Sometimes I get tired of processing how foster care affects me. I have a therapist for other reasons, and that's a good thing. We've talked about how other things may be coming out during this break, other things about past fostering experiences, past losses and challenges. It is good. I have supportive people processing with me. That's also good. I'm a fairly reflective person, but after talking to the third or fourth person in a week about how I'm doing, sometimes I start to get monotone, start to close up and give shorter answers.
But I have to keep dealing with the grief, the stress, and the worry or it deals with me.
I felt like I had a couple rough weeks after Crocodile's move, then I was feeling unusually fine, then I was moving into what felt like "normal" missing of a special person. I watched videos of him and felt a little sad. I thought of things he would like to do with us and felt the loss tug my heart. Then I moved on. I breathed a sigh of relief that maybe this was it.
Then I started sinking down again. I had a day of really not being okay. I had just talked to a dear friend about how change just makes us sad, and it frustrates us that we have to endure it, we just need to. I still felt so frustrated with myself. I just didn't want to.
Back up, back down. Today was a difficult start because of a dream. I dreamt Caterpillar crossed the street running to the caseworker I was with. He was about 4 years old. It took him a moment, but he recognized me and just glowed. I embraced him and picked him up off the ground. But then he got very serious and kept saying "I made baby sick." What baby? We crossed the street. There was a house with four kids, including an older baby hooked up to some otherworldly sorts of tubes. There were no adults in the home. Did he reunify? What was going on? The caseworker disconnected the baby from the tubes and we walked around together some more, Caterpillar, the baby, the caseworker and myself. The caseworker was going on and on about how happy the baby was. She was cute, but I was upset, anxious. Why had Caterpillar said "I made baby sick?" Who was taking care of these kids?
I woke up. Soon after, Dinosaur came into our room earlier than he's supposed to and I blew up at the poor child.
It's still dealing with me, that's for sure.
Tonight, I wish I could give any of them a hug. See a smile. See them run to the arms of their loving caregiver and see they are loved though I can't show it to them daily. Breathe in the scent of each child. Exhale.
Showing posts with label caterpillar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label caterpillar. Show all posts
Sunday, April 2, 2017
April 2013
Something made me stop and think the other day about how the dates lined up. Were we foster parents yet when Crocodile was born? I thought through the timelines, and no, we were a couple weeks away from being licensed.
So, I thought more about April 2013.
Dinosaur was 4. Rhinoceros was 2. I didn't have a child in elementary school yet.
We were stressing over licensing details, even though the process had been pretty smooth. What on earth could we have found stressful in that? It's hard to understand now. I was teaching in the evenings and B was working at his old company.
Pterodactyl, Beetle, and Caterpillar were not born yet.
Cricket was a couple months old. Was her sister taking care of her? Her grandma that had her own issues? Had she met Gina yet, her fictive kin "granny" that would eventually adopt her? What did she look like? I never saw baby pictures of her.
Crocodile was born. It would reveal too much of his story to tell what I know about April 2013 and Crocodile. It was a hopeful time following tragedy, but some were still tentative about that hope. And unfortunately that hope was fleeting. I have seen baby pictures of him, true newborn pictures that I was quick to save from Facebook and would later send on to his adoptive family. He looks like your basic newborn, and his face changed a lot from his newborn face. Still precious, though.
Now it's April 2017.
Dinosaur is 8. Rhinoceros is 6. They're both in elementary school. They have been big brothers to five children and said five goodbyes. They have helped, fought with, taught, played with, ignored, cuddled, and loved those five children.
I am teaching part-time during the day and B works at a new company, similar hours.
Pterodactyl, Beetle, and Caterpillar, and Tadpole are all 3 or 4 years old. I assume Pterodactyl and Beetle were adopted by the families they moved to, but was never told for sure. I am even less sure about Caterpillar. Tadpole was adopted by his foster family he was with when we did respite, and I've seen him several times since.
Cricket is 5. She has been adopted with her sister. She'll be in kindergarten this fall.
Crocodile is 4 and is living with his new parents and five sisters, two that were there when he was that newborn in April 2013. Hopefully they will finalize adoption this year. I wonder and worry about those hopeful people in his life in April 2013. I pray redemption is still ahead.
So, I thought more about April 2013.
Dinosaur was 4. Rhinoceros was 2. I didn't have a child in elementary school yet.
We were stressing over licensing details, even though the process had been pretty smooth. What on earth could we have found stressful in that? It's hard to understand now. I was teaching in the evenings and B was working at his old company.
Pterodactyl, Beetle, and Caterpillar were not born yet.
Cricket was a couple months old. Was her sister taking care of her? Her grandma that had her own issues? Had she met Gina yet, her fictive kin "granny" that would eventually adopt her? What did she look like? I never saw baby pictures of her.
Crocodile was born. It would reveal too much of his story to tell what I know about April 2013 and Crocodile. It was a hopeful time following tragedy, but some were still tentative about that hope. And unfortunately that hope was fleeting. I have seen baby pictures of him, true newborn pictures that I was quick to save from Facebook and would later send on to his adoptive family. He looks like your basic newborn, and his face changed a lot from his newborn face. Still precious, though.
Now it's April 2017.
Dinosaur is 8. Rhinoceros is 6. They're both in elementary school. They have been big brothers to five children and said five goodbyes. They have helped, fought with, taught, played with, ignored, cuddled, and loved those five children.
I am teaching part-time during the day and B works at a new company, similar hours.
Pterodactyl, Beetle, and Caterpillar, and Tadpole are all 3 or 4 years old. I assume Pterodactyl and Beetle were adopted by the families they moved to, but was never told for sure. I am even less sure about Caterpillar. Tadpole was adopted by his foster family he was with when we did respite, and I've seen him several times since.
Cricket is 5. She has been adopted with her sister. She'll be in kindergarten this fall.
Crocodile is 4 and is living with his new parents and five sisters, two that were there when he was that newborn in April 2013. Hopefully they will finalize adoption this year. I wonder and worry about those hopeful people in his life in April 2013. I pray redemption is still ahead.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
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.
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.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
They're all toddlers.
It suddenly occurred to me that all our current and former foster kids (except the respite placement) are in the age range of 2 to 3-years-old right now. It just happened that way, with short-term placements, infants first and then toddlers.
What if they were all in a toddler room playing together? Caterpillar would likely be the most chill, just watching the action. I'm pretty sure Cricket, Pterodactyl, and Crocodile would be having some serious drama over a toy. Lots of shouting from at least Cricket and Crocodile, with some getting in each others' faces. I don't have a good sense about Beetle, so maybe he can just chill with Caterpillar, look at some books, play with some cars. If they all had a race, Crocodile would win, but Cricket would be close behind, or possibly win if she could somehow distract Crocodile.
Now I'm picturing the year 2029, and by some magic imagination miracle, they're in high school together. Maybe it's a high school musical. Caterpillar can sing the lead, but Crocodile would have the best dance moves and could choreograph. Cricket would direct the show, possibly do costumes. Beetle works on the script.
These are fun thoughts to distract myself in a month that I'm trying not to worry about Crocodile's case.
What if they were all in a toddler room playing together? Caterpillar would likely be the most chill, just watching the action. I'm pretty sure Cricket, Pterodactyl, and Crocodile would be having some serious drama over a toy. Lots of shouting from at least Cricket and Crocodile, with some getting in each others' faces. I don't have a good sense about Beetle, so maybe he can just chill with Caterpillar, look at some books, play with some cars. If they all had a race, Crocodile would win, but Cricket would be close behind, or possibly win if she could somehow distract Crocodile.
Now I'm picturing the year 2029, and by some magic imagination miracle, they're in high school together. Maybe it's a high school musical. Caterpillar can sing the lead, but Crocodile would have the best dance moves and could choreograph. Cricket would direct the show, possibly do costumes. Beetle works on the script.
These are fun thoughts to distract myself in a month that I'm trying not to worry about Crocodile's case.
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Maintaining relationships with former foster kids
We went into fostering knowing that we would have goodbyes. We hoped they would not be forever goodbyes, but we couldn't really know for sure. I think we knew it wasn't within our control, but some stories made me hopeful. Before our first placement, I think I pictured that we would have some kids who would reunify, then depending on the relationship with the birth parents, we could possibly stay in their lives. What I didn't picture is a move to a relative or another foster family, which has been every case we have had. It's similar that the relationship is not ours to control, but also different.
So, who have we seen? I saw Pterodactyl once and received pictures of her as a toddler. We haven't seen Beetle again, though his foster family did send pictures once. We have seen Caterpillar, but not in a planned sort of way. I've posted some about how I've gotten to see Cricket for play dates after she moved from our home. And though he was just here for respite, we've seen Tadpole, and I recently went to his adoption celebration. Looking at this list, we have had contact after kids moved, and I am grateful, sometimes for our sake and sometimes for theirs. However, it has not been simple and easy.
Sometimes new homes make promises that they don't keep. This has been especially hard on me. I really thought we were going to be a regular part of some of the kids' lives based on what new caregivers were telling me. I have had to work on forgiveness. I have had to put myself in their shoes, knowing they have a lot of their plate and are just busy. I'm not a fan of the phone, so I sometimes let slip those phone calls I know I should make. I'm not perfect either. Or maybe there's just something I don't understand that's a factor. I need to let those promises go, forgive and forget them.
Sometimes new homes do not even try for contact. I don't know if it's because they're busy. I don't know if it's because they have judged us in some way. I have to forgive and let this go.
Sometimes new homes do try, and it's still a bit messy. Every boundary has to be drawn differently for a former and new family of a child. I read stories in blogs of families taking kids for weekends, picking them up to give the new family a break, all celebrating together. This also set up high expectations in my mind, but in reality, the new family may decide that's not good for the child. Or even the therapist may get involved and suggest boundaries. I hoped we could have Cricket back at our house at some point, or take her for outings, but Gina and Cricket's therapists have been very cautious, as she is having a hard time understanding permanency and trust in Gina as a permanent caregiver. Thankfully, they also recognize that a continued relationship with us is still a good thing, but it has been different than I imagined.
It's hard to accept after all I've poured into a child that my eagerness to love and care for her could have a negative impact. I want to get defensive. I want to feel hurt. But I am grateful that we are still connected, that I get the chance to tell Cricket how special she is, how happy I am to see her. That Rhinoceros and Cricket can play together, with Cricket cheerfully barking orders at him, and Rhinoceros just thrilled to have his buddy.
I wonder if some of this is preparation. Maybe we will be the new home drawing boundaries someday, and I can tell the foster parents this: "I know how you feel. I know how wrong it feels to see someone else taking care of the child you have loved and poured into. I know how wrong it feels not to be the one who gets to say what the child needs, when you've met her needs minute by minute. We all love this child, and we should be gracious to each other, but mostly we need to just keep loving this child, even if loving this child looks different than it did before. And thank you for loving him."
So, who have we seen? I saw Pterodactyl once and received pictures of her as a toddler. We haven't seen Beetle again, though his foster family did send pictures once. We have seen Caterpillar, but not in a planned sort of way. I've posted some about how I've gotten to see Cricket for play dates after she moved from our home. And though he was just here for respite, we've seen Tadpole, and I recently went to his adoption celebration. Looking at this list, we have had contact after kids moved, and I am grateful, sometimes for our sake and sometimes for theirs. However, it has not been simple and easy.
Sometimes new homes make promises that they don't keep. This has been especially hard on me. I really thought we were going to be a regular part of some of the kids' lives based on what new caregivers were telling me. I have had to work on forgiveness. I have had to put myself in their shoes, knowing they have a lot of their plate and are just busy. I'm not a fan of the phone, so I sometimes let slip those phone calls I know I should make. I'm not perfect either. Or maybe there's just something I don't understand that's a factor. I need to let those promises go, forgive and forget them.
Sometimes new homes do not even try for contact. I don't know if it's because they're busy. I don't know if it's because they have judged us in some way. I have to forgive and let this go.
Sometimes new homes do try, and it's still a bit messy. Every boundary has to be drawn differently for a former and new family of a child. I read stories in blogs of families taking kids for weekends, picking them up to give the new family a break, all celebrating together. This also set up high expectations in my mind, but in reality, the new family may decide that's not good for the child. Or even the therapist may get involved and suggest boundaries. I hoped we could have Cricket back at our house at some point, or take her for outings, but Gina and Cricket's therapists have been very cautious, as she is having a hard time understanding permanency and trust in Gina as a permanent caregiver. Thankfully, they also recognize that a continued relationship with us is still a good thing, but it has been different than I imagined.
It's hard to accept after all I've poured into a child that my eagerness to love and care for her could have a negative impact. I want to get defensive. I want to feel hurt. But I am grateful that we are still connected, that I get the chance to tell Cricket how special she is, how happy I am to see her. That Rhinoceros and Cricket can play together, with Cricket cheerfully barking orders at him, and Rhinoceros just thrilled to have his buddy.
I wonder if some of this is preparation. Maybe we will be the new home drawing boundaries someday, and I can tell the foster parents this: "I know how you feel. I know how wrong it feels to see someone else taking care of the child you have loved and poured into. I know how wrong it feels not to be the one who gets to say what the child needs, when you've met her needs minute by minute. We all love this child, and we should be gracious to each other, but mostly we need to just keep loving this child, even if loving this child looks different than it did before. And thank you for loving him."
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Seeing Cricket soon
I talked to Cricket again over the phone, after talking to Gina. We made plans for a play date at a park next week. Her therapist suggested a play date with Gina there rather than me coming to pick her up, which is smart. We decided to have Cricket's sister there as well, just to help with any worries Cricket may have that we're coming to take her from her new home.
I'm nervous.
I keep playing back in my mind, those precious fifteen minutes I had with Pterodactyl, one month after she moved. When she looked at me quizzically, and reached her hand up to touch my face. To see if this was still the person who played the role of mother in her life for seven months.
Cricket is older, and she will talk more and interact more, but I know the same question may be in her heart. Is this still the person who played the role of mother in my life for seven months?
I long to hold her, but I know I will be overcome with the emotion that will bring. Will she ask me to pick her up? And hold her like a baby?
I'm also having the anniversary longings to see and hold Caterpillar, the same way last year I was longing to see and hold Pterodactyl as annual events brought up memories. We went to the same park today that we went to about a year ago with him, where I pushed him on a swing and have some precious pictures. I really miss that happy little guy.
I hold them all in my heart and never let go.
I'm nervous.
I keep playing back in my mind, those precious fifteen minutes I had with Pterodactyl, one month after she moved. When she looked at me quizzically, and reached her hand up to touch my face. To see if this was still the person who played the role of mother in her life for seven months.
Cricket is older, and she will talk more and interact more, but I know the same question may be in her heart. Is this still the person who played the role of mother in my life for seven months?
I long to hold her, but I know I will be overcome with the emotion that will bring. Will she ask me to pick her up? And hold her like a baby?
I'm also having the anniversary longings to see and hold Caterpillar, the same way last year I was longing to see and hold Pterodactyl as annual events brought up memories. We went to the same park today that we went to about a year ago with him, where I pushed him on a swing and have some precious pictures. I really miss that happy little guy.
I hold them all in my heart and never let go.
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Lesson Learned: Seeing a Former Foster Kid in Public
We went to a pool as a family and were swimming around when I saw her. A girl that reminded me a lot of Caterpillar's sister. Then across the pool, I saw a man holding a baby. Caterpillar.
I had heard from his caseworker that he did end up in a home where he could be with his sister like the agency hoped. I told her to pass on our information to that family, and that we would be happy to talk with them or do respite sometime. I hadn't heard anything further.
I went to B, stumbling over my words with excitement. Without really talking about it, he knew I wanted him to go up and introduce himself. I kind of hovered nearby, imagining he would wave me over and I'd have a joyful little reunion with Caterpillar. Well, we totally freaked out the foster dad and his body language showed he didn't really want to talk with us. So, we backed off.
Our kids kept ending up playing near each other, though, so inevitably later we were close by each other. I apologized for the awkwardness and he said he was just really worried about confidentiality, so being asked if he was the foster dad made him really uncomfortable. Of course. We had a little small talk about hair, how long we'd fostered, and I got to smile at Caterpillar a bit. My arms longed to hold him and bring him closer, but clearly this was not the situation to be pushy.
So, in the future, I would start with, "Hi, I'm a foster parent, and I recognized Caterpillar because he used to live in our home!" No questions to be answered, just immediately making ourselves clear.
And yes, it was so, so good to see him.
I had heard from his caseworker that he did end up in a home where he could be with his sister like the agency hoped. I told her to pass on our information to that family, and that we would be happy to talk with them or do respite sometime. I hadn't heard anything further.
I went to B, stumbling over my words with excitement. Without really talking about it, he knew I wanted him to go up and introduce himself. I kind of hovered nearby, imagining he would wave me over and I'd have a joyful little reunion with Caterpillar. Well, we totally freaked out the foster dad and his body language showed he didn't really want to talk with us. So, we backed off.
Our kids kept ending up playing near each other, though, so inevitably later we were close by each other. I apologized for the awkwardness and he said he was just really worried about confidentiality, so being asked if he was the foster dad made him really uncomfortable. Of course. We had a little small talk about hair, how long we'd fostered, and I got to smile at Caterpillar a bit. My arms longed to hold him and bring him closer, but clearly this was not the situation to be pushy.
So, in the future, I would start with, "Hi, I'm a foster parent, and I recognized Caterpillar because he used to live in our home!" No questions to be answered, just immediately making ourselves clear.
And yes, it was so, so good to see him.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Our fostering year 2014 in a timeline
I enjoyed doing this recap of the year last year, so here you go again. So much can happen in one little fostering family in a year.
January 2014 - We started the year with no placements, taking a break after Pterodactyl left right before Christmas.
Early February - We get the call for Beetle, a two-week-old boy still in the NICU with NAS (drug withdrawal). I visit him in the NICU for about a week, then he comes to our home.
Mid-February - The plan for Beetle changes from moving soon to his grandma where his sister is placed to his sister being removed from that placement. We are asked to take both children, but decide not to. The sister moves to a former foster family.
Early March - Beetle moves to the foster family to be with his sister.
Early April - Beetle comes for a week as a respite placement.
Late April - Caterpillar, a 4-month-old boy, arrives at our home.
May - Pterodactyl's baby twin siblings are born. We were called during the pregnancy about taking them as a placement, but decided not to.
July - We learn that Caterpillar's mom's cousin should be placed with Caterpillar once daycare is in place.
Early August - Caterpillar moves to his mom's cousin.
Early September - Cricket, a 2.5-year-old girl, arrives at our home.
Mid-September - Cricket catches a nasty virus sending us to the ER, thankfully she recovers pretty quickly.
Late October - Adjudication for Cricket's case, first time that I attend court. There is a chance Cricket could go home to her dad immediately, but it doesn't happen.
Mid-November - We get a call that Caterpillar needs to move from his relative's home, as does his sister from her foster placement. We are heartbroken to answer that we can't take them.
Early December - Cricket's sister has been moved to a paternal relative (Cricket and her sister have different dads), and we learn that relative is working on getting licensed so she can take all three siblings.
Mid-December - We learn Cricket's mom is pregnant, and that Beetle now has a baby brother.
Christmas - We celebrate our first Christmas with a foster child in the home.
I can't believe how much we've experienced as parents in the last year. Reading back through my posts was an emotional experience; it's all just so much. It feels like it should be spread out over a decade. January was our only month without any fostering at all. So, 2015, what you got? Will Cricket move to the sister's relative, and when? Only God knows, and He's got the whole world in His hands.
January 2014 - We started the year with no placements, taking a break after Pterodactyl left right before Christmas.
Early February - We get the call for Beetle, a two-week-old boy still in the NICU with NAS (drug withdrawal). I visit him in the NICU for about a week, then he comes to our home.
Mid-February - The plan for Beetle changes from moving soon to his grandma where his sister is placed to his sister being removed from that placement. We are asked to take both children, but decide not to. The sister moves to a former foster family.
Early March - Beetle moves to the foster family to be with his sister.
Early April - Beetle comes for a week as a respite placement.
Late April - Caterpillar, a 4-month-old boy, arrives at our home.
May - Pterodactyl's baby twin siblings are born. We were called during the pregnancy about taking them as a placement, but decided not to.
July - We learn that Caterpillar's mom's cousin should be placed with Caterpillar once daycare is in place.
Early August - Caterpillar moves to his mom's cousin.
Early September - Cricket, a 2.5-year-old girl, arrives at our home.
Mid-September - Cricket catches a nasty virus sending us to the ER, thankfully she recovers pretty quickly.
Late October - Adjudication for Cricket's case, first time that I attend court. There is a chance Cricket could go home to her dad immediately, but it doesn't happen.
Mid-November - We get a call that Caterpillar needs to move from his relative's home, as does his sister from her foster placement. We are heartbroken to answer that we can't take them.
Early December - Cricket's sister has been moved to a paternal relative (Cricket and her sister have different dads), and we learn that relative is working on getting licensed so she can take all three siblings.
Mid-December - We learn Cricket's mom is pregnant, and that Beetle now has a baby brother.
Christmas - We celebrate our first Christmas with a foster child in the home.
I can't believe how much we've experienced as parents in the last year. Reading back through my posts was an emotional experience; it's all just so much. It feels like it should be spread out over a decade. January was our only month without any fostering at all. So, 2015, what you got? Will Cricket move to the sister's relative, and when? Only God knows, and He's got the whole world in His hands.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Thankful
My heart is still heavy with knowing that Caterpillar will have to adjust to a new home in his little life, and that it's not ours. My heart is heavy that I have looked up how the parents of our former foster babies are doing, and they are not doing well. My heart is heavy that Cricket has been asking constantly to see her mom, and yet two visits in a row were missed. I don't have a number I can call for her to wish Cricket a happy Thanksgiving. My heart is heavy with the events in Ferguson, tears flowing from knowing that there is no quick fix.
But I am thankful.
I am thankful that Cricket is coming with us to my parents' house out of state for Thanksgiving. Last year we brought Pterodactyl with us. I know my family is kind, compassionate, and thoughtful. I think a holiday may be more challenging for Cricket because of her age and her possible sensory issues, but I'll be with people who will give us space and grace. I found these ideas to be helpful, and I hope we can be responsive and kind when Cricket throws us a curveball.
I am thankful that we have come so far. Two and a half months ago, we were up through the night with a scared child who could only cry that she wanted to eat. She wasn't hungry, but she couldn't figure out how to process what was going on; she just knew that it was all wrong. Don't get me wrong, she is still having a very hard time, and understandably so. But she can communicate with us. A two-year-old is telling us feelings, and that's pretty incredible. And we have all adjusted for what life feels like in our home, caring for Cricket and her needs. It's still a process, but we have also come so far.
I am thankful we have a hope in Jesus, and the Holy Spirit with us, interceding when our groans are just pain and sorrow, incomprehensible. Like Cricket, trying to sleep in a strange house, crying "I wanna ee-eat," though her stomach was full. All our incomprehensible cries are heard, and we are all loved.
But I am thankful.
I am thankful that Cricket is coming with us to my parents' house out of state for Thanksgiving. Last year we brought Pterodactyl with us. I know my family is kind, compassionate, and thoughtful. I think a holiday may be more challenging for Cricket because of her age and her possible sensory issues, but I'll be with people who will give us space and grace. I found these ideas to be helpful, and I hope we can be responsive and kind when Cricket throws us a curveball.
I am thankful that we have come so far. Two and a half months ago, we were up through the night with a scared child who could only cry that she wanted to eat. She wasn't hungry, but she couldn't figure out how to process what was going on; she just knew that it was all wrong. Don't get me wrong, she is still having a very hard time, and understandably so. But she can communicate with us. A two-year-old is telling us feelings, and that's pretty incredible. And we have all adjusted for what life feels like in our home, caring for Cricket and her needs. It's still a process, but we have also come so far.
I am thankful we have a hope in Jesus, and the Holy Spirit with us, interceding when our groans are just pain and sorrow, incomprehensible. Like Cricket, trying to sleep in a strange house, crying "I wanna ee-eat," though her stomach was full. All our incomprehensible cries are heard, and we are all loved.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Caterpillar Update
I said in this post that I sometimes avoided looking at pictures of our former placements because I didn't want to feel how I miss them. That's part of it. If I'm completely honest, I avoid it also because it's tempting to look back on those placements as rosy and wonderful compared to the battleground I'm living in now. Don't get me wrong, God has us in this place for a reason and a good part of me is very glad we have Cricket. This is the kind of hard work we wanted to do. I love her deeply, and she needs our love. She needs us to stick with her. But a small part of me just wishes for the babies that looked up at me sweetly. Caterpillar is especially hard to think about because he was such a happy, easygoing guy with us. It was a pretty rosy life, and even B admitted it was hard to let that go.
That made listening to a recent voicemail extremely difficult.
The relative he moved to is having him moved, so they called us.
We have to say no.
1. We already said no to Cricket's siblings. If we had another child here, we should have one of her siblings, like her baby brother that's about Caterpillar's age. I can't justify keeping her apart from her siblings just to have Caterpillar because he's Caterpillar.
2. The reason we turned down Cricket's siblings still stands: Cricket needs a ton of attention. She and the boys are just now starting to have more frequent positive times together. Giving her less attention now would be a disaster.
3. Caterpillar is now linked to his sister who came into care later than he did (long story). They want a home for both, and she would not be a good fit for our family age-wise.
4. We don't have a room for him. He would need to be in our room and that has not been good for us as parents in the past.
I don't think the hardest part is saying no. I think the hardest part is feeling like all of this should have been avoided. He should have just stayed with us. The relative didn't have to take him. He will be moving to his fourth home before he turns a year old. Will it even be the last? I'm so scared of what that will do to this sweet, happy baby that I knew. My first reaction to the voicemail was a physical pain, just hurting for him.
My only choice is to trust that God hurts when we hurt for these children, and he knows better than I do. I had to go to work soon after this news and in the car every radio station was wrong for the particular pain I was feeling. B had a practice CD for gospel choir in the CD player, and two songs preached to me: one about God as a healer, and one about God being able. Thank You God that these are true.
That made listening to a recent voicemail extremely difficult.
The relative he moved to is having him moved, so they called us.
We have to say no.
1. We already said no to Cricket's siblings. If we had another child here, we should have one of her siblings, like her baby brother that's about Caterpillar's age. I can't justify keeping her apart from her siblings just to have Caterpillar because he's Caterpillar.
2. The reason we turned down Cricket's siblings still stands: Cricket needs a ton of attention. She and the boys are just now starting to have more frequent positive times together. Giving her less attention now would be a disaster.
3. Caterpillar is now linked to his sister who came into care later than he did (long story). They want a home for both, and she would not be a good fit for our family age-wise.
4. We don't have a room for him. He would need to be in our room and that has not been good for us as parents in the past.
I don't think the hardest part is saying no. I think the hardest part is feeling like all of this should have been avoided. He should have just stayed with us. The relative didn't have to take him. He will be moving to his fourth home before he turns a year old. Will it even be the last? I'm so scared of what that will do to this sweet, happy baby that I knew. My first reaction to the voicemail was a physical pain, just hurting for him.
My only choice is to trust that God hurts when we hurt for these children, and he knows better than I do. I had to go to work soon after this news and in the car every radio station was wrong for the particular pain I was feeling. B had a practice CD for gospel choir in the CD player, and two songs preached to me: one about God as a healer, and one about God being able. Thank You God that these are true.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Fears of feeling
Sometimes I don't want to make contact with the families that Pterodactyl, Beetle, and Caterpillar are with now, because I don't want to fully feel how much I miss them. I think about them often, and it feels strange, like I've locked them away somewhere and I'm not fully letting myself remember them and love them. Even when I try and look at their pictures, it's a swirl of mixed emotions as I almost want to look away, to stop as soon as I can. I feel the pain of missing them, but it's the tip of the iceberg.
Sometimes I just feel helpless as Cricket asks again and again for her mom, her sissy. She used to talk about her granny, but does less now. Asking for them less just shows the loss in another sad way. These moments happen coming home from the grocery store, getting ready for naps. She tells me she wants them to come with us in the minivan at the end of the visit. I address the moments lovingly with Cricket, but my own heart stings. I bury these away, too, and it's just the tip of the iceberg again.
B says he wouldn't change how deeply I feel things because I makes me who I am. But I'm afraid of how I feel things. I'm afraid it will lead me to give up. I'm afraid it will turn me into someone I don't recognize because I haven't fully dealt with it all.
I just pray, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Help me, Jesus. Please don't waste this pain. And don't let me waste away in it.
Sometimes I just feel helpless as Cricket asks again and again for her mom, her sissy. She used to talk about her granny, but does less now. Asking for them less just shows the loss in another sad way. These moments happen coming home from the grocery store, getting ready for naps. She tells me she wants them to come with us in the minivan at the end of the visit. I address the moments lovingly with Cricket, but my own heart stings. I bury these away, too, and it's just the tip of the iceberg again.
B says he wouldn't change how deeply I feel things because I makes me who I am. But I'm afraid of how I feel things. I'm afraid it will lead me to give up. I'm afraid it will turn me into someone I don't recognize because I haven't fully dealt with it all.
I just pray, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Help me, Jesus. Please don't waste this pain. And don't let me waste away in it.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Blessed by Caterpillar
We already saw Caterpillar again today. I was going to wait a month or so and drop off his photobook/life book, but I found some medication-related things I needed to get to his new foster mom that meant sooner would be better.
It was good timing, as this morning Dinosaur had said sadly, "I want to kiss a baby." He got his wish, and Caterpillar was really into looking at him. He wasn't very smiley, but he's not always so smiley. With him and Pterodactyl, I swear you can read their minds when they're uneasy. They don't cry, but they just look you right in the eye and practically say, "I'm not sure what's going on" with their serious looks. It was still good to see him, though. Same cutie as a week ago.
Time for me to do my reflections on how I was blessed by Caterpillar, as I did with Pterodactyl and Beetle.
What I learned from Caterpillar
It was good timing, as this morning Dinosaur had said sadly, "I want to kiss a baby." He got his wish, and Caterpillar was really into looking at him. He wasn't very smiley, but he's not always so smiley. With him and Pterodactyl, I swear you can read their minds when they're uneasy. They don't cry, but they just look you right in the eye and practically say, "I'm not sure what's going on" with their serious looks. It was still good to see him, though. Same cutie as a week ago.
Time for me to do my reflections on how I was blessed by Caterpillar, as I did with Pterodactyl and Beetle.
What I learned from Caterpillar
- Starting after the newborn stage is fun and so much easier. I'd never had a child that I didn't meet in the newborn stage, so I wasn't sure what bonding would be like. It was no problem for us, and Caterpillar's adjustment to our home was pretty smooth. Don't get me wrong, I still love newborns, though they're hard on our family and we will probably only take so many more of them.
- B can bond emotionally with foster babies. This hadn't been the case as much in the past.
- Hair care can be intense. I had to do a lot more research about methods and products just to keep his full head of black hair healthy.
- Health concerns can be intense. While Caterpillar was healthy overall, he had one issue that no one knew if it was really a concern or just the way he was. We had lots of specialist appointments trying to figure it out.
- I can use phone and text to form positive relationships with birth parents. This was new territory, and I know it helped me be a better foster parent, and I hope it gave some comfort to Caterpillar's mom that she could contact me between visits.
- His sweet charm. You can't quite put it into words, because while he was less serious than Pterodactyl, he was still on the serious side. But you just wanted to spend time with him, watching his expressions. He was literally the life of the party at a BBQ we went to right before he moved. He will be such a fun little boy; I just know it.
- His hair. He liked when I massaged his scalp a little, playing with his dense tiny curls, which is good, because I did it without even thinking.
- His laidback nature. He napped when he was tired, never for long, but always so flexible. We got to do lots of fun things with him because he was so easy to take places. Day-to-day life with him really was a joy, rarely stressful.
- That he sucked on his two fingers, just like Rhinoceros.
- His love for baths. I have a picture of him grinning at himself in the mirror during a bath that is one of my favorite pictures of my babies, ever.
- His love for music. The day after he arrived, I sang to Caterpillar while rocking him, and he instantly perked up, stared at me, and started cooing along. I will never forget our family dance parties to "I Feel Good," just loving the pure joy he had when we sang just the right song to him.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Tender, wounded hearts
The first couple of days after Caterpillar's goodbye were harder than I anticipated. Now I feel much more balanced and like myself, though I'm still a little on edge. I've been having really vivid dreams, though I'm not sure if that has to do with the good-bye. I feel emotionally exhausted even when I sleep. I just finished a photo book to go with Caterpillar and a photo book to stay with us (the former is more about him and his milestones, the latter has more of our family with him). Those were exhausting, too, though I'm really happy with them and looking forward to flipping through them with Dinosaur and Rhinoceros.
I feel like when we're just a family of four I should soak up all the sweetness of Dinosaur and Rhinoceros. But we're all going through a transition, and we're not always so sweet to each other. I soak it up one moment, but then I turn around and snap at them.
Back-to-back, my foster mom friend and my mom called to see how I was doing one afternoon this week. It was totally worth not accomplishing what I planned to accomplish during those phone calls. I needed them. I spent almost four hours at my church's mom's group, pouring out our hearts. I needed that, too.
I don't like feeling so needy. I wish I had more to give. But I need to refresh and renew so I can give again.
I will say that there is so much I am thankful for during this break. We'll go back on the list for placements in September. I am thankful for a few weeks without carrying around a diaper bag! Rhinoceros is finally potty trained, so there's no one in the house in diapers. I am thankful for easier outings with kids: shorter shopping trips and much lower stress trips to the beach. I am thankful for our upcoming anniversary and two dates this month. I am thankful for the week-long camping trip we're taking at the end of the month, just four of us. I am thankful I already got to see Caterpillar briefly (I forgot to pack an important bag with his medication - whoops), and that I have vague plans to see Pterodactyl soon.
It will be a good month, despite our tender hearts grieving a loss. Rhinoceros is asking about Caterpillar more than he did with the other foster kids. Dinosaur spotted a baby at church today and went right for him, asking eagerly, "Can I kiss him?" He kissed Caterpillar like 40 times a day. I know he misses him. Even B, on the day Caterpillar moved, checked in with me and mentioned how this time it was a bit more emotional for him than for the others. He just had more of a connection with Caterpillar even though he's not a baby person. We weren't blindsided at all by this move, and we don't oppose it in the least, but it is still its own unique wound in the heart of our family.
I had the same photographer friend who did Beetle's photos do a photo shoot of Caterpillar before he moved, so you get another pair of baby feet to enjoy.
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I feel like when we're just a family of four I should soak up all the sweetness of Dinosaur and Rhinoceros. But we're all going through a transition, and we're not always so sweet to each other. I soak it up one moment, but then I turn around and snap at them.
Back-to-back, my foster mom friend and my mom called to see how I was doing one afternoon this week. It was totally worth not accomplishing what I planned to accomplish during those phone calls. I needed them. I spent almost four hours at my church's mom's group, pouring out our hearts. I needed that, too.
I don't like feeling so needy. I wish I had more to give. But I need to refresh and renew so I can give again.
I will say that there is so much I am thankful for during this break. We'll go back on the list for placements in September. I am thankful for a few weeks without carrying around a diaper bag! Rhinoceros is finally potty trained, so there's no one in the house in diapers. I am thankful for easier outings with kids: shorter shopping trips and much lower stress trips to the beach. I am thankful for our upcoming anniversary and two dates this month. I am thankful for the week-long camping trip we're taking at the end of the month, just four of us. I am thankful I already got to see Caterpillar briefly (I forgot to pack an important bag with his medication - whoops), and that I have vague plans to see Pterodactyl soon.
It will be a good month, despite our tender hearts grieving a loss. Rhinoceros is asking about Caterpillar more than he did with the other foster kids. Dinosaur spotted a baby at church today and went right for him, asking eagerly, "Can I kiss him?" He kissed Caterpillar like 40 times a day. I know he misses him. Even B, on the day Caterpillar moved, checked in with me and mentioned how this time it was a bit more emotional for him than for the others. He just had more of a connection with Caterpillar even though he's not a baby person. We weren't blindsided at all by this move, and we don't oppose it in the least, but it is still its own unique wound in the heart of our family.
I had the same photographer friend who did Beetle's photos do a photo shoot of Caterpillar before he moved, so you get another pair of baby feet to enjoy.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
First Day August 2014 - Packing up, marching together
This day started out with everyday stuff, like breakfast leftovers and stocking up on veggies at the farmer's market, and some packing up of Caterpillar's things to get ready for his move. Then in the evening I went to a demonstration/prayer meeting on immigration and the children at the border. Not such an everyday event for me.
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Thursday, July 24, 2014
Quiet week
It's so strange not to be bringing Caterpillar to visits while his mom is in jail, to have three visits per week wiped off the calendar. We even canceled his first overnight visit at the relative's home because he had a fever yesterday morning.
We still have a home visit tomorrow, and I have work, Dinosaur has baseball, B has softball, so it's not overall quiet. But it's foster care quiet.
Still no daycare set up. It's Pterodactyl all over again. I am having the relative schedule doctors' appointments for August by her schedule, so hopefully that means it'll happen by then?
It's not that I want to say goodbye. It's the opposite. I've accepted he's moving, that I won't get to see him crawl, babble, walk, etc. That I won't see the end of the case, however it goes. Now I just want it to happen on my timeline because that makes it easier for me to handle. Less out of my control.
Breathe. Give up my timeline. I think I don't have one, and then it sneaks in. Give up my illusion of control. Enjoy sweet Caterpillar while he's here. Know he's doing well with the transition so far. Breathe.
We still have a home visit tomorrow, and I have work, Dinosaur has baseball, B has softball, so it's not overall quiet. But it's foster care quiet.
Still no daycare set up. It's Pterodactyl all over again. I am having the relative schedule doctors' appointments for August by her schedule, so hopefully that means it'll happen by then?
It's not that I want to say goodbye. It's the opposite. I've accepted he's moving, that I won't get to see him crawl, babble, walk, etc. That I won't see the end of the case, however it goes. Now I just want it to happen on my timeline because that makes it easier for me to handle. Less out of my control.
Breathe. Give up my timeline. I think I don't have one, and then it sneaks in. Give up my illusion of control. Enjoy sweet Caterpillar while he's here. Know he's doing well with the transition so far. Breathe.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Disappointment and waiting
Caterpillar's mom is in jail. I'm heartbroken and just so disappointed. I know she had a long road ahead, but I really hoped she wouldn't mistakes like this along the way. It feels strange not getting her texts via Google Voice, not hearing her stream of consciousness when I bring him to visits. I knew I would lose our connection when Caterpillar moved, but I didn't expect it quite yet.
The relative who will be placed with Caterpillar is cleared, but she still needs to get daycare in place. Sound familiar? I'm putting some pressure on the caseworker to keep some sort of timeline and intentionality in this transition, after the drawn-out haphazard transition Pterodactyl had. So far, he's has two visits at her home and done well, though he is a little clingier with me this week. I had professional photos done of him (a bit challenging with a baby that's not a newborn but can't quite sit up independently yet), and he was constantly looking for where I was. He's giving increasingly hesitant looks when someone other than me holds him.
He's been here less than three months, but I have a feeling this goodbye is going to rip my heart out nonetheless. He is so easy to love. I love this little guy, and I love him loving me.
The relative who will be placed with Caterpillar is cleared, but she still needs to get daycare in place. Sound familiar? I'm putting some pressure on the caseworker to keep some sort of timeline and intentionality in this transition, after the drawn-out haphazard transition Pterodactyl had. So far, he's has two visits at her home and done well, though he is a little clingier with me this week. I had professional photos done of him (a bit challenging with a baby that's not a newborn but can't quite sit up independently yet), and he was constantly looking for where I was. He's giving increasingly hesitant looks when someone other than me holds him.
He's been here less than three months, but I have a feeling this goodbye is going to rip my heart out nonetheless. He is so easy to love. I love this little guy, and I love him loving me.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Awkward moments in foster care: Waiting room surprise
I'm realizing that at least 90% of my awkward moments posts will probably take place in waiting rooms, like the last awkward moment I posted. Maybe this is actually part three, as one of my post about Pterodactyl's first doctor's appointment was one big awkward moment. I thought of renaming the series, but I'll just add an extra label "waiting rooms." I'm confident I'll be using that label again, as so much goes down in waiting rooms in foster care.
I brought Caterpillar in to a specialist appointment. His mom was already there, and we got right into talking about the paperwork and general chit-chat, as she is always very chatty with me. This continued for maybe ten minutes before we were called back. She stood up with Caterpillar, I stood up, and... some guy who had been sitting on the other side of the waiting room stood up, too.
Caterpillar's mom: "Oh, this is Stephen.*"
She later clarified (though I didn't really need her to) that this was Caterpillar's father. He had left the state before Caterpillar was removed. I don't think anyone involved in the case had met him. What did I say? "I'm glad you could come"? Did I not say anything because we headed back to the exam room? I was in too much shock for me to remember now. He definitely didn't know what to say either, though eventually he did say a "nice to meet you."
Crazy times, crazy times.
*not his real name
I brought Caterpillar in to a specialist appointment. His mom was already there, and we got right into talking about the paperwork and general chit-chat, as she is always very chatty with me. This continued for maybe ten minutes before we were called back. She stood up with Caterpillar, I stood up, and... some guy who had been sitting on the other side of the waiting room stood up, too.
Caterpillar's mom: "Oh, this is Stephen.*"
She later clarified (though I didn't really need her to) that this was Caterpillar's father. He had left the state before Caterpillar was removed. I don't think anyone involved in the case had met him. What did I say? "I'm glad you could come"? Did I not say anything because we headed back to the exam room? I was in too much shock for me to remember now. He definitely didn't know what to say either, though eventually he did say a "nice to meet you."
Crazy times, crazy times.
*not his real name
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Birth parent notes from support group
I mentioned before that our next foster parent support group was on birth parent relationships, and I would share notes. Well, it was better than just a chat about relationships; a birth mom with an open case came and shared her experiences! As might be expected, she had a good relationship with her child's foster parents and seemed to be on track for reunification. I was honored to hear what she had to say. Some things that stood out:
The first time you meet birth parents, they may still be in shock. Some may see it coming, some may not, but the trauma of losing your child causes emotional reactions sometimes out of one's control.
Seeing where the child lives is very important to them. In this case, she has visits at the foster parents' home, which is unusual in our agency and area. But if that isn't appropriate, we talked about how pictures of the child's room or where the child plays could be positive.
First impressions of how their child is cared for make an impact. This mom instantly had a criticism that she later figured out was no big deal. But she clearly remembers that worry, and how it made her legitimately fear for how her child was cared for.
Birth parents are in classes with other birth parents. I never really thought about this, but she shared about how she realized she was lucky to have such a good relationship because she'd met other parents with kids in foster care that the relationship was non-existent or negative. She acknowledged that she chose an attitude that helped that relationship.
Birth parents want to contribute to their child's needs. She talked about bringing clothes and things for her child, which helped her stay in the mode of being a parent and prepare for reunification. I asked how to balance involving birth parents in supplying a child's needs yet not wanting them to feel obligated, as we should be providing for them in our role as foster parents. She suggested if birth parents ask if they can bring anything, suggest cheap items like pacifiers. She couldn't think of many examples, but later I thought of books, even paperback books that then you could read at visits and at home. I'm still thinking on this one.
Birth parents want to be consulted and informed about the little and big things. This is where it gets tricky. She said it was so important to her that they talked to her before lots of decisions in caring for her baby. But what about parenting differences? I gave her a scenario similar to Caterpillar's mom's requests for me: what if a birth parent tells me to use diaper cream for every single diaper change, rash or no rash? She suggested exactly what I do: don't change my parenting completely especially when it would be really inconvenient or what I think is not best for the child, but acknowledge the parent by putting on diaper cream sometimes before visits, because it's clearly important to her. I had to crack up at a birth parent telling me to put on a good show for birth parents. It did make me think how I could ask more questions, though. What fruit or vegetable should we try with Caterpillar next? Do you have anything you would do as a part of bedtime routine? These small choices could give a birth parent positive involvement.
So, as I've been working so hard on my relationship with Caterpillar's mom, it may be changing very soon. I knew the agency was working through a list of potential relative caregivers. They have settled on one, and while she hasn't been fully cleared yet, it's expected she will be cleared soon. I really hope this relative is fully committed and responsive. The caseworker is. We'll see what happens.
It made me sad for a little more than losing Caterpillar. I'm sad to lose his mom. While it hasn't been easy, I know building our relationship has been a positive thing. I'm wondering if I might be able to keep in touch with her. She has talked about play groups that I bring my kids to, that she always wanted to bring her daughter (in a guardianship situation) but transportation is an issue. I'm thinking about offering to pick her up and take them to the play group with me. If I've put the pieces of information together, she lives near me, and we go there anyway. The play groups are all about parents as teachers, and I think they'd be great for her as a parent. I could help with this need, and still encourage her that she can do this parenting thing. And of course, for myself, I would hear how Caterpillar is doing, and God willing, see him again sometime. I'll be praying and considering.
The first time you meet birth parents, they may still be in shock. Some may see it coming, some may not, but the trauma of losing your child causes emotional reactions sometimes out of one's control.
Seeing where the child lives is very important to them. In this case, she has visits at the foster parents' home, which is unusual in our agency and area. But if that isn't appropriate, we talked about how pictures of the child's room or where the child plays could be positive.
First impressions of how their child is cared for make an impact. This mom instantly had a criticism that she later figured out was no big deal. But she clearly remembers that worry, and how it made her legitimately fear for how her child was cared for.
Birth parents are in classes with other birth parents. I never really thought about this, but she shared about how she realized she was lucky to have such a good relationship because she'd met other parents with kids in foster care that the relationship was non-existent or negative. She acknowledged that she chose an attitude that helped that relationship.
Birth parents want to contribute to their child's needs. She talked about bringing clothes and things for her child, which helped her stay in the mode of being a parent and prepare for reunification. I asked how to balance involving birth parents in supplying a child's needs yet not wanting them to feel obligated, as we should be providing for them in our role as foster parents. She suggested if birth parents ask if they can bring anything, suggest cheap items like pacifiers. She couldn't think of many examples, but later I thought of books, even paperback books that then you could read at visits and at home. I'm still thinking on this one.
Birth parents want to be consulted and informed about the little and big things. This is where it gets tricky. She said it was so important to her that they talked to her before lots of decisions in caring for her baby. But what about parenting differences? I gave her a scenario similar to Caterpillar's mom's requests for me: what if a birth parent tells me to use diaper cream for every single diaper change, rash or no rash? She suggested exactly what I do: don't change my parenting completely especially when it would be really inconvenient or what I think is not best for the child, but acknowledge the parent by putting on diaper cream sometimes before visits, because it's clearly important to her. I had to crack up at a birth parent telling me to put on a good show for birth parents. It did make me think how I could ask more questions, though. What fruit or vegetable should we try with Caterpillar next? Do you have anything you would do as a part of bedtime routine? These small choices could give a birth parent positive involvement.
So, as I've been working so hard on my relationship with Caterpillar's mom, it may be changing very soon. I knew the agency was working through a list of potential relative caregivers. They have settled on one, and while she hasn't been fully cleared yet, it's expected she will be cleared soon. I really hope this relative is fully committed and responsive. The caseworker is. We'll see what happens.
It made me sad for a little more than losing Caterpillar. I'm sad to lose his mom. While it hasn't been easy, I know building our relationship has been a positive thing. I'm wondering if I might be able to keep in touch with her. She has talked about play groups that I bring my kids to, that she always wanted to bring her daughter (in a guardianship situation) but transportation is an issue. I'm thinking about offering to pick her up and take them to the play group with me. If I've put the pieces of information together, she lives near me, and we go there anyway. The play groups are all about parents as teachers, and I think they'd be great for her as a parent. I could help with this need, and still encourage her that she can do this parenting thing. And of course, for myself, I would hear how Caterpillar is doing, and God willing, see him again sometime. I'll be praying and considering.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Caves and stepping stones
We just got back from a reunion/campout with my family. Caterpillar got to come along, and he is seriously the happiest camping baby of all. He had maybe two really sad moments the whole four days. If I forget about all the work of packing and unpacking for camping, and the long drive there and back, it was a blissful time.
We went on a hike that led to a cave. I've never gone through a cave without a guide on an official tour, and this one just had a sign that you could go through if you wanted to. I thought B had gone through the day before (later I found out they went in a ways then turned back), so I went ahead with my sister and Dinosaur, others following behind us. It was narrow and cramped. We had one flashlight, but it wasn't enough. It went on much longer than I anticipated. I may have said, "I think I'm freaking out a bit" to my sister in front of the kids. I just had no idea how much further it would be and couldn't deal with that thought, so I turned around, scrunching ourselves past the line of people who had gone in the cave after us. I breathed a deep breath of relief as I stepped into the light, right back where we started.
On the way to the cave, we crossed two streams several times, picking out stepping stones. Some teetered, some were secure, and sometimes it was just best to step in the shallow water instead. I managed across without sending myself and Caterpillar (tied to me in a carrier) into the shallow stream. The first day Dinosaur did the hike, he boldly stepped from stone to stone. The second day, he was with my parents, who said something that made him sense a little more potential for failure. He asked to be carried, and did cross on his own with some convincing, but his steps were a little less sure. B or another relative carried Rhinoceros across.
We haven't seen the beginning, middle, and end of any story of our foster children. I've learned the beginning isn't removal of the child, and we jump in halfway through the book. Each of our foster children have older siblings. Even if they didn't, there are reasons from the past that brought the birth parents to the place of losing their children to foster care.
We haven't reached any endings, either. When we considered foster care and went through training, we mentally prepared ourselves for two outcomes: reunification with birth parent(s) or adoption (by us or others). What I didn't expect is the end of our three placements so far: neither. Each foster child has gone on or will go on to another home while still in foster care: Pterodactyl to her grandma, Beetle to a foster family with his sister, Caterpillar soon to his mom's cousin. Part of me wants to be a little insulted that we are babysitters in the meantime while they wait on an ideal placement. Another part of me knows that this is what obedience is: being available to meet the need even when it doesn't fit our expectations or what we would find most fulfilling personally.
I've been thinking for awhile about how our role has been like a stepping stone, just a sure place for a foot to rest for a moment. Then I found myself stepping across stones and being thankful that with God's help, we've been able to be a secure stone for these kids. I wish they could just be carried over the river, but instead we are the safest place for them they can be for the short time they're here. That's our role in the big picture so far.
But I also think of the cave. No idea when it will end. Having to trust that if there's a sign that says you can go through it, you can without terrible danger. Moments of panic. Moments of "I can't take it anymore." Our journey has not gotten to an agonizing point, but I think of so many foster care stories I've read, foster parent friends' experiences, and I know it's probably on its way. Heart-sinking, when-will-it-end moments. Will we have what it takes when we are truly tested? Will I take that deep breath of relief on the other side of the cave, or after I've retreated in fear?
We went on a hike that led to a cave. I've never gone through a cave without a guide on an official tour, and this one just had a sign that you could go through if you wanted to. I thought B had gone through the day before (later I found out they went in a ways then turned back), so I went ahead with my sister and Dinosaur, others following behind us. It was narrow and cramped. We had one flashlight, but it wasn't enough. It went on much longer than I anticipated. I may have said, "I think I'm freaking out a bit" to my sister in front of the kids. I just had no idea how much further it would be and couldn't deal with that thought, so I turned around, scrunching ourselves past the line of people who had gone in the cave after us. I breathed a deep breath of relief as I stepped into the light, right back where we started.
On the way to the cave, we crossed two streams several times, picking out stepping stones. Some teetered, some were secure, and sometimes it was just best to step in the shallow water instead. I managed across without sending myself and Caterpillar (tied to me in a carrier) into the shallow stream. The first day Dinosaur did the hike, he boldly stepped from stone to stone. The second day, he was with my parents, who said something that made him sense a little more potential for failure. He asked to be carried, and did cross on his own with some convincing, but his steps were a little less sure. B or another relative carried Rhinoceros across.
We haven't seen the beginning, middle, and end of any story of our foster children. I've learned the beginning isn't removal of the child, and we jump in halfway through the book. Each of our foster children have older siblings. Even if they didn't, there are reasons from the past that brought the birth parents to the place of losing their children to foster care.
We haven't reached any endings, either. When we considered foster care and went through training, we mentally prepared ourselves for two outcomes: reunification with birth parent(s) or adoption (by us or others). What I didn't expect is the end of our three placements so far: neither. Each foster child has gone on or will go on to another home while still in foster care: Pterodactyl to her grandma, Beetle to a foster family with his sister, Caterpillar soon to his mom's cousin. Part of me wants to be a little insulted that we are babysitters in the meantime while they wait on an ideal placement. Another part of me knows that this is what obedience is: being available to meet the need even when it doesn't fit our expectations or what we would find most fulfilling personally.
I've been thinking for awhile about how our role has been like a stepping stone, just a sure place for a foot to rest for a moment. Then I found myself stepping across stones and being thankful that with God's help, we've been able to be a secure stone for these kids. I wish they could just be carried over the river, but instead we are the safest place for them they can be for the short time they're here. That's our role in the big picture so far.
But I also think of the cave. No idea when it will end. Having to trust that if there's a sign that says you can go through it, you can without terrible danger. Moments of panic. Moments of "I can't take it anymore." Our journey has not gotten to an agonizing point, but I think of so many foster care stories I've read, foster parent friends' experiences, and I know it's probably on its way. Heart-sinking, when-will-it-end moments. Will we have what it takes when we are truly tested? Will I take that deep breath of relief on the other side of the cave, or after I've retreated in fear?
Friday, June 13, 2014
Awkward Moments in Foster Care - "Are you talking to me?"
Now that this blog post type has occurred to me, I'm sure I've got lots more to share from the past year. But here is today's awkward moment in foster care:
I was sitting in the waiting room before an appointment for Caterpillar. His mom was planning to come but hadn't shown up yet. The receptionist had to ask the doctor a question about an insurance issue and come back to talk to me, so when a woman came in, there was no one at the desk, so she sat down across from me, made some small talk as Caterpillar charmed her. The receptionist comes back and starts to tell me about what we're going to do, but the problem is, she makes eye contact with me and tells me something, then looks directly at the other woman in the waiting room and continues our conversation. The woman looks startled and says, "Are you talking to me?" The receptionist thought that she was Caterpillar's mom (they are a similar body type and skin tone, but nope). I didn't have to tell her she was wrong, but neither of us knew how to explain it to the woman without confidentiality issues. So the receptionist just finished the conversation with me, and I got out of there hastily.
Only in foster care.
I was sitting in the waiting room before an appointment for Caterpillar. His mom was planning to come but hadn't shown up yet. The receptionist had to ask the doctor a question about an insurance issue and come back to talk to me, so when a woman came in, there was no one at the desk, so she sat down across from me, made some small talk as Caterpillar charmed her. The receptionist comes back and starts to tell me about what we're going to do, but the problem is, she makes eye contact with me and tells me something, then looks directly at the other woman in the waiting room and continues our conversation. The woman looks startled and says, "Are you talking to me?" The receptionist thought that she was Caterpillar's mom (they are a similar body type and skin tone, but nope). I didn't have to tell her she was wrong, but neither of us knew how to explain it to the woman without confidentiality issues. So the receptionist just finished the conversation with me, and I got out of there hastily.
Only in foster care.
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