far I've come and how much I've grown but there are still moments when it's hard.

I have kids sleeping in the next room. Really great, smart, sweet, lovable kids who need a Mom. That's a pretty important reason to put all of the other parts to the side and keep trudging through foster care land. There were other kids out there who needed our help. 

Sweet Dreams

I wish I could record the kids sleeping and share it. The snoring going on is hysterical. And they all wanted to share a bed! I decided to let them figure out sleeping arrangements. The way they paired up was interesting. 

MM and Simon of course were together. I heard MM say to Simon "I'm going to call you my brother from now on". I'm not sure if that was because he couldn't remember his name or if he really felt like he added a sibling!

Jelly Bean and Stella decided to share. I'm sure one of them is going to end up on the floor as Jelly Bean tends to move in her sleep. Sarah and Smiley begged Gabby to share the full size bed with them. I'm pretty sure she only agreed because that's the bed the dog sleeps on. I ended up waking her up and moving her to the top bunk that somehow ended up empty. LM took the top bunk in the boys room. I'm going to bet she asks to sleep on the couch tomorrow night.

So far everyone has been good. They had a nice time at the dance. The kids who were friends with the Fab Four were excited to see them. The Quartet proved that they are dancing queens. All in all it was a lot of fun. Maria and I both danced with our sons. It was a really cool moment. 

I realize this is one of my really crazy ideas. I'm approaching all of it with a very large dose of patience. I'm just so happy that they are all under one roof. And for one brief second I thought- wouldn't this be fun to have all of these kids? And then I remembered all of the other issues and dynamics...And the joy I feel for Maria that her kids don't need me to be their Mom on a daily basis. 

She gets a much needed break, I get to be loved by 8 kids. And the dog has this grin on his face. I swear if he could talk he'd say, "My kids! My kids! I'm so happy they are here!". 

A day like this is truly a blessing from foster care. If you had told me three years ago I would plan to have 8 kids in my home for the weekend I wouldn't have believed you. But they are all here. Sleeping soundly in a home where they all feel safe. That's a pretty amazing thought. In this rare instance, I'll admit we are a pretty amazing family. 

Three Ring

So the daycare had a Valentine's Day Dance for their families every year. We didn't get to go last year because of visits but had gone the year before. This year we are able to go and they invited the Fab Four to come as well! And since they were going to be out our way, they are spending the weekend with us. 

8 kids. So naturally I bought tickets to the circus. Maybe they will add us to the show!

New Challenges

It's been a while since we had full blown tantrums happening in our house and I forgot how exhausting they can be. Sarah and Smiley each had issues this week. Sarah because her burrito had tomatoes in it and Smiley because her mittens wouldn't go on her hands. 

Well okay, maybe it's not as simple as that. Sarah's tantrum was one of the first nights that Hubby had to handle pick up and dinner without me. I walked in from yoga no less, and found her screaming and him trying to de-escalate. iPad instantly back in te daily tantrums of Jelly Bean as the cadence of her cries are Rey similar. 

It's a primal sound because its fear based. She is not at a point where she can verbalize her fear or at the point where we can approach her. Both Hubby and I stayed within a few feet of her room as we tried to eat her unstuck. 

It ended with us telling her because she was still crying she must be tired and therefore needed to go to sleep. To which she answered with yelling and scream "I'm not tired". My answer- you don't have to sleep but you are going to lay quietly in that bed. She of course was snoring within a few minutes.

Smiley picked the snow storm to scream in all the way to school. I didn't do a good job of staying calm like I did with Sarah. It was a rough morning compounded by the fact that I just wanted her to stop so I could focus on driving in the snow. When we got to school I asked for a do-over and we moved on.

It's really hard to have kids who won't ask for help in the home. The Fab Four used to drive me crazy with their neediness. These kids would rather suffer in silence. We are trying really hard to overcome this with extra time spent hanging out and conversing. 

The other hard thing is that the kids don't know how to read facial expressions. Simon especially. Tonight I noticed his hands were cracked and raw. I exclaimed "what happened to your hand" and he started to get worried an year up because he thought he was in trouble. He couldn't tell worry from anger. My heart broke. We've gotten in the habit of telling the kids "this is my _______ face". It's a whole new set of challenges. 

Identifying them is 1/2 the battle, right?