Waiting Six Months

It’s been six months since the two little ones left me, thus opening my home to be officially ready for an adoption placement. I received a letter on Friday from CHOR stating I was approved as a foster parent for another year. I read the report penned by my previous  family worker and in it she mentioned their placement had been my longest. Their leaving also marks the longest I have gone without a placement since I became a foster parent. Technically, the kid has been with me for a month, but most of that time he was there under the assumption that he would soon be leaving. Having him as a full-time permanent placement only became official last week. No one knows how long his tenure will be in foster care, but from the things mentioned at his planning meeting, it does not sound like he will be going home as soon as his mother believed. He would need to be me until November 17^th in order to surpass the record of 8 months and 19 days from the previous placement. That feels like eons from now and so many, many things can happen between then and now.

 

I had a baby shower to attend over the weekend and so while out shopping with my mom, sister, and aunt this past Saturday, I popped into the Carter’s outlet store to grab a few baby items. It was just me and the kid in the store – my mom and aunt had left because the mall is an outside mall (fantastic for southern California, not such a great idea for southeastern PA) and it was rainy and cold; my sister was in another store where we would be meeting up. So, I grab a few three set items for summer in the 9 month size, thinking everyone will be buying newborn baby clothes, and marched to the register before I could start thinking about all of the tiny baby boy clothing I had returned in January. The young girl behind the register asked me if I would like to give my email address for coupons. With a teenager standing next to me. Before I could control myself, I snapped, “I have no need” and shoved my bank card in her hand. There’s no way for her to know these items were not for me, but of course it bugged the hell out of me. Being in the store bugged the hell out of me. I’m fairly certain we were breaking land speed records to get out of the store after purchasing the items. Baby stores make me feel claustrophobic. My lungs start to spasm and my throat clenches shut if I even think about fawning over the adorable outfits, so I am always in a rush to get in and out before hot tears spill from my eyes. Usually I am able to make it to my car before I begin bawling. This time I didn’t even cry. Go me. I also managed to stay the entire duration of the baby shower, including the oohing and ahh-ing fest during the gift opening. A lot of my co-workers were there and so I was able to distract myself by talking to them about non-baby things, so I did ok. There was one point when I glanced up to see adorable newborn outfits draped across a swollen pregnant belly that my heart twitched remembering the care I took in picking out an outfit to bring home the Christmas miracle baby, but I quickly engrossed myself in a conversation about the new DSW store opening this week, thus averting a melt-down. Maybe I’m growing up? Maybe I’m just getting to be a really good actress….. Even though he is not a baby, having the kid with me certainly eases my anxiety when involved in baby/child/mother activities. Before the baby shower I joked with the kid about having a code word that when uttered would cause him to pest me to leave, thus creating an escape scenario. Luckily, he had a friend there (the daughter of one of my co-workers who he knows from school) and so he was engrossed in whatever trouble they were getting into on their cell phones while I chatted with my friends. And we didn’t need to use the code word. A kid in the Sunday school class asked me where my baby was, meaning the little boy who was with me last year. Exasperated and unsure of how to respond (the boy who asked me is slightly mentally handicapped, so I couldn’t really get angry with him), I pointed to the kid across the room and said, “that’s my baby now.” Later, I was receiving prayer from my pastor and he said, “God loves your heart, you have a very soft and kind heart.” And here I thought it was a damaged and broken heart, stitched together with a little hope and many tears.

It's Decided

It’s decided, the kid stays. His case worker called me this morning at work regarding my request for the kid to be in respite Friday night while I’m at a women’s Bible study. After giving me the contact information for the other foster family, she asked if she could talk to me about something. I guessed what it would be, but let her ask me the question. She doubted the validity of what the kid told her Tuesday night but I confirmed that this was the decision I had made – I would work on getting the basement bedroom fixed up allowing the kid to stay and me to have an extra bedroom for an adoptive placement. I let her know that the kid told me about the other family being willing to take him and that I had told him my decision still stood as is, however it was now up to the county and CHOR as to where he would ultimately end up. The case worker told me the preference by and large was for him to stay with me. She stated the other home was just another temporary fix and it would be a tight squeeze due to their other foster care placements. The case worker felt that the kid had bonded with me and he was trying very hard to be on his best behavior because he really didn’t want to move again. I told her he was a gem and that yes, we do get along very well and I care for him which is why I am willing to accommodate him. She said she would speak to the other family asking if they would be willing to take the kid for a short time just in case I would get the call for a placement before the basement bedroom was ready. I told her I appreciated this and hoped I would be getting a placement soon (since it’s been nearly 6 months now). The case worker commented during her home visit this evening that "everyone" at CHOR was so very happy the kid can stay with me. The case worker commented he is just happier all around and has a better attitude about doing his school work and everything since moving in with me. I don't really know why living with me has made this difference, but I'm glad it has. And, as if to prove it, the kid brought home a book report project he did to increase his grade and he got an A+ on it.   

 

Oddly enough, the kid and I were talking last night and he asked what I did for Easter and I explained the holiday’s significance to him. He then asked if I celebrated Halloween which is a complicated holiday for me personally (I love seeing the kids get dressed up all cute and get candy but of course the reasoning behind the celebration is the troubling point). He asked what I did with past foster kids on Halloween and I explained that I had never had a foster child over Halloween or Christmas for that matter. He said he hoped he got to spend both Halloween and Christmas with me and when I responded “that’s a long ways away” he said, “I’m ok with that.” I told him I was ok with that too. Maybe we sensed the answer from CHOR/the county would be for him to stay? When I came home from work and told him the good news, he gave me a big, big hug and I think everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Life as I know it

Life is funny sometimes. The kid and I went to the CHOR training session last night and he was in a life skills class with his case worker and other foster kids while I learned about the hazards of social media with the grown-ups. The case worker eluded to having some news for the kid that he might not like to hear, so of course he demanded she tell him right then and there. It turns out she found him a new CHOR foster home and planned for him to start having respite over the weekends to adjust to the new home. The couple was also at training last night and she wanted to introduce him to them. That is until he dropped the bomb that we had been planning on telling her at her home visit on Thursday – I had agreed to have him stay. Well how do you like that? The kid goes from having no options and no homes to having two options in two homes. I assured him during our short drive home that this revelation did not change my mind, but that it is now a decision for the county and CHOR to make regarding where they think it would be best for him. He, of course, said he wants to stay and not go with “that ratched family” – I know this other foster family and they are not “ratched” they are very nice. I had a child stay with them for several weeks during the day while I was at work, until she became abusive to their little daughter and granddaughter. I think he would fit in fine with their family and I’m sure they would treat him very well. It’s just funny how this worked out, isn’t it? I get all upset about the situation, thinking the kid’s gonna be dumped in the street if I get a call for a placement, decide to keep him and almost immediately CHOR finds a suitable solution for him. I guess we will have a better idea of the outcome on Thursday. I did notify my family worker at CHOR regarding the whole situation, letting her know I had decided the kid could stay, but that it is now in the hands of the county and CHOR. I was also emailing her about a possible placement a friend sent to me for a little toddler girl. I have zero hope for the little girl because they seem to be leaning more towards a two parent home, but as I told the family worker, I would rather hear a “no thanks” than always wonder “what if.” So, my goal right now is to get the basement bedroom in order and then see where we go from there…….

 

 

My mom called me after work last night to let me know she managed to get the full MRI (even though she got sick at the end). We were praying the cancer was contained to one area and had not already spread like the doctor thought it had. And, we were hoping the MRI would give a clearer picture of this. Unfortunately, the MRI seemed to show the cancer was larger than the doctor thought and seems to be moving quickly. She needs to have another MRI with some kind of cable being threaded inside her breast to see the cancer better. They will also be putting the chemo port in at this time. I wish it weren’t so, but this is just one step of many which will require my mom to be strong and brave and face her fears. All I can offer is a “atta girl” as she slays her Goliath. And pray for miracle healing.

 

Making Peace

Time gives us clarity. While still reeling from all the news and decisions from last week, I could hardly get a breath, let alone think straight to get past it all. Luckily, I was able to proceed calmly and find some options and hopefully solutions. I saw my mom this past weekend and she is still very upset about everything and trying not to get overwhelmed by it all, but she is ready for the fight. She will need an MRI on Wednesday to see if the doctor can get a clearer picture of the extent of the cancerous cells. She tried to get an MRI a few weeks ago and just couldn’t do it – apparently, you have to go into the machine on your stomach with  your arms pinned to your side and something on top of you holding you down. She had tried taking some Ativan but it didn’t really help her stay calm enough to complete the hour long test. Wednesday she must try again. Later this week she will have a meeting with a whole host of medical professionals to discuss her treatment options and she has a lot of questions for them. She has been a nurse for over 30 years and so naturally she has a lot of good medical questions she wants answered before she begins any treatment or has any procedures. At this point, she will be getting chemo via a port they will put in just above her breast. I encouraged her to take things one day at a time because she kept leaping ahead into the what-ifs and driving herself crazy about it all. She was so upset about not being able to garden, reiterating how spring is such a busy time outside. I will have to rearrange as much of my schedule as I can in order to help her care for her gardens so she can sit and enjoy them. I want to give her as little to worry about as possible so she can concentrate on getting healthy and kicking cancers ass. There isn’t really much else I can do, although I did offer to take her to her chemo appointments if need be (I can use my sick time for that because she is immediate family). I offered her my hair for a wig but she begged me not to cut it for her because it will only make her feel worse. We hope to find a nice wig for her and I vowed to learn how to tie head scarves. This is how we are gearing up for war.

 

Call me crazy, but I had no peace in my heart following the planning meeting last week. My heart was screaming at me to do something because it knows I couldn’t deal with throwing a kid out of my house just to have my way and get what I want. I could never feel right about that. So, I called and spoke to my new family worker, explaining to her how I felt about the whole situation with the kid living with me and getting kicked out if/when I get a placement. I explained how I felt it was unfair to do that to the kid, despite my hesitance in agreeing to take him in, he’s here now and he’s a human being with feelings, not a sack of clothes to get shoved around at our whims. I told her I wanted to find a win-win situation for him and for me. We talked about the basement bedroom idea and she warmed to this as a great possibility to put be back to where I was before – one bedroom available for same gender siblings. She assured me that no one at CHOR and certainly not the county, who is struggling to find the kid a place, would be upset if I changed my mind and decided to keep him. She too assured me the kid would be ok if I decided to stick to the original plan and have him move on and leave my home. So, I talked to the kid about the realities we are facing. I made no promises to him, but I asked him how he would feel about staying in my home knowing at any moment I could get another placement and that it would change the dynamic of the home. He said he would like to stay, if that were possible (we both understand that we don’t always get to make these decisions, that the county, the courts and CHOR have the final say in what happens), and he wouldn’t mind little ones in the house or that my attention would be divided. He said he really doesn’t want to keep bouncing around from foster home to foster home. I can understand that. So, we will talk to his case worker when she comes out and tell her the plan – as soon as I get my income tax return (I’ve been having some issues with that) we will begin working on the basement bedroom leaving a room open upstairs for a second placement. This way the kid can stay as long as need be. My family worker mentioned a few times about the kid staying on in a more permanent placement but that this would be a decision to make at a later date and time. The decision to make right now is if he can stay until the court decides he’s going home or not. I care for this kid and I don’t want to see him ending up in a shelter just so I can get what I want. So, the game plan is to open up some more space in my home, allowing him to stay and hoping things will still work out for me to get a placement for a baby I can adopt. The family worker questioned if I thought I could handle two or may be three kids, to which I explained I had three children under the age of 5 at one time and I was capable of “handling” them, so I feel confident in handling a teenager plus two small children. As a sign of my intentions, I began cleaning the basement on Saturday, so I could move all the things from the bedroom side (which is heated and cleaner) to the storage side preparing for the son of my friend to come and begin working. He thinks he can get the work done in a week’s time, so I think the longest part of the process will be waiting for the tax return. Maybe I’m crazy in considering this, but I feel so much more peaceful in making the decision than I was feeling after the planning meeting last Thursday. I never intended on taking in a teenager, let alone a boy (mostly because I worried about connecting with a teenage boy and finding things to do with a teenage boy), but this is where things are at right now. This kid has been the easiest foster care placement I have had in terms of behavioral issues and workload and since we get along and have no issues I have no problem extending his stay and putting forth an effort to make things a little easier for him. I guess I’m just a bleeding heart or maybe I have a hero complex or something. But, there are two things that break my heart – abused, mistreated, or unwanted children and animals. I think they all deserve a loving home and at least one person who gives a damn about them and I plan on being that person for as many as I can manage. I’m not fooling myself, I know this situation can add a whole new level of difficulty to my ability to get a placement. Call it a strike against me, but in the end we are talking about decisions that are life-altering and if I don’t have peace about something then there must be a reason for it. Whatever the outcome, I can lay my head down at night knowing I did what I could do to make a difference and I have peace with that.  

 

Under Water

(This is from Friday, March 21, 2014)

 

My mom called me this morning before work to tell me she is cutting her hair. Lately, she’s been wearing her hair pretty long and she curls it nearly every day. She wants to cut it in stages, so it’s not so shocking for her. She plans to cut it to her shoulders first and then shorter after she starts chemo. We talked briefly about getting a wig and I told her I had already looked up the possibility of donating my hair to make her a wig. I’ve cut my hair twice before to donate it and while I was trying to see how long I can get it, I would definitely cut if off if it helped her in any way. She was worried about losing her job stating she needs to keep working because their health insurance comes from her employer. It’s sad to think that she works in a women’s clinic, dealing with women’s health issues (like breast cancer) and yet still worries about losing her job. It’s terrible. She mentioned being disappointed she had not called my photographer friend to take pictures of her and my dad (I had given them a gift card for the photo shoot two years ago for Christmas) “before all this.” I cried after I hung up the phone.

 

I feel like I’m living under water right now. When I was younger, I would sometimes get tired of playing in the pool, so I would roll onto my back and float. With my ears submerged under water, my sense of hearing was dulled. I could hear my breathing, the calming whoosh of air pumping in and out of my lungs. Other sounds were muffled, barely audible and distorted by the water. Now, instead of feeling calm by the quieted world, I feel trapped, like I am sitting under water and I need to hear but it’s garbled, I need to see but the water refracts my vision of the world. My movements are lethargic, fighting the weight of the body of water that encases me and yet I know the pace of the world has not changed, I’m just helpless to react to it. Life does not stop. It does not slow down so you can process one thing first before the next thing hits you. Like the relentless waves pounding the shore, life just keeps coming at you with no pause, no delay. I don’t know whether to scream or cry or both. Last night I wept as I took my shower (after the kid went to bed). I cried for my mom and what she’s facing. I cried for my dad and my family because we are going through this together. I cried for the kid because it seems like no one wants him and that’s a terrible, terrible thing. I took in a kitten because he was the only one in the litter no one wanted and I couldn’t let that happen to him. He was the sweetest cat ever (unfortunately, he passed away). How can I let a child feel unwanted? He said to me again this morning how he really wants me to be able to get what I want (a baby) and he told me he will be alright. I cried for me because it feels like my placement is now tainted because I have to kick this kid to the curb to get it. I thought I was helping, I thought I was doing a good thing by taking this kid in, but it doesn’t feel that way anymore. I  was just postponing the inevitable. If I were to get a placement today, he would end up in a shelter, when I took him in to prevent that very thing from happening. My heart is screaming at me to do something but I am frozen, what can I do? I can tell them not to move him – after demanding his stay be temporary, after whining that I don’t have a permanent placement. They might call into question my mental state if I start going all bi-polar and flip-flopping on things. I don’t know, I can’t seem to piece things together, to make sense of my world right now. I’m blinded by the pain of it all.   

Bad News

It’s news no one ever wants to hear. I found out last night on my way to my final beekeepers class that my mom has breast cancer. Her mother died from breast cancer a few days before my sister was born. I know my mom has always feared getting breast cancer because of watching her mother battle and eventually lose her life to it. But, it’s 2014, not 1986 and there have been vast improvements to cancer treatments in the past 28 years. Still, it’s scary. The doctor’s want to start chemo right away. I know she fears losing her hair, losing her breasts, the pain and the scarring. I fear it too. My mom met with the oncologist this afternoon to learn about her treatment options and prognosis. I spoke to my sister last night and she is planning on coming home this weekend, assuming my mom wants visitors. My sister also wants to talk to me about the impact our mom’s diagnosis has on our own health. Having a grandmother who had breast cancer slightly increases our chances of getting breast cancer. Having a mother with breast cancer significantly increases the odds. Having both a maternal grandmother and mother with breast cancer sounds the alarm bells. We will need to begin getting mammograms much earlier than the “regular” population. We could even decide to do something drastic, like get preventative mastectomies rather than run the risk of breast cancer. There are other things we need to worry about too. My sister brought up the fact that their insurance might not cover all the costs of the medication and treatments. And I said we should remember to try to help ease the stress load for our dad as well as our mom because Dad has been dealing with his parents’ health issues for a few years and now has Mom to worry about. I know a lot of the responsibilities will fall to me because I am the oldest and I live much closer than my sister. Technically my brother lives closer to the farm, but we can’t count on him to do much, so it will be me. My mom is proud and she has never been one to just sit on her laurels. I remember one summer when she had neck surgery (to take bone from her hip and fuse it into her neck due to disk degeneration) and not long after that a hysterectomy. She was supposed to relax and recuperate. Instead she was tending to her flower garden, cleaning the house and cooking. One night she insisted I take her to the mall. We walked nearly the whole length and were headed back when she began to weeble-wobble because her hip was hurting her. She refused to sit and let me bring the car around to the closest exit, she insisted she could walk all the way back. So, I know it will be a battle to get her to heed the doctor’s instructions to take it easy and I know she will not be calling for help. We are preparing for battle, gearing up for what could be a very nasty fight – as long as she is willing to fight, we will fight alongside her. That’s all there is to it.  

 

In addition to getting the bad news from my mother, this afternoon the CHOR case worker and county case worker came over to my house for a visit and planning meeting. The kid has been on pins and needles about this meeting, assuring me it meant they were moving him and soon. I reiterated that we did not know what their plans for were and we should not worry so much about the things we cannot control (said the pot to the kettle). The CHOR case worker last week promised that the county was still looking for a more permanent solution for the kid, to which I pondered just how hard it was to find a suitable home for a teenage boy. I know he doesn’t want to leave and I also know I was up-front with him, explaining that this was just a temporary solution. But, I know how he feels. It’s easy to get lulled into complacency and not want that to change. Life ain’t easy kid, hate to be the one to have to tell you. Ok, in reality I’m not so callous and I surely wouldn’t talk to him like that and in reality, he doesn’t need a wake-up call to the cruel whimsy of life. The county case worker asked the time frame on how quickly she needed to find a home (after explaining all the things she already tried) and the CHOR case worker said she was told if a placement came in for me, they would request the kid be moved the same day. Yikes bikes! I think the kid went to the bathroom to hide his tears and I don't think I could have felt like more of a heartless, selfish bitch. In reality, I've been waiting nearly 6 months without getting a placement so why they think something's going to pop up in the next several days/weeks is beyond me. After they left, the kid came over and leaned on my shoulder, facing away from me. I felt him take a deep breath and whisper, "I don't want to leave." I patted his shoulder and rubbed his back. I said the only thing I could, "I know. I'm sorry." If I were him, I'm sure I would feel so unwanted. A few minutes after our embrace the kid turned to me and said, "You know it's hard. It's like I want to stay but I also want you to have a baby like you want." That's a lot of maturity for a kid his age. Bless his sweet little heart. I told him I wished for the same thing - that I could both get a baby and keep him. And I've never felt so wretchedly narcissistic in my entire life.    

 

Final Phase

Motherhood, for me, has been a process of coming to terms with different phases while trying to attain the goal of becoming a mother. The first phase was simple – embrace the change from no kids to a brand new baby, gear up for pregnancy and learn to be a mother. It was exciting and scary and wonderful. It was also too short-lived. As that first year dragged on and pregnancy remained elusive, fear crept in. And the worst fears were confirmed year two when testing proved I was not ovulating regularly. Thus began phase two – the battle of infertility. This was an ugly phase, directed by a tyrannical roller coast ride of emotions and a barrage of humanity-stripping testing that all resulted in a too-expensive treatment option. This led to phase three, which was coming to terms with not having a biological child and embracing adoption. Little buds of hope sprang from the desolation of infertility and it seemed that the journey was nearly complete when a little boy was placed in our lives. I will never forget the surreal feeling of driving home with this child and all his stuff in the back of our car. It just couldn’t be real, could it? No, it wasn’t. Then the unthinkable happened and I began a new phase all alone – no child, no husband, no hope. I didn’t stay in this phase long, I mourned what was lost and pulled myself from the depths of despair back to a livable life. And here I am, in phase five trying to adopt alone and my tires are spinning but I have gained no traction. In fact, these days I feel like I have slid backwards. And I think it is finally time for me to reach the final phase – admit defeat and realize that motherhood is just not meant to be for me. I have queried many times as to when enough would be enough and it would be time to throw in the towel. I had decided to put a date on it, stating this is the last year I will be trying to become a mother. I know that it is only March, but this year already feels like a failure to me. I don’t know what will happen during the planning meeting on Thursday – if the county will ask me to keep this kid and give him permanency or if they will announce they have found him a new foster home. I do know I can’t kick him out. I’m a lot of things but heartless bitch is not one of them. I still plan to move forward on the basement project, once I get my income tax return, but unlike the Field of Dreams, just because I build it does not mean “they” will come. The emotional fall-out from the Christmas miracle baby really just took the wind from my sails, it stripped me bare and left me feeling so broken. I thought I could come back from that, but I cannot think about it without crying my eyes out and no other potential placement since has compared to the joy I felt with that one. Maybe I’m close, so close I could almost touch it – like this photo. The problem is I have no way of knowing. I could still be a million miles away. And I’m tired. I’m so tired. I’m tired of being hopeful only to be disappointed again and again. I’m tired of feeling like I’ve done something wrong to deserve this misery. I’m tired of watching everyone else get what I want, while I try to grasp at broken dreams. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not living my life because I’m too busy waiting for some impossible thing to happen. It’s time to face the music and accept reality, no matter how harsh and disappointing it may be. I want to believe that God has a good plan for my life, but I can’t seem to get out of this hole. I cannot understand why I had to endure the whole Christmas miracle baby debacle – what was the point of that? It’s not like that was the first time I felt the sting of losing a placement or the searing loss of something I so badly wanted. I know the pain of loss intimately. I am stripped bare emotionally and I have nothing more to lose. Know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away – and I think it’s about that time.