Meet-n-Greet

 I had to take the three year old to her first dentist appointment this morning. It was an event (I ended up holding her in the chair) but not as bad as the fiasco with older child I had over the summer! What a nightmare that was! After the dentist we went to Kmart to exchange the baby's Easter outfit since it didn't fit him properly. Then, we went to visit the two boys. The foster mom had a migraine so everyone was still in their pj's. The boys were not really interested in talking to me (they had no clue as to the magnitude of our meeting) because they were playing with one another and the foster parent's grandson (they are raising him and adopted him when he was only 2). They very energetic young boys, as one might expect for their ages. They talked to me a little bit and the foster mom reiterated the case worker's assessment that they are "very good boys." And they are cute and did seem well behaved. But........ They are not babies! I think we would have a lot of fun getting into trouble on the farm and I think they would really like that, but I don't know if I could see myself as their mother...... Although, despite the baby calling me "mama," I don't feel like a mother now so what's the difference? I think it would take me awhile to actually feel like a mother because I get kids, I fall in love with kids and then the kids are moved away - that makes it hard to feel like much of anything. I don't know. I just do not know. The case worker was supposed to stop by for a visit today but she emailed me yesterday and told me it would need to be later and the kids are being picked up around 5:45 for respite tonight so I can go to a Bible study. I have no idea if she still plans on coming over.

Yesterday I noticed two precious little babies on the S.W.A.N. website - a boy and a girl, the girl was 2 1/2 and the boy was a year old. I emailed my family worker about them and she called me and wanted to know if she should wait to see what happens with the two boys I met this morning. I told her I was "conflicted" and "confused" about this potential placement. She talked to me about another placement - a boy age 5 and a girl age 3 - that would not work out because they need to be in separate rooms. But, she thinks they would be just perfect for me. I know the kids, I used to take my foster kids to their home for baby-sitting. They are cute kids, but they are not babies either. Part of me wishes I had never had the baby in foster care because she is exactly what I wanted - all I ever really wanted. And now, I can't seem to get over the fact that, unless I am willing to wait years, it isn't going to happen. And it might not even happen waiting years because I am single and the priority is given to couples. I need to either become ok with waiting or ok with an older child. So, where do things go from here? I guess I'll find out......

Heavy Heart

My heart has been heavy all weekend. Yesterday, I was particularly short-tempered and hate myself for being that way. I can’t stop my mind from thinking and it is turning my insides into mush. I got an email from my case worker today giving me the number for the case worker in the other county who wants to speak with me (apparently, she had left a long message for me that I never got – she must have called my home number and I cannot get those messages because I do not know the password and stupid Verizon was not able to help me Friday night when I called them). She also spoke to the foster parents to see if I could stop by to meet the boys since they live just 2 blocks away from where I work. I didn’t respond to her email. I don’t know what to say. I feel like I am on the brink of tears most of the time. She called me later to give me the name and phone number for the foster mother to set up a time to visit. I was picking up the kids at the sitter and didn't really want to talk to there in front of the other foster mom.

Why am I struggling with this so much? Shouldn’t it be easy for me to say “no” and forget all about it? Or to say “yes” and be overjoyed? But, we are not talking about declining a stick of chewing gum here, we are talking about the lives of two little boys as well as my own life. Not to be too dramatic, but it is a life-changing decision. I think I am struggling with it so much because part of me thinks this might be God’s will for me, what He wants for me to have for reasons only He can see and understand. I think this for several reasons. First, the story I was told the first time I heard about the boys broke my heart; no child should have to endure what they did. Second, this seems to be happening with only my tepid agreement. I had agreed to meet them and then it didn’t happen, I took in the two kids I have now and I assumed it was all over. Even several weeks ago when they were brought up again and then nothing happened I figured it was finally put to rest. But, this situation keeps coming back to me so that I cannot ignore it. That must be happening for a reason, right? Third, after losing the baby I first had in foster care, I prayed that any child I would get to be mine would be an easy process – no issues with the child coming or going, no speed bumps and detours, no surprise long-lost family popping up, no divorce ruining things. And that is what seems to be happening. With no effort on my part, I am in the final running for a placement that most certainly will become an adoption. Easy peasy lemon squeezie, right?

But, if this is God’s will for me shouldn’t it give me some measure of peace? I’ve had no peace since Friday afternoon. I’ve had nothing but inner turmoil. I have been so twisted inside that I have not even been able to talk about it, other than what I typed here. Without launching into the whole story, I made mention of it to my pastor’s wife at church yesterday and she told me, “If you are not sure, don’t do it.” But, I didn’t tell her about how I thought it might be God’s will and our conversation was interrupted by the screaming baby wanting me to hold him and another parishioner wanting to talk to the pastora. I guess it just seems too hard for me to accept that this might be “it” when all along I have been dreaming and hoping for a “baby.” Perhaps it is just my short-sightedness, but I envision this one adoption as my only opportunity to have my own family. And this is silly because I am still relatively young and any number of things could happen. It’s just hard to envision the unknown (duh) and to trust that good things will happen when it seems like something is breaking, falling through, or just generally getting screwed up at every turn.

I feel so lost right now. And I feel like no matter what decision I make, it will be painful. It shouldn’t be this way. At least, that is what I tell myself. I never thought adoption would be easy, I just never knew how much of my heart I would be losing along the way. Right now, my only action is to do nothing. The county case worker will not be in the office this week, so the case is temporarily stagnant. I will call and leave her a message and I will keep trying to listen to the message she might have left on my home phone. And, I keep telling myself, that despite my case worker singing my praises to the county worker, it does not mean the county will choose me and all of my anguish could be meaningless wasted energy. Somehow, I just don’t see that happening……

Weary

I want so badly to believe that good things are just around the corner, that my time in the valley has finally come to an end. But, honestly, every single time I think I'm just about there and I start to feel the weight lifting, more is piled back on. And I am so, so, so, so weary. I don't even think I want to talk about it. I cried so hard last night my eyes were still swollen for most of the day today. I tired to keep quiet, but the gut-wrenching, send-you-to-your-knees sobs could not be held in as I showered last night. The pain in my heart was so physical. My chest actually hurt and my body felt like it was so tight it was ready to snap under the kinetic power.

My cat is sick and has been at the vet's since I took him there Thursday morning. He was blocked and about to go into liver failure. I only noticed he was acting weird Wednesday night after putting the kids to bed. Friday I had a message from my case worker stating I was one of two families being considered for two boys, which should be a joyful thing but it is not. I wrote about these boys a few times before; they are 4 and 6 and I have never met them but somehow I am in the running to become their adoptive mother. When I spoke with the previous case worker about them I thought I had only agreed to meet them at the CHOR Christmas party and now this. I listened to the voicemail Friday at work and immediately ran to the bathroom to cry. I cried because I felt awful for being selfish, I felt awful for these boys, and I felt awful for my lost dream of a baby. I reached out to a fellow infertile friend, seeking solace in some kinds words and instead got, "This is good, they will be in school while you are working (which presents it's own set up problems because school does not last the duration of my work day)" and "This is God's will for you (to have these boys and not have a baby)." And that if I said "no" to these boys I was "passing up on great kids." So, rather than feeling understood I felt worse, far worse. Could this be God's will, despite my burning desire for an infant? It only makes me want to cry all over again, thinking that God's will would be something that breaks my heart. That God's will would be for me to have nothing close to what I have been dreaming about since I was a little girl; no pregnancy and feeling my baby grow inside of me, no baby shower and the joy of announcing the impending bundle of joy, no worry about breast-feeding or using formula, no birth story and seeing my baby for the very first time all wrinkly and tiny, celebrating all the firsts together. So, not only is God's will for me to miss out on all of that but also to miss out on all the baby "things" as well, barring the few infants and toddlers I have had in care. And I feel like a horrid, disgusting piece of trash for even thinking this way. I should just be happy to have any kids, right?

My sister called me last night to first tell me that she was backing out on our trip to New Mexico to the balloon festival in October and then to launch into lamenting that our relationship has changed and feels strained and am I really happy with me life? I have been planning and saving for this trip for over a year now and have been so looking forward to it. She knew when she agreed to go (which is only after another friend backed out) that her friend from college (with whom she has also expressed having a strained relationship) is getting married that same time but now decided that it would be too much stress for her to do both. But, as a consolation, we could go to Cape May with my mom and her best friend for a weekend. Because that would be exactly like the Balloon Festival in New Mexico (sense the sarcasm). As far as our less-than-perfect sister relationship this is due in part to the fact that she has declared she most likely does not want kids and cannot understand my angst about not being able to have kids. She is a workaholic and I am not. My job is my job not my life. I guess I have never loved a job enough to make it my life. So, it just makes it hard to relate to one another because we have chosen different paths for our lives. But, this whole "are you happy with your life" shit just broke me. Am I happy with my life? Things have been so hard for me for over a year now and just when I think all that could go wrong has, something more goes wrong (my hot water heater is leaking - huge freaking puddle in my basement). And, she just took from me the one thing I had to look forward to - our trip. Am I happy with being infertile and waiting for a baby for over 4 years? Am I happy that my husband left me? Am I happy that I live pay-check to pay-check and don't have much breathing room because my husband left me with all our debt? That my refrigerator broke and my cat got sick? That my car was paid off for two months before it was smashed and that my new car makes worrisome sounds? None of these things make me happy. Yet, barring the past few days, I am not miserable. I wish things could be easier and different and things certainly did not go as planned but I am not slit-my-wrist depressed about it - most days. Seeing the baby reach for me or watching the three year old laugh makes me happy. I'm thankful I have a job and I'm glad I don't hate my job (because I really hated my last job). So, am I happy with how things are? Maybe not. But, am I able to see some good in my life? Yes, yes I am. Well, except right now.

 So, after last night's disappointment I'm feeling a little raw. Today I was supposed to go to a pet expo with the kids and a friend from work. I text her when the baby woke up from his nap. I text her when we left the house. I text her when we were outside her house. Then I called her. And I sat outside her house for 15 minutes. She text me nearly two hours later saying she had been doing wash and cleaning and forgot about our plans - the plans we made over a week ago and talked about periodically during the week including FRIDAY when she confirmed that she would be going with her younger daughter. It's just too much. Too, too much. How much is a person expected to take? My sister suggested I needed to take a break. Take a break from what? Life? Like get a nice padded room with a coat that ties in the back? That kind of break?

If last year, when Flaco left and they took the baby, was the most emotional anguish I have ever felt - a perfect 10 on a scale of 1-10, then right now is creeping up to a 9. My emotional torment is now causing me neck and shoulder pain and a throbbing, pounding headache. I have never had a drink while having a child with me in foster care, but I needed a little something to take the edge off tonight, so I am sipping a very small glass of Arbor Mist Sangria. I don't think it's helping.

So, a case worker from the county will be calling me about these two boys. My case worker mentioned that she really talked me up to her, telling her how great she thought I would be for the boys and they would be equally great for me. The case worker wants to come see my house and then I guess they will make their decision. What about the kids already living with me? Who knows. No one, apparently. I don't know what to do. Back out and feel awful or just pray like mad that they choose the other family? How can my body possibly be producing more tears?

Bang Head Here

Have you ever seen the sign that stays. “Stress Reduction Kit” at the top, then has a circle with “BANG HEAD HERE” written inside it? The instructions to reduce stress are 1. Place the sign on any hard surface 2. Follow instructions inside the circle and 3. Repeat until you are unstressed or unconscious. This is just the stress reduction kit I need because this is what it feels like I am already doing. The caseworker dropped the kids off at my house yesterday after their visit. I asked her if anything had changed with the kids’ goals (reunification or not reunification, that is the question) because the court date had changed. She shrugged and acted surprised that I would even ask that question. She claimed to know nothing, other than that the court date had been changed (which she admitted to knowing BEFORE the actual day it was scheduled - grrr). I found out that it was the kids mom’s birthday on Monday and wonder if this had something to do with it, but that’s pure conjecture on my part. So, I am left with no answers, no idea, and no one who can tell me what is going on apparently. Plus, I got the sense that even if she did know something, the caseworker would not feel obliged to tell me jack. I’m a glorified nanny. Correction, I am a glorified robot nanny with no feelings, no hopes and dreams, and no voice. I really miss the caseworker I had before! We felt like such a team and I never felt like she was disinterested in communicating with me or telling me what she knew about what was going on. I’m sure she did not tell me the whole case and that is fine, I’m not asking for the entire unabridged version – the Reader’s Digest version will do! And how can you be the caseworker for these kids and have no clue what is going on? Have you even taken the time to call the county and find out? Do you even care? I’m probably being unfair and getting worked up about nothing. I don’t want the children to leave but I HATE being left in limbo with no idea what is happening. We have blown right through the given timetable and there has been absolutely no mention of setting a date for reunification, there have been no more overnight visits or talks of overnight visits, it seems (to uninformed me) that the case is stuck. I was reading online about the Pennsylvania laws governing children placed in foster care and it mentioned that after the children have been in care for a year and the parents have made no progress (as documented by the county) the court will start pushing to have parental rights revoked. Legally, the county needs to hold permanency hearings every 6 months. But, everything seems to be case by case, so who knows? I think my frustration is derived from two things; 1. I feel like no one cares that I took in these kids out of the goodness of my heart (they were having a hard time finding a new placement for them and could have lost this referral to another agency) despite my desire to adopt and no one has even acknowledged that having them longer might be hard on me and 2. The longer the kids are with me the harder it will be on me and my parents to have them leave. It has taken my parents, especially my mom, quite some time to really warm up to these kids because they were so hurt when the three girls were left in November. But, now the little ones have wormed their way into my parents heart and they are starting on my grandparents as well. To have them and then not have them rips apart so many hearts! And the longer we have to love them, the harder it is to lose them. And, I guess I could add a third thing that frustrates me; when there seems to be impediments to the children going back home, it opens the door for me to “think” and that there might be some chance I would get the option to keep them. I have spent the entire time these kids have been with me reinforcing to myself the notion that they are going home, that they are with me for a temporary time and soon that time will run out and they will leave. I am desperately trying to protect myself! But, it gets harder the longer they are with me, to envision them not being around. So, this is why I am perturbed. I am trying to not get more irritated with each and every day; I’m trying to trust that God has this all planned out and it will work out for my good.

When I’m not obsessing about the case of the two kids I have living with me, I am thinking a lot about naming the child I plan to adopt and I have been reading about re-naming an adopted child. The most likely scenario is that I will get a legal risk placement and have to wait many, many moons for the courts to finalize the adoption. The child will have been named by his/her birth family and I will be using this name until the adoption is most assuredly going to be finalized. It might be difficult to readjust to a new name after knowing the child by their given name. But, I think this might be the one point where I decide to be selfish. I might never get to name a baby and I have had children with some pretty crazy, hard-to-pronounce names. And, I’m sorry to say, I have not been crazy about most of these names. Some are made up, not something you would find in a baby book and not something I’m crazy about calling out across the playground. While there are many advocates for keeping the child’s given name or at least incorporating it into their “new” name in some way, I’m just not sure I will be willing to do that. I want the child to be mine. I want to select their names because they are names I am proud to use, names I am proud for them to have. I can understand the desire to keep some part of the child’s name to reflect their different ethnicity or cultural heritage, but if it is a name that I despise I simply cannot do it. This is probably not something I need to be worrying myself about right now, but it’s been on my mind. I think any final decisions will be have to be made when I know that the child will most likely become mine. It’s entirely possible that I will get a placement for a child who’s name I like and would not want to change. Or, the child might be older and resistant to changing his or her name. I will need to be flexible, I suppose. I am trying very hard to not see this as another loss chalked up to vile infertility. I’m a girl, I picked out baby names in grade school, you know, back when I didn’t hate my useless uterus? It’s easy to see relinquishing baby naming rights as another notch on the list of what-I-don’t-get-to-do-as-a-lousy-infertile. But, I shouldn’t worry about this right now, not until the time comes for the actual decision to be made.

Little Reminders

It’s good sometimes to be reminded that our personal issues are not the worst in the world. Yesterday at work I met a woman with real problems and it made me feel small and petty for worrying about my issues, which in comparison are not the mountains I have made them out to be. This woman, probably not too much older than myself, divorced her husband 12 years ago while living in Texas. She had left a job she loved and all her family to move with him to another state far away from PA. Eight years ago she lost her 5 year old daughter to cancer. She was in a program and meeting with me because she is long-term unemployed and has not had a job in over a year. A year or so ago, while unemployed, she got mixed up in a mystery shopper scam and was arrested. She had no money to hire a lawyer and fight the case so she pleaded guilty, spent a night in jail and now has to pay off fines to have the arrest expunged from her record. Her unemployment will run out in June. She is living with her boyfriend and they only have one car, so she would need to find a schedule to work around her boyfriend’s schedule. She had been working in retail and with the issue of her record she won’t be able to find a position similar to her previous associate manager job. In fact, she will have a hard time finding any job because employers generally shy away from someone with any criminal record. And, if she doesn’t find a job and is unable to pay her fines, she will go back to jail. Yeah, my life is lookin’ pretty dam good now isn’t it?

Court Take I

I picked out cute outfits, put the three year old in my favorite dress for her, the baby in a cute sweater. I wanted them to look cute for court. I packed a small diaper bag with essentials; diapers, of course, wipes, snacks, a change of clothes for the three year old incase she had an accident, and a few small toys. Things to keep the kids occupied while they awaited the court proceedings. All for naught. The baby-sitter text me to ask what time court was because no one picked them up this morning. I was flabbergasted. I found out from an email this afternoon that court has been rescheduled for April 15^th. A whole four weeks away! This means the kiddos, who were supposed to be with me for 6-8 weeks, will be with me for at least 13 weeks. And, no communication regarding the future goals for the kids. All I know is that court was rescheduled. I suppose I don’t need to know anything else…… Only, I do. And, in speaking with a friend who has been a foster parent for 10 years, I should at least be privy to whatever goal they are considering for the children. If the goal is still for reunification, then I can start preparing things for the children to be moved. If the plan has changed, um, hello? I am a foster-to-adopt home, so if reunification with family is no longer a viable option, wouldn’t it be a good idea to discuss other options with me? The lack of communication is starting to wear on my nerves and I need to say something about it before I explode. I am trying to find a tactful way of approaching the caseworker because I don’t know her and I don’t feel comfortable with her and she seems pretty distant to me. I think I might just email her and demand some answers. And if she is still reticent, then I will reach out to her supervisor and my family worker. I don’t think what I am asking is out of the realm of my purview. I guess I am just miffed because I so thought that today I would get some kind of answers. But, at least I did not purchase their Easter outfits in vain! We dyed Easter eggs on Sunday and had great fun. My dad was nervous that the kids would be leaving and wanted to do an Easter egg hunt next weekend, but I convinced him to wait until Easter Sunday. My intuition that I would have them for Easter proved correct. I guess now the wait continues……..   

Trying Times

When I was a child I wanted a big family when I grew up. If you had asked me, when I was about 10-11 years old, I would have told you I wanted 10 kids. I wasn’t kidding. I thought it would be neat to have a big family with lots of stuff going on. The kids would always have a friend to play with or a confidant to talk to and my house would be a home of controlled chaos. Of course, at age 10 I had no concept of living expenses or just how big a house would need to be to house 12 people, so as reality set in I down-sized. But, I think if money were not an issue, I would still lean towards a large family. Isn’t it funny how life works out? Maybe God doesn’t think I am organized enough to be the mother of a large household. Or perhaps the idyllic vision I have in my head is just a farce. But, the simple fact of the matter is, a large family is not in the cards for me. At this point, I will be lucky to have one child. I guess I was thinking about this because I saw in the news that the Duggar family, already incredibly large, is going to increase by one more in June. Such an imbalance in the world! One family gets 19 children (the Duggars) and another family gets none (me).

I have an aunt (she is really my mom’s best friend and I’ve called her Aunt all my life but she became an aunt by marriage as well when her mother married my mother’s father) who never had children. When I first revealed to my mother that I had been trying to get pregnant unsuccessfully (we tried for a year and a half before I confessed to my mother that we were trying to start a family – I guess I wanted it to be a surprise – we really didn’t tell too many people and even less once we realized we were having a hard time with it) she mentioned that as hard as it was for her to deal with infertility for 5 years before getting pregnant, it was even harder each time she had to tell my aunt she was expecting. My aunt worked in the maternity ward as a nurse for nearly 30 years. I don’t know how she endured seeing so many many babies being born and yet never having one of her own! She would have been a good mother, she is very kind and caring. I think she wanted to adopt or would have been willing to give it a try but her husband was not. He would not have been a very good father. He was un-reachable to a child, he just never connected with us. Now, they are is the midst of a very messy divorce and my mom told me she thinks my aunt resents him for never considering adoption. About 2-3 years ago my aunt had a hysterectomy and I wonder if that last tiny residual thought of a child left her then? It breaks my heart to think about it, quite honestly……

When I was 16 I worked in an OB-GYN office. My mom was a nurse there and the doctor hired me to file patient folders, wash the speculums and other equipment, wash the gowns and generally clean up after the office closed. I liked the job and I learned a lot working there (have you ever seen crabs under a microscope? Gross!). I remember a very kind nurse mid-wife who worked there. She was maybe in her late 30’s and she was not married and didn’t have any kids. I remember a conversation I had with her in which she confessed that she had truly wanted to be married and have children but a previous relationship didn’t work out and she was unable to find someone she would like to marry and so she would remain unmarried and childless despite her desire for the opposite. I distinctly remember feeling a great sorrow for her and I think she too felt this sorrow, despite her bravado about the topic. Because of my aunt and this woman, I vowed that if I were unable to have biological children, I would adopt. It was a decision I had made in my heart a long time ago. I just never thought I would “need” to follow through on this personal promise. No one grows up thinking they will have to deal with infertility, I suppose.

A college roommate was visiting this past weekend and she lamented on how hard it is to find a nice guy in his 30’s who is not broken or severely damaged. I agreed and we swapped “worst date” stories. And, despite the belief of the faithful expressed at church a few weeks ago, I truly believe that a biological child is not something that will be a reality for me. I won’t say it is impossible because anything is possible with God, but the likelihood of me getting pregnant seems slim to none. I think this is mostly due to the grim prospects of me finding Mr. Right for me. I’m not actively looking to date and every time I think I want to try to date I quickly discover how much I despise it. I used to think I didn’t date in high school or college because no one was ever interested in me, but now I think it’s just not something I enjoy doing. And at 31, I know my prime reproductive years are quickly ebbing away. I really have no desire to get pregnant in my 40’s. So, even if I do find someone I would like to be with and have a family with, it would take time for us to meet, get to know one another, and settle down and then to go through the rigmarole of infertility treatments to have a baby…... Sometimes it still stings a little, but I’ve made my peace with it. And, I think at this point, I’m trying to make my peace with being single for a very extended time, perhaps the rest of my life. I don’t mean this to sound pessimistic or like I’m throwing in the towel. I’m certainly open to meeting someone. But, I’m not interested in meeting a hundred someones just to find “the one.” I can’t stomach all the riff-raff one has to wade through to find the diamond in the rough. I still feel a little bad for the child I will eventually adopt because their chance of having a father seems very limited, but I can only hope that I will be enough for them. Who knows, maybe a year from now I will be writing about my new love and impending pregnancy. One never knows where life will take us from one point in time to another. But this is how I see things right now; reality as I know it.

I have been feeling rather frustrated with a few things regarding the children in my care – issues with their mother and the lack of communication I have with any caseworker, both CHOR and the county. I feel very much left out on my own, to fend for myself and these two kids. They have a court date on Monday and nothing has been mentioned to me about what the county will be presenting or what a potential outcome might be. No mention has been made about when the children will be scheduled to move back home. I got a letter from the county children and youth services inviting me to the court session or to send in a letter detailing whatever I would like to add to the proceedings and that is all (I’m not attending, btw). I wonder if anyone will even bother to tell me the outcome afterwards? I’m getting a little antsy. I like these kids and I would never ask for them to be removed from my home, but at the same time, I was told when I took them in it would be for 6-8 weeks. Is it wrong for me to think it would be nice for someone to ask me if I’m ok with an extension on this timetable? I made my decision to adopt known before I took in these two kids and it seems like this has been brushed aside. There has been some turn-over issues in the agency and I can be patient with this but my frustration is growing and my patience is not boundless. We are already into our 9^th week together. And even if they came to me and said, “Gee Ashley, we are sorry this is taking longer than we thought, are you ok with the kids sticking around a bit longer?” I would not take issue with it. What bugs the pants off of me is that there is NO communication at all. If I hadn’t gotten the letter, I doubt I would even know there is an impending court date. I’m not asking for them to tell me the whole sordid tale, I just want to get some little updates on what is happening with this case. Should I start packing or should I expect them to be with me a bit longer? Should I consider picking up spring and summer clothes for them or let that be something their mother does? Deep cleansing breaths…… I will keep doing what I’m doing until I’m told to do something else. I bought their Easter outfits because I’m assuming they will be with me through Easter. I put the outfits on them to show my parents on Sunday and took pictures. They look pretty darn cute! But, I am anxious to get back to waiting for a legal risk placement, to take in a child with the potential to be mine. It’s not like I want the kids to leave, per se, it’s just that my heart is aching for my child. Not being able to envision the future and know if I will be with or without a child is trying. Not that I’m a huge planner or anything, but I’ve been looking into getting bus tickets for me and a friend to go down the shore this summer and I’ve been thinking that it would be fun to go see my sister in DC while the weather is nice. I have never taken a child to the beach and I think that would be pretty cool. But, since PA has no ocean beaches (there is a “beach” near me along Blue Marsh Lake but it’s not the same thing) it would require special permission to take the child from this state into a neighboring state. I guess I am making too much of it. Being a foster parent requires a person to be content with the unknown and sudden disruption to their life. More deep cleansing breaths…….

Lost Dreams

I think one of the worst things that has happened to me because of all of the issues in the past year is that I have lost my ability to dream. I don’t mean when I close my eyes at night, I mean dream of the future in an anticipatory way. The incredible loss has robbed me of the ability to see good in the future or to even dare to dream of good in the future. I fear I have spent too long in survival mode to actually kick back into living mode. I worry that I am living my life from one crisis to another and I’m not sure how to stop. I try telling myself every morning that “this is the day that the Lord has made, I WILL rejoice and be glad in it” with great emphasis on the WILL part. I WILL rejoice, be happy and live this day to the fullest as if it were my last day on earth. I’m trying to “fake it ‘till I make it” a reality, because I am certainly not feeling like each day is a gift. I keep waiting for “when.” When I am a mother, when I am out of debt, when I feel like I can breathe – THEN I will be happy and THEN I will rejoice. But, we are supposed to find ways to dance in the rain, ways to find joy in everyday life, to praise the Lord even though our world has crumbled into disarray. I find it hard to be full of joy during my recent trials and difficulties, mostly because they feel never-ending. I find it hard to not let my circumstances drag me down and dictate my mood and attitude because my circumstances are forever in my face, jumping up and down on my chest, pulling my hair and screaming for my attention. They cannot be brushed under the rug or shoved aside for a sunnier outlook because they are around each and every corner, they lurk in the periphery and jump out at me at the slightest hint of a thought of good or positive things. But today I take a tentative step away from all the troubles. Today I will rejoice and be glad because I woke up and I am given another day of life. And I will try to dig up the past dreams I had.

I distinctly remember being asked as a senior in college where I thought I would be in 10 years. At 22, ten years felt like an eternity away, but now my ten year anniversary looms on the horizon. I don’t think I had a very clear picture of where I would be in 2014, but I had a general idea. After college I was going into the Peace Corps, that much I knew. I guess I figured after those two years, I would come home and settle down. Despite the fact that I didn’t date in high school or college, I assumed I would meet someone and get married. I knew I wanted a family in the future. I had hoped to have 3 maybe 4 biological kids separated by 2-3 years and then when those kids were older maybe in middle school, we would adopt a baby or two. And that was the life I imagined I would live. I figured I would work, maybe be lucky enough to stay home for a few years or work from home, or I would work and the hubby would stay home. I imagined taking vacations with my parents down the shore to our old stomping grounds in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware or Ocean City, Maryland. We would save and take the kids to Disney once or twice, maybe we would be really lucky and take the kids to Europe. I imagined the hubby and I finding time to take a bi-yearly vacation sans kids to rekindle the old flame. Just a nice, basic life. When I met Flaco and we married, I rearranged some of those dreams because of finances, but I still figured “someday” we would achieve parts of the dream. Some of the exotic vacations transferred to visiting his family in Nicaragua, but the dreams remained intact for the most part. Then, we decided to start a family. And our excitement turned into concern and our concern turned into a nightmare. We became a statistic, the one in eight couples who have trouble getting pregnant. And I watched my dreams crumble and the nightmare squeeze the life from us with it’s cold, dead hands. I patched up the dreams, eliminating the 3-4 biological kids and focusing on the adopted kids, hoping for 2 or 3. This seemed to work and the listing ship righted itself for a short time before the tempest crashed down, crushing and mangling the remaining dream dragging it down into the murky depths, to smother it by the pressure. Not even a life raft survived. It is from this light-less world that I reach out, grasping for some micro-piece of shining hope. It is from this world where the pressure is so intense it can flatten a solid steel ball, that I am trying to escape with nothing but my faith and my will to survive.

And, so this is why I don’t know how to dream anymore. Because it feels like dreams are meant to remain forever surreal, forever out-of-reach for me. Part of it is the fear that if I do dare to dream that will only seal the fate of the dream as non-attainable. My only dream right now is to just be “alright;” to not have the drama and calamities holding me hostage, to not have my heart ripped from my chest and replaced with a cold, iron fist, to survive, to live another day, to keep it all together keep moving forward to just keep moving. On good days I dare to dream of the magical phone call that will place my baby with me, but I hold the dream afar, I do not pull it to my chest and hold it as my own, I do not take ownership or build castles in the clouds with this dream. I let it float ethereally just out of reach and I watch it with detached fascination. I’m not even sure it is really mine or if I am seeing someone else’s dream. Hopefully, soon I will be able to dream again because it is a nice thing to be able to do. It is nice to look forward to a dream’s fruition with giddy anticipation. Maybe someday soon I will be able to recapture that ability. Today is not someday……

Manic Monday

Every day last week I would wake up – wide awake – 30 minutes before my alarm was due to sound my wake up call. This morning, my alarm did not go off and I woke up at 6:44 instead of 6:00. At first, I tried to convince myself that it was not Monday, but that it was still the weekend. After checking my phone and computer, panic mode set in and I rushed to get me and two kids dressed, fed, and out the door in 30 minutes instead of an hour and 20 minutes. And since I was in a hurry, everything that could go wrong did go wrong. The baby was incredibly grumpy the older child wanted to wear the new shoes I got for her to wear at Easter (assuming they will be with me for Easter), the sippy cup leaked –twice, I dropped my coat in the dog’s water bowl and had to wear the one missing a button, I cut myself on my hand requiring a band-aid so as to not get blood all over everything, my chosen shoes caused an immediate blister and shoe change, and the kids had to eat cold cereal in the car on the way to the baby-sitters. But, I did manage to get to work on time and since then the day has been going smoother. Usually, when mornings like this happen (because they do from time to time – well, not the alarm clock, this is the first time that has failed me), as each thing happens, I get more and more frustrated and begin to lose my cool. This morning, I took it in stride with only minor cool lost. I listen to Joyce Myer most mornings (not this morning!) and she talks about when days like this happen, it is a test to see how we handle it. And we cannot fail because if we don’t get it right we get to do it again. She calls it “going around the mountain.” As this morning was unraveling all I kept thinking was, “I’ve been here before and I don’t want to go around this mountain again.” I guess that is how I was able to not lose it. Even in traffic, I didn’t shout at crappy drivers –not even the large dump truck with a trailer that swerved from the line of traffic in the driving lane out in front of me after jamming on the breaks, causing the dump truck behind him to leave some rubber on the asphalt only to then swerve back into the passing lane.

In other news, the kids have a Permanency Hearing on March 18^th. Nothing has been said to me about what might be the possible outcome of this hearing. I am invited to attend but it is during work hours so I cannot be there. Hopefully, if the kids are going home right after this hearing, someone will give me a heads up so I can prepare their move. The last I heard, the county was not happy with the mother’s progress – whatever that means. There have not been any more over-night visits since the kids first moved with me but weekly visits have continued. I was hoping the kids would be with me for Easter so we could do an Easter egg hunt and dye eggs. I guess we will have to do this before the 18^th. Other than that, it’s just a wait and see process.