TPR stands for termination of parental rights. Online I see it used as a verb (TPR-ed) or a noun (TPR happened last month). It means that the parents lose their parental rights to their foster children. They can no longer have a say in how they will be raised, medical decisions and information, etc. They have no plan to accomplish to regain custody of their children. They are parents in history and they may possibly have parental roles in open adoption scenarios, but they are no longer legally parents.
As I said in a previous post, Crocodile's parents' rights were terminated. He is the first foster child that we've been through that experience with. Some of our previous cases also reached that point, but not when the children were with us, so we didn't experience it firsthand.
There is such deep sadness within TPR, and even people who believe it is the right outcome for the children feel awful during the court events that end in TPR. The case must be made strongly, so everything possible is used against parents. It surprised me how wrong that felt, that while I may have supported the outcome, and I wanted to object and say that some of this really wasn't that bad, and really, are we all such perfect parents? Do they have to bring up this, and that, and that? Can't we just boil it down to the most substantial reasons for this terrible thing, this permanent separation between parents and their children?
I expected the sadness, but I did not expect some dramatic events that happened on the day of TPR. I won't go into detail, but the desperation was palpable. the grief so thick in the air, churning into anger.
I dream of better solutions. Could victims of some types live in intentional communities that support them as parents, that help them heal? Could we as a society prevent these terrible days that begin lifetimes of loss?
So many people in the room clearly wanted this day over with. Some would walk away having spent another sad day in their professions. We would walk away knowing we would continue to care for our foster child who would no longer visit parents, at least not for a long time, and would eventually need to process this loss. His parents would walk away knowing a door had closed. But I didn't see his mother walk away. I only saw her weeping in her seat, a family member comforting her, as we quietly filed out.
Come, Lord Jesus.
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Saturday, December 31, 2016
2016, year of the Crocodile
2016 was the first year that we had a foster child with us through the whole year. It doesn't make for much of a timeline that I want to share without giving more details than I'm comfortable with, but there were events and changes nonetheless.
With our family, Rhinoceros started kindergarten and Crocodile switched daycares to what we call his "preschool," but really he's there 8:30-3ish each day while I work and fit in a little volunteer time. Dinosaur continues to dote on Crocodile as one of the cutest humans alive. Crocodile matured to the point that he and Rhinoceros can play more pretend games together. Crocodile also figured out how to push his foster brothers' buttons and instigates like crazy. They are all still very loud.
With the status of his case, parental rights were terminated. Though it's still not in writing at this point because the system has slowed down, we made the decision that we do not plan to adopt him. So, the wheels are in motion to find him an adoptive home, ideally with his siblings.
With the status of living with his siblings, their first foster home put in notice and they moved to a new home. Potential for him to join them waxed and waned. Recently their second foster home put in notice and they will move soon. It is pre-adoptive and the plan includes Crocodile as well, but as it's less urgent that he move at this point, they will wait and do a transition. I'm a mix of emotions, as the news is still very new, the move is very fast, and there has not been a successful home yet for his siblings. At the same time, I do need to accept the reality that this is the plan and he very well could move soon.
We ended the year with intensity. I'm still exploring what the causes are, but my usually intense emotional state is off the charts for me. I'm getting some help to move forward on that, which is good. But it's new and intense. Crocodile went from being a very bouncy almost-always-happy toddler to a very bouncy sometimes aggressive and angry preschooler. He is still our dear heart-of-gold Crocodile and we are more than willing to put in the work to help him through his struggles. But it is intense. We saw termination of parental rights for the first time and it was heartwrenching. And the final visit. Heartwrenching. Just as I felt I was able to refocus again, to move forward, the news of the second move for his sisters came, and there was a lot of sadness that came with that. Lots of updates and changes and even some good parts, but a lot of it. Intense.
Sometimes it's been so much that I haven't known where to start writing about it. I feel guilty for neglecting friendships. I worry I've entered a tunnel of foster care and I can't see much else.
But if this is the tunnel I'm walking in, I know I am not alone. God is guiding me as I grope through the darkness. B is beside me, loving, working hard for the kids and for us.
At one point this year the caseworker, knowing we did not plan to adopt, projected the many months ahead. She asked, "He will probably stay with you for quite some time before he moves to his adoptive family, if you are willing. Is that something you are okay with?"
I couldn't even fathom an answer of no. Neither could B. Some decisions are challenging and hard to make. This path is hard to walk, but at least at this time, the decision to walk it has been crystal clear to us. Of course we will walk it.
2017 may be just as intense. We don't know. But here we go.
With our family, Rhinoceros started kindergarten and Crocodile switched daycares to what we call his "preschool," but really he's there 8:30-3ish each day while I work and fit in a little volunteer time. Dinosaur continues to dote on Crocodile as one of the cutest humans alive. Crocodile matured to the point that he and Rhinoceros can play more pretend games together. Crocodile also figured out how to push his foster brothers' buttons and instigates like crazy. They are all still very loud.
With the status of his case, parental rights were terminated. Though it's still not in writing at this point because the system has slowed down, we made the decision that we do not plan to adopt him. So, the wheels are in motion to find him an adoptive home, ideally with his siblings.
With the status of living with his siblings, their first foster home put in notice and they moved to a new home. Potential for him to join them waxed and waned. Recently their second foster home put in notice and they will move soon. It is pre-adoptive and the plan includes Crocodile as well, but as it's less urgent that he move at this point, they will wait and do a transition. I'm a mix of emotions, as the news is still very new, the move is very fast, and there has not been a successful home yet for his siblings. At the same time, I do need to accept the reality that this is the plan and he very well could move soon.
We ended the year with intensity. I'm still exploring what the causes are, but my usually intense emotional state is off the charts for me. I'm getting some help to move forward on that, which is good. But it's new and intense. Crocodile went from being a very bouncy almost-always-happy toddler to a very bouncy sometimes aggressive and angry preschooler. He is still our dear heart-of-gold Crocodile and we are more than willing to put in the work to help him through his struggles. But it is intense. We saw termination of parental rights for the first time and it was heartwrenching. And the final visit. Heartwrenching. Just as I felt I was able to refocus again, to move forward, the news of the second move for his sisters came, and there was a lot of sadness that came with that. Lots of updates and changes and even some good parts, but a lot of it. Intense.
Sometimes it's been so much that I haven't known where to start writing about it. I feel guilty for neglecting friendships. I worry I've entered a tunnel of foster care and I can't see much else.
But if this is the tunnel I'm walking in, I know I am not alone. God is guiding me as I grope through the darkness. B is beside me, loving, working hard for the kids and for us.
At one point this year the caseworker, knowing we did not plan to adopt, projected the many months ahead. She asked, "He will probably stay with you for quite some time before he moves to his adoptive family, if you are willing. Is that something you are okay with?"
I couldn't even fathom an answer of no. Neither could B. Some decisions are challenging and hard to make. This path is hard to walk, but at least at this time, the decision to walk it has been crystal clear to us. Of course we will walk it.
2017 may be just as intense. We don't know. But here we go.
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Brokenhearted, crushed in spirit
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18
I am very slowly working on memorizing Psalm 34, but this particular verse has been one I have loved since my teen years. I am often brokenhearted because my personality and imagination bring the pain of others into my own heart. I am often crushed in spirit because my longing to help hurting people means I surround myself with hurting people in my work, my church, my children's school, my daily news. I can't help but do it, and yet it weighs on me. I am one of those tenderhearted people that but by the grace of God and His strong call for obedience would say, "There's no way I could do foster care. It would hurt too much to give them back."
So, I cling to having the Lord close to me, this brokenhearted and crushed one. But I also call on this promise as my heart hurts for the others I see hurting. The promise that God is close to them and is saving them.
A child asks hopefully about the next visit. There won't be a next visit, at least not for a long time.
A mother has another child with new hope. Months pass, and the baby enters foster care like the other children.
The Lord is close.
A mother sees families together at Thanksgiving, Christmas. She thinks of the children she has lost. She wonders if she will ever be able to be a mother again. She misses them like a piece of herself.
A child punches another child at school and scares everyone with violent thoughts spoken aloud. Then the child says she misses her mother.
To the brokenhearted.
A father relinquishes his parental rights. He says he regrets what he has done to so many people in this courtroom. He says, "it went wrong."
A child waits on the photo listings for adoption and waits in a residential facility. Another video is recorded. She knows the last ones didn't work either. She knows she is hard to adopt. She talks about her hope for celebrating holidays with a big family, but she can barely remember the last time she was with a family.
He saves.
A child talks on and on about the sleepover at a sibling's house. We have pictures, special items about the siblings, but it's not enough.
A desperate mother lashes out before court and during court. A compassionate judge does not throw her out and just tries to get things over with. She stops fighting and cries silently, while others file out of the courtroom.
Those who are crushed in spirit.
You have come to us, Lord Jesus. Emmanuel. I speak these things softly from my broken and crushed place. Faint words of hope. Hear them and turn them into something greater.
Romans 5:5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
I am very slowly working on memorizing Psalm 34, but this particular verse has been one I have loved since my teen years. I am often brokenhearted because my personality and imagination bring the pain of others into my own heart. I am often crushed in spirit because my longing to help hurting people means I surround myself with hurting people in my work, my church, my children's school, my daily news. I can't help but do it, and yet it weighs on me. I am one of those tenderhearted people that but by the grace of God and His strong call for obedience would say, "There's no way I could do foster care. It would hurt too much to give them back."
So, I cling to having the Lord close to me, this brokenhearted and crushed one. But I also call on this promise as my heart hurts for the others I see hurting. The promise that God is close to them and is saving them.
A child asks hopefully about the next visit. There won't be a next visit, at least not for a long time.
A mother has another child with new hope. Months pass, and the baby enters foster care like the other children.
The Lord is close.
A mother sees families together at Thanksgiving, Christmas. She thinks of the children she has lost. She wonders if she will ever be able to be a mother again. She misses them like a piece of herself.
A child punches another child at school and scares everyone with violent thoughts spoken aloud. Then the child says she misses her mother.
To the brokenhearted.
A father relinquishes his parental rights. He says he regrets what he has done to so many people in this courtroom. He says, "it went wrong."
A child waits on the photo listings for adoption and waits in a residential facility. Another video is recorded. She knows the last ones didn't work either. She knows she is hard to adopt. She talks about her hope for celebrating holidays with a big family, but she can barely remember the last time she was with a family.
He saves.
A child talks on and on about the sleepover at a sibling's house. We have pictures, special items about the siblings, but it's not enough.
A desperate mother lashes out before court and during court. A compassionate judge does not throw her out and just tries to get things over with. She stops fighting and cries silently, while others file out of the courtroom.
Those who are crushed in spirit.
You have come to us, Lord Jesus. Emmanuel. I speak these things softly from my broken and crushed place. Faint words of hope. Hear them and turn them into something greater.
Romans 5:5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
Monday, November 21, 2016
Special people
I sing a little song around the house with the names of the kids. I admit I bring it out often when I'm about to lose it and I need something to get me back to being kind and positive. We have a few versions:
"I love Dinosaur, I love Rhinoceros, I love Crocodile, I love Daddy B."
"I love Dinosaur, I love Rhinoceros, I love Crocodile, I love Pterodactyl-and-Beetle-and-Caterpillar-and-Cricket-and-Tadpole."
"I love Crocodile, I love his mama, I love his Benny*, I love his sisters."
Lately he's started to request particular versions. You would think it would always be the mama-Benny-sisters version, but sometimes he requests the one that names foster kids he never met. Every time he asks, the look he gives me just melts me. He know they're our "special people" songs.
Whenever my heart aches with emotion when he brings up his mama, his Benny, or his sisters, I sometimes search for words, but at some point I came up with a go-to response that helps me respond right away and helps comfort right away. "Your _____ is/are so special to you." Then of course he starts to echo it, and daily he's talking about how each one is so special.
Crocodile was playing with three cars on a track. "That one has my mama and my Benny and my sisters. That one has Mommy C and Daddy B. That one is just me by myself."
Your family may change, little one, and special people may say goodbye, but you won't be just you by yourself. I won't let that happen.
*His mom's boyfriend, not his real name
"I love Dinosaur, I love Rhinoceros, I love Crocodile, I love Daddy B."
"I love Dinosaur, I love Rhinoceros, I love Crocodile, I love Pterodactyl-and-Beetle-and-Caterpillar-and-Cricket-and-Tadpole."
"I love Crocodile, I love his mama, I love his Benny*, I love his sisters."
Lately he's started to request particular versions. You would think it would always be the mama-Benny-sisters version, but sometimes he requests the one that names foster kids he never met. Every time he asks, the look he gives me just melts me. He know they're our "special people" songs.
Whenever my heart aches with emotion when he brings up his mama, his Benny, or his sisters, I sometimes search for words, but at some point I came up with a go-to response that helps me respond right away and helps comfort right away. "Your _____ is/are so special to you." Then of course he starts to echo it, and daily he's talking about how each one is so special.
Crocodile was playing with three cars on a track. "That one has my mama and my Benny and my sisters. That one has Mommy C and Daddy B. That one is just me by myself."
Your family may change, little one, and special people may say goodbye, but you won't be just you by yourself. I won't let that happen.
*His mom's boyfriend, not his real name
Friday, November 18, 2016
Acronym of the Day: FTM
I really enjoy hearing the differences among fostering experiences, so I'm going to keep going with acronyms that I know may not be universal, but the ideas at the root of them may be, which makes it a good way to get us talking about foster care. And I hope the discussions give those who are not fostering something to think about.
Today I bring you FTM: family team meeting.
I chose this one in part because B always gets it wrong. He always says "full team meeting," which is the same idea. Basically, it's a meeting that is intended to bring together all parties involved in a case. At the very least, it would include the child's parents, foster parents, and caseworker, but can include many more people. In my experience, I have also seen relatives, parenting mentors, significant other of a parent, caseworker supervisors, and adoption caseworkers. I have also heard of therapists, GALs and CASAs attending. We have only fostered young children who are not a part of the meeting, but older children may be. Plus, foster parents can include many people, as often siblings of one case are in separate homes and each have their own foster parent(s). Sometimes foster parents are not included or caseworkers just don't think to include them. It's good to ask your agency what the standard should be and then advocate that you would be involved in them unless there's a specific reason you shouldn't be.
What are family team meetings for? Looking at the documents from my state, the words "collaborative" and "strengths-based" kept coming out, and that has been my experience. It's a chance for everyone to hear the same things from in the same room. Transitions can be decided and concerns voiced for everyone to hear. For strengths-based, in my experience the meeting always involves talking about the strengths of the child or children and the strengths within relationships.
When do family team meetings happen? Each location will have its own guidelines and agencies may have different guidelines. I'm honestly still not sure of ours, but I know they usually revolve around placement changes and changes in goals for the case. For example, if a child is moving from a foster home to a relative home or a different foster home, family team meetings are common to discuss and plan the transition. For a goal changing from reunification to adoption, there should be a family team meeting. But there can also be a requested family team meeting for other reasons, including by the parents of the child. I have also experienced transitions that had no family team meeting, and I know now that I'd want to request them every time in the future.
In the best meetings I've been a part of, I have seen a different side of parents and understood more from their own mouths where they're coming from. I've been able to help plan a thoughtful transition for a child. In the least helpful meetings, there were too many missing people to make it effective. And then there were the meetings I was not invited or not made aware. I couldn't learn and I couldn't have a voice. Certainly the most frustrating.
We have one coming up that looks like it will be a room packed full of people. I'm glad so many are committed to Crocodile and his sisters. I pray we will be on the same page and be able to help them heal, help them have the best plan for them to grow and flourish.
What meetings do you have in your fostering experience that are similar?
Today I bring you FTM: family team meeting.
I chose this one in part because B always gets it wrong. He always says "full team meeting," which is the same idea. Basically, it's a meeting that is intended to bring together all parties involved in a case. At the very least, it would include the child's parents, foster parents, and caseworker, but can include many more people. In my experience, I have also seen relatives, parenting mentors, significant other of a parent, caseworker supervisors, and adoption caseworkers. I have also heard of therapists, GALs and CASAs attending. We have only fostered young children who are not a part of the meeting, but older children may be. Plus, foster parents can include many people, as often siblings of one case are in separate homes and each have their own foster parent(s). Sometimes foster parents are not included or caseworkers just don't think to include them. It's good to ask your agency what the standard should be and then advocate that you would be involved in them unless there's a specific reason you shouldn't be.
What are family team meetings for? Looking at the documents from my state, the words "collaborative" and "strengths-based" kept coming out, and that has been my experience. It's a chance for everyone to hear the same things from in the same room. Transitions can be decided and concerns voiced for everyone to hear. For strengths-based, in my experience the meeting always involves talking about the strengths of the child or children and the strengths within relationships.
When do family team meetings happen? Each location will have its own guidelines and agencies may have different guidelines. I'm honestly still not sure of ours, but I know they usually revolve around placement changes and changes in goals for the case. For example, if a child is moving from a foster home to a relative home or a different foster home, family team meetings are common to discuss and plan the transition. For a goal changing from reunification to adoption, there should be a family team meeting. But there can also be a requested family team meeting for other reasons, including by the parents of the child. I have also experienced transitions that had no family team meeting, and I know now that I'd want to request them every time in the future.
In the best meetings I've been a part of, I have seen a different side of parents and understood more from their own mouths where they're coming from. I've been able to help plan a thoughtful transition for a child. In the least helpful meetings, there were too many missing people to make it effective. And then there were the meetings I was not invited or not made aware. I couldn't learn and I couldn't have a voice. Certainly the most frustrating.
We have one coming up that looks like it will be a room packed full of people. I'm glad so many are committed to Crocodile and his sisters. I pray we will be on the same page and be able to help them heal, help them have the best plan for them to grow and flourish.
What meetings do you have in your fostering experience that are similar?
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Gray Areas of Confidentiality
I could drive myself and my licensing worker crazy with questions about what's okay and not okay for confidentiality and identifying photos, but three and a half years into fostering, we just try to make a reasonable effort, which sometimes means being very cautious and sometimes going with some "good enoughs." An example of what "good enough" looks like:
Friend at church takes family photo for a hallway that has photos of all the church members (it's a very small church).
Foster parents aren't really thinking about confidentiality because kids are squirmy, I'm not having a good day, and let's just get this done.
Friend says, "Oh no, he held that big cookie up in front of his face."
Foster parents pause and say, "Actually, that's perfect."
So, now we have the cookie picture hanging up in the church hallway.
Friend at church takes family photo for a hallway that has photos of all the church members (it's a very small church).
Foster parents aren't really thinking about confidentiality because kids are squirmy, I'm not having a good day, and let's just get this done.
Friend says, "Oh no, he held that big cookie up in front of his face."
Foster parents pause and say, "Actually, that's perfect."
So, now we have the cookie picture hanging up in the church hallway.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Acronym of the Day: GAL
I thought I'd throw in some informational posts to keep me writing. I do want to help others with what I know from being in the system awhile. Plus, I think the more I get writing, the more I'll be prompted to get at the heart of what I need to get out. And I know there are things I need to get out that I'm not writing.
Disclaimer: acronyms may be state-specific and your location may have another term or different way of doing things. Feel free to share in the comments.
So, today, GAL! Guardian ad litem. This is the lawyer that represents the children in a case. I have no idea how many cases they are assigned to, but it's a staggering number. They have their own practices and may work with all sorts of cases, as I know one we worked with was recommended as a good divorce lawyer. Where I live, they are required to see foster children quarterly, which means usually right before court. Unlike home visits by caseworkers, these visits are usually five minutes or less. I've had some standing in our doorway, and others at an agency before or after parenting time. Once a GAL missed a visit and had to say so in court and said that he would visit that night (without having talked to us about this). So, right at the end of court, he came over with a sheepish smile, and guess who stood in my doorway for five minutes that night. I've learned to just schedule the visits myself. I know when court is coming up and I call or e-mail with available dates and times. Boom. (I've started doing this with caseworkers most of the time, too.) I was grateful that one GAL had known our foster child since before the child was born. Older siblings were in care and he was assigned to that case. He knows the full story better than caseworkers who have rotated over the years, though he doesn't devote as much time to the case as a caseworker.
So, why a GAL? They are not representing the parents of the foster children nor usually communicating much with them to support them in their efforts to reunify with their children, like a caseworker or parent's lawyer. They are solely representing the interests of the children. They speak in court. They can sometimes help foster parents when a foster child's needs are not being met by something in the system, but this can depend on the quality of the GAL. I have only asked one or two questions of a GAL outside of the scheduled visits because any issues we've had have been resolved with a caseworker or caseworker's supervisor. We're pretty fortunate.
Because GALs are so overbooked, some children also have a CASA (court-appointed special advocate) to advocate for the needs of the foster child. CASAs are trained volunteers, not lawyers. I have not yet had a child with a CASA, though I know they exist in our area.
I am usually not told initially who the GAL is for a case, so I have also learned to ask in the first week or two, "Who is the GAL and what is the contact information?" Excellent information to have on hand as foster parents.
So there you go, GALs. Another part of the system that, when it works well, can keep the system accountable to do right by kids.
Disclaimer: acronyms may be state-specific and your location may have another term or different way of doing things. Feel free to share in the comments.
So, today, GAL! Guardian ad litem. This is the lawyer that represents the children in a case. I have no idea how many cases they are assigned to, but it's a staggering number. They have their own practices and may work with all sorts of cases, as I know one we worked with was recommended as a good divorce lawyer. Where I live, they are required to see foster children quarterly, which means usually right before court. Unlike home visits by caseworkers, these visits are usually five minutes or less. I've had some standing in our doorway, and others at an agency before or after parenting time. Once a GAL missed a visit and had to say so in court and said that he would visit that night (without having talked to us about this). So, right at the end of court, he came over with a sheepish smile, and guess who stood in my doorway for five minutes that night. I've learned to just schedule the visits myself. I know when court is coming up and I call or e-mail with available dates and times. Boom. (I've started doing this with caseworkers most of the time, too.) I was grateful that one GAL had known our foster child since before the child was born. Older siblings were in care and he was assigned to that case. He knows the full story better than caseworkers who have rotated over the years, though he doesn't devote as much time to the case as a caseworker.
So, why a GAL? They are not representing the parents of the foster children nor usually communicating much with them to support them in their efforts to reunify with their children, like a caseworker or parent's lawyer. They are solely representing the interests of the children. They speak in court. They can sometimes help foster parents when a foster child's needs are not being met by something in the system, but this can depend on the quality of the GAL. I have only asked one or two questions of a GAL outside of the scheduled visits because any issues we've had have been resolved with a caseworker or caseworker's supervisor. We're pretty fortunate.
Because GALs are so overbooked, some children also have a CASA (court-appointed special advocate) to advocate for the needs of the foster child. CASAs are trained volunteers, not lawyers. I have not yet had a child with a CASA, though I know they exist in our area.
I am usually not told initially who the GAL is for a case, so I have also learned to ask in the first week or two, "Who is the GAL and what is the contact information?" Excellent information to have on hand as foster parents.
So there you go, GALs. Another part of the system that, when it works well, can keep the system accountable to do right by kids.
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