‘Tis the Season.

 

 

  It happens every year, so I’m not sure why I let it surprise me.

The stores start playing Christmas music.

We put up our Christmas tree.

Lights are on the houses all around us (but not ours, because seriously, where do people find the time!?!).

And it’s like a cue is given, it’s like a switch is flipped, and our sweet girls and their broken hearts start to bleed again.  With the music, with the lights, with the tree, and with the traditions, it’s like their scabs are peeled back, exposing the hurt again.

So every year, as we usher in the holidays, we also usher in dis-regulation and regression.

 

Every Christmas is hard for our girls.  They are clearly confused by their feelings and revert back to an instant fear response.

BUT, I can also see growth each year.  As they look to us with increasing confidence for their comfort, and as our trust and love grows stronger – their hurt does not diminish, but now we can be their safe place.  We are praising God for growth.

This year we see the regression.

But this year we also see trust.  We see the girls looking forward with excitement to our family Christmas.  Their family Christmas.

It will always be hard. We are not their first family, we are not their only family, but it is clear in the joy in their eyes, that we are their family.

With that in mind, I am looking forward to this Christmas season.  Dis-regulation and all.

always there.

 

My kids love listening to Adele.  That’s normal for four year olds, right?

The other day, Bella asked me to put on Adele 21.

“Mommy, can you play that song, the remembering song?  The first one?”

Not at all sure what she was talking about, I put the cd in.  I put the cd in and started playing the first track.

“Mommy, this song is like adoption, isn’t it.  I think this song is about adoption.”

The song started, and I was caught off guard.  Immediately tears welled in my eyes.  The kind of hurt sprung in my heart that is so strong your not sure how to hold it in.  The kind of hurt that feels like your heart is about to explode with the rising of confusing pain.  How do I process this feeling in time to turn it around and help my daughter process what must feel even worse – her every day grief.

 

When will I see you again?
You left with no goodbye,
Not a single word was said,
No final kiss to seal any sins,
I had no idea of the state we were in,
I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness,
And a wandering eye, and heaviness in my head,
But don't you remember?
Don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Please remember me once more,
When was the last time you thought of me?
Or have you completely erased me from your memory?
I often think about where I went wrong,
The more I do, the less I know,
But I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness,
And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head,
But don't you remember?
Don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby, please remember me once more,
Gave you the space so you could breathe,
I kept my distance so you would be free,
And hoped that you'd find the missing piece,
To bring you back to me,
Why don't you remember?
Don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby, please remember me once more,

When will I see you again?

 

Adoption is beautiful, and Jesus orchestrates families through it.  But let’s not forget that every adoption begins with loss.  That our children have a grief so deep that as an adult it feels impossible even for me to carry.  There is no adoption without loss.  Let’s meet our children where they are, where they are coming from.  Let’s meet them in their loss, and if we need to, lets dwell there for a bit.

Goodbye and forever.

 

Last Wednesday the girls had their ‘goodbye visit’ with their mother.  Ever since the hearing we’ve been debating how to go about all of this.  Do we prepare them ahead of time?  Do we wait until after the visit so that we can be the comforters vs. the bearers of bad news?  How do we talk about something so traumatic?

Well, it turned out we didn’t have much say in the matter, because they called us Tuesday night to let us know the visit was on Wednesday.  Well then.  So much for preparation. 

Brian took the girls to the visit (an hour and a half away) so that one of us could be there for them afterward.  Also, I had recently e-mailed their birth mom a bunch of pictures from Disney and never heard back, so I wanted him to ask and make sure I had the right e-mail. 

 

The visit actually went relatively well.  Mom didn’t even discuss it being the final visit, but did give the girls some pictures of the family before leaving.  I have a lot of respect for her ability to not make it an emotional blood bath – because, really?  I can’t even imagine.  The only thing that could have gone better is if Mom would have taken some time to verbally give the girls permission for us to be their family, for them to love us and move on.  But, having been in this field for a while, none of us were really expecting that.

 

When they got home from the visit, we went ahead with bedtime.  Bella was clearly contemplative and a little quiet.  Then she asked it,

“Was that my very last visit with my Mom ever?”

I’ve been thinking about, praying about, preparing for this conversation for so long, and still it was like a punch in the gut.

“Yes sweetheart.  Yes, it was.”

Knowing that if at any point it is appropriate for the girls to have contact with their mom that we would be all for it – it was difficult not to want to comfort her with that.  But, from what we’ve learned (purvis, purvis, purvis) it is better to be straightforward and not give hope for what might not happen, at the risk of implanting a hope in a child that they could hang on to for years without any resolution.

She went on to ask all the questions.  Why?  How long is forever?  What is adoption?  Will I ever see them again?  Are they dead? 

Tootaw doesn’t understand what is happening at all.  Not at all.

Lots and lots of questions.  Lots of tears.  Some obvious relief for having some concrete answers.  Some relief that she does not have to say goodbye to us.  Lots of heartbreak. 

 

Since then we’ve seen a huge resurgence of trauma behaviors.  Trauma tantrums with hitting, kicking, spitting, biting.  The difference between a year and a half ago and now is that she trusts us, so with lots of help from Empowered to Connect, we are able to work through it.  We are able to provide comfort.  We can love her through it and connect through the pain.

But jeez, what I wouldn’t give to not have to go through all this trauma again.  We had worked through so much.  So. Much.  And now here we go again.  But this time around we are investing in forever. 

Forever. 

Thank you Lord.

 

Prayers for the hearts of our sweet girls are coveted.  Healing will come.  It will.

Bittersweet.

 

 

Today was the conclusion of the termination of parental rights trial for Bella and Tootaw.  All so very bittersweet.  I was anxious going into it.  I don’t think I was anxious as much about the outcome (it was fairly obvious what was going to happen) as I was about having to sit in the court room again with their parents and listen all day to all the things they screwed up. 

If you find it impossible to have compassion for birth parents in a situation like this – if you just can’t connect with them and empathize – go to a termination trial.

They are just people.
Thrown into the pool of life in the deep end, head first.
Usually with no support system.
Usually having grown up without role models.

A life most of us cannot even relate to.

So, I was not looking forward to sitting in the court room with them all day while they were trampled in all the muck they have left in their wake the last two years.

 

We got there and made small talk with their parents.  We’ve worked hard to develop and maintain a relationship with them and regardless of the outcome today, I wanted them to know that we still aren’t against them we are just for the best interest of the girls.

It took them a long time before they even started telling people they could come in the courtroom – attorneys in and out, lots of hushed talking.

Finally, the state’s attorney asked me to come into the courtroom.  Mom and Dad were considering relinquishing their rights and wanted to know if there was any way we would maintain contact.  Brian and I had already had conversations about this, I had discussed it with the girls therapist, and we knew that if possible, we did want to maintain contact to some degree.  Both their therapist and Brian and I agreed that initially it would be better to maintain contact through e-mail or P.O. Box.  We were hoping for an open adoption to some degree and to maintain as many ties to their past as possible.  Both for the sake of the girls and their family.

 

I left the courtroom to find their parents crying in the hallway.  The caseworker had just let them know that we were willing to maintain contact and Dad leaned forward and said thank you.  I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but I walked over. 

We had a conversation about their fears.  I promised that the girls would never forget them and would always know that they love them.  My heart was breaking for them.  It was excruciating to be a part of.

I am thankful that this is how it all happened if it had to.  I felt assured through our conversations today that their Mom and Dad knew that we weren’t against them,  that they trust us to care for their girls, and that we love the girls and will forever.  We were able to offer support in such an awful time.  I felt like it was the fruit of working so hard to maintain a relationship.  Now, in the midst of such pain, they knew they could trust us, they knew we would not give up, they knew that all we wanted was what is best for the girls.  And in the midst of all that, it laid a foundation for continued contact.

 

It was excruciating to watch.
We hurt because they hurt.
We hurt because of the loss that this day signified for our girls.
So much brokenness.

 

All this will take a lot of processing.  I’m sure that I will post more on it as it all settles.  I wish it could just be a celebration, and celebrate we will when we get to our adoption day – but for now it is bittersweet.  So much hurt that is so visceral right now.

The sweet in all of this?  Right now I am looking at my girls.  My girls who will be my daughters forever.  My sweet babies that I will love and cuddle.  I will watch them graduate.  I will watch them walk down the aisle.  I will watch them pursue their dreams.  I will watch them heal and grow and flourish.

 

And, I guess, that’s the end.

Can’t give up.

 

 

  Tomorrow is a big day. 

We’ve had a lot of those lately.  Bella had her last chemo appointment on Monday, and will officially be off all chemo meds as of the 22nd!  Very.  Very.  Exciting.

  But tomorrow is even bigger.

  Tomorrow we will go to court and listen to everyone on the case testify.  We will see the good and the bad, and we will listen as a judge determines whether or not to terminate the parental rights of Bella and Tootaw’s mom and dad.

  When I think about it, I feel like vomiting. 

I know in my mind what, at this point, is best for the girls.  I know they need closure.  I know they need to be able to heal.  I know that they need their childhoods released from the anxiety of being in foster care.  But no matter what happens tomorrow, there is pain, there is loss, there is brokenness.  It is possible, and likely, that we will go to the court hearing tomorrow and sit with the mother and father of our sweet girls – and that when we leave they will no longer have any of the rights associated with being parents. 

  They won’t get to decide what their kids have for dinner.

  They won’t get to watch Bella graduate from Kindergarten.

  He won’t walk them down the isle. 

  She won’t sing them to sleep.

  There is hurt.  There is pain.  There is loss.  Loss that is at the start of every adoption.  Loss that will never be erased.  I hurt so much for our girls and for the pain they will have to work through.  For the loss that will follow them through life no matter how well we love them.

 

  We took their mom out to lunch with us on Monday to give her some more time with the girls.  It’s so easy to detach ourselves from the situation and to talk ad nauseum about all the things they aren’t doing, all the times they let them down, how there is no way it could ever work.

  But when I am with her, when I identify with her as a person, as a mother, as a person broken and in need of a savior -

I want so badly for it to work.

  I want it to get better.  I want to paint smiles on all of their faces and mend their broken hearts.  I want to fix the brokenness that this world has to offer and for goodness sake, see us all as we will be on the other side of this life.

  I think of how I have been changed by unrelenting love.  None of us is perfect, none of us get it all right, we are all broken, and we all mess up.  I think of how my heart has been redeemed by a savior that loves me no matter what – an unlikely redemption, a heart changed forever.

And I just can’t let myself give up.

  I can’t give up on her.  Not until the judge has declared it final.  Even if, and probably when, her rights are terminated tomorrow, I won’t give up.  I will still pray for her heart to find it’s way out of the brokenness and wreckage that it is in.  Out of the hard places that life has taken her.  Out of difficult circumstances that poor choices have left her in.

  I hope we will be able to maintain contact to some degree at least.  Because I can’t give it up.

 

  Simultaneously I am so looking forward to it being over.  I am looking forward to working toward healing with the girls without anything to take us backwards.  I can’t wait to finally work toward being a true and legal forever family that nothing can erase.  I’m looking forward to the redemption that adoption implicitly brings.  To kiss the girls goodnight knowing that I will kiss them goodnight every night until they are grown, and that then I will worry about them every day until I die.

 

If you could be praying for tomorrow, I would so appreciate it.  That whatever is truly in the best interest of the girls is what happens and that we would trust no matter what happens.  And also that we are able to figure out some way to maintain contact with their parents if rights are terminated.  Pray.  pray.  pray.

Visit, behaviors, improvement, repeat.

 

This is an all to familiar cycle to anyone who has fostered for long.

 

Bella has started having longer visits with her parents – this weekend she’ll have an overnight visit for two nights and three days. 

 

oh boy.  holy cow.  We are feeling the repercussion of painful scabs being scratched open again and again and again.

 

I think this is one of the difficulties of fostering that may be different in adoption (hopefully we will find out eventually).  In fostering it seems that you are never really working toward healing.  Really, you are working at keeping a wound just raw enough that when it comes time for reunification, the wound can be grafted back into a family unit, that will slowly heal together.

 

Fostering is about dealing with open wounds.

We aren’t working toward closure.

We aren’t working toward healing.

We really aren’t even working toward progress in behaviors.

 

Because every visit, she goes home for a few hours, and then she has to leave again.  Leave her sister.  Leave her mom and dad.  Leave her home.

And the scab is picked off.  And we’re starting all over.

 

The pain in her little heart is something I can’t imagine.  As an adult, as a foster parent, it is emotionally exhausting to experience.  As a four year old in the center of it all?  I can’t fathom it.

She doesn’t know what to do with all that pain.  We try to help her process it, put names to emotions, cry through the confusion.  We try to explain what is happening and why in four year old terms (because caseworkers don’t do that.  we’ve never had a caseworker explain what was happening consistently.).  But there is too much hurt, and it has to come out.

 

It comes out in defiance.  Lots. and lots. and lots. of defiance.

It comes out in anger.

It comes out in tantrums.

It comes out in needing extra affection.

 

And we do our best.  We increase nurture with structure.  We use lots of feeling words.  We connect while correcting.  We avoid un-needed consequences like crazy.  We talk about choices.

Things get a little better.  We see more smiles.  We see better choices.  We see her heart mend, just a little.

 

 

And then there is another visit.

 

And we start all over.

 

And it’s not even about the behaviors.  (although some days, it’s hard for that not to be the focus.)  I just want her little heart to be able to heal.  I just want her to stop hurting all the time.

So Behind on Questions….

I know I’ve fallen hopelessly behind on answering all the questions that you’ve sent me either through e-mail or through the formspring box (in the right column).  I’m soooo sorry if you’ve sent me a question and I haven’t responded!  I will try to catch up, but if you have a question that was never answered, you might want to resend it….sorry!

 

Hi! I'm a Social Work student with plans to foster and have a few questions about your experience. Did you know you were going to foster when you were in school? How has a background in Social Work helped your foster parenting?

 

When I was in school, I knew that fostering and/or adopting was something I was interested in doing someday.  Brian and I had also talked about it in a very abstract, very future kind of way.  But God kept placing it on our hearts, and as we prayed about it, it became clear to us that we didn’t really have a good reason not to do it now.  When we had that conversation, I think Brian was still thinking in a hypothetical sense.  I, on the other hand, took it upon myself to call and sign us up for fostering classes the very next day.  (Good thing he loves me!)  And here we are.

Having a background in social work has helped a ton with fostering.  Because of my schooling I had a good understanding of where these children were coming from, why issues in families seemed to be so cyclical, what to expect in terms of behaviors, etc.  Also, I had a framework of counseling techniques that has come in real handy.

What has helped even more than my social work degree, is the experience that I clocked as a caseworker.  I already knew the in’s and out’s of the system, and I had seen it all from the caseworker’s perspective (which is very helpful in giving them a little grace when things don’t go just so.).  So yes, my background in social work has helped immensely.

 

I can’t imagine how difficult it is to say goodbye to children who leave your home.  Does it ever get any easier?

Well, in short, no.  You do learn what to expect.  You know what the hurt feels like.  You know the emptiness and the worry.  It doesn’t make it easier, you just know what to expect.  With that said, every time a child leaves our home it always hurts much more than I anticipate.  Oh, yes.  It hurts.

BUT.  Before you go thinking, “Oh, there is just no way I could ever do that, it would hurt too bad.”  let me stop you.  You could do it.  It would hurt.  And you would cry.  And you would always worry.  And it would all be worth it.  God gives you the opportunity to get to know these little souls that he created for a purpose.  He plants in you love for them.  He helps you to attach.  Because it is what they need.

And like I’ve said before,  Isn’t every child worth being cried over?  Isn’t every child worth the kind of love that makes it hard to say goodbye?

It is worth it.

 

 

 

 

More questions coming!  If I missed yours please resend it and I’ll do my best to answer it!!!

I don’t even know what to title this post.

Really I’m not even sure what to write.  Where to start.

 

Since my last post, Zee has become increasingly physically aggressive.  Somewhere in the last couple of weeks, this has all become too much for him. 

Night before last he was extremely physically aggressive.  He also seemed to be showing some signs of PTSD – almost like flashbacks.  He was talking about things that have happened in the past, and was looking at us like we were strangers.  We got through that night.

The next morning (yesterday) Brian had to leave early for work.  I had the boys on my own for the morning until their Rocket Camp.  Zee woke up just as aggitated as he fell asleep, and was rearing to go.  Luckily Sylvia was still asleep.  He was becoming increasingly physically agressive as the morning went on and was completely out of control.  Jae, thankfully, was having a good morning.

I ended up having to call Brian to come home from work.  Sylvia was about to wake up, and I knew I couldn’t handle her and Zee the way he was behaving – and that it wasn’t safe.  Brian came home, and Zee continued to escalate.  He was hitting, kicking, biting, and throwing things.  We did our best to calm him down, to talk him through it, but he was only getting worse.

We ended up having to call the police again.  This time the police said they thought it would be best for him to go with them for a while.  They took him down to the detention center. 

Brian and I knew that a decision had to be made.  We had to know when to call it – when it wasn’t safe for him to be with us anymore.  The fact that it only seems to be getting worse, and the fact that I cannot safely be home with him and Sylvia by myself led us to decide that our home was no longer a safe place for him to live.

 

Right now he is in a respite home.  The caseworker is out of town (although she never told us this – and has her cell phone off – and when I called and left two urgent messages at her office, no one cared to tell me she was gone.) and no major decisions will be made until she gets back Monday.

Zee is (obviously) not thinking clearly right now.  But is currently saying that he wants to be moved from our home, and that he does not want to live with Jae.  I know that in time this is not what he will want.  He is so confused.  So lost in all of this.

At this point I am sincerely hoping that they decide to move Jae in with Zee.  Jae has been an emotional wreck ever since Zee left and he bawled himself to sleep last night.

 

 

I can’t really even describe what all of this is like.

My heart hurts for those boys so badly – in such a way that I don’t even know how to explain it.  I hate all of this.  I hate their situation.  I hate that they can’t understand what is happening – even the way they are feeling.  I hate that I don’t think things are going to get better for them any time soon.  I hate that we can’t fix it.  I hate that there is nothing I can do.  I hate that they can’t be here.  I hate that they may not remember that we love them.

I cannot fathom their pain.

I am pleading with God for things to get better for them.  Pleading that their hearts make it through all of this without becoming void of feeling, emotion, love.  Pleading that He would carry them.  Please, Lord.

What to do.

  Well, ever since Sunday the boys have been back to the normal routine – I wouldn’t say it’s a particularly good week, but no sign of what went on Saturday.

  Right now my theory is that visits in general bring them anxiety – visits with mom, visits with dad, visits with siblings – this is evident in their behavior prior to visits.  I think that maybe having two visits with their siblings on back to back weekends was too much, causing our little rendezvous with the men in uniform.

 

  I feel so sorry that this is the direction things have taken.  It will make it much more difficult for them to find a home that can take all four of the kids.  However, it only serves as confirmation for us that it is not a good idea for us to do just that.

  It also lends itself to lots of head scratching by all those involved in the case.  What triggered it?  What services are appropriate to help alleviate the behaviors?  What do the boys need to get through this without being violent?  How can we as foster parents best be supported in order to avoid any kind of disruption?  On and on…

  Of course, when anything of this nature happens with kids in foster care, there is always the question of medication.  It has been brought up.

  I strongly feel that the boys are not in need of medication to alleviate behaviors.  Medication doesn’t fix what is going on in their hearts.  I often bristle at the thought of medicating children in any instance – children in foster care are so over medicated.  But I sincerely believe that it is not needed here.

  The boys are mad.  I mean severely pissed off.

And….I would be to.  I think that their anger is fully justified given their circumstance.  I think it is a fair reaction.  In fact, I’d be a little worried if they weren’t just a little peeved.  I’d be really worried if they were going through all of this with a Pollyanna attitude.  I’d say that anger is a pretty normal reaction here.  I don’t want to medicate them because they are feeling the way they should.

  What they need is to learn how to express their anger.  It is ok to be angry.  It is not ok to push Brian down the stairs.  I imagine if I were in their shoes.  I’ve just had my life ripped out from under me.  I’ve lost everything.  It is not my fault, but I have no control over it.  I’d be ticked off.  And if I had never had anyone show me what it looks like to appropriately display my anger?  I’d probably throw things.  I’d probably hit and kick.  I’d probably threaten people I love.  I’d probably run away.  I’d be mad in a way I couldn’t express.

 

  Medication would probably stop the behaviors, but it wouldn’t heal their hearts.  The behaviors are not the core of this problem.  In fact it would probably hinder any progress – it would be like putting a bandaid over a wound that needs stitches.  It doesn’t heal – and in the end may make the scar all that much worse.

  Of course, medication would be much faster than teaching.  Much faster than healing.  I am hoping this doesn’t lead to its use.

 

  I know there are situations that require medication.  And in those situations, I am so thankful that it is available.  But I really think our boys are trying to express what they don’t understand.  They are showing us their hurt in the only way they know how.  It is going to be a long road for them.  We are just praying that it doesn’t get worse – that it doesn’t get bad enough that we cannot safely keep them here.  Until then, we will tough it out – we will try our best to teach them what the hurt is, and to slowly, gently help them to heal.

The Po Po.

  I guess you could say we had quite the weekend…

We had a visit scheduled for the boys’ siblings to come and spend the night on Saturday night.  They all already knew about it, so we went forward with it even though we have decided that we cannot take them.

Saturday started out at a normal pace.  Jae was having a little bit of trouble, but Zee was helping Brian paint an old dresser and seemed to be doing really well.  Around 10:00 we had the boys go to clean their room – which seems to be equivalent to us asking them to catch fish with their bare hands for dinner – the most impossible task we could assign.  It is all very dramatic.  So at this point they get upset about how we are the most terrible, slave driving people on the planet because I’m making them pick up their dirty underwear.

This escalates a little for Jae.  He ends up shoving Brian, so he has to spend time in the other bedroom to cool down.  He does not cool down, earning him subsequent time in the bedroom.  This continues until I am sure he’s not going to be coming out anytime soon – and at this point Zee has firmly stated that ‘He is not cleaning his room.’  So, I tell the boys that they can choose not to clean their room, but that if I have to clean it for them, they will have to pay me from their allowance for my time.  Zee ended up helping me – Jae coughed up the cash.

Things weren’t getting any better, but we did not feel like the boys were completely out of control – definitely not enough to cancel the visit.  But, if there is one thing our boys are good at, it’s showing us up right when we think things are ok.

Starting around 2:00 their behaviors began to escalate, and continued to do so until dinner time.  (Their brother and sister joined us around 3:00.)  They progressed to throwing their toys at us as hard as they could, hitting and kicking Brian in obvious attempts to hurt him, trying to throw the vacuum cleaner at Brian, trying to push him down the stairs, screaming threats and obscenities at us, and running throughout the house.

I stayed downstairs with their siblings and Sylvia in an effort to keep them out of harms way, although Zee did come down twice and hit his brother with toys.  He also discovered a bottle of yellow craft paint that he attempted to squirt across our dining room, and they scratched the paint off of their bedroom door.

We tried several times to de-escalate them through talking an listening to no avail.  We are legally not able to lock them in any rooms or restrain them unless it is self defense. 

At around 6:00 we called the on-call worker at our agency to ask her what we should do.  They were completely out of control and were being more physically aggressive then they ever have been in the past.  Her suggestions were that we separate them, get them to calm down, and try to de-escalate their behaviors.  If I didn’t have a filter, my response would have been, “No kidding?  Really?  Because I would have never though of those things.  Thanks SO much for your assistance.”  But I didn’t.  Eventually she suggested that we call the police and have them come out to the house to show the boys how serious their behavior was.

 

So that’s what we did.  I called the police and they came out.  Jae was even disrespectful to the police officer until he required him to respect him.  They discussed how serious their behavior was, let them know that next time this happens that the boys will be escorted to the juvenile detention center, and made them pick up all of the toys they had thrown all over the house.

After the police left, the boys attitudes returned to exactly how they had been prior to the officers coming out, but they were no longer physically aggressive.  They threatened several times to run away, so Brian went up to their room and sat down with them to make a plan of how much it would cost and how they would earn their money.  (In an effort to show them how unrealistic it is for them to run away.)

 

After their siblings left on Sunday, the boys’ behavior began to de-escalate and by dinner time they were back to their normal selves.  We can only figure that their behavior was triggered by the visit.  Generally when the boys lose control it is for a shorter period of time (an hour or so) and it ends with them breaking down in tears and being able to discuss, at some level, what it is that is fueling the anger.  That didn’t happen this time, which makes me nervous that it was never resolved in their hearts and that there may be more to come.

I’ve been e-mailing back and forth with caseworkers trying to deal with all this – putting in my two cents and seeing how far it goes.  We’ll see where we go from here…

Hard, hard decisions.

So tired of the serious posts.  But that’s been life lately.  Back to our normal program soon.    {Pause}    Did I just say normal, oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to confuse anyone by making them think that anything is ever normal around here.  You know, just less “writing about things that make you say, ‘foster care? me? Why in the world would I do that?’”

 

Brian and I have made a decision regarding the kids.

We’ve decided that we should not take the boys’ siblings.  I can not tell you how much thought and prayer went into this decision.  And we really feel at peace with it, now that we’ve decided.

Both of us wanted to take them so badly.  It was our natural inclination to immediately say, “Of course!  Why not?  We’d LOVE to.”  We tried to consider all the variables – and when we were done, we considered all of them again.  Really it just came down to one simple fact:

We weren’t sure that with four children who were very high need, and one under the age of 1 year, that we could really, fully provide everything that all five of them needs.  Primarily in the stage of life that we are currently in.

 

There were so many ‘if’s’.  If we lived near our family who would provide support.  If we knew how the kids do when they live together.  If we thought it was shorter term.  If we knew the boys’ behaviors would ever really improve.  If, if, if.

We struggled with whether or not these questions were just our lack of trust that God would provide, and we came to a couple of conclusions:

He has not given us a peace about adopting these children, even though we have literally begged for it.  We do know that he has called us to foster – which we would have to stop doing if we were to adopt right now – and we don’t feel like fostering is something He is asking us to stop doing.  He has given us hearts for adoption, and I am confident that at some point we will do just that, but not now.  Saying yes to taking the kids would have been the easier decision for us (I know, that sounds insane.  I never claimed we were sane.).  This is such a hard decision, but because it was so hard and we still feel that it is necessary, and we feel peace about it, tells me that it is the right decision regardless.

 

I’m not sure that any of that made sense.  If not, I’ll work on my next post being coherent.

 

We made a couple of suggestions to the caseworker.  *(Joke, right?  Cause who ever listens to the foster parents?  ….I digress.)*  We said, “What’s the huge rush?  Why don’t you give it six months to see if you just happen to find a family looking to adopt four kids?  If not, then move them somewhere else together, but if so, then it is only one more move for the kids instead of two.”

The caseworker responded, “thank you for your thoughtful consideration and your honesty, but we would really like to move the kids as soon as possible.”  I can see where she’s coming from.  But kind of not.

So the boys will be moving sooner than later.  And it makes me want to vomit.

If you are in the habit of praying for our boys, please pray for their hearts.  Pray for their future.  Pray for their caseworker.  Pray for the family they will go to.

 

*I should say, that before you think I’m all anti-caseworker, that I was a caseworker prior to fostering.  Some of them are great, and try really hard.  I should also say, that while we’ve had some bad experiences with our kids’ caseworkers – OUR caseworker (the one that works with us, the foster families) is fabulous.  She is supportive and helpful and we love her.  So don’t go getting scared off from fostering because of my caseworker talk.*

Catching up on all this mess.

Oh man.  Summer is definitely here, and with all three of these crazies running around all the time, getting posts up is like planting flowers in the middle of a hurricane.  I am, however, loving summer time.  I love actually having time to do fun things with the boys, going to the pool, not being constrained by a school schedule, and getting to see the boys experience all kinds of new things.

Zee is really doing so well.  We still have issues on occasion, but overall he generally gets about 2 out of 4 marbles a day – which is huge!  He is very open about his emotions, which I think is helping him to deal with and get through his situation pretty well.

Of course then at their last visit, their caseworker (who I’m beginning to think is a genius.  A regular Einstein.)  talked to them about the next court hearing.  I’m not sure exactly what she said, but they came home saying, “On the 28th, we are either going home with our mom, going home with our dad, or we are being adopted by someone.”  Now, obviously none of these things will be happening on the 28th.  So we’ve had lots of conversations about what the court does, and that it is likely that nothing will happen on the 28th.  So the boys have taken sides, Jae wants to go with mom, Zee wants to go with dad.  But pretty frequently Zee will say thing like, “Maggie, when you adopt us, will our last name be Popp?” or “Brian, when you adopt us, will Nana and Grandpa be our real grandparents?”

Talk about ripping your heart out.  Adoption isn’t even on our radar screen yet – we’ll just have to see.  So we also have lots of conversations about how we don’t know what will happen yet, but that we’ll find out together.  And of course that we love them no matter what happens.

Speaking of ripping your heart out, Zee came home yesterday from Vacation Bible School and told us that he’s pretty sure a girl there has just stolen his heart. 

Awwwwww.

It went something like this:

Zee:  There’s this girl, at VBS, and I’m pretty sure I like her.

Me: (Holding back all of my awwww’s and motherly grins.)  Oh really?  What’s her name?

Zee:  Well…..I’m not really sure.

Me: I see.  Well, how do you know you like her?

Zee:  Well, she’s really nice.  She let me wrap her like a mommy. (aka mummy – Egyptian themed VBS)  And she’s cute.

Me: Well what does she look like?

Zee: She has brown hair, and it’s pretty long.  It’s really pretty.

 

Awwwwwww.

I just keep pumping him with the ‘girls are trouble’ routine.  He’s only 8.  No girlfriends yet.

 

Jae is having a lot more trouble.  He’ll do fine for a while, and then he just. explodes.  It is a fury in his eyes, and he loses control.  He screams and throws and hits things and makes threats.  All we can do is send him to his room until he cools off, and then try to talk to him about it.  I’ve had some intense conversations with his therapist about it, because he just makes me a little nervous around Sylvia sometimes.  Right now he just doesn’t have the capability to feel very much but anger.  My heart hurts for his.

Of course, last night we were on our way home from Brian’s softball game and he randomly says:

“Look how beautiful the city looks at night.”  And points out his car window.

I could have cried.  I mean, this kid has himself and his heart sealed up with super glue, and then out of nowhere he is commenting on how beautiful the Days Inn looks against the night sky. 

 

Anyway, this has turned into a ridiculously long post.  If I posted more often I’d keep them shorter.  We’ll see what I can do.

Now I have to go finish packing all five of us for our seven day vacation in the mountains in Colorado!  Jae, you’ve not seen beautiful yet, you just wait.

Ending on a Positive Note.

So all the posts this week have kinda been downers.  I promise to end this one on a positive note.  Maybe a picture of a cute kitten or something else smile inducing.

The truth is, this has been a rough week.  And I’m not here to make foster parenting look easy – I’m here to show that it’s hard and brings challenges, but that it is doable and completely worth it.  No one signs up to be a foster parent thinking it’s all going to be roses and I love you’s (although I’ve received both during our time as foster parents, so all hope is not lost!).  Someone I was talking to, or possibly reading the blog of {let’s hear it for modern communication} was telling me their thoughts on the difficulty of fostering.  I think it was my friend Katherine. 

It is hard.  And there are struggles.  And there are tears.

But doesn’t every child deserve to be loved enough and cared for enough that someone finds them worth tears?

 

And that’s also the example Christ gave us.  He loved us even though it hurt.  He found us worth tears, agony even.  He took us as His own when it wasn’t required of Him because he loves us.  And he is going to stick out the good times and the rough times with us until we find ourselves home.

 

So.  Given the opportunity to love these kids through the hurt, I will (try, and surely fail sometimes) to count it all joy, count it all joy, count it all joy.  (Any Adventure in Odyssey fans out there?)

I have been leaning so heavily on these verses this week:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be made mature and complete, not lacking anything.  If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.

                           James 1:2-5

and of course this one:

Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.

                          James 1:19-20

 

And, on a positive note, I am SO thankful that:

• The boys had a really great morning this morning.  No yelling, no smarting off, no throwing fits, no complete breakdowns in communication.
• Brian and I had time yesterday to sit down and create a behavior chart for each of the boys, and I am so looking forward to see it’s fruit.
• Sylvia is such a happy baby.  She brings me joy every time I look at her, hear her sweet voice, or have to comfort her.  Thank you Lord for my sweet baby girl.
• The boys (finally!) have a visit with their mom tonight.  Here’s to hoping it goes well.  Here’s to naively hoping it might improve their behavior instead of degrade it. {I can hope, can’t I?}
• And, drum roll please,      the caseworker finally called me!!!  For the first time in the three weeks the boys have been with us, I was able to ask questions, and get answers.  Amen! 

Nothing much more smiling inducing than that!

(I mean, all biases aside.  But not really.)

Please Pray.

Please pray for X-man.  Please. Please. Pray.

His current foster mom got a phone call today telling her to have all of their stuff ready, he and his brothers are being picked up this afternoon and going home permanently.

 

I can’t even explain how I’m feeling.

He came to us at 15 months weighing 12 pounds.  She almost killed him.  His brothers, at 4 and 5 were not even verbal.  No colors.  No numbers.  No alphabet. 

 

She almost killed him.

 

Not to mention they are going from one hour supervised visits once a week to going home?!?!?!?  This is asinine.  Not only is it insane, but it’s not even fair to his mom – they are setting her up for failure.  Going from never taking care of any children, to taking care of three high needs kids by herself? 

GIVE ME A BREAK.  CAN THE SYSTEM REALLY BE THIS SCREWED UP?

 

All I can figure is that the caseworker must have royally screwed up in court representing the evidence.  Because there is no excuse for this.

She almost killed him.

 

It should have been an open and shut case.  It was BAD.  Really, really BAD.

 

I don’t even know what to say.  And should probably stop anyway before I regret my ranting.  Please pray for them.  Please.  All I can see in my mind is his thin, sick little body the night they dropped him off.  He didn’t even know how to cry.

 

Please pray.  It’s my sweet boy.  I know that God knows this situation through and through, and he loves that boy more than I ever could.  But it is so hard to trust.

Fix You.

Last night was rough.  The boys are missing their mother.  They don’t know how to deal with it.

They were having a lot of trouble listening and being civil with each other (i.e. not biting each other.).  Both had been in and out of ‘cool down time’.  As we were sitting down for dinner Jae was cooling off in his room for spewing his 587th smart aleck remark of the evening at Brian and I.  Things all came to a head when Zee accidentally poured half a bottle of BBQ sauce on his burger.  He just lost it.  BBQ sauce was obviously not the culprit of this emotional outcry.

We talked about him missing his mom.  I talked to him about what his favorite things are about her, what they did for fun, what his favorite memory is.  I’ve found talking through these things – being able to share – generally has helped the kids we’ve had cope with their heartache.  We talked about when they played volleyball and how he liked it when his mom let him help clean the house.  (I’d be thrilled to let him work through that with my vacuum cleaner.)  We talked about how they went camping, and how he just misses being with her.

I went up to their room and talked to Jae about his attitude.  I asked him if he thought he might be having a rough day because he is missing his mom.  He said no – he seems to have more of a wall up, he doesn’t want to discuss his mom, missing her, or even Zee missing her.

 

I left to go to book club. (Praise God!  I needed some time out.)  But these outbursts continued for Brian for the rest of the evening right into bedtime.

I got in the car and immediately Coldplay came through the speakers:

 

 

It’s just so hard.  I want to fix it.  I want to mend their broken hearts.  I want to have the answers.  I want to make it better.

I want my love to be enough.  I want my love to fix it.

But it won’t.

It can’t.

It never will be enough.

 

And that makes it so hard.

I just feel so much like I am at the very frontlines of what they are going through with my hands tied.  I can’t make it better.  As foster parents you get all of the hurt, right there, in your face.  And all you can do is stick it out with these kids and hope they learn something of love while they are with you.

So I guess that’s what we’ll do.  I guess that’s my answer.  We’ll stick it out with these boys through whatever this throws at us.  We’ll love them, and tell them about it everyday.  We’ll teach them about God’s love and how they are so precious to His heart.  And we’ll pray. 

A Surprise Visit.

Yesterday afternoon I got a call from X-man’s foster mom to see if we wanted to hang out with him!  Of Course!  I was thrilled.  I was beginning to think we may not actually get to keep in contact with him, so this was more than exciting.  We hadn’t seen him in a month, so I wasn’t sure how it would go – little ones forget more quickly (enter: knife into my heart) and get confused.

We took him to the park.  He really has already grown so much, and he’s looking older.  We played and played, and barbequed burgers for a picnic dinner. 

 

Check out that big boy hair cut – and I believe the fat lip makes him look older too.  Ha!  And that belly!  Can you believe that seven short months ago this child weighed 12 pounds?!?!  

He did seem a little confused at first, which broke my heart.  But as soon as we played a short ice-breaker – throwing grass in each other’s hair – he was his spunky self.

 

 

 

Sylvie decided she wanted to see what X’s shoe tasted like – of course.  Who could pass up all that tasty dirt?

He decided it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

 

Hello?  Who is it?

 

 

We were so excited to see our sweet boy.  I feel so blessed that we get to stay in contact with so many of our kids.  I had forgotten how difficult the first couple of visits are after a move, though.  When X-man left our house one month ago, in his mind, we were his parents.  He was excited to see us when we had been away.  He preferred us to other people.  We knew all the ways to make him laugh.  Only we could make it better when he was sad.

Yesterday when I went to pick him up, I was none of these things.  I was no longer his mamma.  He recognized me, but there was no laughing and running to the door as if to say, “Momma, finally!  You’ve come to pick me up!”  like there always was before. 

I’m happy for him that he is not still so attached.  It would be horrible for him if he was not able to let us go and adjust to his new home.  But it is heart wrenching for me.  I was his mamma.  And now I’m not.  It hurts.  But like I’ve said before, it only hurts because we loved each other well.  I do love this little boy.  I can not wait to see him again.

Heart. Of. Stone.

I have a heart of stone. I don't get attached. What? I don't shed tears over children leaving our home. Coming, going, what's the difference? Right? I was actually born without a limbic cortex.


That's not true. I do have a limbic cortex.


I am partially convinced that most of the people we talk to about foster care think I must be wired backwards or something. We get a lot of
"I don't know how you do it, I wouldn't be able to let them go."'s, "I would get attached."'s, and "I just think it would be too hard for me to say goodbye."'s
(If you have left any of these in comments - I'm not offended, or even upset! I'm just sayin' I've got no super powers.)

I think that people, without even realizing it, make an assumption that we must have some superhuman capability to deal with the pain that is left behind when one of our kids moves. It's not true though. It hurts. We cry. We have to heal.
Any one of the people who have said these things, I'm sure would make wonderful foster parents. Wonderful foster parents, who were sometimes broken by the experiences. Wonderful foster parents who would, despite the hurt, take a second placement for the same reason that they took the first.

Brian and I started fostering because God asked us to. He asked us to both biblically and by prodding our hearts. Sometimes (actually often) if we are listening, God asks us to do things that are hard. He asks us to do things that hurt. He asks us to take risks for His kingdom. He asks us to be used in ways that don't make sense to the world, so that the only explanation is Him - and in that he is glorified! What an opportunity!

It was very, very painful when X-man left, and when our sweet girls left, and when we've had to say goodbye to emergency placements trusting they would be safe. But we aren't any stronger (or hard hearted, ha!) than the next. It is God's strength, and His love he has put into our hearts for these kids, that keeps us refreshed.

So no excuses! You all need to call your local foster agency! (Just kidding....but not really.)