Court Take II

I thought the worst possible outcome from today's court hearing would be that they decided to split the kids up and give the older child to the family member who wants her and set a date to send the baby home. But, what really happened is far worse than that. The outcome from court today is that they will reconsider the children returning home at a court date three months from now. And that the older child’s relative has been approved and, according to my case worker, “if anything happens she will adopt.” I’m not sure if that means both kids or just her biological relative. Nothing like shitting or getting off the pot here. Kind of like Congress and the whole sequestration fiasco, they decided to punt the decision down the line today. I don’t know what to do with this information. And my case worker made a point of asking about the interview from Friday. Why? These kids and I are stuck in limbo until July, at least. So, 6-8 weeks has turned into 7 months. Well, at least I can take the kids swimming – I was really bummed about potentially not being able to do that – and we can work on getting their summer wardrobes because they will need it…….

 

I drove the kids to CHOR this morning to meet the caseworker who would be taking them to court. She was getting the car seats stashed in the van when we arrived and asked for us to wait a few minutes. Because she is so smart, the older child was asking where they were going. She knew this was not the norm for our Monday morning routine. I told her today was a big day because she would be going to court. As we were waiting she asked if I could go with her and I told her I needed to go to work but that she would be with the case worker (whom she knows from seeing several times) and that nothing bad was going to happen (perhaps she was thinking of her last doctor’s visit in which she needed 5 shots!). She begged me to with her – not in the whiney spoiled child way but in a quiet desperation. She got out of her car seat (she has the booster seat kind with the regular seatbelt which she can unlatch) and was leaning over my seat. She put her head on my shoulder and asked quietly for me to go with her, “I want you with me.” As I turned to give her a kiss on the cheek, I saw tears welling up in her eyes. It broke my heart. I don’t know how she sensed that this was a big deal today. I’ve tried to stay light-hearted and up-beat for their sake. But, she is so, so smart and intuitive I’m sure she got an inkling that this is no regular meeting. As I walked her to the van and helped her climb inside, I realized this is one of the reasons kids in foster care have such a hard time trusting people. I knew she was fearful but I pawned her off on someone else and walked away. You can tell a child that going to the doctor and the dentist and getting a shot or scraping your teeth is good for you and it is true, they will understand when they are older. But, forcing them to go through these situations, to endure being a pawn in the nastiest game on earth – that might never make sense to them. Maybe I’m projecting my feelings onto the kids too much. But, unlike the two girls I had in November, fresh into the system, this child never begs for her mommy. She likes going to visits and she asks when she will have another visit, but never cries for mommy. When she comes home from visits she calls me mommy more than she calls me by my name. It has to be so confusing to know who your mommy is but then have to go live with someone else who performs all the mothering duties.

It struck me, as I was walking into work this morning, that this is what is means to be a mother – to see your child in pain and fearful of something and want desperately to take that pain away from them, to take it on yourself just so they don’t have to endure it. Lately I have been worrying a lot about “feeling” like a mother, not just acting like one but feeling like I am one. Most of the time I feel like a fraud; I’m not the “real” mom I’m just the “foster,” temporary, stand-in, fake, hold-over, substitute, stand-in mom. And while I want desperately to protect these children like a momma grizzly, I can’t. I’m not allowed to be the protective momma. I don’t make the decisions for their lives or even my own at this point. I have to sheath my claws and meekly accept whatever decision is doled out. The goal is not to decide what is best for the children, to give them the greatest chance to succeed in life – it is to return them to “family.” They are not mine; I kiss them good-night and wipe their runny noses, I wash their clothes and make their meals, I teach them good manners and words and fun tricks, I ensure they are in a good daycare and they are growing well body mind and soul – but I am not their mother and they are not mine. I do these things “just until” their “real mother” can take over and resume her duties. And then I will be forgotten.

This is not my first heartache when it comes to getting attached to a placement. If nothing else, I want to learn something each time I must go through this process. I thought I would be ok this time because I KNEW coming in that they would be going home. I think, if things had stayed on schedule I would have been just fine. But, what was supposed to be 6-8 weeks has now become 7 months plus the transition time. It’s hard not to get attached in 13 weeks let alone 7 months. It’s hard to keep believing they will be going home when things are not going as planned and no one is reiterating the fact that they are going home on a consistent basis. Regardless, I am left to pick up the pieces and wait for the next go-round. It does feel a little like “this” will never happen on a day like today. Sure, I have the other pending placement decision looming. But, before that can occur I need to deal with the fall-out from this one. I know my parents were on pins and needles all day awaiting the out-come and I hated to be the one to tell them because I know it hurts them almost as much as it hurts me. Gotta put on my big girl panties again and just deal with it. I don’t have any words of wisdom, I don’t have a perfect plan to deal with the emotions – just pick up and march on each and every day; one day, one step, one breath at a time. I don’t want to think about the future because it is a big fat unknown. I’m sure I will eventually get a call and the call will result in a placement and the placement will result in adoption – but can I endure *this* until then? It gets harder and harder to believe that my “perfect” child is out there (not that the child is perfect, but that our match is perfect). So, one door closes. Another door hangs ominously open. The future will play out as it will. All we are is dust in the wind…….