One is a Lonely Number

Below is a post I had written Friday. I didn't post it then, so I am posting it now. Now, I am home alone. My foster child is with another foster family this weekend - this should make more sense when you read the information below. I guess, despite all of the issues, I got used to having someone in the house. I'm an extrovert, I like having people around. I don't generally like being on my own for extended periods of times. The only time I lived alone before March was when I was in the Peace Corps and despite living in the house alone, I was only alone at night. During the day my house was either crawling with neighborhood kids or I was out visiting other families. One has to try very hard to be alone in Nicaragua. So, I would never choose to live alone. Yet, here I am. Just one more thing to deal with, I suppose. But, I digress. Along with the show.....

In part, I wanted to be a foster mother to fulfill my intense need to mother a child, even if that child would never be my own. I had made up my mind, before I got the call, that I would take any child they called me with. I wasn’t thinking they would call me with a pre-adolescent child. But, I took her anyway. In the past 4 months I have felt like a big sister, a camp counselor, a prison warden, a housekeeper, and a target but never have I felt like a mother. This past Monday I officially submitted my 30 days notice. What this means in foster care speak, is that I am asking CHOR to remove this child from my home and they have 30 days to do it. It was  not a decision I made easily. But, I had finally reached the end – the end of my patience, the end of my belief that I could help this child, the end of my ability to deal with the multitude of behavioral issues. I am sad that it has come to this because I truly wanted to be able to help her. But, it is beyond that now. Even my own parents, who raised three kids with varying trying behaviors and issues, stated their inability to deal with the behavioral issues. So, in 30 days my home will once again be devoid of children.

I have learned a lot through this 4 month ordeal. First, I do not want a child who is older than 5 in my house. Older children have potentially been in the unhealthy family environment too long to effect much change in their mode of operandi. In order to save money, “the system” decided to offer more in-home services to keep the kids with their families until absolutely necessary to remove them. What this generally equates is children with more profound problems, making it harder for them to flourish in a foster home. Such was the case I encountered. Second, I learned that I have a lot more parenting skills than I thought I did. I guess I must have learned them from watching my parents. At the very least, it is comforting to know that while the lady parts might be broken, the mother inside me lives. Third, and I think the most important thing I learned, is that I can do this on my own. I don’t mean to say that I did not get help from CHOR because I did – a lot. But, I mean the daily grind and following a schedule, that I managed to do on my own. Not without some hiccups and issues, but still I managed. And more than anything, I solidified my decision to pursue adoption as a single woman.

After losing the baby and Flaco walking out, I wasn’t sure I wanted to try becoming a mother on my own. Call me old fashioned, but I believe it is best for a child to be in a two parent household. But, slowly I realized that if I am adopting a  child from foster care I am giving them a second chance at a family. And they might be coming from a two parent household that was detrimental for them. Plus, I have the support of my parents, who will be a great influence for the child. And, maybe someday, I will find Mr. Right who thinks it’s pretty dam cool that I am a single mother through adoption.

Men are not high on my priority list right now. I did try the online thing for a little while, but all I ever found were freaks, weirdoes, and nut jobs. Even the nice ones were not my cup of tea. It took me awhile to realize that I was not over Flaco enough to invest in another relationship. Flaco, that topic is a huge bundle of stinkin’ hot mess. Very recently, I have made the decision that I need to cut all ties. Forget asking him to financially help cover some of the debt he helped to create. Forget trying to be “friends” or anything else. It only took me 7 months of his bullshit, but I finally realized – I am better off without him around. He is a noose around the neck of my future. He is the albatross dragging me down and holding me back. He has made his decision and now I have made mine. Adios Muchacho. I don’t need or want you anymore. Take your narcissistic shit to someone who cares, because she ain’t me. If nothing else, this difficult year has taught me that I am stronger than I thought I was. I’m scary strong. Wo-man of steel strong. So, things might be tough right now, but I will come out on top. Better days are ahead of me, that is for sure. And, if God decides to send some nice, kind, hard-working, tall dark and handsome my way, well all the better. But, this mountain sure as hell ain’t going to Mohammad.

There are still times when I get those old pangs of sadness about being infertile. Four babies were born at church within a 6 week period late this summer – and it’s a small church, no more than 30 people attending on an average Sunday. Via Facebook, I have been subjected to the pre-birth count-down replete with groans of pregnancy discomforts followed by plethora of photos, crush of well-wishes and declarations of “such a beautiful family” of 5 more births (well, one is just about ready to give birth). The best way I can describe how I deal, is that I shove it down deep and tell myself, “it has nothing to do with you.” For whatever reason, Flaco and I were not meant to have a baby together. As much as it hurts to say that and believe that, it is something I must say and believe. Perhaps, someday soon I will view it as a blessing. And I tell myself, I can still be a mother. Stretch marks and leaking breasts alone don’t make you a mother. The best I can do right now is ignore it. Ignore the burning in my stomach when I learn of a newly pregnant woman. Ignore the tears that sting my eyes when a new birth is touted so joyously in front of me. My path is a different one. But, God has given me the strength and grace to walk this path. And I believe in my heart-of-hearts that I will soon be a mother.

Once I get a little break from my current foster child, I will call up my case worker at CHOR and let her know I would like to be considered for legal risk and children available for adoption, the younger the better. I’m hoping to have a new placement before the holiday season – I think it will be easier to get through the holidays if I am doing it for a young child. Children have the power to bring out the magic in the holiday season. It’s time to move out of this land of misery. I am ready to leave behind the time of trial and tribulation. I am ready to live an abundant life, over flowing with joy.