Yesterday I had the day off due to Veteran’s Day. We had
Primero’s case worker come to see us first thing in the morning and Primero
spent most of the time telling her all about his brothers visit. Primero had a
plan to prove to his case worker that his brother should be allowed to move in
with us. He showed her his room and she agreed the room was plenty big enough
for two. Primero told her about a dozen times that Hermano started calling me “Mom”
because he felt so happy with us and so comfortable. She agreed it was
wonderful to see Primero getting to visit with his siblings and spend time with
them. And she actually asked us how often we would be seeing Hermano. So, I
asked about Thanksgiving. We would love to have him spend Thanksgiving with us
and the case worker concurred, stating she would ask if I could get him
Wednesday night and return him Friday so that I won’t have to worry about the
holiday traffic on a very congested interstate highway. I explained how I was
put-off by the GAL’s last minute decision to cut the first visit short and she
said it was most likely due more to everyone being unsure of how it would go,
since Hermano is new to the system. But, since things went so well and we had
such a lovely time, she didn’t see a reason why the visits couldn’t continue. I
was happy to hear this because I feared the visit was only granted for Primero’s
birthday and therefore would only be granted in the future for equally as
important dates to celebrate.
When I relayed the good news to Hermano, he was happy but
again expressed his desire to make our home his permanent residence. He told me
he had never felt loved before like he does now; to have someone care about
him, be interested in his life, to fight to have him – this is what I imagine
he means. Last night I posted on Facebook “Be patient. Sometimes you have to go
through the worst to get the best” and “I feel like you are the reward for
everything I did right in life.” I tagged both the boys in these posts and
Hermano posted a beautiful poem in response.
I Promise You
I can't promise you that tomorrow will be perfect or that life will be
easy.
I can promise you my everlasting
devotion, my loyalty, my respect, and my unconditional
love for a lifetime.
I can promise that I'll always be there for you, to listen and to hold your
hand, and I'll always do
my best to make you
happy, and make you feel
loved.
I can promise that I'll see you through any crisis, and hope with you, dream with you, build with you, and always cheer you
on and encourage you.
I can promise that I'll share my dreams my world, and every aspect of my life with you.
I'll willingly be your protector, your advisor, your counselor, your friend, your family, your everything.
And I believe that's what love is truly all about.
It pretty much sums up exactly what I want to say. I keep encouraging him to be sure to follow
the rules and be respectful when he talks to his case worker and GAL because
that will go a long way in showing he is trying to make a sound and mature decision
for himself. I tell him to keep up the good work in school, to be involved in
the extracurricular activities to keep himself occupied and again, to show he
is turning his life around and not looking to get back into the things he had
been doing. When he was with us you could hear happiness and hope in his voice.
Now that he’s back in his foster home, his voice is sad again, lacking the same
merriment it had before. I know I am absolutely insane. I am. As a young single
woman, I have no business trying to raise three kids let alone four. But, this
isn’t some picture of a kid I see on the state listing for children seeking
adoptive homes, this is a live, living, breathing child desperate for attention
and affection and love. He wants a home, not just a house. I guess I’m a fixer
and I can hear my mom saying to me, “You can’t help everyone. You can’t take
away the pain from their past.” But, how can I not try? It’s not like there are
hundreds of other families clamoring to take in and love hurting teenagers. If
I don’t try to give Hermano a home he will age out of the system and most
likely get right back into the life everyone is trying to get him out of. He is
a young man who needs someone stable in his life, to guide him into adulthood
with love and patience. He is still impressionable, more so than Primero even
though he is younger. It’s gotta be someone’s responsibility to see that he
gets a positive role model and an opportunity to succeed. My heart gets me in a
lot of trouble. My heart pushes me out of my comfort zone, it pushes me to have
sympathy for hurting children and to do what little I can to help. I don’t know
how to turn it off. I don’t know how to stop being me, to stop myself from
caring when no one else would. How do I make my heart stop aching for a child
who is so hungry, so desperate for love that even the tiniest kind gesture is
huge to him? I can’t help but look at my sweet Primero and think, what if I had
said no, what if I refused to let myself care about him where would he be now? Primero
was meant to be my son, he was meant to steal my heart one weekend at a time
until it felt like I would lose a part of myself if he were to leave. And now,
because I opened my heart to a sweet, gentle, kind, amazing teenage boy, I have
been given the honor of another sweet teenage boy clamoring for my love and
affection. I guess I would rather be called crazy than turn my back on a child
who needs a mother. I let myself get pulled into these situations because I put
myself in the shoes of these children and I feel their pain and their need for
comfort and for someone to genuinely want them, not as an obligation but for
who they are as a human being. I want this young man to do well in life and,
like Mahatma Ghandi said, I need to be the change I wish to see in the world. I
can’t promise this kid he will be able to move in with me, but I can promise to
stick by his side and be available to him whenever he needs me, to pray for
him, to worry about him, and to help him succeed in life. I can promise my
unconditional love that will not fade or break due to distance or location. I
will mother him from afar until we can live under the same roof. And I pray to
God it will be enough.
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