A Single Moment

It was a hot, dusty afternoon.  I had loaded up my six kids into the van with a firm reprimand to the teenagers that I "EXPECTED" them to have fun.  My husband was off working for the day, and our community was celebrating in fine, small town summer fashion. 

The carnival was here  and so was the rodeo. There was a park full of musicians and children's performers.  We parked.  I loaded the babies into the little red wagon I tend to prefer over my cumbersome double stroller and we seven, together, walked into the crowd of people. 

"Look!" The urgent tone in my son's voice made me pause and follow the line of his finger. 

"That's HER?  Right?  Right?!?"  

And it was.  Now four and a half years old and not the toddler he remembered but the still same little girl that was their sister for a precious year.  We all stopped and stared. 

We didn't approach her.  I would never approach her.  But we stared. 

"Look how long her hair is!"
"Wow, she is big!"
"I miss her mommy"
"She is so, so precious"

And then  "Why is she by herself mom?"

The longer we watched, the more it became apparent that she was alone.  And scared.  And lost.   Her look changed from playful, to fearful, to terrified.  Seconds, and then minutes passed.  And tears began to fill her eyes as she scanned the large crowd of people looking for a familiar face. 

As did I. 

Where was She that took her from me?  Where was the one responsible for her?  Why is MY BABY alone in this crowd of people?  Why was she scared and crying and feeling alone? 

Oh God what are you doing to me.

I called her name. The name etched on my heart for eternity.  I am not even sure I meant to, but there was something in me that could not let her stand right there in front of me, mere yards away, and suffer.

For the first time in three years I called out her name in a tone and voice that once meant Mama to her.  And she turned instantly and ran the thirty feet across a dusty parking lot and without once looking at my face she wrapped herself around my legs. 

"I was lost" she sobbed, "I couldn't find anyone". 

She pulled back from my legs and looked at me.  Calmer now, but utterly confused she realized she didn't recognize me, yet had ran to me because she thought she had. 

She knew my voice, she didn't know my face.

On my knees,  I wrapped my arms around and her and promised her it would be OK.  Encircled by my standing sons who just simply stared in awe at what was happening,  I told her my name was Jen.  That once, a long long time ago I was a special friend and that I would help her find that who she was searching for. 

"I was really scared" she said, tears still streaming down her face. 

I have begged God.  Begged.  Just one more hug.  Please God I need one more chance to tell her I love her.  I need to feel her weight in my arms just one more time.  I need that chance to whisper to her that I will never, ever forget.  Just.One.More.Moment. Please, God. Please.

Now?  Here?  Oh God I cannot do this.  I cannot believe this is happening.  Please let me remember this.  Let me savor every single second.  This is going to end.  Oh God this is going to end too soon.

With instructions to my sons to keep looking for the missing grownup, I took my finger and tucked her hair behind her ear, and took my sleeve and wiped the dusty tears from her face.

"When you were a little, tiny baby and were feeling sad or scared I would sing you this song and it would make you smile"

And there, on that dusty, packed dirt parking lot, surrounded by 1000s of people bustling around to enjoy the celebrations of the day oblivious to a mother's broken heart,  the cry of that heart was heard as she sang a lullaby to big girl sitting on her lap. 

Tanner came back, having spotted who we were all looking for, oblivious to the parking lot drama, sitting a fair distance away visiting with a friend. 

"I love you so much.  I never want you to forget that you are a loved and beautiful girl"

I stood her up.  I placed her hand in Tanner's and promised her that he was a big, safe boy who loved her very much too and he would take where she needed to go.

She walked off once again with a smile on her face, holding the hand of my son as he pointed her in the right direction and she scrambled off from a past she doesn't remember to happily reunite with her present.

And I cried.  A blessing I had begged for.  A curse that ripped off the scab of healing.
And it took me six months to be able to write about. 

A Year Ago Today

I had other things I wanted to write about, but I would be remiss not to note that it was a year ago today I was laying on the couch, sore and emotionally exhausted.  Shel was stumbling around the house still reeling from the shock of losing his job and dealing with his wife having a cancer diagnosis.

The phone rang right around lunch time.  Strangely, it was from our local Ministry of Children and Family office.  A familiar voice was on the other end of the line.  "Jen" she said, "I know you are off work, and I am in a desperate situation.  I have two babies here and no where to place them locally, would you even consider becoming a foster parent again while you are off on medical leave?"

WHAT?!!??!!?? 

We hadn't been foster parents in years.  Our file long ago shut down by our choice.  We had zero interest in EVER dealing with the government agency and its craziness ever again.  We were done. 

DONE. 

Completely and totally DONE I tell you.

So we said we would talk about it.

And then we called back and asked for more information.  Two baby girls.  They would be separated tomorrow because there were no open homes with two available infant beds.  This was a last desperate shot as the social worker went through a list of people she knew in the community that might be interested in foster parenting.   Need lots of love and support.  Would probably be going home by August.

So we said we would have to talk it over with the boys when they got home from school.

Now, you have to understand how many "serious family talks" we had had with the boys in recent weeks.  First there was sitting them down to tell them that their Grandma Nan had died.  Then there was the whole "Papa is very, very sick" talk.  Then just a few days later there was the "This is a big surprise but Mommy has cancer too and needs surgery right away" conversation followed shortly by the "Crap, Daddy lost his job" chat.  Our kids had been through alot.  We all had been through alot.

So when those boys got home from school and we said we needed to have another family talk, a look of shock and horror but mostly deep fear crossed all their faces.  Babies were a breeze to talk about in comparison and the phone call was made to the social worker one minute before her office closed for the day.

Caden's bed was shoved against the wall and a playpen set up next to his bed.  He would be bunking with Tanner for now.  A cradle was placed carefully in my room. I put the call out on facebook that I might be needing some baby girl clothes and friends came by with box after box.

The babies arrived shortly after supper.  Precious, perfect and stunned into complete and total passiveness.

Our family had grown by two.  

Recent Favorites

I was mute for so long.  Unable to share the ups and the downs.  Our photos full of children I was not allowed to claim as my own.  It brings me great joy to share now. To share our journey from tiny ones that arrived one breezy spring day to growing, thriving, amazing toddlers that fill our home with joy.

 To challenge those who read at how big your heart can grow, to ask what you are being called to do.  To shout from the roof tops that I am blessed. 

My heart was broken, and oh how that space in my heart aches for she who once filled my arms, but oh I am blessed beyond  my wildest imaginations.  I was not sure I would ever again smile with my eyes.  And I do.  I am perfectly, wonderfully, amazingly blessed with daughters I did not know one year ago.

Openness in Foster Care: Part 4

I do not want to paint things with warm tones and romantic hues so that those reading think this was an easy journey.  There were some very, very hard moments. 

I already mentioned the parent getting arrested during a visit I was supervising, right? 

And then there was that whole "come home from our family vacation to a destination 2000 kilometers away EARLY because a parent "had to have" a visit on their birthday".  That they confirmed every day for the three days we travelled home.  That they cancelled, after we were home.   

Then there was the family camping trip we drove home from in the middle of so that the girls could make their planned visit that the parents cancelled at the last moment because "they were too busy".  And then we passed them on the highway hitchhiking to a party. 

Or the birthday party they HAD TO attend so we rescheduled and reorganized and then they didn't even call. 

And there was that time they showed up to a visit in our home and something DEFINITELY wasn't right.  Or sober.  Or happy.

And those times our paths unexpectedly crossed and a parent was covered in cuts and bruises from a horrible beating.  And was drunk.

There were cancelled visits.  Visits that ended early.  Visits where inappropriate things were said.  Visits where inappropriate people showed up. And stayed.  Some times there were requests for rides and meals and gifts.  Some times I could say yes, and some times I didn't know how to say no.

There were some scary times, some times that made me very, very frustrated and some times I was fearful.  But of course it wasn't just hard for me.

Because there was also that time mom asked Taya to "come to mommy" and she stood between the two of us and cried because she didn't know which way to go. 

Or the time we saw mom at the mall and she tried to pick up Jayde, who screamed in terror and reached for me. 

And that time at the end of a visit when mom told Taya that "mommy's leaving now" and Taya panicked thinking I was going and refused to leave my arms for the rest of mom's stay. 

There was that time the baby was sick and mom didn't know what to do, and when she tried what she knew, the baby screamed uncontrollably and then threw up all over her. 

Our relationship grew past those uncomfortable times, those awkward moments, those painful experiences because we were both committed to having a relationship for the sake of the girls.  I was willing to speak up and address the pain from their perspective.  I was willing to forgive and forget, over and over again, and keep hoping for the best next time.  And I was willing to accept that better time next time might not ever come. 

When permanence became imminent I took a risk.   The professionals around us advised us to simply let things happen.  Let the court order permanence.  Let mom and dad have it forced upon them if necessary.  But I wanted a relationship and I wanted honesty.  I wanted to make them promises I would keep, and give them boundaries that I could live with.  I wanted to build the foundation of our relationship that would be strong, for the sake of the babies in the middle.

I emailed.  I facebooked.  I asked and questioned.  I thought and wrote and then re-wrote a contact agreement.  And then I emailed it to mom and gave it to dad and waited.  Would our expectations meet their expectations?  Would my being honest about the boundaries I could live with cost me the chance to parent the girls?

For a very long while it looked like it might.

Openness in Foster Care: Part 3

The summer progressed with various visits around our community.  A picnic with cousins at the beach, playtime with Granny at the park, another drive out to the traditional home of the girls' family.  But we live in the north and the weather was becoming cooler and we realized that the days of pleasant outdoor visits were coming to an end.

It was time to make a decision and open up our home to visits.  We had built a great foundation and had an always civil and sometimes friendly relationship but this was a giant act of trust.  Greg and Eric had taken far longer to warm to the girls' parents than Tanner and Caden.  Greg and Eric viewed them through the lens of children who they themselves had been in foster care.  Missed visits were met with anger and fierce feelings of protection for the babies.  During visits, the boys tended to be possessive and protective - easy to redirect but I could still sense their reluctance to share the girls with biological extended family but also, mostly,  reluctant to trust them with the babies they loved. 

There were many conversations with the boys, and many triggers faced.  It was not easy, not by a long shot, but it was still the right thing to do.  It was not my job to force the boys to like the girls' parents, but I did want them to understand and respect the role they had in the girls' lives. To invite the parents into our home meant that we had to be sure that Greg and Eric would be comfortable with sharing their home as well.

It took time, but we did want the girls to see us working together and we did want the girls parents to see where the babies were living.  We still assumed the girls would be reunited with their parents, probably by November, and through my attachment lens, I did want the girls' parents participating in our daily routine of parenting.  And so we gave our address.

It was at this point that our destiny irrevocably changed and our relationship with the parents forever exited the honeymoon stage.  Although my emotions were torn, my intentions were pure.  I wanted the best relationship between us and the parents for when the girls returned.  I wanted the parents to be experiencing the joys of giving a bath and tucking the babies into their own beds.  I wanted them to join us for meals. 

And so they did.  Once, twice, three times.  But slowly, as their comfort with where the girls were and who the girls were with increased, so did the lure of their past.  A month, maybe two would pass without a visit or a call.  Their relationship ended and dad chose to step out of the parenting process completely. 

Mom struggled to be consistent and make the changes she needed to make.  It was a difficult time.  It became clear that reunion was less and less likely to be imminent and our attachment to the girls became stronger.  The future was increasingly difficult to predict.

One cool November afternoon I stopped off at the social worker's office to bring Miss Precious (remember baby girl #3?) to a visit with her parents.  As I passed through the lobby I saw the girls' mother, sitting, waiting for an appointment with her social worker. We had not heard from her since the first week of September and I had been sick with worry as to her fate.

She hugged me.  I hugged her aunt who was with her.  We chatted and laughed like old friends.  She asked about the girls and I shared stories of their growth, and how I showed Taya her picture every night before bed.  Mom wiped a tear from her eye.

She asked me if I knew what tomorrow was.  I did.  Tomorrow was mediation where mom and her lawyer, and the social worker and their lawyer would sit down with a mediator and draw up a binding plan for permanency for the girls.  Complete steps one through four and get your children back.  Fail, and another plan is made. 

Mom asked me to attend.  She asked me to attend as HER support person.  She asked me to attend as her friend.

Tomorrow came and I drove out to the trailer court where she was staying with a relative.  They were supposed to join us but were too hung over to wake up.  On the car ride over to the meeting room she asked if I would consider taking custody of the girls if she could not parent.  I was in shock. She expressed her love, her desire to parent, her wish that she would do what it took, her intention to DO what it took, but she wanted to know if she couldn't, would I.  I called Shel.  Quite literally a 30 second conversation changed the course of our family.

We arrived at the meeting.  Two social workers, two lawyers, a mediator, mom and me.  Mom grabbed her lawyer and expressed her desires to her.  She initially asked me to sit in on the meeting and I declined feeling it best for them to talk alone.  They returned, before the rest of us even had a chance to sit down, with a 3 month plan for reunification and if that failed, a request that my husband and I apply for custody so as to avoid the girls being delegated to a life of foster care.  What was supposed to be an 8 hour meeting settled in a matter of minutes.  We all signed our names on the dotted lines.

Twice weekly visits, housing, counselling, therapy.  If successful the girls would begin the process of return in February 2010 with reunion completed, by the lastest in August of 2010.  If unsuccessful, the termination process would begin.   We walked out of that meeting with her promises ringing in our ears.  She would do it this time.  She wanted to parent.  She would, she could. 

She didn't.  Not for lack of love.  Not for lack of desire.  Not for lack of support.  Simply, she couldn't.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.

Between that date and our February court date she made contact once. We showed up for that cold February day but she did not.  The judge glanced down at the mediation agreement and asked if we were present.  We stood.  She asked us if we were still willing to parent the girls and we stated we were.  She directed us to downstairs and file our custody papers immediately. 

Thus began the 4 month roller coaster we had no idea how to get off of.   It ended in a way I never dreamed possible, but the time  in between  was hell.

Openness in Foster Care - Part 2

That first visit at the park set the stage for many more over the next several weeks.  It allowed us to talk, for the babies to be passed comfortably back and forth between all of us.  I found out priceless information about their routine and their histories.  Mostly it allowed me to see Mom and Dad as people struggling with huge issues but people, parents, that also loved their children.  I believe that it also allowed them to see us as people who loved their children too. 

To be clear, I don't advise this with every situation, but with this family, and with the full support of our social worker, we were able to spend this time together.

I chose to hit the hard topics directly.  We knew that the parents were very upset that the girls were in a white family.  I told them I honored their desire and that I was willing to do anything they felt was important.  I explained that we were a minority family already and I could understand that desire to want the very best for your child.  I told them I wanted to learn.  I asked them to teach me.  All anger and resentment towards us disappeared with that one conversation.  We became allies in the education of the girls on their Chilcotin heritage. 

That's not to say it was easy.  June was a series of strange events.  Because our visits were held in public locations, often in the center of our community, random extended family members would frequently show up. Often times I felt overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of people who came by to check me out and say hello to the girls.  Sometimes visit participants weren't sober and often they smelled strongly of various smokey substances.  At one visit an extended family member got hit by a truck, at another a parent was arrested mid-visit on an outstanding warrant while I sat there dumb founded and complete unsure as to what was the appropriate foster parent response in that circumstance.  It was complicated and stressful and still completely right.

There were a few instances that stick out as setting the tone for our entire relationship, and they happened very early on. 

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon and again we were meeting at the park.  It was crowded with groups of children from the local elementary school who were on a field trip to play in the water park.  We found a quiet corner and laid out our blanket in the shade.  The babies played and we chatted together exchanging pleasantries and sharing stories of the newest antics of the girls.  Suddenly Tanner, my then 11 year old son, came galloping across the grass. I had forgotten he was part of the field trip group and he was completely  unaware of the "visit" taking place and only had eyes for the babies. 

With a brief "hi mom" he immediately hugged Taya and reached over to coo at Jayde.  "Come meet my new sisters" he called to a friend and I froze and turned to look at the girls' mother.  Instead of anger I watched a smile spread across her face.  I quickly introduced Tanner to the girls' parents and he immediately accepted them as new friends.  This one interaction, with Tanner so uninhibitedly loving the babies and so obviously happy to be part of their lives built a foundation for how both Mom and Dad viewed all the boys.  If you were to ask mom today why it is she likes our family so much, the very top of her list would be the boys.  She shares frequently with anyone who asks that she loves to watch how much the boys play with the girls, and how happy she is that the girls have big brothers "to keep them safe".   Of the hundreds and hundreds of pictures I have sent her over this past year, her favorites are the ones of happy girls cuddled into happy big brothers. 

On one occasion I was called by the social worker cancelling a scheduled visit because there had been a death in the family and the girls' parents had gone back to their ancestral community just short of an hour's drive away.  Instead of cancelling the visit, I asked if it would be OK for me to bring the girls there.  This allowed me to meet many extended family members, visit the community that meant so much to their family and show honor and respect for the deceased family member.   

Not very many people understood my decision to put myself in such an uncomfortable position.  I was alone, out of cell range and in an environment that many others had found extremely hostile.  I arrived with a condolence card, a pot of chili and their children.  And I was welcomed.  Looking past the run down shack, the broken furniture, the elder with severe dementia yelling at imaginary intruders from her cot in the corner and I saw a house that been home to many, many children.  I saw land that my girls ancestors had hunted and fished on for generations.  I saw and respected the connections I could not begin to really understand.

 Pictures of the girls family plastered the walls of this house.  Many of those children were lost to the system forever.  My girls' parents were gracious hosts.  Fresh coffee was made, salmon and moose meat given to me to bring home to share with my family.  I met the girls' one brother and his adoptive family.  I was cautiously received as a welcome guest. 

The next step, I knew, was to invite them to our home.

My girls. My amazing, incredible, beautiful baby girls. Part 1

Our girls arrived that day in May.

Taya was one day shy of 13 months.

Jayde was 9 weeks old.

I was her seventh mother.

We were told we would have them in our home for 3 months.

There were some hard times as they adjusted to our family.

We worked on attachment.

They needed to trust that we weren't just another stop on the way.

By Summer's End we knew we weren't just a 3 month home.

And with time came healing.

And with healing came smiles.

We melded into a family.

Hello Saskatchewan and Manitoba

When we took the girls back to meet Shel's parents during the summer, we attended the Forget Music Festival which is hosted on their property. While we were there we were a rather conspicuous family among the mostly white rural community members, and I remember mentioning that I was worried about how our reception would be, considering our last really awful experience with racism had happened in small town Saskatchewan.

Certainly we were noticed, and part of that being noticed was being approached by a young reporter wanting to do a story on adoption. ***** Inserting disclaimer here: She approached me the morning we arrived. We had just driven through the night, two nights in a row with six kids (two of whom were BABIES) and I was surviving on very, very little sleep. ******

She was keen and naive and very, very interested in adopting from foster care because "kids need families" and she wanted another baby. As an experienced adoptive parent, you might know the "type" of whom I speak. The beauty of a "needy child" and the novelty of a multiracial family overshadows the reality of parenting a child who has experienced foster care. The reporter was thrilled to tell me that she and her husband had completed the home study process and were waiting for their life to settle down before they accepted a referral. Her children scampered around her as we did our interview. A baby, a 2 year old, a 4 year old and a 6 year old.

Yeah. That's what I thought too. Interestingly the article leads off with the fact that they were declined approval, for now.

So, admittedly, my attitude might have been a bit on the harsh side due to the lack of sleep and the very real "REALITY" of parenting that I had gone through over the last couple of travel days and usually I might have taken a bit of a softer approach to explain the needs of kids being adopted from the foster care system. But, alas, I didn't and I wasn't and the result is actually a pretty good article. There are a few parts I wish I could explain more, but overall it is an honest assessment of the attachment needs of kids coming into a family from a disrupted family.

There are some gross errors, the most glaring is that she described Miss Curious as being "quiet and well behaved". This has caused great laughter in our house because our dear Miss Curious is rather well known for being, well, CURIOUS. And a curious 18 month old? Definitely not the definition of quiet or obedience. But overall, I think you might enjoy the article. If not, I am sure you will let me know.

If you found the blog because of the article sandwiched between the advertisements for combines and oil rig workers on page 13, welcome. If you have any questions, ask. If I offended you, I am pleading sleep deprivation.

Oh and I my sister mentioned that I should probably provide this welcome to distract all the new readers who come to the blog and see that picture of my son with duct tape across his mouth. Some wonderful adoptive parent I am!

Sugar

Not totally sure if I have mentioned the fact that Shel is working now? It's been sort of an accidental job in between some courses to upgrade and its not a GREAT job, but it's a job and it's most certainly better than Employment Insurance. This job involves being away for 24 hour periods. He was supposed to start next week, but due to the unfortunate death of his course instructor's husband and the subsequent cancellation of his course, he started LAST week.

He has a line on a better job that will involve him being away from home for two week periods at a time. Anyone want to keep me company? I have an empty playpen in the bathroom you could use. Well at least it's empty tonight. It was full most of last week, and will be full again tomorrow. Remember how child #7 (Miss Precious) was NOT going to be staying here? I was wrong. At least temporarily wrong. She has been here, and been here alot. I am tired. Two infants and a toddler, a middle schooler and 3 teens? Feels like alot. Of course, it also makes 6 kids feel very, very easy.

Back to the job. Yesterday, Shel unexpectedly got called into work at seven in the morning.

Yesterday? It was Halloween. I was home alone with 7 kids. The boys each had a hockey game, and all 4 were trick or treating with different people in different places. And the girls? I hold FIRM to the philosophy that all kids in my care will experience all the same things that my own kids have. For the babies, this was their first Halloween, for Miss Curious, the first she would remember.

So a friend came to my rescue to watch some of the little babies, while I took the bigger baby and a big son to grocery shop. Two carts, 4 cases of diapers and $400 in food later, the shopping was done for this week. You can understand why Shel needs a job. ANY job.

Then the day really began. Three car seats? You really have no idea how insane that feels. And when I decided that Caden (age 8 and not the biggest help in the world) and I should take the babies to trick or treat at the mall? Not my smartest moment. One baby in my arms, two in the double stroller and a very hyper 8 year old jumping off the walls. Oh and did I mention I was taking the babies to get their portraits done in their costumes?

Yes. In fact I am crazy.

And then, of course, the actual trick or treating part. Miss Curious threw a royal tantrum at every store when I made her LEAVE the nice ladies with their buckets of candy. EACH STORE. Kicking, screaming, laying on the ground and freaking out tantrum. Did I mention the other two babies in the stroller? And that hyper 8 year old?

Definitely crazy.

But you know, they won't remember my aching back, or the frantic digging in the diaper bag for bottles, or the temper tantrums, or the fact their diapers were dirty. They will remember the pictures of smiling babies in cute costumes and the mama that loved them enough to make sure they had a special 2009 Halloween.

Jen .... Plus SEVEN?

Well, here I was yesterday comforting my little sickie when the phone rang.

It was the social worker, on speaker phone. In my experience THOSE sorts of phone calls are always dangerous.

So. Yeah. I think we will call this one Miss Precious. She is not OUR foster baby, but she has recently come into care with one of the most horrific stories you can imagine. Her foster mom needs daycare so she will come and spend the days with me.

So now, that makes 7.

Greg, 14, hockey player extraordinaire. Mr. Serious.

Eric, 13, limit tester, hockey player. Mr. Smiley.

Tanner, 12, smartie pants, goalie. Mr. Sweetie.

Caden, 8. cuddler, swimmer. Mr. Teaser.

Miss Curious, 17 months. Dare Devil. Stunt Master. Miss Silly.

Miss Tiny, 7 months. Chub-A-Lub. Giggler. Miss Adorable.

And now Miss Precious. 9 months and desperately in need of love and support.

Please, if you pray, PRAY for this baby. She needs it. She has lived through hell.