A friend took me out to lunch today. She wanted to tell me about how she'd found her foster-son from years ago on Facebook. He's 16 now. He still has the toy box she and her husband gave him when he was a boy.
He's eager to chat with her, and when she invited me to lunch she was ecstatic to have found him.
But by the time we got around to actually meeting for lunch, two weeks later, she'd actually talked with him.
"He's so...violent," she said in despair. "I tried, I told him, that's not how we raised you."
But he's living with his father, and the lessons of home are hard to break even if the child doesn't go back.
We talked, for the first time, about Jacob and about - let's call him D.
D. got kicked out of so many schools, she told me. So many. She can't remember how often she had to leave work to rush off and get him because he was out of control, hitting teachers and other kids.
It sounded a lot like Jacob, but worse. She had D. longer. For years. She tried all that time to fight for him to get help, and no one would let her get him anything - not counseling, not medicine, nothing.
By the time he was returned to his family, she said, a part of her hoped he would go.
"I didn't want him to go back to THEM," she said. "But I was just being terrorized. So there was some relief."
I told her a little bit about Jacob, and she told me she wouldn't blame us for "anything you decided to do."
Especially not with the baby coming. How could we keep the baby safe, she asked.
But I could not bring myself to say the words, "We sent him away."
It is still just too awful.
As I listened to her despair about trying to help D. now, whom she still loves, trying to guide him through Facebook conversations, I had to confess I hoped Jacob would contact me some day.
I hope he will forgive me.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
The Big Reveal
We told the kids Friday night, after it became clear no one was going to do anything about the "tell them Wednesday, say goodbye and leave" plan. (And, indeed, despite people promising they would call us "today," no one actually called us until Monday, when they were still intending to go ahead with the plan that they all privately agreed would be bad for the kids.)
Thank god we did it, because it really helped them process the news and come to terms with it. As we watched them slowly grieve and then heal over the past four days, we knew we'd made the right decision.
And we also learned (this week) that no clinicians had actually been scheduled to make this a "therapeutic" event, and also that communication was so poor that none of the three agencies involved knew where and when the event was to take place. One agency (the one with the supposed clinicians) thought it would be at the DSS office at 4 p.m., which is when and where visits were being held at the start of the summer. DSS thought it would be at their office at 3:30 p.m., because that's when the visits have been for the past month. But the third agency had actually told bio mom to come to their office in Malta at 2:45 p.m. So by the time the clinicians, if there had been any, showed up at DSS, the visit would have already been over in Malta.
It would have been horrible, even with clinicians.
So we told them at the end of dinner. This is how we did it. (All our statements are true, though they are not, as you know, the true reason for the move.)
I taught the kids how to converse at a table by explaining that each person should tell their "big news" from the day and then ask another person about their big news. So at the end of the dinner, we explained that our big news was that Sandy's mom is very sick.
They know her and have visited her in the hospital, as well as going on car rides and such with her. They got very quiet.
We explained that she is so sick, she must come live with us so we can take care of her.
And then we explained that they can't share a room with her or each other, and thus we don't have enough bedrooms.
They started to get a bit concerned at this point.
So, we said as brightly as possible, we talked with mommy and the caseworkers and they asked if there was anyone the kids really liked, who would love to have them live with them, and we said yes! They love Jacob's new babysitter!
And so, we said, we were very very sad but they would be moving to her house next week.
Sophia burst into tears first. It took Jacob a moment longer to understand, and then he burst into tears too. We held them both, rocking them and singing to them but not trying to stop them from crying. I think it's healthy to cry at big losses.
At first they both kept wailing, "Right now? Tonight?" in tones of despair. When we assured them it was not until next week, they kept asking, "Is it tomorrow?" But we counted the days together -- five days! -- and that reassured them. Thank god we didn't do this at the last minute Wednesday!
After awhile -- 15 minutes? 30 minutes? -- they calmed a little and we talked about ways they could comfort themselves. They both requested their comfort forts, so Jacob and I put his back together (he's ripped it apart many times) and my wife got Sophia's out and put it in the dining room for her. But just the act of doing that seemed to calm them, and then we got out all the toys that we had taken away from Jacob over the months because he hit people with them. All the big, hard, painful toys. That really delighted them and they played happily for a little while.
Then we went into the bedtime routine, and they took great comfort in that, and in being in their bedrooms, which they love. Both kids needed more soothing than normal, of course, but the reason we chose Friday was because we would both be there to do bedtime for as long as it took.
It took about an hour. Both kids fell asleep well.
Heartbreakingly, the next night Jacob asked me: "When we sleep at [new family's home], we'll still have dinner here, right?" He wanted to always hear my big news.
They have both repeatedly asked if they will see us again.
We told them we want to see them, want them to visit us, want to visit them, and have told every agency involved. But, we said, they have to ask. Not just once or twice. They have to beg everyone: mommy, caseworkers, law guardian. It's mommy's decision.
They know that mommy probably won't want us to see them. But so far she has not told DSS to have us stay away. So I'm hopeful. Even if we can just see them a couple times after the move, I think it will help with the transition -- they'll know we're still around, we still care about them, we didn't just vanish.
But just in case, I also told them how to remember the name of my wife's business, and told them that someday, when they're older, they will be able to use computers and phones and they can look her business up on the computer. Her website has her phone number.
Probably in a few months they will move on, adjust well to their new life and not think of us much at all. They are so young -- 4 and 5 years old -- that we will quickly fade in their memories. I remember almost nothing from that age. But if they do, if they someday want to piece together parts of their life, we will be here. Waiting. Ready.
Thank god we did it, because it really helped them process the news and come to terms with it. As we watched them slowly grieve and then heal over the past four days, we knew we'd made the right decision.
And we also learned (this week) that no clinicians had actually been scheduled to make this a "therapeutic" event, and also that communication was so poor that none of the three agencies involved knew where and when the event was to take place. One agency (the one with the supposed clinicians) thought it would be at the DSS office at 4 p.m., which is when and where visits were being held at the start of the summer. DSS thought it would be at their office at 3:30 p.m., because that's when the visits have been for the past month. But the third agency had actually told bio mom to come to their office in Malta at 2:45 p.m. So by the time the clinicians, if there had been any, showed up at DSS, the visit would have already been over in Malta.
It would have been horrible, even with clinicians.
So we told them at the end of dinner. This is how we did it. (All our statements are true, though they are not, as you know, the true reason for the move.)
I taught the kids how to converse at a table by explaining that each person should tell their "big news" from the day and then ask another person about their big news. So at the end of the dinner, we explained that our big news was that Sandy's mom is very sick.
They know her and have visited her in the hospital, as well as going on car rides and such with her. They got very quiet.
We explained that she is so sick, she must come live with us so we can take care of her.
And then we explained that they can't share a room with her or each other, and thus we don't have enough bedrooms.
They started to get a bit concerned at this point.
So, we said as brightly as possible, we talked with mommy and the caseworkers and they asked if there was anyone the kids really liked, who would love to have them live with them, and we said yes! They love Jacob's new babysitter!
And so, we said, we were very very sad but they would be moving to her house next week.
Sophia burst into tears first. It took Jacob a moment longer to understand, and then he burst into tears too. We held them both, rocking them and singing to them but not trying to stop them from crying. I think it's healthy to cry at big losses.
At first they both kept wailing, "Right now? Tonight?" in tones of despair. When we assured them it was not until next week, they kept asking, "Is it tomorrow?" But we counted the days together -- five days! -- and that reassured them. Thank god we didn't do this at the last minute Wednesday!
After awhile -- 15 minutes? 30 minutes? -- they calmed a little and we talked about ways they could comfort themselves. They both requested their comfort forts, so Jacob and I put his back together (he's ripped it apart many times) and my wife got Sophia's out and put it in the dining room for her. But just the act of doing that seemed to calm them, and then we got out all the toys that we had taken away from Jacob over the months because he hit people with them. All the big, hard, painful toys. That really delighted them and they played happily for a little while.
Then we went into the bedtime routine, and they took great comfort in that, and in being in their bedrooms, which they love. Both kids needed more soothing than normal, of course, but the reason we chose Friday was because we would both be there to do bedtime for as long as it took.
It took about an hour. Both kids fell asleep well.
Heartbreakingly, the next night Jacob asked me: "When we sleep at [new family's home], we'll still have dinner here, right?" He wanted to always hear my big news.
They have both repeatedly asked if they will see us again.
We told them we want to see them, want them to visit us, want to visit them, and have told every agency involved. But, we said, they have to ask. Not just once or twice. They have to beg everyone: mommy, caseworkers, law guardian. It's mommy's decision.
They know that mommy probably won't want us to see them. But so far she has not told DSS to have us stay away. So I'm hopeful. Even if we can just see them a couple times after the move, I think it will help with the transition -- they'll know we're still around, we still care about them, we didn't just vanish.
But just in case, I also told them how to remember the name of my wife's business, and told them that someday, when they're older, they will be able to use computers and phones and they can look her business up on the computer. Her website has her phone number.
Probably in a few months they will move on, adjust well to their new life and not think of us much at all. They are so young -- 4 and 5 years old -- that we will quickly fade in their memories. I remember almost nothing from that age. But if they do, if they someday want to piece together parts of their life, we will be here. Waiting. Ready.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Guilty thoughts
I'll update later with how it went, telling the kids, but overall it was a really good, therapeutic weekend.
Today was Part 2 of the psych eval. The doc convinced Bio Mom to let Jacob have the medicine that his pediatrician tried to prescribe months ago. This time she agreed, and signed the paperwork.
He also agreed with the pediatrician that there's more going on here than ADHD. He said there's some sort of anxiety disorder, and maybe other things -- but he's so young and so overwhelmed with impulses that it's hard to tell. But, he said, in his brief talk with Jacob he had to redirect him more than 30 times.
What he did not address was the times when redirection doesn't work, and Jacob goes into a violent rage.
Is that because he doesn't believe it happens? Does he think it won't happen once Jacob is on this new medication? Did we give up on him too soon?
He told Bio Mom that Jacob might seem like "an entirely different boy" after the new medication takes effect. We start it tonight.
This decision was so, so hard, and seeing the kids grieve has been so hard. And now I'm wondering...Sure, I can tell myself the following:
1. She still hasn't set up the counseling that the doc says Jacob needs, and which is court-ordered, and which she said she would set up weeks ago.
2. She could withdraw approval for this medication at any time, just like she did last time.
3. It might not address the rages at all, which the pediatrician said are not a symptom of ADHD.
But a part of me feels like a terrible failure for giving up. And the new family seems great at handling stuff like this, yes, but there are things the new foster mom says at times that worry me. Will he really be loved and cherished there?
Did we do the right thing?
Certainly I can say foster care in general was not the right thing for us. We are clearly not the right people for it. We care. We get attached. We advocate for the kids.
And also, we were clearly not the right people for these kids...the 4-hour medical appointments, once or twice a WEEK, were killing our ability to work. And the utter lack of communication was driving us batty. Only by directly asking a caseworker today, two days before the next mom visit, did we learn they'd changed the time of the visit again. This time they've decided it should be at 2:45 p.m. (It was previously at 4 p.m., except that they randomly change it.) I explained that Sophia's camp has a field trip, and won't be back til 3 p.m., and thus the earliest we can get the kids to the location they've chosen is 3:45 p.m.
I don't know how other foster parents who work full-time do it. But we can't.
And we can't raise children without loving them, and driving ourselves crazy beating our heads against the wall of bureaucracy.
So this wasn't for us, but we wanted to give the children our all anyway.
I just hope this decision is right.
Today was Part 2 of the psych eval. The doc convinced Bio Mom to let Jacob have the medicine that his pediatrician tried to prescribe months ago. This time she agreed, and signed the paperwork.
He also agreed with the pediatrician that there's more going on here than ADHD. He said there's some sort of anxiety disorder, and maybe other things -- but he's so young and so overwhelmed with impulses that it's hard to tell. But, he said, in his brief talk with Jacob he had to redirect him more than 30 times.
What he did not address was the times when redirection doesn't work, and Jacob goes into a violent rage.
Is that because he doesn't believe it happens? Does he think it won't happen once Jacob is on this new medication? Did we give up on him too soon?
He told Bio Mom that Jacob might seem like "an entirely different boy" after the new medication takes effect. We start it tonight.
This decision was so, so hard, and seeing the kids grieve has been so hard. And now I'm wondering...Sure, I can tell myself the following:
1. She still hasn't set up the counseling that the doc says Jacob needs, and which is court-ordered, and which she said she would set up weeks ago.
2. She could withdraw approval for this medication at any time, just like she did last time.
3. It might not address the rages at all, which the pediatrician said are not a symptom of ADHD.
But a part of me feels like a terrible failure for giving up. And the new family seems great at handling stuff like this, yes, but there are things the new foster mom says at times that worry me. Will he really be loved and cherished there?
Did we do the right thing?
Certainly I can say foster care in general was not the right thing for us. We are clearly not the right people for it. We care. We get attached. We advocate for the kids.
And also, we were clearly not the right people for these kids...the 4-hour medical appointments, once or twice a WEEK, were killing our ability to work. And the utter lack of communication was driving us batty. Only by directly asking a caseworker today, two days before the next mom visit, did we learn they'd changed the time of the visit again. This time they've decided it should be at 2:45 p.m. (It was previously at 4 p.m., except that they randomly change it.) I explained that Sophia's camp has a field trip, and won't be back til 3 p.m., and thus the earliest we can get the kids to the location they've chosen is 3:45 p.m.
I don't know how other foster parents who work full-time do it. But we can't.
And we can't raise children without loving them, and driving ourselves crazy beating our heads against the wall of bureaucracy.
So this wasn't for us, but we wanted to give the children our all anyway.
I just hope this decision is right.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Child abuse
Today we were informed that our agency's "clinicians" have decided it's best for the children to not be told of their impending move until it literally happens. They want us to bring the kids to their visit with their mom next Wednesday, and we are "welcome to be present" while someone else tells the kids they are moving to a new home right then.
Until then, we are asked to please not tell them anything.
I cannot, frankly, think of anything more damaging to do to a child -- except, perhaps, permanently physically injuring them.
I am literally shaking with rage.
So, tonight we're telling the kids. I recognize this might lead to the kids getting removed earlier, if our agency or the bio mom find out, and there's not much I can do to keep them from finding out. I figure we'll do the daily mom call early today, and then tell them, and try our best to keep Saturday's call short and focused. Possibly if we call while we're doing something really entertaining...I won't do anything as awful as telling the kids to keep it a secret. Never. But I am not going to let them be blindsided by their horrible mother and the spineless caseworkers who are supposed to protect them.
If it does come out, I might be able to excuse it as the kids figuring it out -- their mom asked incredibly leading questions last night. I thought she was going to give it away right then. Their new mom also gave it away a bit -- told Jacob "this is going to be your room!" when he came over to visit. And then our family specialist called last night while the kids were in the car and tried to schedule a time to tell the kids. We eventually gave up having that veiled conversation, took the kids home, and hid in the bathroom to talk. But they obviously know something is up. Sophia would not leave me today -- took me 30 minutes to get her to go play at preschool. She just wanted to cling to me.
So here I am again, at work, trying to get work done while spending the majority of my time advocating for the kids instead. It's just so frustrating.
Until then, we are asked to please not tell them anything.
I cannot, frankly, think of anything more damaging to do to a child -- except, perhaps, permanently physically injuring them.
I am literally shaking with rage.
So, tonight we're telling the kids. I recognize this might lead to the kids getting removed earlier, if our agency or the bio mom find out, and there's not much I can do to keep them from finding out. I figure we'll do the daily mom call early today, and then tell them, and try our best to keep Saturday's call short and focused. Possibly if we call while we're doing something really entertaining...I won't do anything as awful as telling the kids to keep it a secret. Never. But I am not going to let them be blindsided by their horrible mother and the spineless caseworkers who are supposed to protect them.
If it does come out, I might be able to excuse it as the kids figuring it out -- their mom asked incredibly leading questions last night. I thought she was going to give it away right then. Their new mom also gave it away a bit -- told Jacob "this is going to be your room!" when he came over to visit. And then our family specialist called last night while the kids were in the car and tried to schedule a time to tell the kids. We eventually gave up having that veiled conversation, took the kids home, and hid in the bathroom to talk. But they obviously know something is up. Sophia would not leave me today -- took me 30 minutes to get her to go play at preschool. She just wanted to cling to me.
So here I am again, at work, trying to get work done while spending the majority of my time advocating for the kids instead. It's just so frustrating.
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