A child born to another woman calls me mommy. The magnitude of that tragedy and the depth of that privilege are not lost on me.
--Jody Landers
Late last week, I began to share my personal journey as I navigated the foster care world as a new foster parent. I'm a little late in writing the second part, as our week turned out very differently than what was originally planned! If you missed the first part of our story and would like to read it, you can find it here. In that piece, I wrote about how I was called to be a foster parent, the training and preparation that were required of me, and the emotional mountains and valleys that my little family has passed through so far. Foster care is a very emotional journey, one filled with great joy and equal amounts of sadness. A couple that I took my class with just found out they had four days to say goodbye to their two girls that had been with them for almost a year and a half; their entire family is mourning the great hole that was left by the little ones. We all went into our roles as foster parents knowing that we could possibly face impossibly tough moments, and they are the first in our class to experience such a great loss. Our journeys are so similar and yet so different. Today, I would like to share as much as I am able to about accepting foster care placements and my reflection on my experiences in the system over the last year and a half.
The First Call
The second I received my license in the mail, my phone began to ring non-stop. There was call after call for foster care placements. One of the things I learned during my training was to evaluate myself and what I needed in a placement. Did I want older kids? Younger? Siblings groups? Was I willing to take on special needs or behavior needs? What I learned through all of the self-reflection was that I wanted to build a family. I work with teens daily who have unique challenges in front of them. I give my all when I am at work and come home completely mentally exhausted. I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle doing that all day AND coming home to it at night. I wanted to have the experience of raising young children and growing a family as other people get to experience. I had narrowed my range of placements that I would consider to children in their early childhood years. I told myself I would consider elementary aged students, but in my heart, I felt that starting younger would be better for me. Declining those first few placement calls broke my heart. I felt torn by guilt and doubted the parameters I had set for my future family. I usually let most calls go to voicemail since I was at work; however, I let a few go to voicemail intentionally because of my guilt and anxiety.
A perfectly timed call changed everything. I was sitting in my office catching up on email shortly after school had been dismissed for the day. My phone rang, and I glanced at the caller ID. It was them. I hesitated for a moment, considering letting it go to voicemail, but for some reason, I answered the call. The lady described the situation and placement to me and ended by saying, "The worker says he's as cute as a button." I told her I was extremely interested, but I wanted to make sure that I could find a daycare placement. She said I could have a few hours and give her a call back. Luckily, I had a list of daycare providers and centers that I had already contacted ready to go. I started calling and found two different openings, so I accepted the placement eagerly and anxiously.
Dancing with excitement, I scurried about making sure I had everything I needed: car seats, clothing, food. My friends and family had shown their support during my initiation by donating toys, books, various sizes of clothing, etc. I wanted a few personalized items now that I knew a name, a gender, and an age. You don't get baby showers when you do foster care, and I wanted this little guy to have a few new things to call his own.
I won't ever forget the nervous anticipation as I paced my house waiting for the DHS worker to bring him. It was a Friday night, and we would have the entire weekend just to get to know each other. I will never forget the blank look on his face, his dirty clothes and face, or his sweet crooked smile when he walked into my home. He came right to me and sat on my lap; I had later learned he had been passed around quite a bit, so he was very used to strangers. He loved my dog, Gus, instantly, and with a few licks and pets, they became bonded for life. That first night was so strange, having this little creature in the room next to my own. I didn't know his sleeping habits or bedtime routines. Would he be scared to go to sleep in a new home? It turns out, he was not the least bit put off by having a new room or new bed. As I snuggled him to sleep that night, it felt like I was babysitting someone else's child. By the end of the second night, I knew that I wanted him to be my forever son. Every day that has passed since then has been full of life, love, and happiness, as well as fear, anxiety, and challenges. I made a vow early on that if going back to his biological parents was what was best for him, I would help him get there. If it wasn't the best place for him, I would advocate for his safety and happiness until the end. I was on Team Little Man all the way.
This Little Man has now been with me for seventeen months. We have celebrated his second, birthday and are quickly approaching his third. He learned to talk, count, sing, say the alphabet, climb, and numerous other things while living with me. He has grown in confidence and character and is a joy of a little boy to be around. He captured my heart and has touched my soul, and I will be forever changed by his presence in my life. As I wrote in a previous post, he is my great day. I have been waiting in breathless anticipation as his future was being decided, and as of Monday, I finally have an answer--it looks like the Little Man will be a forever part of my family. While there is an appeal process which takes an additional three months, having a decision has brought peace, relief, and complete elation to our hearts. We have been busy living the summer we didn't really get to have in the last four days, and it has been so amazing to see him completely free and unencumbered by the stress, schedule, and worries. He is happy, he is safe, he is calm, he is a little boy. We have almost made it to the top of this mountain. If we make it to the top, I know the views will be breath-taking and awe-inspiring--we are so close.
The Second Call
Around this time last year, I was sitting in a meeting before the school year had even started. The Little Man was on a visit, so I had my phone close by just in case something happened. Sure enough, I received a call from DHS. I hesitated, because I wasn't sure what kind of call this would be. This wasn't the number of the person I would normally get a call from if something was wrong with the Little Man. I silenced it quickly, but the call came again not two minutes later, so I stepped outside to answer it.
On the phone was a DHS worker that I had briefly met in the courthouse one day. She was calling because she had a special placement for which I had been recommended, and she was begging me to consider taking it. There was a baby that had been born that would need an immediate placement. The baby was in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, because she was born 11 weeks prematurely. The DHS worker filled me in on her medical history and assured me that I would have some time to think about it, as the baby was expected to be in the NICU for at least another month. I shared my hesitation in accepting immediately and asked for time to think about this decision.
Needless to say, I couldn't focus on the rest of that meeting. Since the Little Man had come along, I had not taken any placements nor I had I considered any placements for some time. Hearing this little girls' story and being hand-chosen as a placement tugged at my heartstrings. My brain was saying no, and my heart was saying yes. How in the world could I take on a prematurely born baby at the beginning of the school year? Of course fate had chosen to present this opportunity at the end of a three-month break. I thought about the Little Man and how he might handle it. He had been through so much change already and was doing so well. Would bringing a baby in the mix totally throw him off? They couldn't specifically tell me what her medical needs would be--what if I said yes and then she required more care than I was able to provide? For every reason I could think of not to bring her into my home, I could think of a reason to say yes. So, on the very first day of school that year (and only two weeks after receiving the initial call), I was in the hospital doing an "apartment training" with Nurse Gloria (who very much lives up to her name). I was trained on oxygen tanks, apnea monitors, taping and removing cannulas (the oxygen tubing), and a whole barrage of very overwhelming medical information that would be needed to care for this little one. If it hadn't been for Nurse Gloria (who I believe might have been an angel in disguise), I would have quickly broken down in tears and begged to go home. I was overwhelmed. I was scared. And I was definitely doubting making the decision to bring her home. Thankfully, everyone that I encountered on Baby Girl's medical team, equipment rental, and follow up care was absolutely amazing and gave me the confidence to care for a preemie in my home.
She was on oxygen for the first three months of her life and an apnea monitor for the first four. She had a host of providers requiring follow up appointments for her eyes, ears, and overall health. She came down with a new illness almost every week, and for awhile, we were going to 2-3 doctors appointments weekly. In February, she was hospitalized for 12 days because she couldn't kick a respiratory infection and her lungs just weren't quite as developed as they should be. I faced many challenges as the head of a one-parent household taking care of a child with chronic illnesses and special medical needs and trying to care for and nurture the Little Man as well (and working full time!). There were times that I was spread so thin I was sure people could see right through me. My family was amazing during this time; if I needed an extra set of hands or a little extra sleep, I had several hands willing to come spend a weekend (or even an entire week) just to lighten the load.
Baby Girl is now 13 months old. She is a fighter--a champion--and is now scooting faster than I can walk. She can sit up and is starting to pull herself up stairs (help me!) While she is developmentally behind due to her premature birth, she is catching up quickly. She has an amazingly bright smile and a sweet personality. Baby Girl also has a scream that could be featured in a horror movie--I expect her to make millions of dollars for it someday. She is a mover and a shaker, and she adores her older brother (and her dog, too!) Wherever Brother goes, she is going, too. It has been so amazing to watch the relationship between the two of them develop. The sweet moments of sibling affection, sharing, and playtime have filled up my empty tank and helped propel me from the deepest of valleys to the tallest of mountains. If the moment finally comes in which I will be able to adopt both of them, I will be truly blessed.
Where the Journey Ends
I am asked daily if I will continue to do foster care, and for now my answer is: I don't know. That may surprise some, as I tend to have a very "pro foster care" stance with a "you can do it!" attitude. My journey the last year and a half has been very emotionally taxing. I'm just plain exhausted from the steady uphill climb, and I need recovery time. It was so hard on me to work daily as a professional advocate for children and then have very little say or power over what happens with my own kids at home. I'm weary, and I need rest. I know now is not the time for me to make a long-term decision, when I have been frustrated and worn out and waiting for so long. My plan for now is to continue taking the yearly classes to renew my license and see where life takes me. I can see myself as an older lady taking in those teens who are close to transitioning out of foster care and won't have a home to go to for holidays or summer vacations. But that's the future me and not the present one. At this time, I want to build a solid family and to take into consideration how continuing foster care may impact them as well, since they would be a part of the attachment and loss cycle.
You always hear, "The system is broken." And, in my own opinion, it is. It really, truly is. Do I have a solution to fix it? I don't, and I really wish I did. I hope to someday have the time to learn more about the laws and become an advocate for change. The system and workers are so worn down by defunding issues and overflowing case loads. Some workers handle that increased stress well; some do not. There are people who are very dedicated to these little children, put their hearts and souls into these children, and advocate until they are blue in the face. Others do not. However, I think that is true of any workplace.
You have the people who are completely dedicated to doing their best day after day, and you have others who are there to earn a paycheck or who have been broken down over time.
One thing I fail to understand is the fact that every county in the state in which I reside operates by the same set of laws and their own set of rules. There are counties in which people are lining up to be foster parents and other counties that drive them away. Some counties seem to have a system down that truly protects their children while children in other counties seem to fall through the cracks. In some counties, children are represented by attorneys that work for a non-profit organization, and juvenile law is all that they do. In other counties, lawyers in private practice are assigned on a rotating basis, getting paid much less than what they would for one of their own clients. There are stories of horrible situations in even foster homes; yet the beautiful stories of love, hope and restoration fail to make the headlines. Oh, yes, there needs to be change! Maybe someday, after I am a bit more educated on the inner workings of the beast, I can advocate for system-wide change.
The world definitely needs more foster parents. A small handful of families can't do it all. They need breaks from the mental stress it takes to go from the beginning to the end of a case. Some families only want to foster children, and they know they will not be forever homes. Others, like me, are hoping to build a family. Some people only choose to do respite, which is also a very needed service. The number of quality foster care homes is dwindling, while the number of children in need of care is increasing. Today, my DHS worker jokingly (and also not) texted to say, "Hey, I have another preemie. When can you pick the baby up?" That isn't the first time she's asked in the last few months. She continuously tells me I need to get about five more bedrooms. I tell her I'm going to need a bigger car first...and some rest...some much needed rest.
If you have ever thought about possibly opening your heart and home to children in need, I hope this post hasn't deterred you from it. There is a lot to risk, and there is also so much to gain. There are so many kids, from infants to teenagers, who don't have a loving family to call their own. They have endured awful situations and yearn to just be a normal kid. They long for love and attachment. As adults, we have to decide if we can handle the risk of great loss. Can we sacrifice ourselves to give these young people what they need? Who better to serve than those children who need attachment most? If we, as adults, make ourselves vulnerable to the possibility of pain, we can enrich the life of a child, even if only for a short time. These children need attachment and love, as much as they need to breathe--it is their breath of life.
Where does my journey end? I truly have no idea. I hope that I am able to gather the strength to continue to be a foster parent when it's all said in done, whether that is in the next five years or longer. IF we make it to the top of the mountain (and I say if because I'm slightly superstitious and we still have to get through the appeal), my little family will have deserved a well-earned rest to build the foundation of the family I envision--one that is strong enough to scale mountains and endure the valleys to come, over and over and over again. I see a family that was born of heartache and united and nurtured through tragic circumstances; yet, despite those challenges, flourished and blossomed and grew stronger--a family built from love.
Every night, I sing the children to bed with a few lullabies--songs that I picked up while working at a Girl Scout camp during my summers off in college. My favorite is "Tell Me Why" (author Unkown). The final verse is my favorite, and it struck me early on as I began singing it to the Little Man how appropriate it was for our situation:
I really think that God above
Created you for me to love
He picked you out from all the rest
To be the one, dear, that I love the best
It couldn't be more true.
I would like to end with a little poem that is often seen in the foster care world.
Not flesh of my flesh,
Nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single minute;
You didn't grow under my heart--
But in it.
--Fleur Conkling Heylinger
I could not love these two more if I had given birth to them myself. Thank you so much for coming along with me on my journey. Your support has been amazing and truly appreciated.
(Pictures courtesy of pixabay.com)