Not to Beat a Dead Horse

I don’t want to beat the topic into the ground, so I will say my peace and then let it go. When the kid reported the things from his visit to me on our ride home, after dropping his mom and brother off at their place, I was upset. To go from our conversation the night before and over the weekend in which we were so sure he would be staying with me for an extended period of time up to adoption even, to the point that his mother is now fully aware of how high the stakes are and could potentially kick it into high gear – well, that’s hard on the ticker. When the kid asked me the question about adopting him it was not the very first time I had been asked that type of question nor is it the very first time I thought about how I would answer the question should it be posed to me. And maybe, on some level, I go through this with every foster child – thinking we could make our arrangement permanent. The kid reported to me that his mom mentioned during the visit that as much as she wants him back she liked seeing him happy at visits, happy that he was in a good home with someone who cares about him. He said the same thing I had written, that he wants to go home to his mom but he also wants to stay with me. I told him I would be honored to adopt him and call him my son, that nothing would make me happier, but I worried he felt the need to stay with me because he knows my desire to adopt and have a child of my own. I told him he could not make a decision based on what would make me happy. And that’s when I told him going home to his mother does not mean he has to lose touch with me, that he could still come to visit me and spend time with me as long as his mother allows him to do that and I promised to keep in touch via social media and texting. He said he wouldn’t want to go home unless he knew his mom had stable housing and he wouldn’t have to move around all the time. I promised we wouldn’t need to talk about this topic anymore, unless he wanted to. Then we had dinner and talked about other things.

Last night as we sat on the couch watching TV, he leaned over and laid his head on my shoulder. I stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head as tears filled my eyes. I didn’t let him see and waited until he went to bed and I was alone in the shower to cry. I cried for my hubris in believing I would get the opportunity to keep this kid and finally be a forever mom. I cried for the losses that just seem to keep coming. And I cried for this whole entire situation and how complicated life can be sometimes. It’s a very rainy, dreary day today and it matches my mood perfectly. I wish I hadn’t been stupid enough to let things get this far, I wish I were able to keep things at arm’s length rather than let it all seep into my heart. I think that is my Achilles heel as a foster parent, I care too much, I love too deeply and so I get hurt more readily. Cry me a river.  

Tomorrow the CHOR case worker is coming over to meet with us and we want to ask her if it would be ok to take the kids mom and brother to breakfast for Mother’s Day. I came up with this plan yesterday so the kid can see his mom on Mother’s Day and since I’m pretty sure my family will be doing something later in the day after church, I asked him if he thought his mom would want to do breakfast before church. I said we would just go to the diner, since I will be footing the bill and can’t afford to take us some place über expensive. I don’t know if his mom will agree to this, she might see it as charity or something, and I might feel squeamish the whole time and wish I hadn’t opened my mouth, but I think it would mean a lot to the kid.

During my shower a secondary worry had wiggled into my mind and that was the reminder that I am working with BCCYS and even if this case moves to guardianship or adoption, they might decide to remove him from my home for a place they feel is more suitable. The kid mentioned his mother said the county was looking for a legal guardian for him – if they are truly doing that, why has no one reached out to me? Would they not ask me first, since he’s living with me and since I decided to keep him on a permanent foster care basis instead of just a temporary placement? Would they decide to not ask me because , even though my goal is to adopt, I have set my age limit much lower than the age of this child? The uncertainty and doubt plagued my thoughts. As I was tossing and turning in bed last night, trying to turn my brain off to fall asleep, I reminded myself that the focus of foster care is to return children to biological families prepared to care for them appropriately. The words of my family worker, spoken during our first meeting last summer came back to me, “We don’t find children for families we find families for children.” As it should be, they need to decide what is best for the child and in the vast majority of times they err on the side of biology. My desires and my pain are secondary at best in this process and I need to keep that in the forefront of my mind when I consider continuing foster-to-adopt. In this unexpected journey I am sitting at a crossroads, unsure of the path that will be chosen for me, hoping against all odds that I will find joy and peace at the end of the road.