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.

7 Months.

I know, I know, you’ve been seven months old for a couple of weeks. 

Things have been nuts around here – but I want to make sure to get ‘you at seven months’ down on paper, because I’ve lived enough life to know that a year from now I won’t remember at all.  (I hate that.  I blame it on your Nana.  I got my memory from her.)

 

 

You are incredible.

You are happy all the time.  You smile at anything.  You laugh at me even when I’m obviously annoying you.  You are joy personified.  I’m not sure I’ve ever met a baby as happy and smiley as you.  I sing you “You are My Sunshine” all the time, and it’s true.

 

 

You’ve started babbling, it approximates something a little like: Aaaaabababababa.  I’m still working on Mamamama, but at least you didn’t go with Dadadada. (That was your sister’s first sound, and your Dad still brags about it.)  You are very passionate about your babbling, and when you get going you are very loud.  We’ve had to leave several church services, a wedding, the library, and small group all because you are so loud – but you’re happy loud,  so I can’t very well shush you.

 

You are moving all over the place.  You half crawl, half drag yourself around on your belly, but you are bound and determined to get to where you want to be.

You are itty bitty like your Mommy.  At your six month check up you were 13 pounds 4 ounces, and in the 5th percentile.  When you crawl around you look like a little four month old crawling.  You are petite, and I love it.

 

 

You’re still sleeping with us full time.  I think soon I’ll start putting you in your crib at the beginning of the night – but I love snuggling you, so we’ll see.  I’m pretty sure you love snuggling me too – when I lay you in bed at night and you see me coming to lay next to you, you literally start giggling, squealing, and doing a little squirmy dance.  It occurred to me the other night that you don’t know anything different than sleeping next to your Mommy all night long, and I love giving you that comfort.

 

I’ve tried giving you a couple of foods.  Bananas, carrots, butternut squash.  You didn’t like any of them – you’re not too keen on eating just yet.  When I tried out broccoli you actually vomited all over me, so I think I’ll give you some time. No rush.  You don’t have any teeth yet, and your gummy smile is so cute that really, I’m glad.

 

 

You’ve started reaching for me and your daddy when other people are holding you which positively melts my heart.  You’re also pretty in love with your sisters.  You think they are the funniest thing that you ever did see, and you giggle at them all the time.

 

 

So, in short, you are very cute, very happy, and very loud.

 

I love you more than you will ever know.  Every time I see you and your face lights up into a smile, my heart fills with a joy that I can hardly keep in.  I pray for you everyday, only slightly less than I pray for God to help me to be the Mommy you need me to be.  Thank you for being my sunshine, I’m am so grateful to God for you.

 

Love you, Love you, Love you,

                                       Mama

Answered prayer, aching heart.

It’s been really busy?

 

I guess that’s my excuse for telling you that Bella had a hearing, and then not updating.

But you all let me know.

So here’s an update, for all the e-mails and questions! 

(I feel very blessed that there are so many people who care to stay updated!)

 

All reports at court were good!

I knew that Dad was doing well – he’s been very motivated since day one.  Mom I was a little more concerned about – but apparently she’s come around and is doing very well also.

They have planned for Bella to start doing overnight visits every Saturday beginning in a week and a half.  These overnights will culminate in a four day visit over Christmas (hard not to have mixed emotions over that!).

Also, the court approved for them to have a 30 day trial home visit some time in the next 90 days.  I’m guessing it will start some time in January.

 

Honestly – this is what foster care should look like.

Motivated parents, progress, teamwork to overcome barriers to reunification.  I am so thankful for progress that is cautious.  Progress that includes the agency still keeping tabs on how things are going, and setting the parents up for success.  Progress that is not overwhelming for Bella, her parents, us – but is still working toward home.

 

 

With that said, we are headed into a transition back home.

None of our kids in the past have had a proper transition, for several different reasons.  I think a well played transition is more the exception than the rule. 

But even now, being given notice in months instead of days or hours, it seems so fast.  It’s just that gripping realization that before this season has even had it’s last snow, it is likely that our beautiful Bella will no longer be here with us.

 

 

That is mixed with an intense joy for her and her parents.  This is what I have prayed and prayed and prayed for them.  Through long nights rocking her to sleep through the tears, this is what I have begged for.

Fix the brokenness, mend the hearts, graft this family back together.  Redemption.

 

I am so happy for Bella, and so happy for her parents.  I pray the next couple of months are smooth and healing.

And although my heart aches at the thought of her leaving, I know that He gives and takes away for our good, and for His glory.  I will cherish the time we have with her, while championing her family’s new beginning.

Our tradition.

With each of our foster children, before they leave, we go to the ceramic shop and have them paint a light switch cover for our home.  About half of our light switches are adorned in artwork and memories – and eventually they all will be.

 

Bella has court on the 17th (read: tomorrow).  And while I’m told we can expect for nothing big to happen, there is something uneasy inside of me.  I wouldn’t put it past the judge to just send her home.  It’s been done before.

So, with this in mind, I took her to make her light switch cover last weekend. 

 

 

I always go with these grand thoughts of artsy looking children’s paintings to cover our walls in.

But alas, every single one of the covers we have done in the past ends up being one color (or several that are so mixed together that they appear to be only one) with very little definition or design.

Bella’s is no different.  It is three colors, all put on one sponge and smeared around.

 

But when it hangs on my wall, I will always think of this beautiful girl that I have been so blessed to know.

 

I also had her paint a picture frame for her parents for Christmas.

 

She is very excited to give it to them. 

I will be answering the same question every day between now and Christmas.

“How long until I can give it to them?”

 

If you could pray for her hearing tomorrow, I would really appreciate it.  I don’t know what to deem the ‘right thing to happen’ tomorrow – I just pray that whatever it is, that it is truly in her best interest.

My broken heart.

 

"...I think Jesus tells us to love our neighbors, not just for our neighbors sakes, but for our own as well, because he knows what happens inside our hearts when we let in those who are vulnerable, needy and even repulsive near us. WE become vulnerable, needy and dare I say it, even repulsive too. Our own motives and shortcomings and entitlement and laziness come to the surface and stare us in the face. And that IS uncomfortable."   -Sarah Dornbos

 

 

This defines so much of what my fostering experience has been.

With every child, God has refined me.  Pruned me.  Poked around in those parts of my heart that I’d just as soon pretend aren’t there.

All of these ugly things start bubbling to the surface.

Trauma tantrums?  Up comes my impatience.

Hours of crying out the hurt?  Out comes my lack of compassion.

Needing to be rightnexttomeeverymomentoftheday?  The hard parts of my heart are exposed, unwilling to love with the intensity of Jesus’ call.

 

In it all I feel him moving.

I am pruning you.  With my help, you will produce more fruit.  Because I love you, I will not leave you in the state you are in.  Trust me.

Some days it is easier for me to love, to serve, to find joy in the brokenness.

But.

Sometimes loving other people’s children is difficult.  Sometimes I struggle with allowing my heart to love them, forcing myself to be what they need, trying to be selfless in the face of pain, struggle, challenge.

I’m being honest.  Painfully, really.  Literally, painful, to my heart that knows the love that has been lavished on me only to struggle to fully love a child.

 

Some will choose to judge in the face of honesty.  Those who have fostered, and those who have not.  To that, I say, I cannot blame you.  My heart is ugly.  My only redemption is Christ.

 

I wish you could meet Bella.  Or maybe you have.  She is beautiful.  Her gentleness and innocence have persevered through so much.  She finds joy after being drug through hell.  She has a loving heart, yet her pain is worn on her sleeve.  She loves pink and purple.  She loves to dress up like a princess.  She loves swinging.  She has her Daddy’s eyelashes.  She HAS eyelashes (!!).  And in His eyes she is beautiful and purposefully created.

 

 

Yet in my heart, sometimes I struggle to let her in, to love her, to be compassionate.

 

I hate it.

And in my brokenness I cry out, “Jesus, prune me! Teach me.  Fix me.”

His love is the only love that will always be enough.  But slowly, he will refine my heart so that my love will look more like his.

 

“This is my command: Love one another.”   -Jesus

Processing.

  Let’s see.  Where to start?

 

Well, I caught the Virus From the Bowels of Hades *VFBH* (that’s the proper name.  or maybe just what I call it.  It is definitely the appropriate name.).  You know how lovingly children share their germs.  If we could universalize their willingness to share germs, our lives would be so much easier. 

Anyway – I had the VFBH for approximately 11 days.

Holy. Cow.

High fevers upwards of 103.  My entire mouth swelled up.  I couldn’t eat.  For 11 days.  Have you ever had to drink Ensure?  Avoid it. 

We got the VFBH from Bella.  That’s one of those nuggets that people rarely share about fostering.  Kids coming from *less than ideal* environments can bring all kinds of *less than ideal* ailments with them.  Lice, scabies, thrush, random rashes, VFBH’s.  Sometimes they’re just part of it – and life goes on.

But I’m pretty sure that if I had taken a picture of my mouth last week and posted it on the blog   …..   you would never ever foster.  So I won’t.

In other news, we are in the thick of processing all  that is going on with Bella.

Recently she’s started role playing her situation while she and Sylvia are playing pretend.

She role plays that she has a meeting to go to and that at the meeting they are going to decide if she can go home.

She role plays that she is going on an overnight visit and explains to Sylvia how much she will miss her while she is gone.

She role plays that she is going to court and that the judge has to make big decisions.

It breaks my heart to hear her.  She should be pretending to be a Mommy cuddling her baby.  She should be pretending to go to work, or pretending that she’s going grocery shopping, or pretending that she’s going somewhere with her friends.  Instead she’s pretending things that she shouldn’t even be able to imagine, things much too big for her four year old little mind.

But, I also know that this is how she is processing what is happening, and that it is good for her to work through these situations in her mind.  For her to be able to imagine an end to her situation, and for her to be able to try to make sense of everything that is happening.  When she’s playing pretend is the only time that she has to have any control over what is happening to her at all.

 

She’s also started asking questions about what will happen to me and Sylvia when she goes home.  As a foster parent it is difficult - I rarely have much more information than she does (which is ridiculous.) – and so answering her questions is usually just some vague bs’ing done in such a way as to aid her healing rather than open fresh scabs.  I pray that we’ll be able to stay in contact when she goes home, and that we’ll be able to serve her family in whatever ways we can to benefit Bella.  We’ll see.

They’ve started having visits in her home, which makes everything about 200% more difficult.  It is a necessary step toward going home, but I wish they would wait until reunification is imminent.  Emotionally this wrecks her.  She pays an emotional toll for it all week long, which means that we do to.  We’ve been dealing with pretty significant defiance and tantrums that are obviously triggered by the visits. 

Foster care and reunification is always a catch 22 it seems.

Her treatment is going wonderfully.  She’s healthy as can be, which is no small blessing.  Seeing how her health has turned around since she’s come to us makes me ache inside at the thought of her returning to an environment that was keeping her sick. 

 

Anyway – long and boring post, but wanted to get a brief update posted.

 

Always so much to process.  Always.

Why Foster? Yes and Amen.

Saw this video over at J’s blog and had to repost. 

Can I get an amen?

What if when you were 10 you were labeled ‘unadoptable’ and so you

never

ever

had a family?

 

And probably, it was just because you were ten.

too old, you see.