How should we say no?

It's been almost a month since we packed up the kids, broke the rules to tell them what was happening, and managed on our own to create a smooth transition for them. I have grieved them almost every day since then. Our foster agency hasn't contacted us at all -- though the kids' new foster mom has twice given us updates on the kids. Because foster parents are decent people, unlike the people who run the system.

And then, today, our agency called.

Were they calling to see how we were doing?

To arrange a visit to help the kids avoid attachment disorders by knowing we're still around, still caring about them?

To do, perhaps, an after-care survey so they could improve their services, as many actual for-profit companies do?

Nope.

They were calling with a new placement.

Our agency homefinder started the message by cheerfully saying that she knows I'm about to give birth, and this placement might be more than what I want to take on at this time, but...do I want to take three kids?

Now I have to decide how to say no. There are just so many choices.

There's the simple version: Sorry, we have no rooms, my mother-in-law is moving in and we have a baby on the way. (Or, alternatively but still true: Sorry, I have no energy, I am 9 months pregnant.)

Then there's the contemptuous: After everything you did to us, to actively stop us from ever getting help and then making our good-bye with the kids as horrible as possible (until, admittedly, we broke the rules to avoid it), you DARE to...

Or maybe I should go the long way and explain why we are putting our license on hiatus for the foreseeable future. This should start with something like, "We do deeply believe in the needs of the children and we want to be there for them. We just don't want to work with you ever again."

Choices, choices. We had intended to write a formal resignation letter, but my wife is still pretty angry (OK, so am I) and so we have mostly been writing hate letters in our heads, waiting for time to smooth out the rough edges so we can write something professional. I feel strongly that no matter how terrible the experience, it's how we handle it that's important - and therefore, we should be professional and calm, even if they weren't.

But honestly, between getting ready for the baby and moving in my mother-in-law, we've been pretty busy. So I haven't done it. And now push has come to shove, and it's time to talk. I'll let you know how I do.

What now?

So, what can be done about the system we encountered?

The first unexpected problem that I think should be addressed is probably the most controversial: bio parents' rights.

I am all too familiar with the cases in which parents lose their children for ridiculous reasons. And I certainly understand that people's rights should be protected.

But.

If you're going to put children into another parent's hands, you have to give that parent the authority to care for the child. From little things, like sunscreen, to big things -- like medical care.

If a doctor makes a diagnosis and prescribes medication, counseling, running around the block, whatever -- the foster parent should be able to implement that therapy.

I'd be willing to compromise on measures that I found annoying but understandable. Yes, it seems reasonable to have the children keep their pediatrician or other regular doctors they were seeing prior to entering foster care.

But it does not seem reasonable to let the bio parents select other doctors for the child -- particularly when it can lead, as it did for us, to choosing doctors far from everybody just to make it more annoying for us.

Similarly, the foster parent should have the authority to make dental appointments, eye appointments and so on. Letting a bio parent veto those appointments -- for many months -- strikes me as a form of abuse.


Now, in our case we hit a tricky problem: a child with a probable mental health diagnosis. But long before that happened, the bio mom was using her rights to stop eye appointments, counseling, and anything else she could mess with, for reasons that appeared to be frivolous. In general, I think I could sum up her attitude as: Don't do anything, because I'm going to get my kids back soon, and then *I* will do it.

Except that most bio parents don't get their kids back.

And those that do, get them back 15 months later, on average.

Now, DSS has the authority to over-rule the bio parents, and one could argue that's enough.

Except we saw all too clearly that DSS is over-worked (and maybe burnt out and maybe incompetent). At the very end, our DSS caseworker expressed surprise to hear that ANYTHING was going on with Jacob...even though she had been included on every email, had been called on every crisis, knew about the doctor appointments and problems therein, and had spoken with us on many occasions about Jacob's behavior.

Did she forget? Does she have too many children to care about one small case?

She visited the kids a total of twice in the six months they were in our care, even though the law says she must visit monthly. Our family specialist got to us almost once a month -- we saw the FSP four times. But by the rules of our agency, she was supposed to visit weekly.

24 weeks. 4 visits.

This certainly indicates how busy they are, and I don't think it's reasonable to require them to be involved in every nitty-gritty detail of scheduling a medical appointment.

Perhaps the bigger question is: why aren't foster parents trusted with these rights? Why would the system trust bio parents, but not foster parents -- who have, after all, gone through months of training, rigorous background checks and inspections?

I suppose the system respects bio parents so much that legislators focus on them, not the foster parents. I'm not suggesting rights be taken away from bio parents, so much as I'm saying foster parents can't properly parent with both hands tied behind their backs. They need the ability to seek medical help for the children in their care.

I intend to make an issue of this, but I'm hoping I can make it a lot clearer than I've done here.

Saying goodbye

The hardest part for me was Tuesday night, when I sang them to sleep for the last time. I could barely get through Jacob's songs without crying, and had to leave Sophia's room twice to "wet my throat." I finally had to ask my wife to help me sing the last song. Then, with both kids blissfully asleep, we sank onto the living room futon and cried.
 
On Wednesday morning the kids asked, as they always do, whether it was Wednesday. Usually they ask with excitement -- Wednesday is Mom Visit day, and they love cheering when it is FINALLY Wednesday. This time, they burst into tears. It was Goodbye Day.

Luckily, it was also Sophia's big field trip for the end of summer camp. They were going to a zoo. She was excited about that, so we were able to soothe her and get her focused on the good parts of the day.

For Jacob, on the other hand, it was nothing but Goodbye Day. He was deeply depressed by the whole thing. He begged to come back with us while we packed the minivan, rather than going to the new foster mom for babysitting. I let him stay so that he could say goodbye on his own terms. He helped carry out the bags we'd packed, but quickly that turned into him throwing his shoes and running off.

I sat with him while he struggled to cope with the turmoil he felt. He agreed to walk through the house one last time, to say goodbye, and then go to the new house. So my wife stopped what she was doing, we walked through the house, stopping and crying together and talking about our memories in many rooms, and then we all went to the new home.

Luckily, since he's been there daily for babysitting this past week, he was able to fall into a routine. We unpacked the van and headed back to do the last laundry and take the decals off the walls so we could decorate their new bedrooms just like their old bedrooms.

By the time I finished work, my wife had finished everything, and Jacob met me happily at the door to show me his room. He had destroyed so many of the decals he'd earned at our house that my wife decided to simply put up all the decals she had. So there were all new Batman decals, and he happily showed me every one.

Remembering how difficult it was for us at first, handed a mixed garbage bag of clothes for both kids, Sandy had sorted and folded everything so that the kids' clothes were all organized by type. The new foster mom was happily putting the last of Sophia's clothes away.

Then we had to get Jacob into the car to go get Sophia and bring them to their mom visit. They knew the goodbye was looming, but we tried to stay happy, singing the songs they have come to love. We also talked openly about it -- we talked about how much we'd miss them, and that it was OK to be sad, but that we hoped they would love and be happy at their new home. Finally, we pulled into the parking lot. Sophia looked stricken.

"You can do this," I told her. "Be brave. Remember, Mommy said we can see you again. All you have to do is ask."

She nodded and bravely got out of the car. I'd been afraid she would stick to her promise of refusing to leave, forcing me to carry her inside screaming and have the caseworkers peel her off. I wanted a better goodbye than that. I wanted her to remember something less traumatic than that. So we hugged them goodbye and walked them in, them clinging to our hands. Remember how it was supposed to be a therapeutic environment, with clinicians there to help the kids transition?

In reality, they had scheduled a lengthy meeting with the bio mom, in which she screamed at them for two hours, blaming them for god knows what. She had also brought a movie for the kids to watch. There were no clinicians there. Very therapeutic. I am so, so glad we told them early!

We were kept waiting because bio mom was off screaming at the caseworkers, and someone was dispatched to try to wrap things up so the kids could come in. The kids were utterly silent and motionless. This was not a good way to start things.

Eventually a caseworker came and walked them back to the room for the visit. We went back to the car and unhooked the car seats and gathered up other stuff that the new foster mom would need, which we had agreed to leave for her at the office. Then one of the caseworkers came out, saying that we were wanted in the visit to say goodbye. We explained that we'd already said goodbye because we'd been told we wouldn't be allowed in the visit. Well, she said, bio mom wants you to come say goodbye.

Righty-o. One last time, we will do whatever the bio mom wants. So we went in, and bio mom instructed the kids to hug us and say thank you, as if any child should ever have to say thank you to people for caring for them. We hugged them, and bio mom said that when they came home, she would take them to a park to meet up with us.

We tried to ignore the implicit threat: and until then, you won't see them. We knew, going into this, that was likely.

But the kids know they have to ask. It is unfair, and they are too young, but they have to advocate for themselves in this.

The DSS caseworker came out to chat with us as we were leaving. She told us that after the events of Monday (when bio grandmother whispered something to Jacob that made him cry hysterically for 15 minutes, and which he said she told him not to repeat to anyone), bio grandmother is banned from visits, doctor's appointments and phone calls. Given that she has caused no end of trouble during those times, we took it as a very positive sign that things might be easier for the new foster mom.

The DSS caseworker also expressed surprise when we said we would not be fostering anymore. We were professional, but we explained calmly that we did not want to be involved in the system any more.

More on that in another post.

In the meantime, we went home. I went to work. My wife went to work. We had to just pick ourselves up and carry on, as if our hearts were not broken forever.