Saturday, July 2, 2022

The Ugly Side

I will never forget the day my home was fully certified and ready to accept a foster child/children. I got the call a little before 9 that they had finished everything, I was fully approved, and my home would be put into the system as active. I was sitting on my porch drinking coffee and freaking out so much on the inside. It wasn't even 10 minutes later that my phone rang and up popped the DHS hotline number. I took a deep breath and answered. The lady on the other end began to tell me about a teenage girl that needed a home. My heart broke as I heard her story. She had a child of her own that was placed elsewhere in foster care, her boyfriend was in and out of jail, and she would often run away when he was released each time. I listened, but I knew that this young lady was not supposed to be placed in my home. As a single foster parent, I already knew some of my limitations and I knew this didn't feel right. I told the woman on the line that I couldn't accept the placement. I cried when I hung up because even though I knew this placement wasn't right for me, my heart had already been broken a little by foster care. I let that feeling of "not enough" creep back into my mind and wondered if everything I was doing was actually a big mistake. I still think about her from time to time. She would be an adult now and I wonder how she is. I wonder if she was able to be a  mother to her baby or if the cycle of foster care continues in her family. I never even knew her name. 

So much of what I've observed in my years of teaching and fostering is that it's so hard to break away from generational poverty, neglect, abuse, or drug addiction. It's an ugly truth you come face to face with. It's the ugly truth these children live through. 

I've learned a lot about how luck was on my side. I was lucky that even though we would have been considered poor, I had two present parents that worked really hard to make ends meet. I never knew what it meant to open a completely empty fridge. I never got slapped around by an abusive parent. And never once in my life did I face a situation where the only people in the world willing and able to care for me were complete strangers. 

My children come from trauma. 8yrs, 8months, 15months. All stories different. All stories I'll never know all the pieces to. So what can I do? Sure I can love them. That's not enough. I have to continue to work on me. I work on me so I am able to hold them. I continue to learn about the longterm effects of trauma and how it rears its ugly head in tantrums, control, withdrawal, demanding attention, fear....this list could really go on and on. I just want being "in the system" to stop piling trauma on top of trauma. 


I'm tired. I'm sad. It's hard. And the solution actually seems very simple to me. I want to take care of the people I love. I want the simplicity of knowing my kids are mine and that I won't wake up one day and that any piece of that has been taken from us. The whole process is exhausting. Addiction, incarceration, rehab, reunification, visitation, termination, court dates, attorneys, home visits...  Just when I thought everything was falling into place, that we were so very close to an end, I find myself again knowing there are too many players in this game. 

But here we are and I'm proud of us. I'm proud that we've become a family, one, two, three times now. I'm proud of the determination we've all shown to keep moving forward together. But I'm also tired...very tired. 

Thursday, May 26, 2022

Battlefield

12 years ago I was recovering from a major surgery. I had staples across my lower abdomen and I was moving around at the speed of a snail. I also experienced severe insomnia for the first time in my life. Every bit of it was worth it at the time. I was finally filled with hope of getting pregnant. For months everything was calculated... ovulation tests, pregnancy tests, repeat. Month after month the hope slowly faded. I was living in a state of defeat. I was drained, and my marriage was falling apart right before my eyes. 
  The next few years were hard, to say the least. I was faced with a decision to accept the way my life had turned out or create one that brought me back to a state of joy. I made decisions during those years that pulled me back and forth. I was withdrawn at times, while at others, I was partying like it was 1999. Neither brought me joy. I was in a battle with myself. Somewhere along that winding road I started to set boundaries. I needed my circle to be small and trustworthy. I learned I didn't need a partner to be happy, and that in fact, this poor school teacher could build a pretty good life all by herself. 
  The last couple years haven't been without their battles. I watched my dad battle cancer. I've watched loved ones struggle through addiction. I've watched my daughter battle through and overcome trauma from her past. I watched all of us make our way through a pandemic. 
  Looking back, I see how necessary each of those battles were to bring me to exactly where I am now. I am in a place to support my children in finding their true joy in life. What a beautiful responsibility.
  I sit here this morning reflecting in a quiet house. The kids are at daycare, as I will walk into my attorney's office later today and again prepare for battle. I am stronger than I've ever been but not without some level of worry. Check signed, mediation date set, and the looming presence of a possible trial in the future. All of these things combined have the power to take my breath away. The possibility of us ever saying goodbye to our littlest one puts a knot in my stomach the size of the Atlantic. It's all hard and scary and I'd be lying if I didn't say so. 
  What I've learned is not to try and eat the whole elephant at once. I constantly remind myself that I have today, and after the tragedies of this week, that's more than many parents are waking up to. Today we press on. Today I once again prepare to pull out and put on my armor even though it didn't even have time to get dusty yet. I will fight for you baby, just like I fought for your brother and sister. I will do everything in my power to give you every chance in life to find and hold tight to your joy. 

Sunday, April 3, 2022

Where's MY dad?

I knew eventually he'd get to the age where he wanted to know about his dad. It was bedtime and we were having a silly lighthearted conversation about a little girl in his class that he always says is so pretty! He said "maybe when I'm big I will marry her!" Then we giggled and he stopped and said "noooo...you know who I'm gonna marry?" I said no. He said "You, momma!" I told him I can't marry him cause I'm his mommy and people can't marry their mommy. He said "can they marry their dad?" I said no. He then said "my dad is in heaven". Those words were like a dagger to my momma heart. We've talked about his dad but in that moment I realized he just didn't at all understand. I told him his dad is not in heaven but he does live far far away. I explained the best I could to a 5 year old that when he was a baby, his dad wasn't healthy and he couldn't take care of him and so he came to be my little boy forever. He asked me if Pop can be his dad. I told him no because Pop loves being your Pop so much. We talked for awhile about families and how each one is different. He said "I love you mom and you're my momma!" The whole conversation was simple and straightforward to him. It left me feeling quite gloomy. You see, I've never met or even spoken to his dad. There's not one single thing I can tell him about his dad. No funny stories. No faces that he makes can I ever say "you look just like your dad". I've got nothing and it's just sad. He has a brother in California. They've spent some time together when he went to visit his grandparents. They look a lot alike. I wish they could have a closer relationship and hope someday they do. I know there will be more questions along the way. I pray I have the words. 

Sav has recently began writing her dad. It has oddly enough brought with it a true acceptance of her life without him in it. They were so close and to lose that connection overnight is something I can't even fathom. When she speaks about him, I get a sense it was them against the world. As long as they had each other they'd be alright.  After they had written each other a couple times, she told me that she "just wants her family to know that she's okay and that she's really happy". She went on to tell me that was one of the hardest things was worrying that her family didn't know she was okay. Three years she's held on to those thoughts. 

I'm not even sure the point of this blog...maybe it's just to try and tie up the wondering thoughts in my mind for the past months. Maybe it's to let other foster/adoptive parents know that it's really hard for me too...you're not alone. Maybe it's just about facing the facts. I know what it's not. It's not at all about wondering if I'm enough. I know I can't be a dad. But I do know I can surround my children with strong male role models. Our village is full of them. I know they have a Pop, an Uncle, and so many others that fill in the gaps. I will continue to try and help my children heal from the life that didn't work out for them, embrace the one they have, and love them every step of the way.