Push No More

As a step in the right direction, last Tuesday night the baby slept from 11 pm straight through to 6 am when my alarm woke me up. This is a vast improvement from when he was just a few weeks old and waking me up nearly every hour. Maybe he sensed I really needed some sleep last night? I was so emotionally drained after last Tuesday’s events. Unfortunately, I had to make the heartbreaking decision to put my sweet 4 year old Jackson to sleep after getting a urethral obstruction for the third time. The vet recommended a surgery to shorten the urethra (making him a “girl” cat) but I already have a hefty bill to pay from when he was blocked a month ago and I’m stressed out about how I will pay that, so the only humane thing to do was let him go. I was so distraught about having to make that determination but I didn’t want him to suffer anymore. Now I will be paying a bill for a dead pet, which I find so depressing, but I have no other choice. So, it was a total blessing that the baby let me sleep all night. Unfortunately, he reverted back to his usual schedule of a 2 am and 4 am feeding. But, if he did it one night that means it is possible he will start doing it more often! And, when he sees his doctor in the coming week, I will ask about adding some rice cereal to his nighttime bottle because I heard (from other moms) that this helps to keep him full and sleeping through the night.

 

In other news, Primero met with his case worker last Thursday and she told him two bits of news that were a little upsetting. First, his brother will remain in the detention center to receive drug and alcohol counseling. When he leaves he will be placed with another CHOR family and it will be up to me and the other family to get the boys together whenever we can. At least that will be good. The other bad news was that the adoption case worker went to visit his mother in jail and she refused to relinquish her rights, stating she was in a vulnerable state at the moment. I kind of figured this would be the case and as I explained it to Primero, there is a big difference between giving up parental rights and having them taken from you. He seemed upset and didn’t want to talk about it. I told him it didn’t change anything, it just delayed things a bit. I feel bad for his mom and as much as I was hoping she would be able to sign the paperwork and simply give up her parental rights, I can understand why she refused. I told Primero it would feel like she was giving up on him, if she willingly signed away her rights. Still, it is frustrating knowing we will have to go through the rigmarole of the court taking away her rights. My understanding is that there is a hearing to determine her rights should be severed, then there is a 30 day period in which she can appeal and if she doesn’t appeal then there is a second hearing to officially terminate her rights. If she appeals the process takes longer as she is given a hearing for the appeal. It stinks for Primero because it means he remains in limbo as a foster kid rather than being able to enjoy the benefits of being officially (legally) part of a family. Of course, this doesn’t change how we interact, but it does mean there are still certain things we cannot do (like get him a passport or talk to his insurance company, an issue I had earlier this week).

 

So, while helping Primero deal with the disappointments and worries in his life, dealing with my own heartache over my poor kitten (he was only 4 years old!) and financial worries, there have also been issues brewing with the little ones’ mother. There was a meeting last Thursday to see if some kinks could be worked out during and immediately following visits and the group supervising the visits was not terribly receptive to the issues presented. It’s frustrating that, as a foster parent, we are always expected to acquiesce and appease the needs and wants of the foster care agency and the parents, but our needs are rarely addressed with positive solutions. Just like my request to change the medical provider for the little girl. One of the suggestions from the meeting was to ask me to drop off a “special” diaper bag the mornings before visits to be sure the supplies were not misused or wasted (like using diapers for crafts???). Um, no. I flat out said no. And I hardly ever say no without trying to compromise first. But, there is absolutely no way I can take a diaper bag to the facility in addition to taking three children to three different locations before going to work. Just, no. I said that a representative from the agency was welcome to stop by my work to pick up a diaper bag, but in no way, shape, or form would I be dropping one off. That’s utter insanity. The case worker was sympathetic and said CHOR would never insist I do this, but it just goes to show how ridiculous the system is and how damn hard it is to be a foster parent. You give and you give and you compromise and do things their way and you make concessions and you try so hard to appease everyone, yet when you ask for the same consideration, it’s like you’ve asked them to build a palace on the moon. It is not an even give and take. I feel like so many times “they” (CHOR, the county, the biological parents) just push and push until you put your foot down and say, “No more!” Well, this idiotic notion of taking a diaper bag to the facility the morning before the visits is utter nonsense and the point at which I say, “you can push me no more.”  

Brother in the System

The county must think I am either a saint or insane. We found out on Thursday that Primero’s older brother was taken into custody by Children and Youth Services. They placed him in a juvenile detention center in order to figure out what to do with him. Apparently, the county asked CHOR if he could come stay with me. Um, what?! It’s so funny because after we found out through his brother’s girlfriend I had a dream that CHOR begged me to take the older brother. It was the next day that Primero’s case worker emailed me stating the county had asked if I could take him as a placement. Primero did not warm to the idea and he was hoping the girlfriend’s family’s scheme to take him in would work because he didn’t want his brother “in the system.” We don’t know what will happen, if the county will allow his brother to live with his girlfriend’s family or if he will be placed with another CHOR family. When I expressed exasperation at the county even considering asking me, Primero’s case worker put it in perspective, “at least they would consider you for another case,” meaning, “you mustn’t be on their shit list if they would send you another kid….” Still, I know Primero’s brother and I know he has more issues to deal with than Primero. The older brother (and this is not his oldest brother, just the one closest to his age) has travelled more of the path their mother has taken and has been the one with her the longest, so his behavioral problems are more engrained and he is more streetwise than my sweet Primero. Still he has been on my mind because the place where he is now is for very disturbed and troubled kids, which he is not and I’ve been praying they get him out sooner rather than later. I’m also praying this kid gets some consistency in his life because from the little I know, he has bounced around so much it would make your head spin. In the short six months Primero has lived with me his brother has been in at least 7 different homes, that we were aware of (there was a short time he was on the streets after their mom was put in jail the last time and so he was probably in numerous homes until he went to stay with their uncle). I wonder what the county will do with this brother, if they are hoping to place him in a permanent situation until he turns 18 or if they are looking for a temporary placement until their mom is out of jail? In my mind, I am thinking of all those “aging out” stories you hear about for older kids in foster care. It’s so sad to think that the systems forces their family ties to be cut (perhaps rightfully so) yet can’t offer them a new family unit to replace what they lost. I know when I was a teenager, I needed my parents, even though I was rather independent. Even when I was in college, I don’t know what I would have done if my parents hadn’t let me come home or gave me emotional and substance support. I’m so glad I can offer that stability to Primero, but I feel so sad for the thousands of other children who do not have that home to return to when the going gets tough……

 

Reflection (From September 17, 2014)

Do you ever have one of those moments where you pause and look at your life? Yesterday morning, as I was putting face wash on my toothbrush, it struck me at how crazy different my life is right now than it was last year this time. Last year, the end of September was hard because I was packing and saying good-bye to two precious little children I had been caring for since January. My heart was breaking yet again as my house fell silent and my schedule yawned wide open. The kids left on my birthday, so it is a date I will never forget. I still think about them often, wondering how they are doing, how big they have gotten. Sometimes I stalk the little girl’s grandmother on Facebook to catch a glimpse of her in photos – she is so tall and turning into such a beautiful little girl! My parents, especially my mother, still lament the loss of the little boy I know they wish was their grandson. My birthday is exactly two weeks from today and it’s going to be much different this year. Primero has court the day before my birthday. Unfortunately it is not his adoption date, but just another permanency hearing in which nothing will be discussed because nothing has changed. His mother is back in jail, so it’s unlikely she will be there. Maybe his goal will be changed from PLC to adoption? I don’t know and no one has said anything to me about it. So, as I wiped the face wash from my toothbrush onto my forehead and thoroughly rinsed the brush under hot water, I contemplated how this past year has gone and how things have changed. After the little ones left I had a slew of respite placements for various weekends in October and then nothing. I tried to stay busy with other things, like a writing course and online dating, but coming home to an empty house (minus the animals, of course) night after night was devastating. After more heartache about a baby I dubbed my Christmas miracle, the new year began with another respite placement for a weekend, which turned into every weekend for two months then a temporary placement made permanent and now on the way to adoption in five short months. Things were looking good, we were settled into a routine and then summer came, bringing with it another respite placement that stretched from one to multiple weekends. And then our world was disrupted by a new placement for a brand new baby followed shortly after with his sister, the persistent respite placement. So, here we are. The house is full to the gills and I don’t remember what it was like to come straight home from work to a quiet, empty house.

 

People continually ask me if I am adopting the baby. I would love nothing more than to keep him and call him mine, but the process is not quite that simple. I don’t really know anything about his case, although I was told he was a legal risk placement. He’s not as easy as the first newborn I had (which I now know was a ridiculously easy baby!) and I have lost more than my fair share of sleep these past couple of months, but I love him dearly and pray he can stay. I know, I know, I’m supposed to be advocating reunification because, as far as I know, that is the goal. But, at the godforsaken hour of night when it’s just me and the baby and he is fed and clean and has fallen asleep in my arms, it’s really very hard to consider giving him back to a mother who hasn’t rocked him to sleep every night. Not that she was given that option, since he was taken from the hospital. As happy as that day was for me, I felt her pain too. When the case workers walked in and spoke to me about court and whatnot, then told me they were going to notify the mother she wasn’t taking her baby home, my insides twisted into knots for her. How horrible it must have been, hearing the baby you just gave birth to was going home with some stranger. It had to be the worst thing ever. I still shudder just thinking about it. But, unfortunately, her pain was my bliss. I had this tiny baby to take home and hold and kiss and love. He was a fickle eater back then and I had to nearly force him to eat at times, but it paid off when he finally got on the right formula and began eating like a champ. Now, he’s chubby and adorable with bright eyes and the longest most beautiful eyelashes ever seen. Now my life is in essence running children around the county for one reason or another. I have two full-time jobs and one of them is 24/7. I long for the nights when I can sleep a solid 5-6 hours straight, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Because I am single and now caring for three children, I make it a point to try to have alone time with every child for at least a few minutes every day. I want each one to get my undivided attention so they don’t feel like I am neglecting them. Generally, the little girl gets this time when I am giving her a bath and putting her to bed. That’s her time with me. The baby gets my time after chores are done and before he nods off. Once he is asleep, Primero has my attention. I promised Primero that once every month we will do something just the two of us. It can be something simple, like going to the movies, or a planned event like the Fallout Boy concert we went to over Labor Day weekend. I think next month we will visit a haunted penitentiary in Philly because he likes things like that and I am crazy. I don’t like scary things, they give me nightmares. But, it’s important that he doesn’t feel pushed aside by the little ones. We need to keep our bond tight as we move into finalizing the adoption.   

Life is Busy (From September 16, 2014)

Life is busy right now. With three children in the house it’s almost a guarantee on any given day I will need to be attending to someone’s need for a medical appointment, case worker visit, or school/daycare issue. Right now I am working on getting Primero fully enrolled in cyber school while simultaneously trying to get the little girl caught up on her vaccinations. Since there is no record for her, we are starting from scratch – that’s roughly 24 shots over the course of the next 6 months, give or take. And since the county did not approve my request to change health  care providers, it means a lot of wasted time explaining and re-explaining myself to an inept and inadequate clinic. I feel like I need a drink, a booster Hepatitis shot, and a long hot shower every time I leave that place. But, it is important to get the child caught up on her immunizations, so I suck it up, put on my big girl panties and just do it.

 

The baby is getting big, he’s up to 10 pounds now and eating like a champ. His two month checkup and the start of his immunizations had to be postponed due to training I had for work conflicting with the pre-established appointment date. When I called to change the appointment I was flabbergasted and more than a little irritated when they told me he couldn’t be seen until November. They called back and gave him an appointment the beginning of October, which was still a month later than the initial appointment. Sheesh! No wonder people eschew their PCP for the ER and urgent care facilities. It’s a nightmare dealing with these places!

 

So, a few weeks ago when Primero’s adoption case worker was over, Primero asked her how soon the adoption could take place. The case worker explained the process and said the first thing that needed to happen was to terminate parental rights for his biological father and mother. She talked about the county and CHOR not being able to reach his father and therefore they would need to put an ad in the paper as a final attempt to reach him before terminating his rights. They were hopeful that his mother would just sign over her rights and avoid the whole process of the court removing her rights. Primero seemed to think she would do this, but I’m not so sure. It’s one thing if the court “takes” her rights from her – she could still play the victim card. But, if she voluntarily signs them over, it’s like giving him up. I don’t get the sense that she would be willing to do that, but I could be wrong. In any event, once both parents rights are terminated the court will set a date for his adoption and that will be the end – and also the beginning……

 

I expressed my concerns to Primero’s case worker about the county all of a sudden dredging up the past. I flat out told her I was paranoid and worried. She said it would be irresponsible of the county to revoke the adoption plan at this point, but they said I would need to be divorced in order to proceed. So, I did a little digging online and it seems I could get a quickie divorce, assuming I could shell out $400 to make it all happen. I’m working on it and I hope I can make it happen as quickly as I can so as not to delay the adoption. I know I’m under the microscope of the county and so I am trying to be sure I am following every little rule to the T. This is why I am not making more of a ruckus regarding the horrendous clinic where I take the little girl. The great and powerful county has spoken, so I shall acquiesces to their decision, no matter how abhorrent and subpar I find the clinic to be……   

It's Happening Again (From September 2, 2014)

I can’t breathe. Fear and paranoia have a death grip on my windpipe and I can’t get enough air. I stand staring at the unimaginable, the unthinkable as it slowly becomes a reality. I won’t survive this a second time, I barely survived it the first time…..

 

Last Thursday we met Primero’s new adoption case worker. She was very nice and she seemed to like us. All records from CHOR indicate Primero has been doing well. Staff have commented on how much he has grown, on how his behaviors have evaporated and for six months there have been no issues, no problems to complain about. The case worker was pleased with our match, stating if she had looked for a family for Primero she would never have found such a good match. We agreed. We glowed, basking in the wonderfulness that is our little family in the making. We felt like we were making progress to becoming a forever family. Until Friday that is.

 

Right now, each kid has their own CHOR case worker, which means that I need to have three different case workers traipsing through my home at three different times and various intervals. Primero only needs to see his case worker once a month since he has now been with me for 6 months (on Thursday, it was 6 months, can you believe it?). When we get a new placement, CHOR needs to come out weekly for a month, then bi-weekly for a month, and then just monthly unless there are issues. The baby is bi-weekly now and the little girl is still weekly. So, after Primero’s case worker and county adoption worker left, the baby’s case worker stopped by. On Friday, the little girls’ case worker was knocking on the door as I was answering the phone call from Primero’s case worker.

 

We have been asking if Primero can do cyber school instead of attending the local junior high because neither of us want him there for various reasons. The adoption case worker promised to ask about it back at the county agency and felt that since I would be sending him to cyber school after adoption, there might be hope. So, the CHOR case worker started the conversation by telling me the adoption worker went back to the county and when she inquired about cyber school she learned of a previous issue the county had with me. Something about the divorce, the CHOR case worker said. And in that moment, I felt my world tilt, my stomach clenched into a fist as anxiety tore through my system, shaking me to my very core. I forced myself to exhale, to take a calming breath. I told the case worker my story. I didn’t hide, I didn’t try to justify what was done, I just told her like it is. And I told her if the county refused to let the adoption continue, they were being vindictive towards me. I’ve towed the line ever since that incident 2 ½ years ago and I’ve had nothing but glowing reports from CHOR. Everyone was/is so happy that Primero found a loving home where he wants to be. I think it would be detrimental to Primero if the county decides to start looking for a different adoptive home for him or if they remove him from my home. But, I know better than to go toe-to-toe with the county. I will grovel, I will beg, I will jump through as many hoops as they decide to set in front of me, just so long as they don’t take my son from me.

 

I’m just so scared, so, so terrified that “it’s” happening again, that I will lose it all. I fear I will wake up one morning and all the children (they are all the same county) will be gone. I truly don’t think I could emotionally survive that again, losing the first baby was hard enough. He was only with me for a short period of time, Primero has been with me much longer and we have been through so much already. In our heart of hearts, we know we are mother and son, we have bonded and we have embraced these roles. But, it is a house of cards that can be easily torn down. I have said that nothing is solidified in adoption until the ink dries on the paperwork and I was right to be so pessimistic. It’s like I’m Frodo and I’ve slipped the ring back on my finger and attracted the unwanted attention of the great burning eye of Sauron. [“Concealed within his fortress, the lord of Mordor sees all. His gaze pierces cloud, shadow, earth, and flesh. You know of what I speak, Gandalf: a great Eye, lidless, wreathed in flame.” Saruman].  I am uneasy, worried about every action I take, every decision I make, that it could cause the county to swoop in and take everything away from me. I won’t be able to breathe, I won’t rest easy until the adoption is finalized. Even then, I’m sure I will be looking over my shoulder……

My Hang-Ups (From August 14, 2014)

I think I thought that there would be some kind of release when I finally achieved my goal of motherhood – some sense of centeredness, of rightness, a lessening of pain and fear and worry. Thus far, this has not been my experience. I find as much angst in my new role as mom to a teenager as I did in my role as an infertile. Motherhood is wonderful, but there is still an awful lot of pain involved (and obviously, I don’t mean childbirth). Weekly, sometimes daily, I find myself in tears over being “mom” and not Mom to Primero. It’s stupid stuff and my hang-ups not his. I don’t tell him about it because he shouldn’t be concerned with it all. I only talk about it here, where I feel safe to express my inner fears and insecurities. Primero had posted something on Facebook asking people to give him a nickname only they would use with him. A bunch of his camp friends posted silly things and I posted the name I use for him here, Primero. He responded online with a “thanks [My Name]” in the same sentence mentioning others who posted. His biological mother posted “Adorable” to which he responded, “Thanks Mom.” I can’t tell you how crushed I felt. Maybe things will change with more time, but we are fast approaching six months together and I am still my nickname or (less often) my full name to him. Occasionally he will address me as “Mom” in a text and he has me listed in his phone as “mom” but he does not call me mom. It’s an imbalance that I don’t think will ever be rectified. To me, he is the world, my first son, (right now) my only son. He is my everything because I have no other children (I’m sorry if it sounds callous but I cannot count the foster children I have right now because their future is unknown and I know how hard it is for me to let go once I believe that a child is mine – call it self-preservation). But, to him, I am number two or even three because he considers the aunt that raised him until he was 5 a mother too. And while it is nice that he can be so inclusive and have such a big heart to love so many “mothers” it stings a little to someone who has spent nearly 6 years trying to become a mother. I don’t want to have to share that privilege with anyone else. It’s selfish, I know. I’m working on getting over it, I just don’t know how. And it’s not like I can ask him to stop calling his biological mother “mom” and stop calling me by my name. I might always be my name and never “mom” to him, so I have to come to terms with that someway and somehow. Oddly enough, the little girl calls me “Mommy” exclusively. She has since day one. She never calls me by my name, although I know she knows what my name is. So, I should just be content with that. I know I am important to Primero, I know he loves me and he feels like I am his mother, so what’s in a name? Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? I guess this issue, coupled with the common assumption that I gave birth to the baby, grates on very sensitive nerves. Shall I never be free from infertility’s grasp? I suppose not, for as I read in an article a few weeks ago, adoption cures childlessness but it does not cure infertility. The children I have now cannot be expected to “make-up for” the children I was unable to have biologically. So, perhaps this is where I have gone wrong, expecting those feelings of maternal longing to be fulfilled by adopting children from a stranger. Why can’t I just be content with what is? I have made peace with my reproductive shortcomings and I have travelled the painful road out of infertility. Motherhood is upon me and so I should gratefully embrace it and not look back, not think of what could have been, but concentrate on what is here and now. I have a son. I have a foster daughter and a precious newborn baby to love to pieces. I could not ask for more.     

Breast-feeding vs. Formula (From August 6, 2014)

Breast-feeding vs. formula. The age old debate coupled with guilt-ridden mothers trying desperately to do what is best for their babies. Biology has eliminated the choice for me – the little boy I have is strictly formula fed since he can’t get a drop out of me – no pregnancy means no lactation, thus no milk for baby. Most of the time I don’t even think about it, the baby gets formula, it is what it is. But, in perusing the mothering websites for advice about colic, I bumped into the debate and felt the sting of guilt for formula feeding the baby. I had hoped to breast feed my children just as I had hoped to feel them move inside of me, feel my body expand as they grew. Biology robbed me of these experiences and so, like many, many things, I need to come to terms with what is, not with what I wanted or what I thought it should be. And this is true for so much of my life as a foster-to-adopt mother. Primero and I had a rift yesterday and something he said really hurt my feelings. But, then I realized he was just being a teenager and I was taking it too hard simply because I haven’t had umpteen years leading up to this point. It’s just so hard, wanting to be a mother hen to gather my son under my wings and tuck him in safe and sound, but he’s a teenager and he needs to cut the cord and learn to be independent. Sometimes I have to hold my breath so the tears won’t reveal my internal struggle. While Primero is my everything, my only child (at this point – I’m not trying to put the little ones down, but I can’t call them mine, so it is a different feeling with them), I’m just one more person to him. Yes, we have a special relationship and I know he loves me, but let’s face it – I’m number two. Most of the time he still calls me his foster mom (and that’s what I am, but I dropped the “foster” a while ago, when referring to him I call him my son) and he uses my name to address me. His biological mother is still “Mom” and his biological family trumps any new relatives I’ve introduced him to hands down. I’m sure all of this is perfectly normal, but that doesn’t make it feel any better. I feel like I’m adopting a whole new family, not just Primero. I’m getting aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, former step-fathers, family friends and of course, the “real” mother. I feel superfluous, just the taxi driver, the bank, the provider of home and food. I especially felt this way yesterday. The motherhood I wanted simply does not exist. I have to make the best of what I have and try not to hold my reality to unrealistic standards and expectations I have in my mind. I wish there were other single adoptive mothers that have battled infertility that I could talk to about this feeling, about how hard it is to adopt an older child and accept all the baggage they bring with them. I wish I could hear someone else had the same fears I have, that once he turns 18 he will leave and go right back to his biological family or that I will always be “My Name” and never “Mom.” I’m not saying these things because I am doubting my decision to adopt Primero, I want that to be clear, these are just the hang-ups I have about the whole situation – they are my issues, not his. As far as I can tell, he’s already come to terms with having a biological family and an adoptive family. My struggles are my own. I guess, in a way, it’s just the monster of infertility rearing her ugly head again. If I stop and contemplate everything that has occurred in the last several years, I break down. So, I let myself think of pieces at a time, but never the whole thing because it is too overwhelming. I didn’t sign up for this. I didn’t ask for it and I prayed with all I had to make it not so, but in the end the path I’ve been on has been the one less-travelled and while I know it has made me into the woman I am today, sometimes I still resent the whole journey. There are still moments when the mask slips and I wish things had gone like they were supposed to – love, marriage, baby in the baby carriage. But, I can’t move forward if I’m staring in the rearview mirror, so I have to just move on and let the past be the past. Still, I have never been good at letting go of my expectations, so I’m sure it will take me some time before I truly get used to mothering a teen who (naturally) is seeking independence and freedom. I don’t consider myself a helicopter parent, but I feel like I’m hardly being given the opportunity to parent at all – I lecture on the importance of finishing school, of not using drugs, of using protection when having sex (or even better, waiting…..), but am I really a “mom” if the child I have is nearly ready to leave the nest? Maybe I am simply too sleep deprived to be contemplating these issues. Surely my emotions are less inhibited by my state of mental fog. And who can trust emotions anyway? They are so fickle even in the best of times. And so what if Primero hurt my feelings? I’m a grown up, I can put on my big girl panties and get over it. It’s not as if I have nothing else to worry about right now. The list of things I need to keep on top of is ever-growing and I fear I’m about to hit maximum capacity. In addition to the house being torn apart as the basement room crawls towards completion, the little girl needs to see a doctor for her cough, Primero needs to get enrolled in school, I need to switch the little girl over to my WIC account, I need to get enrolled in the county assisted daycare for both her and the baby, the baby has medical appointments that coincide with my mom’s next round of chemo, Primero’s theatre camp is ending and we have to attend all three of his performances, there are three different case workers clamoring for my attention, I don’t know what happened in court yesterday, I’m supposed to be preparing for a short vacation with Primero in two weeks and need to find respite, the little girl needs blood testing done and might be starting behavioral therapy soon, I desperately need to check on my honey bees, I need to get Primero’s kitten vaccinated, and if I don’t cut my grass and pull the weeds around my house I’m sure I will be fined by the city. It’s utter madness!   

Superwoman (From August 4, 2014)

I am Superwoman. It’s the only way to understand this morning’s activities. The baby had me up around 5:30 and he didn’t want to quiet down and return to his bassinet, so I held him and dosed for a bit until my alarm went off at 6. Then it was a mad rush to get myself ready, eat breakfast, feed the little girl, give the baby a bath and dash out the door. I was two minutes late for work after dropping Primero off at his camp, the little girl off at her camp and taking the baby to the sitters. The little girls camp is just a hair too far away, but I will have to make do the next several weeks until I move her to my friends daycare. By that time Primero will be back in school and I’m hoping he will be able to get a ride on the bus – this depends on where he goes to school, which has still not been decided……. So, for the immediate future the morning routine will be a hot mess. Primero’s camp ends this week and I have enrolled him in another camp for next week because he needs to be somewhere while I am at work. He will be taking a bus to the camp because it is a little further away and the camp has a few routes, one that works with where I will be taking the little girl, so I think next week will be easier. Easier? No, with three children nothing is really “easier.”

 

I remind myself that I’ve had three children in my care before, only the oldest of that group was much younger than Primero. With those three girls I felt like I couldn’t go out with them by myself. I needed to enlist help to go grocery shopping and any other errands I had to do. I’m so much more confident now than I was back then. I distinctly remember a time when I had the first baby and I was by myself. I wanted to take him into Chick-fila for lunch and to play in their play area but I hesitated, unsure if I could do that on my own and so I opted for the drive through instead. Now, I wouldn’t hesitate to take the kids to the store or to play at Chick-fila, or the playground. I trust myself a lot more now than I did back then and sometimes I forget just how far I have come in my role as foster mom. So, the three I have now have all come to me at different times, one by one. The newest member of our ragtag family, the little girl, moved in this weekend. The house is in total disarray because my new bedroom in the basement (yes, I decided I’m the one to move downstairs) is not quite finished. I haven’t officially been able to unpack the little girls things and so they are dumped in a pile in her bedroom where all of Primero’s clothing and personal items still reside. My things are still in my room because nothing can yet get moved downstairs due to space constraints. The only way to move things in the house it to move something else first. We are working on it and I hope by the end of this week everything will be in its new place and all inhabitants will be situated. It’s kind of insane, really. So, I am anxious to get everything back in order and get settled into our new routine. As much as I buck routine as a damper to creativity, I have seen firsthand how much a simple routine does for little kids, especially those with behavioral issues. Knowing what to expect each day is so helpful to little ones. Our days are regimented mostly due to me being a working mom, but I think even if I were not a working mom I would try to establish a well-defined routine to help the kiddos coming into my home adjust and feel like they can rely on something. I’m hoping this will help the little girl get adjusted. All I need is a good night’s sleep and I will be right as rain.

Patchwork Family (From July 31, 2014)

I’m sitting here on the precipice of welcoming a third child into my home and I’m struck by how differently life is going than I had thought and planned it to go. Things are moving along for Primero’s adoption and I am still trying to get him enrolled in a local Catholic school, rather than the public school where we live. He is grateful for the opportunity to attend any school but the one he seems destined to be at. I’m praying it will all work out for him. His summer camp is almost over and the final rush to practice and perfect their play has him giddy with excitement. I can’t wait to see him perform and I know he can’t wait for me to see the show. He’s such a great kid, I am reminded nearly every day what a wonderful young man he is. And because I know he’s so fantastic, I get frustrated with his family when they flake on him. He was supposed to spend the day with his eldest brother today, they set it up two days ago. Primero was so excited he literally couldn’t sit still. He planned on what outfit he would wear and he assured me his brother would give him the biggest hug when they met – after all, it’s been over a year since they’ve seen one another. As I was going to bed last night Primero informed me that he would be going to camp instead. His brother bailed with some lame excuse about needing to practice his parking and that his guardian needed to run errands. Outwardly Primero was ok but I know inside he was crushed. I know how much this day meant to him. His brother said maybe next Tuesday. I wanted to punch him in the throat. The older brother, that is. It’s bad enough that the kids mom flakes on him and that his older sister brushes him off when he tries to get together with her, but he really looks up to this brother, so to have him make plans and then break them, well it just downright sucks. Primero asked me while I was at work if he could still go over later on in the day because his sisters will be there too. I said of course. It would mean all his siblings but one would be together for the first time in over a year. It’s good for him and I’m happy to make sure he stays in touch with his siblings. It’s a little strange for me, but everyone has been cordial and I don’t mind feeling a little uncomfortable, if it helps Primero.

 

We went to the beach on Saturday – or at least we tried to. We ended up on the boardwalk rather than the beach due to traffic and the weather. And as we marched up and down the boardwalk, me with the baby strapped to my chest via the infernal Moby wrap (is it just me or do you need an advanced engineering degree to get that thing on?!); the little girl with a bucket on her head because I bought it for her to play in the sand and she wanted to carry it with her all day; Primero intermittently checking his phone while also leaning over to whisper something in my ear about the various people around us; and my friend, who is 70 years young and full of vigor – I thought about what a strange band of misfits we were. My Italian friend with her dark tan, dyed blonde hair and tattooed eyebrows, me the plump and sleep deprived green-eyed foster mother with an infant of a different race pappoosed to my ample bosom, tall and skinny Primero with his fake nerdy glasses and ever-present cell phone, and the little girl with the wild curly hair and a pull-up because she decided she no longer wants to be potty-trained – how do we all fit together? None of us look alike with the exception of the baby and the little girl. Our ages reveal little correlation, since my friend is a tad too young to be my grandmother and a tad too old to be my mom, which I guess  could be the same argument for me and Primero – too old to be his sister (which is what a lot of people surmise) and too young to be his mother. I suppose it would be easy to assume the baby is mine, since I am of childbearing age and the little girl calls me “mommy” so that would make sense. But, despite our ragamuffin appearance, we are a family by choice (even if it is temporary for the little ones) and so we conduct ourselves as a family. And so I guess this is how it goes when you choose to adopt – the family is like a patchwork quilt built of unique and differing color squares that complement one another and make a beautiful, warm blanket when sewn together.     

Can I Handle This? (July 29, 2014)

Can I handle it? This is the question I get asked regarding having three children living in my home. Can I handle it? If I didn’t think I could handle it, would I have agreed to do it? No, I would not. First of all, one of these kids is old enough to bathe and feed himself and requires minimal supervision. The baby is the real attention hog because all of his needs have to be met by me. But, he is sleeping a little better at night and so I am not feeling so frazzled. The little girl is a handful, most toddlers are, but she proved to me that she can be a very good girl when we went to the beach on Saturday. She was exceptionally well-behaved, not just for her temperament, but for any child her age. She stayed with us on the boardwalk and when she got bored in the stores she sat on the bucket I bought her to play in the sand (which, alas, she did not get to use for that purpose due to foul weather and even worse traffic). There are things that she does that bugs me, like having sticky little fingers when we are out shopping (she once stole a pack of gum when we were grocery shopping and she tried to steal a toe ring at the shore) and insisting on using a pull-up rather than using the toilet, but these are things to work on. She was recently evaluated for therapy and I’m going to push for her to get that because I think it will help.

 

A friend of mine, who had been a foster parent for many years, was on a trip in Puerto Rico and just came back. While there she visited friends who adopted twins while living in our area and they are now foster parents in Puerto Rico. My friend was telling me they had a little boy who is a handful and explained that the foster mom couldn’t get anything done with him around. My friend encouraged her friend to put in a 30 days’ notice because, “it’s not worth it.” I cringed. How can a three year old little boy not be worth it? My friend admitted this little boy had already been in numerous other foster homes and my heart breaks for him. I try not to judge other foster families for the decisions they make regarding the children in their care because I am not in their homes to see these things first hand, nor would I like to be judged for the decisions I make. But, to say “it’s not worth it” like the child is a complicated crossword puzzle or some other inconsequential thing, well it’s quite heartless, I think. Is my life going to be crazy from here on out with three kids living under my roof? It sure is. Every waking hour I have that is not spent at my job will be dedicated to these kids (with the exception of when I take some me time) because I think showing little children they are loved and teaching them how to be responsible, contributing members of society is very important. And, if I don’t do it, who will? So, yes, I can handle having a teenager, a toddler and an infant in my home and our little rag-tag family will make the most of our time together and we will grow and be the best human beings we can be, because it’s worth it.  

Out of My Gourd (From July 28, 2014)

I am most assuredly out of my gourd. I had told CHOR that if the county did not find a more suitable home for the baby’s older sister she could come stay with me. It seemed like the county was going to follow the foster mom and case worker’s advice to put her in a home where she is an only child. Apparently not. So, now I have to scramble to finish the basement project because we need another room in the house! And I still haven’t decided if me or Primero are moving to the basement. I’m very on the fence about for a few reasons. The reason I wouldn’t want Primero in the basement is because I would worry that he will spend all night on his phone talking to random people he doesn’t know. In other words, being a teenager. Ugh! The reason I don’t want to go to the basement is because I worry about being cut-off from the little girl, since her room would be upstairs and I would not. The baby would move with me because he sleeps in my room. The reason I want to go the basement is the same reason Primero wants to go down there too – space. It would be the biggest room in the house and have a very ample closet, especially compared to the pathetic space available in the upstairs bedrooms. And, despite being a basement room, it gets plenty of sunshine thanks to a rather large window that gets the afternoon sun. Well, we might just have to flip a coin for it! So while CHOR was hoping to move the little girl in with me today, I asked for the rest of this week to finish the project, since I hadn’t heard anything in the past two weeks that she was coming. My house, which was void of children the beginning of this year, is now full to the brim – just the way I like it! J

Enjoy What Is (From July 25, 2014)

Last night we spent time with Primero’s younger sisters. As a last minute plan, he asked if we could go to their house to see them and I agreed since we have been trying for a while to get to see them. So, we arrived at the house, which is on a small narrow street where parking is a premium, so we ended up parking down the block and around the corner. And then we had to hike back to the house lugging the baby and diaper bag. At the house we met the two girls and their step-mother and their two half-brothers. I didn’t want to go inside because from the porch I could smell the stench of cigarette smoke. But, I couldn’t be rude so I held my breath and stepped inside. I ended up talking to the girl’s step-mom for the 2+ hours we were there and I expressed my gratitude in allowing the kids to see one another. The step-mother does not have a very high opinion of the children’s mother and she is not afraid to express her distaste. The older of the two sisters is also very vocal in her criticism of her mother. Primero does not join in the mother-bashing and never really says anything negative at all about her. I, likewise, am never critical of his mother and when he does get upset with her about certain things I am sure to try to put a positive spin on it. I know it meant a lot for him to be able to see his sisters last night and I’m glad we were able to go, but the effects of sitting in a house so full of second-hand smoke has me feeling unwell. I have a lingering headache and my eyes feel overly dry. The reason I decided to leave was because my eyes were beginning to water and my throat was starting to hurt. I just can’t tolerate cigarette smoke, it just makes me feel ill. And, I hated having the baby breathing in that unclean air.

 

So, something I need to get off my chest. And I wish I knew a family that adopted an older child so we could talk about how they felt about this same topic. Perhaps I just need to confront my expectations regarding adoption? Anyway, I have been feeling like this off and on for some time regarding Primero and it bugs me. The feelings resurfaced when his mother did and they have been bubbling under the skin for some time now. I know it is a good thing for Primero to have a connection to his biological family and to the people who were important in his life, I don’t question this and I do what I can to facilitate on-going relationships. But, I feel like he too needs to begin embracing my family and the people important in my life because they are now all his too. Primero has this aunt he is close to because he lived with her when he was very young. She was married to his mother’s brother and, at the time, wanted to adopt him but Primero’s mother never let her. Fast forward to a little over a year ago and she wouldn’t take Primero in because she has a pre-teen and a baby and her new husband was not interested in taking this kid into his house. Yet, just this morning when we were talking about where Primero would go when I have to do an out-of-town training for work, he insisted he would go to this aunt, rather than the person I suggested. I know I am looking at this wrong, but if this woman loved this kid enough to want to adopt him as a child, why not jump at the chance now? Because the man you are with says no? I don’t think I would be as forgiving as Primero. I guess it is jealousy; I want to be the be-all, end-all in his life but I am not. I have to learn to embrace all his baggage and not make him live up to my ideal as an adopted son solely devoted to me. And, to be fair, I don’t dislike any of the family members I have met, they have all be gracious and welcoming to me. I just need to get over “it” and enjoy what is.  

Perils of Adopting a Teen (From July 21, 2014)

I had written a few weeks ago that Primero’s mother is back in the picture. Well, she finally spoke to him last night – late last night. And so many, many things bother me about this. First of all, it bothers me that it took her this long to contact him and yet, he was just as happy to talk to her regardless of how long she has been absent. It bugs me that she promises him she is on the straight and narrow now and that this time she will get it together and he believes her with nary a hint of wariness. But, what bothers me most of all is that she is called “mom” and I am just my name. Who was there for this kid when he had an emergency situation and was in excruciating pain? She wasn’t talking to him through the bathroom door, that was me. Who got him enrolled in a great summer camp where he has flourished and over-came stage fright enough to sing in front of a large group of people? Who was there to witness him singing, to cheer him on and record the whole thing? Me again. I know it’s stupid and I just need to get over it, I mean she will always be his biological mother, but I want the honor of being “Mom.” Is it jealousy? I don’t know. To me, it’s like she had her chance at being his mom and couldn’t get it together for one reason or another. Now it is my turn. I think, more than anything, it bothers me to know how much of a hold she still has over him, how devoted he still is to her, no matter what awful things she did or let happen to him. I guess I feel like no matter what I do, no matter what happens, I will always play second fiddle to her. It’s not that I don’t want Primero to have a relationship with his biological mother, I just wish he could keep her at arm’s length until she proves she isn’t so toxic to him. A few days ago he was crushed because she mentioned something on Facebook about her “son” singular and not “sons.” That hurt him because she was talking about his older brother and she left him out. But, now last night they were reminiscing about the good times (which is a good thing) and the various dogs they had and which dog was closest to which family member. He told her about his success at camp, singing in front of so many people and how he was going to be in a play in a few weeks. He told me when they hung up he wasn’t sure she was listening the whole time he was talking. I guess I can only do so much. Just the other week we were talking about how I will always be there for Primero and he said, “My mom said that until she chose her boyfriend over us.” I told him to put me to the test, to watch me prove through actions that what I say is true – I will always be there for him, he is a priority in my life and no man will change that. But, I worry that, if push came to shove, he would choose her over me. I worry that once he is an adult and moves out, he will go back to his “other” family and leave me high and dry. I suppose these are the perils of adopting and older child.  

Ain't No Saint (From July 16, 2014

Why do people call me a saint? Because I’m not one, that’s for sure. The nurse practitioner told me that surely I would be rewarded in heaven for my saintly duties as a foster mother. I’m not a saint. This morning when my sleep deprived body refused to obey my command to get out of bed and soothe the crying baby, I was far from sainthood. When children in the past have made me want to pull my hair out or feel grateful when dropping them off in respite care, I was no saint. And while those judging the situation as a single woman taking on the responsibilities of another woman’s child, in reality I am the one getting what she wants out of the whole ordeal. I have wanted an infant from the word go and, even though he loves being cranky all night long, I couldn’t be happier having this little one with me. Trust me, it’s not a wholly altruistic act to assume responsibility for another person's  baby when in reality you are hoping to call that baby yours. When I drag my heavy sandpaper-feeling eye lids up to glare blearily at my alarm, I am reminded that this won’t last forever. Either the baby will grow enough to begin sleeping through the night, or he will be sent home and no longer be my responsibility. Given the choices, I of course hope for the former. I want more than anything to keep this baby and call him my son. He is already so precious to me. He is already beginning to recognize my voice and my touch. I snuggle him close to me and kiss his sweet face, reminding myself he will never be this little again, so I should enjoy him while I can. Do I wish I could get a little more sleep? You bet I do! But, I am so happy to have him, so over-the-moon ecstatic to be given the opportunity to mother a newborn straight from the hospital, to get all the firsts I missed with Primero.  

Unleash the Cracken (From July 15, 2014)

It’s about to get crazy up in here. CHOR called me yesterday afternoon to see if I would be willing to take the baby’s older sister, whom I’ve had in respite a bunch of weekends. The other family put a 30 day notice in on her, but not her older sister and the county has decided to split them up. It makes logical sense that they ask me, since I’ve spent some time with her and because I have her baby brother. But…… This child is much like the little girl I had last year in terms of behaviors. She requires a lot of redirection and attention. This worked when it was just Primero and her because I could give her more attention. But, with an infant taking so much of my time, it would be a lot different. This would also require the basement bedroom to be completed posthaste. I told CHOR I would think about it. I wanted to discuss it with Primero first because the little girl bugs him and he has expressed feelings of frustrations with her. We discussed it and he was ok with her moving in. I’m still not sold on the idea and I will continue contemplating the possibility until the end of the week which is CHOR’s deadline for me. The foster mother who has the little girl right now also baby-sits the baby and she advised me to say no based on her experiences with the girl. It’s been different at my house and I don’t have the same issues with the girl that the other family has had – not to say those issues wouldn’t arise once the girl gets settled. I did have all three kids for the 4^th of July weekend and it really wasn’t that bad. Of course a weekend and 24/7 is not quite the same. I’m praying for some revelation about it because from minute to minute I waiver from yes to no. 

Delayed post (from July 14, 2014)

So, I kind of took an unplanned hiatus from my blog but I am trying to catch up, since I was writing but not posting. Here is something I wrote in July......

I am back at work now. My two week “parental” leave ended and it’s back to the realities of a working single mother. Most days I still pinch myself, thinking I’m just dreaming that this baby isn’t really in my home nestled in my arms. While I say that I’m trying to not get too attached, the reality is that it’s impossible not to fall in love with the little tiny peanut I brought home two weeks ago today. Truth be told, I love him so much already and I hope and pray I can keep him. I know, I know, as a foster mother, my job is to help the children go back home, to be reunited with their parents and families. But, I would be lying to say I don’t want the baby to stay forever. I mean, his case is legal risk, so I’m not the only one thinking it’s a possibility. In any event, the baby is staying with me at least until the end of the month of July. That is when there is another court hearing. The county assures me they have no plans on sending the baby or his older siblings home, but they have all new judges who have been making some really wonky decisions regarding cases. It’s scary. I busy myself trying to stay on top of household chores in  a severe sleep-deprived state. Going back to work will only make things harder, but I can cope. I remind myself that it is just for a short period of time. Eventually, the baby will sleep through the night. Eventually…..

 

Primero has been tolerating the baby pretty well. It’s been an adjustment for us both, but I do my very best to give Primero one-on-one alone time when the baby is sleeping or at a visit. Right now he finds the baby tedious because according to him, “all he does is cry.” I think once the baby becomes more entertaining, Primero will be more invested as a big brother. Unfortunately, we’ve had another issue arise with the Pastor and Pastora regarding Primero. They asked me to meet with them last Thursday night. Pastora and I had a heated discussion regarding her making Primero sit downstairs for service rather than attend the Sunday school with the children. I figured they would talk to me about that, but I honestly thought they were meeting with me regarding the licensing. Wrong. They basically told me that I am not experienced enough to raise a teenager, that I have not taken my God given authority over Primero and he does not respect me and that basically they do not think I should adopt him. He is not opening up to anyone in the church and in fact, he is pulling me away from church. They envision nothing but heartache for me regarding this child and the Pastor even suggested we would wind up as clients of BCCYS because of Primero (I guess he means I would seek to dissolve the adoption). I said very little during our exchange, concentrating on not crying or simply storming out. My emotions are harder to reign in when I miss too much sleep. I was so hurt, so very, very hurt. And I was shocked and stunned into silence. I couldn’t imagine why they were saying these things to me. Primero had refused to come into the church, choosing to sleep in the car instead. We drove home in silence. Primero asked me what was wrong but I brushed him off. I wanted to take a nice hot shower and sob my eyes out but the baby began crying and I ended up retreating to my bedroom instead. There Primero confronted me and I told him what had occurred and how badly it made me feel. I told him I could have a thousand conversations like that, but never would it make me change my mind about adopting him. We are in the process of looking for a new church. One where Primero will be welcomed.