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.

Family photos

Coming up on our third anniversary of fostering, I looked at the photos we have on our wall.  They're from that summer of 2013.  Dinosaur was five and Rhinoceros was two.  We were visiting family while Pterodactyl was in respite, and my sister-in-law did a photo session for us.  On the one hand, it worked out well that we just had our forever family together for photos.  At that point, we thought she was staying with us for a very short time.  I'm really glad to have those photos and that I didn't put them off.  And of course, it was nice to have photos that I could share on social media and send out at Christmas.

On the other hand, it's unsettling that we sought an opportunity that Pterodactyl wouldn't be with us, as if we actively excluded her.  And it's sort of set a precedent that we haven't included any foster children in formal family photos, so to suddenly include a child would make it seem like we are banking on him or her being a permanent part of our family.  Do we have a family photo session every placement?  Not going to happen, not with the one-month and two-month placements.  I would be sad for the family photos we misses if we suddenly started having photo sessions with foster children, though of course we have amateur family shots with each foster child.

So, now what?  I would like some more family photos soon.  Though he's our record-breaker of time with us, I would be quite surprised if Crocodile became a permanent part of our family.  How would I look back on these pictures of us as a family of five?  Can I be confident to include him, no regrets, and know that he was a part of our family for that time?  I know some who have taken family photos with just the backs of everyone, or with the foster children's faces hidden in different ways.

Sometimes the "for now" part of fostering is the most unsettling, always being on the edge of change at some point.

Pre-court anxiety, post-court blues

From reading writing of other foster parents, I'm not the only one that becomes a mess around time for court.  And we haven't had any cases that are truly complete messes to warrant me becoming a mess.

An upcoming court date sticks in my brain, especially with longer cases that have 90-day reviews, so court usually happens around the same time of the month and it's easy to remember.  I start to picture drastic, sudden directions things could go.  I build those into future timelines that I know are not really mine to imagine.

Then after court, everything is numb and gloomy.  I'm sad for the children and that they will be stuck in foster care longer.  I'm sad for parents who don't do what they need to do.  I'm sad for the history of the parents that influences their actions and that they can't free themselves from their demons.  Sometimes I'm worried things aren't being done the right way.  Sometimes I hope for great news, and it doesn't come, and I'm disappointed.  Overall the formality of it just sears into my heart the tragedy of it all, that this is about parents and children being ripped apart.

How to deal?

I update my friends and family.  Though this time, I decided to back off on an e-mail update to a usual group of extended family and friends that is mostly meant to keep them in the loop of who is coming and who is going and to ask for prayer.  This is the furthest we've gotten into a case and I'm more cautious about sharing details, even vague ones, than ever because I worry that I'm just providing entertainment in the story when much more is at stake, or that I'm making it look like we hope for the case to end in adoption by us.  I really don't want them to hope for that for us for many reasons.  But anyway, updating someone is cathartic.  This time around, it was just two of my closest friends, one who is a foster parent, and my mom and my sister, who I'd asked right before court to pray.

I'm easy on myself the couple of days after court.  I know I'm distracted and let myself slack off a bit.  I cook easy food.  I should avoid reading about other bad things in the world, but I totally failed on that the last time.

I exercise.  I usually do this, but I'm considering doing an intense couple of weeks of exercise before and after court.  I could listen to a really engaging book or podcast and just work it all out of me a bit.

What do you do?

First Day - April 2016: More snow and roller skating

Each month I snap a few photos of our day on the first day of the month, and then procrastinate on posting them.  Maybe I just couldn't do it until it was fully springlike here again.  Watch the heart-sinking progression of weather throughout the day.  But at least there are indoor pretend picnics!

Foster care everywhere

I was waiting to be called for an appointment this morning, totally unrelated to foster care.

A woman with special needs was waiting as well and talking to the person accompanying her.  She talked about her lip gloss and how she needed to give it to her mom.  "She's pretty like me."  I figured out soon that she thought the receptionist was her mom.  Later, when she went to leave, she asked to say goodbye to her mom, and the receptionist responded kindly.  The woman said "bless you" to the receptionist, and she replied, "Bless you, too, my dear."  As they left, the woman said, "Bye, Mom.  I hope you get me back."

My eyes immediately filled with tears.

She made visible the invisible.  There are so many people walking around carrying the burden of foster care in their history.  My attention is focused on the child in my home, but the big picture is startling, that so many stories like my kids are going on other places, and that those children grow up and carry it with them.

Lord, help us do our part, in the little picture and in the big picture.

Lessons learned: Videos Part 2

Crocodile was talking about missing his mama.  Sometimes we draw pictures for her or we look at a picture of her, but I had a great idea this time.  Let's make a video to say hi to her!  Then I'll show it to her the next time I can!

Yeah, he misunderstood and thought we were going to WATCH a video of her.  And so the video is of him sitting there sadly realizing I don't have a video of her to show him.

This age.  They understand and then they don't.  We had some good hugs and moved on and I know better for next time.

When I met you

Some of my favorite, most therapeutic writing is writing about the kids themselves.  I know part of it is because I have to keep so much confidentiality that I feel like I'm bursting to talk about them.  Part of it is that I feel lonely in my deep love for them that doesn't go away, when it seems to me that they can be invisible to some of my family and friends.  Some of it is just because it's amazing to watch them grow.

So, something made me think of the moment I met each little one, and I was itching to write them out, stories I may never get to tell the children myself.

Pterodactyl.  You were in your bassinet, being checked by a nurse, and howling mad.  I was trying to talk to your mother, who had asked to meet me, but now was crying and had nothing to say.  I left the room and you were still crying.  Later, you were wheeled into the conference room where I waited with the social worker, sleeping in your bassinet.  I held you and we took pictures, though it was such a strange moment to take pictures.  You had straight dark hair on your little forehead and looked so brand new.

Beetle.  You were sleeping in your Mamaroo in your room in the NICU, a pacifier propped against your mouth.  You weren't officially in our care yet, but I was allowed to visit.  I remember being shocked at how tiny you looked, but actually you were a pretty average weight, just a tiny-looking guy.  I think part of it was your huge eyes, still big and round in pictures I've seen of you as a toddler.   I gave you a bottle and relearned bottle feeding to help you, trying to get as much in as I could.  You definitely did not like having your diaper changed.  The nurses helped me with your care and I said goodnight to you, leaving you in your room to see you another day.

Caterpillar.  You were asleep in your infant car seat, little head of curls resting against the back.  I remember my biggest concerns were some medical issues and getting information that was not being given to us, so my impression of you was fragility.  This didn't last for long, as you were quite a content baby once you settled in a few days.  But that first night, you woke up soon after CPS left and ate, but you looked tired and a little lost.  It had been a long day.

Cricket.  I picked you up, and when the door was answered, the person answering said, "this is her."  You'd run up to the door, too, to greet me.  You were busy, busy, busy while we got paperwork together.  We unplugged a phone so you could pretend to call people.  You had a toothbrush that played music, and you wanted to show me how you brushed your teeth right then, even though I didn't really know where to get a glass of water to help you.  I didn't really know what to do and hadn't prepared myself for filling this time, but I followed your lead and you ran your little show for me.  You were a driven little girl, right from the start.  You fell asleep about two minutes after we drove away, exhausted from the night before, and I realized later a lot of the busy busy busy mode was really overtiredness.

Crocodile.  You were terrified.  I think about it and it still breaks my heart.  You literally backed into a corner by the door, and then tried to leave with the social worker when she tried to leave.  Your big brown eyes stared at us, chin lowered.  We brought out some goldfish and fruit snacks, started up Daniel Tiger.  You shook your little head no.  We gently kept trying and finally you sat with me on the couch, kind of watching the show.  Then you took the snack and relaxed a tiny bit, and the worker left.  You wore a shirt with a saying on it that you still wear as much as possible, and though I can't stand the saying on it, I can't help but let you wear it.  You slept only five hours that night, just quietly awake for long periods.  With these first moments, I thought you would have a very hard time adjusting to our home, but you actually settled in quite well within a few days.

Every time, it was the start of a remaking of our family.