On Valentine's Day, Crocodile was at the heart of a transition to his new adoptive family. He woke up in their home. He went with his new mom to his sisters' school and got to be there for their parties. He went shopping with her and picked out eight balloons: two for his biological sisters, three for his soon-to-be-sisters through adoption (two are adults), two for his foster brothers, and one for himself. Within this week, he will officially be switching from living with two brothers to living with five sisters.
Balloons were played with, balloons were chased, balloons were broken.
He made valentines for everyone as well. For our family, for some friends, and some extras to bring a little late to his preschool for his last few days there.
We try to help him understand the move, all of us together, current parents and new parents. It's hard to know what names to use. It's hard to know how to express love and confidence in the plan and at the same time be sensitive to his mixed feelings. He didn't cheer, and he didn't cry. He ran around a bit. I think I talked too much. He answered some of our questions. He called me Mommy a lot and kept coming back to me. We talk about his new school, which he has already gotten to see. We talk about his new house. We talk about living with his sisters all the time, forever. We talk about coming to visit on his birthday.
He gave me a valentine that said Mom.
We will always love you, Crocodile.
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Sunday, February 19, 2017
Monday, January 23, 2017
Fighting for him
I am not looking forward to breaking the news when Crocodile moves. It's still not official news, but we're getting closer.
I've imagined it for months and months of course, but the imagined responses get more dramatic as time goes on. Over a year and a half. Sometimes they're based on real responses I get when I convey that he will likely move.
"But... after all this time with you?"
"I just assumed you were adopting him!"
"He's like a part of your family now."
"He's spent almost half of his life with you."
"Wow, that's going to be tough on your kids."
"Aren't you going to fight to keep him?"
And twice now we have had people involved in a case assume that we would be a competing party when we won't be. It's so strange to clear that up. I feel like I have to say ten times how much I love him to counter how strange "we aren't trying to adopt him" sounds.
Don't get me wrong, we would be a competing party if we needed to be for him. I tried not to get too into imagining the scenarios, but I pictured one in which his sisters were matched with an adoptive family near us but they didn't find one for him, and we could be the family to keep them in touch. Pretty unlikely, but maybe it could happen. Or the search for an adoptive family went on really, really long and he was having more behavior challenges, and it was best not for him to move. We never said never for adopting him. But we said our answer was no until it was clear, absolutely clear, that it was not just a good option, but a necessary option.
Instead, we're fighting for him to be with his sisters. We're fighting for him to have a good and secure transition. We're fighting for him to be supported with services, good information, and good records.
Fighting for him means letting him go.
I've imagined it for months and months of course, but the imagined responses get more dramatic as time goes on. Over a year and a half. Sometimes they're based on real responses I get when I convey that he will likely move.
"But... after all this time with you?"
"I just assumed you were adopting him!"
"He's like a part of your family now."
"He's spent almost half of his life with you."
"Wow, that's going to be tough on your kids."
"Aren't you going to fight to keep him?"
And twice now we have had people involved in a case assume that we would be a competing party when we won't be. It's so strange to clear that up. I feel like I have to say ten times how much I love him to counter how strange "we aren't trying to adopt him" sounds.
Don't get me wrong, we would be a competing party if we needed to be for him. I tried not to get too into imagining the scenarios, but I pictured one in which his sisters were matched with an adoptive family near us but they didn't find one for him, and we could be the family to keep them in touch. Pretty unlikely, but maybe it could happen. Or the search for an adoptive family went on really, really long and he was having more behavior challenges, and it was best not for him to move. We never said never for adopting him. But we said our answer was no until it was clear, absolutely clear, that it was not just a good option, but a necessary option.
Instead, we're fighting for him to be with his sisters. We're fighting for him to have a good and secure transition. We're fighting for him to be supported with services, good information, and good records.
Fighting for him means letting him go.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
The twins we could have had.
Two years ago, I was praying for Pterodactyl's twin siblings. The siblings we said we would take if we had open bed(s), but we wouldn't stay empty for them, either. As it ended up, we had Caterpillar placed with us and they were placed in another foster home.
I later connected with their foster dad through our agency and got to see pictures of them, and later saw them in person. Precious, beautiful babies, one looking somewhat like Pterodactyl, but really they are their own little people.
Recently I got to see the announcement that this foster family adopted them. A lovely, happy family.
Of course, I wonder, what would our lives have been like? We would have had a family of six. We would have likely been done with fostering in our second placement. The newborn phase would have been intense, but it would have wrapped up a whole lot sooner. Sometimes we as foster parents are faced with the kids that need placement and we feel like we must be that home. Clearly since we're being asked, we must be the ones to say yes. But in the in the big picture, I know this is not true, especially for very young children in foster care.
I know this was not our story to have. Our story has Beetle, Caterpillar, Cricket, Crocodile, and more to come. In our hearts, we just absolutely knew there was another family for these twins, someone who longed for them, someone God prepared for them. It is so good to see their faces in their smiling announcement.
I still feel like a distant relative, however loose my connection might be to them. They aren't my babies, but they have a little place in our history, and in our history of prayers to do God's will.
I later connected with their foster dad through our agency and got to see pictures of them, and later saw them in person. Precious, beautiful babies, one looking somewhat like Pterodactyl, but really they are their own little people.
Recently I got to see the announcement that this foster family adopted them. A lovely, happy family.
Of course, I wonder, what would our lives have been like? We would have had a family of six. We would have likely been done with fostering in our second placement. The newborn phase would have been intense, but it would have wrapped up a whole lot sooner. Sometimes we as foster parents are faced with the kids that need placement and we feel like we must be that home. Clearly since we're being asked, we must be the ones to say yes. But in the in the big picture, I know this is not true, especially for very young children in foster care.
I know this was not our story to have. Our story has Beetle, Caterpillar, Cricket, Crocodile, and more to come. In our hearts, we just absolutely knew there was another family for these twins, someone who longed for them, someone God prepared for them. It is so good to see their faces in their smiling announcement.
I still feel like a distant relative, however loose my connection might be to them. They aren't my babies, but they have a little place in our history, and in our history of prayers to do God's will.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Foster... adopt?
I feel like I'm going to be somewhat unproductive until I get these words out. I've always been a writer.
I think people who knew me age 19 and younger are shocked that I didn't pursue writing as a career, not because I was great, but because I was always writing. Something trailed off around college, too much comparing to others, too much of a feeling like there were enough writers and my added voice wasn't anything special. Plus, I watched my mom go through the very difficult journey of becoming a published writer, and as proud as I am of her, it wasn't a journey I really wanted for myself. But something about the peculiar story of fostering has me at it again, and now I can't stop. It makes me wonder how I lived the past decade without writing much.
B and I had a long, very good conversation last night about fostering. We hoped to decide what to do about the potential placement of newborn twins, and we did make a decision. We won't be taking the twins. I know what made me say yes originally, but we couldn't figure out why B did. He doesn't want to take on more than one foster child for at least another year or two. He is nearly ready to be done with newborns. None of this adds up to newborn twins being a good fit for our family, but sometimes it's just being asked that makes you want to say yes. The fact that I'm more ready to jump in does not make it a good decision. First, I am often willfully blind to difficulties ahead when my heart wants to say yes. Second, we need to be a team. Setting up a family scenario that's particularly stressful to who B is as a parent, in a potentially long-term way, is not wise.
But the really interesting topic that emerged from our conversation was about adoption. I brought it up as a pro for taking the twins: I would like to be open to the idea of taking sibling placements because I can see how adopting siblings could be a good fit for our family. We don't know the twins would be available for adoption, but there's always that possibility.
B stopped everything and said, "Oh, you really want to adopt?" Cue record-scratch sound.
Going into fostering, we said that we might adopt through foster care, but we might not. B reminded me how we wanted to fulfill a need for foster parents. He took that to mean that we would foster long-term, even if it meant turning down adoptive placements. How did I change to hoping for adoption, hoping our stay in foster care wouldn't be that long? I think a big part of it came from the online communities I've been a part of over the past year. While I'm grateful for all I have learned from forums, blogs, and Facebook groups, with a few exceptions, these are people hoping to adopt. The word adoption is everywhere Many people hope for an easy case: abandonment, no parental visits, parental rights terminated quickly. No one wants the multi-year mess of being in limbo.
Don't get me wrong, adoption is a good thing. Permanency in safe homes is a good thing, and being in limbo is not good for kids. I also haven't been through the struggles of infertility that many of these foster parents have lived through. Please understand that I am speaking only of our story, and in our story, we felt called to be shaken up from the comfort of family life we might have pictured for ourselves, and the family life of our friends and family.
So, for our story, it leaves us with very difficult decisions in the future. We agree that we do not see ourselves as having a large adoptive family. B imagines 3 kids total, I imagine 4. So, how are we to be the foster parents God has called us to be? What if we have a foster child that is available for adoption? We would want to prevent an experience of loss by continuing to be that child's family. However, as our home quickly fills up, that would also shorten our "career" as foster parents. We are needed, and as we gain more experience as foster parents, I think we would become even more needed. The system needs foster parents who stick with it for more than a few years, who know enough to effect change and mentor birth families and other foster parents. And as we foster very young children, there are many people who would make very good adoptive homes for them. Could we say no to adoption to help make a difference for more kids? Or will it be too difficult to say no to adoption, knowing the heartbreak one child will endure in being uprooted, a child we know and love?
We don't have a child available for adoption in our laps now, so we will cross this bridge when we come to it. Yet, this conversation was very important for us to have now, as I hadn't realized how set I had already become on the first option, that clearly God would bring us a child or two that we would adopt and then we would retire from fostering. It's the story I've read in 20 blogs, so clearly it should be our story, right? Maybe not.
In the meantime, if anyone has some good resources for foster parents who are less focused on adoption or who "strictly foster," please send them my way!
I think people who knew me age 19 and younger are shocked that I didn't pursue writing as a career, not because I was great, but because I was always writing. Something trailed off around college, too much comparing to others, too much of a feeling like there were enough writers and my added voice wasn't anything special. Plus, I watched my mom go through the very difficult journey of becoming a published writer, and as proud as I am of her, it wasn't a journey I really wanted for myself. But something about the peculiar story of fostering has me at it again, and now I can't stop. It makes me wonder how I lived the past decade without writing much.
B and I had a long, very good conversation last night about fostering. We hoped to decide what to do about the potential placement of newborn twins, and we did make a decision. We won't be taking the twins. I know what made me say yes originally, but we couldn't figure out why B did. He doesn't want to take on more than one foster child for at least another year or two. He is nearly ready to be done with newborns. None of this adds up to newborn twins being a good fit for our family, but sometimes it's just being asked that makes you want to say yes. The fact that I'm more ready to jump in does not make it a good decision. First, I am often willfully blind to difficulties ahead when my heart wants to say yes. Second, we need to be a team. Setting up a family scenario that's particularly stressful to who B is as a parent, in a potentially long-term way, is not wise.
But the really interesting topic that emerged from our conversation was about adoption. I brought it up as a pro for taking the twins: I would like to be open to the idea of taking sibling placements because I can see how adopting siblings could be a good fit for our family. We don't know the twins would be available for adoption, but there's always that possibility.
B stopped everything and said, "Oh, you really want to adopt?" Cue record-scratch sound.
Going into fostering, we said that we might adopt through foster care, but we might not. B reminded me how we wanted to fulfill a need for foster parents. He took that to mean that we would foster long-term, even if it meant turning down adoptive placements. How did I change to hoping for adoption, hoping our stay in foster care wouldn't be that long? I think a big part of it came from the online communities I've been a part of over the past year. While I'm grateful for all I have learned from forums, blogs, and Facebook groups, with a few exceptions, these are people hoping to adopt. The word adoption is everywhere Many people hope for an easy case: abandonment, no parental visits, parental rights terminated quickly. No one wants the multi-year mess of being in limbo.
Don't get me wrong, adoption is a good thing. Permanency in safe homes is a good thing, and being in limbo is not good for kids. I also haven't been through the struggles of infertility that many of these foster parents have lived through. Please understand that I am speaking only of our story, and in our story, we felt called to be shaken up from the comfort of family life we might have pictured for ourselves, and the family life of our friends and family.
So, for our story, it leaves us with very difficult decisions in the future. We agree that we do not see ourselves as having a large adoptive family. B imagines 3 kids total, I imagine 4. So, how are we to be the foster parents God has called us to be? What if we have a foster child that is available for adoption? We would want to prevent an experience of loss by continuing to be that child's family. However, as our home quickly fills up, that would also shorten our "career" as foster parents. We are needed, and as we gain more experience as foster parents, I think we would become even more needed. The system needs foster parents who stick with it for more than a few years, who know enough to effect change and mentor birth families and other foster parents. And as we foster very young children, there are many people who would make very good adoptive homes for them. Could we say no to adoption to help make a difference for more kids? Or will it be too difficult to say no to adoption, knowing the heartbreak one child will endure in being uprooted, a child we know and love?
We don't have a child available for adoption in our laps now, so we will cross this bridge when we come to it. Yet, this conversation was very important for us to have now, as I hadn't realized how set I had already become on the first option, that clearly God would bring us a child or two that we would adopt and then we would retire from fostering. It's the story I've read in 20 blogs, so clearly it should be our story, right? Maybe not.
In the meantime, if anyone has some good resources for foster parents who are less focused on adoption or who "strictly foster," please send them my way!
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