8th Day - Day before Beetle's arrival

 The title is a little misleading, because Beetle HAS arrived, after a long day of meeting what seemed like half of the hospital staff.  He's cuddled in B's arms as we watch the Olympics.  My head is spinning with the number of appointments and arrangements that are going on.

But instead of blogging about that, I'm going to try to join in something I've seen at Journey to Josie, which is taking the same day every month and photojournaling it a bit.  She does it with the first day of every month, but I usually don't realize it's a new month until it's at least the 5th.  So, I tried documenting Feb. 5th and started to forget.  So, the 8th it is!  Every month I'll try to give you glimpses of our lives.  My photography skills are not great and I try to not to show any faces of our family, so it might be a little strange, but I like the challenge.

 Most days around here involve a dance party.

 

Before or after church, we almost always have a hot breakfast on Sunday.  This 8th day: french toast, ham, pears.

 

I did some last-minute projects that I knew wouldn't get done with a newborn around, like recovering this glider.

 

Off to the NICU to visit Beetle

 

I came home to some serious Olympic viewing.

And later I added some knitting.

 

Fostering in the NICU

We're in limbo, as Beetle (nickname I decided for our new placement, I blame this song that my kids love) is still in the NICU, and thus we're not officially his foster parents.  I don't have any paperwork on him, and things like visits haven't started.  Yet, I introduce myself as a foster parent at the children's hospital desk, and a board in his room announces my name and B's as foster parents.

The first two nights, I came after work and got to feed and cuddle him, talking to the nurses now and then.  I'm always out of sorts and shy in a new place, so I had to figure out when I need to be asked to be buzzed in through the doors, and even though they told me I can just go in and out of his room, I should probably ask for his nurse when I first come in so she doesn't wonder who this person is in his room by herself.  Add to that the delicate balance of care in the NICU.  At home, when I sense a baby has a dirty diaper, I change it.  In the NICU, I mention it to the nurse, and she suggests waiting a short awhile because he has some routine care coming up.  In any situation, I would feel awkward and tentative about picking up a newborn I didn't give birth to.  In this case, there's all sorts of wires connected to him.  Yes, I made the alarms go off because somehow I got something disconnected.

I knew I couldn't come by tonight, so I visited Beetle this morning.  It was good to go during the day, because I got to talk to his occupational therapist and the hospital social worker.  Both think he's doing quite well considering that he's going through withdrawal; he's gaining well and isn't inconsolable.  He definitely has many of the symptoms that I learned about, and I learned a lot from the nurses and the OT on how to help make things a little easier for him.  Withdrawal isn't close to done, though, as he'll still go home on medication and continue to wean off of it.

At first I was worried that no one had been visiting him, and my hours with him were the only extra cuddles he was getting, but I learned his mom and grandma have been visiting, just not when I've been there.  We'll see if I bump into them before discharge.  A date for discharge hasn't been set yet, but everyone there seems to think it shouldn't be too long.

In the meantime, I'm torn between enjoying moments of quiet and rushing around to get things done.  I did buy the Mamaroo, newborn clothes, diapers, and a few other necessities.  We still need to move the crib from the nursery to our bedroom, though.  And I want to really clean the house and finish some projects in the nursery because I know I won't have the time for awhile.  At the same time, I want to enjoy these last few calm days and take Rhinoceros on our usual outings, appreciating the ease of getting around with fewer children.

Dinosaur is excited about Beetle's arrival and asked questions about what he looked like.  This morning he said that Beetle could join them in the "monkeys jumping on the bed" game they were playing.  Um, kiddo, I think you've already forgotten what a newborn baby is.

Babies, babies, babies

Those were my first words to B when we talked on the phone about... a new placement.

B and I had just finished discussing that we would say a conditional yes to to the twins, that if they were born when we happened to be available for placement, or if it meant staying empty for a month or less, then we would take them.  Then the phone rang about another baby.

He's not here yet.  He's a baby boy still in the NICU, possible discharge this weekend.  We just took a drug-exposed infant training, and good thing.  Or not a coincidence at all... as I think the agency saw this placement coming and tried to get a few more of us ready to say yes!

Some new factors compared to our last placement will be NAS (Neo-natal Abstinence Syndrome) and a father that has visits to schedule as well.  Some familiar factors will be picking up a newborn (he's a bit premature, so he'll seem like a newborn) from the hospital and a relative who hopes to be placed with the baby once some barriers are out of the way.  The latter didn't go as expected last time, so we'll see what happens.

I'm very tempted to get this Mamaroo swing that I hear is excellent for infants in withdrawal, but I always have trouble plunking down money for anything but the most basic baby equipment.  There's one on Craigslist for a little cheaper.  Hrmmm.

I'm going to try to get like 9 hours of sleep every night until his discharge.  I am looking forward to the Olympics lining up with having a newborn.  Hours of stuff to watch when in a daze.

Multiplying before our eyes

There's one bit of news about Pterodactyl and her mom I didn't blog about yet.  Before she moved, we learned her mom was pregnant.  What seems like impossibly soon to be pregnant.

So, we knew when that baby was born, or shortly before, the agency would probably want to match us up.  We decided we wouldn't stay empty just to wait on that placement, but if it all fell into place, that would probably be a good thing.  We know the family, and while I wouldn't say we had a positive relationship with her mom, it wasn't clearly negative either, which is better than her relationship with some others at the agency.  The grandma who has the siblings knows us and actually said she wanted this baby with us.

So, we're ready, waiting on the next placement, come what may.

Then I got an e-mail from our licensing worker that there are BABIES due in June, Pterodactyl's siblings.  Twins.  Would we consider taking them, if they came into care?

Sooo... we were only planning on taking one child at a time.  Maybe reconsidering in the future, but we weren't there yet.  And oh man, twins.  I have friends and family with twins.  It's insane, especially as newborns.  And have I mentioned that B is not a newborn person?  I'm like 50% a newborn person.  I can do it, but I'm a much more cheery person when they get to 6 months or so.  But poor B is in near misery.  And TWINS.  And he kind of just wanted 2 or 3 kids originally.

So, we asked some questions about whether the agency is hoping we would stay without other placements to wait on the twins.  We're trying to figure out what the need is.  Figure out what this "if they come into care" is about, because it really seems unlikely they wouldn't.  Lordy, if Pterodactyl's mom was in a good place to try out parenting, it doesn't seem like twins would be the best bet.  And B, bless his heart, says of course we would take them.  He had his head in his hands and swore a bit first, though.

B: "This is how it starts!  Then you turn around and you have 10 kids!"
Me: "They are literally multiplying before our eyes."

Oh, foster care.  It's true we wouldn't write these stories this way.  I did feel led to pray for Pterodactyl's mom Sunday night with our small group.  This must have been why.

"Is she your baby?"

I saw Pterodactyl today, for the first time since before Christmas, when she moved out.

I had some things to give her grandma, which I could have passed on through the agency, but I called her, hoping that I could just bring them by and then I could see Pterodactyl for a moment.  I was initially going to go yesterday, but her grandma asked that I come today, since the caseworker was coming for a home visit anyway.  I think she thought we would carpool, but I just went with it.  I tend to communicate poorly on the phone and even more poorly when it's in Spanish, and agree to almost anything.

For awhile yesterday, I just felt like a mess.  I was anxious, tense, jittery, building up more and more throughout the day.  Then the plans were postponed until today, and I felt sudden relief.  I hadn't realized it, but I have had this underlying tension of knowing that I would see Pterodactyl again sometime and not knowing how I'd feel.  I miss her, more than I actively realize.  Saying goodbye wasn't the heart-ripping devastation that I expected, but it affected me.  Talking about this out loud with B helped me a lot, and I felt much better today, though still anxious as I drove there, and as I waited, as bad weather delayed her grandma.  I feel a little guilty that I didn't cancel because it seemed like she'd had a really long day, but I really needed to do this today and move on.  I only stayed 5 minutes, so hopefully I wasn't too much of a pain.

She looked the same as she did one month ago to me, just a little bigger.  She is still the most serious baby I've ever seen, and stared at me, with her mouth a little open.  It felt good to hold her and talk to her.  She didn't smile (serious baby), but she did lift up her hand to touch my face.  She did this once before, when I had her in child care during a foster care training, and she had been just miserable for them.  I went to get her and brought her up to join me for the training in a baby carrier, and she just stared at my face, stared and stared, then lifted her hand to touch it.  Like she was saying, "Oh yeah, you!"  Maybe not an exclamation point; she's a little too serious for that.

What I hadn't considered is how my visit would affect her biological brothers, who also live with her grandma.  The older asked me, "Is she your baby?"  I can't quite remember the tone, if it was afraid that I'd say yes, or if it was challenging me.  I reassured him that she was staying there, and I had just come to visit because she doesn't live with me anymore.  Then the younger brother, who is 2 or 3, looked me in the eye and said something in toddler speak, but I believe the intended message was "Lady, she's ours.  She stays here."

We talked about how she could come stay with us for an afternoon or evening sometime.  I would like my boys to see her, too, but I didn't mention that.  I got out of their way and gave her one more kiss, and drove home.  Dinosaur and Rhinoceros were in bed but awake, and I gave them each a kiss.  A kiss to the child that's not here anymore, kisses to the children that are.

Introducing Rhinoceros

Two things to report:

1. We're back on the call list for foster placements as of today.  No clue how long that wait might be.
2. Rhinoceros had his 3rd birthday yesterday!

So without further ado...

5 Things about Rhinoceros

1. He is a peacemaker.  Maybe that's reading into things a bit at 3 years old, but he is really one of the least aggressive children I've ever met.  He has hit me once, and he upset himself from doing so and started tearing up.  He flees rather than fights.
2. He is a sweetie.  While Dinosaur has this monotone low little voice and gets the crazy eyes when he gets excited, Rhinoceros is almost always sweetness.  His little high-pitched airy voice, his little walk, sweetness.
3. He is sneaky.  He is definitely the kid who will not make his presence known and then you suddenly wonder where he is and find him with a half-empty bottle of maple syrup.  He has also put more objects down our vents than I could possibly count.
4. He loves cupcakes and singing happy birthday.  This has been his main pretend play for the past six months.  It had me stumped for a theme for his actual birthday, since he doesn't really have a favorite animal or character or anything.  He just likes candles on cupcakes.  So, I just put threes on the cupcakes and called it good.  He sat quietly, eyes lit up, as if he'd waited for that moment all his life.
5. He's generally quiet.  It's not that Rhinoceros can't talk.  It's just that he evades most communication.  He's also in this phase when you give him two choices, and you can't for the life of you figure out which one he is actually choosing.  I think he'll get more talkative as time goes on, but in general I think he'll be a quieter child.  He'll probably continue to use it to his advantage: see #3.

 Rhinoceros and Fostering

Considering Rhinoceros was only 2 years and 4 months when Pterodactyl was placed with us, and that he wasn't the most verbal 2-year-old anyway, there wasn't much we could do to prepare him.  We've talked to him a little bit, but we mainly had to trust God that we were making the right decision.  Even apart from fostering, I braced myself for his adjustment to a baby in the home, replacing him as the youngest.  When Rhinoceros was born, Dinosaur had quite the phase of acting out as he adjusted to his presence.  But when Pterodactyl arrived... nothing.  Rhinoceros went on being his quiet happy toddler self.  He liked to lay down next to her and give her a single kiss (while Dinosaur attacked her with kisses and we had to pry him off of her).  No new behavior issues that we could trace to her presence.  I can't promise this will ever happen again, but it was a big relief.  B and I really had a much harder time adjusting to a new baby than Dinosaur or Rhinoceros did!

Rhinoceros asked about Pterodactyl when she was on visits, wanting to know where she was.  For awhile, he would take attendance at our house:  "Mommy?  Here.  Daddy?  Work.  Dinosaur?  Here.  Rhinoceros?  Here.  Pterodactyl?  Here."  (With real names in toddler dialect, of course.)  This made me concerned that when she left and didn't come back, he would have a hard time processing it.  To my surprise, he didn't ask about her at all for at least two weeks, in spite of me talking about her.  Finally, he saw a part of a bottle and said her name questioningly.  Then he moved on to play with something.  I have no idea how his little mind has actually wrapped around this, but he seems to be doing okay.

I'm sure every child is different, and I have no idea if our transitions in the future will go so easily.  I'm sure it's giving me a false security as we dive into the next adventure, but hey, sometimes I think a little false security can't hurt.  I'm thankful for all of us that the boys have had a pretty easy time with fostering so far.  I hope not to take it for granted.

I like these snow pictures for the blog, because while I can share my bio kids' pictures if I want to, I like that they're not 100% recognizable.  And bundled up kids are cute.

Lessons from Grandma

Our return to fostering was put on hold a little longer by the death of my grandma last Saturday.  She was diagnosed within the last year with widespread cancer and was 84 years old, so the call was not a complete shock, but we also hadn't known for the past several months when this day might come.  Sounds sort of like foster care.  I ended up carpooling with my cousins one state away to drive over 30 hours to get to the funeral and back.  It was a little insane, but fitting, as Grandma and Grandpa were known for dropping everything, driving across the country, and knocking on one of their kids' doors to announce they'd come to visit.

I am truly inspired by the life my grandma lived.  I thought I'd share a few things I gleaned from her life and the stories told about her this past week.  I thought some of it applied to how we get through the stress of fostering life and how we love others: foster children, bio families, etc.

Sing with joy. 
Grandma sang in the kitchen in the morning: "Thank you Lord for the good things.  Thank you Lord for the things you've given me.  Thank you Lord for the good things, like a hot cup of tea."  Grandma sang with her children in the car to keep them from fighting each other.  Grandma sang songs to Jesus and soaked up the words.  She passed this healing joy of singing to my mom, who passed it down to me.  I sing happily with my children, but when I find myself in some of those moments where I'm worried I'll lose it with the kids, I make myself sing to replace saying something I'll regret.  Next time I'll have to remember to sing "Thank you Lord for the good things."

Remind everyone that they are important and special.
Grandma had Alzheimer's and dementia in the last several years of her life, but sometimes it was hard to know if she recognized you or not, because she embraced everyone with love like she'd known them all her life.  Yes, she loved her children and grandchildren in special ways, but she got it that those weren't the only people who needed her love.  Over the years as a missionary, pastor's wife, and at one point running a shelter for victims of domestic violence, she made everyone feel like they were special.  My uncle told her this, intending it as a compliment, and she told him with a stern eye, "Honey, they ARE special."

Life your life as a ministry to others.
Grandma was passionate about women's ministry and their church, but she also lived out her Christian life in everyday ways, through food, through providing a place to sleep, through listening.  She had a keen awareness of people who were hurting around her, and she wasn't afraid to show love to them.  I share her awareness, but I have a lot to learn about the boldness to show love.  Around a month before she died, she wasn't able to do many daily tasks and didn't recognize her children much of the time.  Yet at a dollar store, she noticed a clerk was sick and having a rough day.  She took the clerk's hands in hers and said, "You don't feel well, do you," and proceeded to encourage her.

Love Jesus.
Grandma treasured her time with her Bible, her time praying, and her time singing to Jesus.  She lost many of the things she was able to do in her last years of life, but when you stripped away the layers of who she was, you just saw more of Jesus.  She was praying in her last hours.  She lived out her love for Jesus actively and practically, but she also just loved His presence.  I have so far to go in this way.  I latch onto my practical Christian acts, my sacrifices of foster care, and try to patch them together into who I am as a Christian.  I need to learn from Grandma and just be still and love my God who first loved us.