Open Adoption: Thoughts and Feelings Part 2 "The Trump Card"

***** I am somewhat overwhelmed at the response to my last post.  I thank you for your comments, your emails, the facebook messages and even the phone calls. *****

Fear, insecurity and jealousy are not the only emotions I feel during our visits with the girls' family.  They aren't even the most dominant emotions I feel.  I sometimes feel joy and peace.  I am committed to our relationship.  I love her and I love how the girls love her too.  I respect her role in our lives, and I respect that it is her decision that made me their mother too.  And yet, that ugliness, that humanness, that realness is still there. 

When I think about why it is so easy for me to celebrate the love my children have for friends and family, and why I still twinge when those conjoined feelings of jealousy and insecurity rear their heads during visits with their biological  family, I think it simply lays bare the reality that is adoption. 

Deep down, somewhere I don't want to look or even admit exists, I must secretly believe that their mother holds the Ultimate Trump Card in our relationship, and in the relationship I have with our shared children. 

I might be married and stable and secure.  I might have a home, a driver's license and a car.  I might have never had my parenting deemed unacceptable and have my children removed from me against my will  (*** which is the case in our situation and certainly not the case in every adoption***) I might spend 99.999999% of the time with the girls.  I might be the one that reads them every bed time story, gets 99.999999% of every snuggle, gives every bath, takes them on every vacation, see every first, hear every sob and every giggle.  I might be the one they call mommy and I might be the one that gets to raise them until adulthood.

BUT, and this is a big BUT, at the end of the day I am not their only mother.  I am not their biological mother.  And to many in the world I am not their REAL mother.  And, of course, ultimately, that is what I wish I was and probably ultimately what every biological mother not raising her children wishes she was too.  THE mom.  The ONLY mom.

I still feel this.  I, who chose being an adoptive parent as a first choice.  I, who never struggled with infertility.  I, who not only tolerate the fact that some my kids are different from me genetically but in fact CELEBRATE that fact.  I, who have spent years nurturing friendships with first moms and adoptees and understanding their stories; shedding tears on their behalf.  I, who believe in fighting for justice and openness and fairness. 

I, who have actively pursued a relationship with all our kids relatives, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.  Jen,  who sells openness everywhere she writes.  I, who have pictures of our kids other parents displayed prominently in our home. I, who encourages visits and nurtures relationships and who believes in this process. 

And still I struggle.  I hate to admit it, I was terrified to admit it, but still I do.  I don't want to.  I want to be secure and confident and of course I am working at getting there.  But these children hold my heart and nothing matters more to me in life than being loved by them and being valued by them.  Being a mom  - THEIR MOM - is who I am. Being a good mom is intrinsically tied to my sense of self and there is no award, no degree, no prize I want from life other than at the end of the day for my children to love me half as deeply as I love them and to say I was a good mother.

I will work this through.  I will talk about it so that maybe others will know they are not alone.  I will lay myself bare - stark and naked - with the ugliness and possessiveness and fear apparent so that we can talk about these feelings. 

And so I suppose, despite my feelings, there is no Trump Card in this process of relationship building.  These are OUR children.  This is our reality.  This is the reality of adoption.  And sometimes, love bites.  Just ask Jayde.

Open Adoption: Feelings and Actions

So, has anyone out there said this journey was going to be easy? 

No?  Because I want my easy button.  A big giant easy button that will erase every difficult emotion, every conflicted thought, every bit of failed humanness I don't like in myself and I want to FEEL like Super-Adoptive-Mom-Of-The-Year.   I imagine other moms feel strong and secure and never question or worry.  I imagine that other moms never weep from the stress of juggling the needs of their children, the needs of their children's family of birth and their own needs and failings.

I hope I imagine wrong.

What follows is a stark confession of my humanness as an adoptive mom and I am choosing to share it here  not because I believe these feelings are right but because I believe they are common.  This who I am today and where I am at right now.  It is my reality and I know I will process this and move through it, but at this moment, at this time I lay it before you so that hopefully I won't feel quite so alone.

I really like the theory of openness in adoption.  It's the practice I am finding a tad disconcerting. 

When my daughters crawl into my mom's lap and snuggle her, it warms my heart.  When they demand that grandma read them a bedtime story instead of mommy I am secretly relieved that I am unburdened of that nightly chore for a moment.   I thrilled that they love, and feel loved.  I feel there is no subtraction from my motherhood or the depth of their love for me, or my love and commitment to them. 

When they squeal with joy and race for that first hug when a favorite aunt comes to the door, I celebrate the fact that they have a circle around them that loves them, and that they love in return.  When a sleepy toddler kicks and screams to get away from me and into the arms of her brother or aunt or friend as I carry her to nap time I laugh at how transparent her disgust for nap time really is.  I don't wonder if I am failing her or if she hates me or question if I am making the right parenting decisions for her.  I do not wonder if maybe she loves those not taking her to nap time more than she loves me. 

I am thrilled when my daughter reaches for the computer screen to pat the familiar face of my sister.  I feel nothing but a firm understanding of their emotions when they sadly recount the names of favorite cousins far away and missed  or beg to stop at a friend's home when we pass a familiar driveway. 

I do not feel threatened.  I do not feel ambivalent.  I do not feel jealous.  I do not feel fear.  I do not feel alone.  Or less than.  Or unloved.  Or sad.  I do not want to grab my children, run out the door, quit answering my phone, move and pretend that these people do not exist. 

And yet when my daughter reaches for her mother instead of me during one of our frequent visits my heart sinks.  When my 2 year old smiles and asks for her first mother to carry her on our walk instead of me I die a little inside.

I know who she is.  She is their first mother.  The mother they look like.  The mother whose motherhood will never be questioned when we are out together.  The mother who spoils them with treats and plays fun games the whole time we are together and she is the mother that never has to say no or put them down for a nap or take them to the potty.  She is the mother who struggles, but it is my job to make sure the girls are protected from those struggles and only know her as the fun, loving mother they see. 

Her mere existence makes me question who am I.  Her presence makes me question my very worth.   Is my place in their hearts secure?  Is my role acknowledged?  Does it matter if it isn't?  Where does my security lie? 

The girls are growing up.  They aren't the babies they were a few short months ago whose entire world revolved around only the 6 family members they spent every day with.  They have friends they love and they are remembering and responding with recognition to many people in their little world.  Their other mother is no longer a stranger we visit while they cling to my legs. 

She is a friend.  She is a playmate.  She is a source of junk food and silly games. 

She is known and loved.  She is a favorite.

I have built the foundation of this relationship.  I have done all the right things.  Things I believe in doing.  Things that are right to do.   I have pictures of their mother in their room.  I talk about upcoming visits with excitement in my voice and recount stories to them of past visits during the weeks in between.  I am present at every visit so there is never any fear of loss or separation.  I throw all the rules out the window and let her spoil them with treats.  I do the disciplining.  I end the games when it is time to go.  I do up the car seats and give reminders about pending naps.  If you are 2 years old, I suck. 

I don't mind sucking to my child in front anyone else but HER.  With her,  I want to be the loved mama.  I want to be the favorite.  I want to be the center of the world of these children we share.  It may not be right, or mature, or Godly, but it is true.  I don't want her to question who they love more.  And I want the answer to be me.  

These emotions are hard.  They are real and they are hard.  If it was just about me, and what was best for Jen, I might consider not answering the phone the next time her number pops on the call display.  I might not be quite as available for visits or quite as willing to leave two thirds of my family to take the girls to her home for another visit, especially one that is being asked for weeks sooner than I had planned on going.  I might shut down conversations or put away pictures.  I might quit sounding quite so dang thrilled when I talk about the WONDER OF HER when I talk to the girls.  

I won't, but I might, maybe, possibly, sometimes want to. 

And so I give myself permission to sit back and say to me  "Holy Freaking Hell I am being triggered!!!".   I give myself  permission to admit that I am  human and selfish and raw and scared.  It is ok to look at the darkest parts of my  heart and admit failure and humanness.  It's ok to feel it.  It's not ok to pretend those feelings are reasonable.  This journey isn't about whats right or easy for Jen.  It's about what's right for my children.  The children that own my heart. I feel this because I love them so much. I don't act on those feelings because I love them so much.

Last night, after a long visit and a longer day robbed of joy because of my own insecurities and incomprehensible feelings, that same 2 year old who thinks I sometimes suck as a mommy came up behind me, laid her head on my shoulders, wrapped her arms around my neck and said "I lub you mommy".  

I know you do sweetie.  And it's ok with me if you love other people too, even if it breaks my heart.

Open Adoption In Real Life

We were shopping.  Two babies in the cart, selected items piled around them.  I spotted her glancing at us from the end of an isle.  Once.  Twice. She stared. I smiled at her, assuming she was family,  but she purposefully avoided my gaze.   

She approached us quickly as I navigated the cart past the racks of shoes.  "Come see aunty"  she said reaching for Jayde.  Jayde turned away and whimpered for me.  She tried again with Taya.  "Come see me!" she said forcefully.   Both girls just stared, solemnly.

I said hello.  I told her the nickname that Taya responded to if she wanted to get her attention.   She did not look at me.  She did not respond to me.  Again, she tried to grab Jayde from the cart.  I noticed the hospital bracelet dangling from her wrist. 

At that moment her cell phone rang and she became distracted.  I smiled a quick and anxious smile and bolted for the back of the store.  She found us again this time camera in hand.  She reached to pull Jayde from the cart and I stepped between her and the babies. 

"I am sorry, but you can't take their pictures unless I know who you are"  I said I clearly and as gently as I could. 

"Oh, I am their aunt" she said.  For the first time acknowleging my existence.  "They are my nieces and they love me" and again she tried to convince one to "come with aunty".  Again it was if I was an invisible, yet unwelcome, presence. 

The girls stared blankly at this related stranger.  Someone they have not seen in at least sixteen months.  The teenager accompanying us on our shopping trip tried to disappear behind me. 

I held the girls while she took their picture and then we left the store.  Quickly.   The thump of my adrenaline fueled heart rang in my ears for hours.

Later that same day, in a bid to escape the heat of the day and the smokey evening air, we took the girls to the park.   Off they ran playing and splashing with children.  A faintly familiar woman I had met many months before approached me with a smile as we both attempted to bundle our tired children up.   "The girls look so good" she said with a smile, "I cannot believe how big they are getting".    She watched as her children and my daughters chased each other on the grass.  Cousins.  We chatted and compared parenting notes and as we left the girls smiled and waved.

*************

We walked in the house today with cake in hand.  "aaappyyyy irtday L"  Taya said with a grin.  "Taya make cake! Taya make cake!"  she informed her other mother with an excited giggle.  For the first time ever, Jayde ran to her and asked for a hug.  The long days and long months of playing strange finally done.  

Two good visits in a row.  The last, Mother and babe spent painting toe nails and looking at pretties.   A girly-girl to her core, we, her mothers, both laugh at the reality of this little girl who is so different from both of us.  Today we sang happy birthday and shared a cake my daughters and I had baked for their other mother.   They cuddle.  Both girls' crawling into her lap.  Both girls demanding to hold her hand as we walk down the street.  Taya sleepily leaning on her lap as they sit on the floor sharing lunch from the same bowl.  They love her differently than they love anyone else.  I sense it.  I see it. It is what it is, and it is different. 

We say goodbye.  "Kiss please" Taya says over and over again.  Aunty, Grandpa, Uncle, Mother.  Kisses asked for and given.  She is buckled into her carseat.  She waves, she giggles, she blows kisses.  Then her Uncle climbs into the driver's seat of the truck in a simple attempt to see the car seat better to say goodbye. 

Taya screams. Panic written all over her face  "OUT! Mommy drive! OUT!!!  NO! NO!"  Turning to her mother standing by the open door of the truck she yells   "LOCK IT!! MOMMY DRIVE NOW!".  She cries until I am back in the driver's seat and her other mother closes the door with her inside. 

We drive away. 

*************

Openness is what it is.  It is neither easy or simple.  But it is.  This is our reality.  Some relatives will be crazy.  Some relatives will be kind.  Some moments with biological family will be heart warming and some will be sad.  There is tragedy and there is joy, there is peace and anxiety.   This is our reality.

Why Openness?

Why do I believe in open contact even when families are dysfunctional, addicted or even actively participating in criminal acts?

Because I believe it's best for my kids.  I took my son to meet his biological father in a Federal Prison.  Was that easy?  Of course not.  It was scary and overwhelming and slightly nauseating, and that was just for ME, I cannot fathom what he was feeling, but it was still totally the right thing to do. 

Why?  Because my son wanted to.  Because it's his truth and his reality.  Because he has a right to love his parent even if I would rather my kids never talked to anyone who has ever used drugs in their entire lives. 

Because he needed to know with his own ears that he was loved BY THEM. 

My love, my overabundant, over whelming, huge amount of pure love for my kids cannot erase their need and desire to be loved by their original parents. 

And he needed to know it and hear it at five and six and eight and thirteen, not at 18 or 21 or whatever random age the state told him he was allowed to know.   Because he needed to know, for real, that I respected his needs more than I worried about my own insecurities.   Because he needed to see that I LIKED his biological parents good parts in order to truly believe deep down that I loved all of him too.

How could I deny him that?  How could I deny my child ANYTHING he needed even if that means I get really, really uncomfortable.

Is it easy dealing with things that I have absolutely ZERO life experience dealing with?  No.  Honestly, I never thought I would be traipsing to prisons to visit people important to my kids.  I never, ever fathomed that I would EVER have a police officer drop by to retrieve stolen property during a visit with anyone in my life EVER.  I didn't fathom a life where I had to explain to children why the person we are visiting once hurt them, and why it's ok to be angry at someone and then still be ok to love them.  I didn't expect to be comfortable explaining mental illness to a six year old or the effects of sexual promiscuity to a ten year old. 

I have never so much as smoked a cigarette in my life so I never really thought I would have to understand intimately the power of addiction and its affect on my children. 

But you know I really, really love my kids.  And they are really, really amazing kids and they are really, really worth it. 

I understand that some would use any of the ample excuses at my disposal as a reason to close an adoption.   Run-ins with the police, active addiction, inappropriate gifts, uncomfortable situations, angry family members, criminal activities are all reasons we hear for closing up relationships.  My kids first parents live complicated, confusing, difficult lives.  That I do not deny. And I love them. 

I love them because I see in their eyes the beauty that is my children.  I see that with a different life and different choices and different supports they could have and would have and most importantly SHOULD HAVE been safe parents to our children.  I see pain and broken hearts and hurting people.  And I see parents.  Parents who have little to give other than love, and that's ok with me.

These complicated, difficult people who make horrible choices in many areas of their lives treat me, and our family, with respect.  I don't know why they do, but they do.  So I trust them to love their children, our children, my children within the boundaries that are safe.  And they do.  And if ever we are not treated in a why I wish we were, I forget easily, forgive quickly and explain endlessly our boundaries.

Yesterday, after all the craziness of puppies and police, I watched my two year old be snuggled by her other mother.  The woman from whom she inherited her beautiful smile and striking eyes.  The woman from whom she inherited a curiosity that cannot be stated.  The woman who created her.  And that woman, that mother, said over and over again "I love you!  I love you!  I love you".

My two year old who can't sit still longer than 40 seconds may not value those words today, but I know she would one day feel their absence intimately.   She may never know what it costs both of the mothers sitting in that room to forge a relationship together, but she will know she was loved deeply by both of us. 

And that is a good enough reason for me.

Openness Agreement: Part 5

And so with much help and input, and a special thank you to my friend Brenda Romanchik at Open Adoption Insight we came up with an agreement that met both the girls' needs for stability, the parents desires for visitation, and our need for safe boundaries.   There was a reason for every point, for every section.  Although we fully believe that when things are going well we will have more than one visit every two months, we needed to address the reality that when things AREN'T going well the parents are still guaranteed a visit every two months.  In the end this agreement, our honesty, made it possible for the parents to make a decision they could be happy about.


Communication Agreement


We, __________________, and ______________ mutually agree to enter into this good faith communication agreement. We understand that the basis of this agreement is a belief that it is in the best interest of the children, Taya and Jayde, to have continued contact with their biological parents, siblings and any appropriate extended family while still maintaining the stability and permanence of their placement in the family of ___________________. The best interests of the children, including their emotional, physical and spiritual health will take precedence during all interactions between all parties.



We hereby agree that the basic standard for communication between Shel & Jen  (hereafter referred to as Permanent Guardians) and Mom / Dad  (hereafter referred to as Biological Parent) regarding Taya and Jayde  (hereafter referred to as The Children) will be as follows:


#1) One goal of the Permanent Guardians will be to maintain openness in the relationship based on the appropriateness of the Biological Parent. Each relationship with the individual Biological Parent will be considered separately. The private life and activities of the Biological Parent will only be considered if it affects The Children.

#2) The Permanent Guardians agree to make a phone number, an email address and home address available to each Biological Parent so long as they are appropriate and it is safe to do so. In turn, the Biological Parent agrees to maintain this information in confidence and not provide it to anyone without the express permission of a Permanent Guardian. Biological Parent agrees to provide a contact phone number and email address to the Permanent Guardians. All parties agree to keep the other informed of future changes in contact information.

#3) The Permanent Guardians agree to facilitate a minimum of six (6) supervised visits per calendar year between The Children and Biological Parent for the years 2010, 2011 and 2012. One visit will be made available during each two month period (Dec/Jan, Feb/Mar, April/May, June/July, Aug/Sept, Oct/Nov) but will not accumulate. Effective 2013 and forward, a minimum of four (4) supervised visits each calendar year will be facilitated. One visit will be made available during each three month period (Jan-Mar, April – June, July – Sept, Oct – Dec) but will not accumulate. The Permanent Guardians and Biological Parent consent to the visits being held in a home or an appropriate public venue based on a mutual agreement. Visits will normally be scheduled to be 2 to 4 hours in length. This visit schedule will be renegotiated in good faith should either party move out of the greater *local city* area.

#4a) It is understood that the Permanent Guardians may choose to invite the Biological Parent to attend additional family events such as special occasions, outings or holidays with prior arrangements. All stipulations regarding visits apply in these circumstances and these additional visits are at the sole discretion of the Permanent Guardians. It is understood that there may be extra people in attendance at these visits (extended family members and/or friends of the Permanent Guardians and/or The Children) and the purpose of these visits will be the event in attendance rather than the primary objective of visits. (an example of this would be birthday parties, beach days, sports events, school plays etc)

#4b) Regularly scheduled visits and / or additional visit requests will be initiated by the Biological Parent and will be scheduled for a time, location and length that is convenient for all parties, with the best interests of The Children taking precedence. There will be a minimum of 48 hours from requested visitation to a scheduled visit to allow Permanent Guardians to prepare The Children for the visit. It is understood that the Permanent Guardians will attempt to accommodate visit requests and the Biological Parent will be understanding of scheduling conflicts. The goal of visitation will be to be flexible and respectful of the children’s activities, family life and relationships.

#5) The Biological Parent agrees that there shall be no illegal drugs or alcohol consumed by the Biological Parent prior to the visit or during the visit or the visit will be terminated at the discretion of the Permanent Guardians and all future visits suspended until Biological Parent has completed treatment. Visits will not occur at Correctional Facilities or Treatment Centres.

#6) The primary objective of these scheduled visits is to facilitate and maintain a relationship between the Biological Parents and The Children, but it is mutually understood that the Biological Parent may request that extended family members participate in a visit. The Biological Parent agrees to inform the Permanent Guardians a minimum of 48 hours prior to a scheduled visit of any extended family members/and or friends that will be in attendance at visits. The Biological Parent agrees to ensure that any extended family members and/or friends requested to be in attendance will comply with the following criteria: must not be a registered sex offender, must not have any recent history of violence or criminal activity (3 years), must not be suspected of being intoxicated or under the influence of an illegal substance, must not have any prior convictions of domestic violence, weapons charges, or child abuse charges, must be willing to be respectful and appropriate to all parties in attendance at visits. Failure to do so will mean that future visits will be restricted to the Biological Parent only.

#7) A Permanent Guardian will supervise all visits and it is understood that the Permanent Guardians will terminate any visit should they deem the actions of attending parties to be inappropriate or continuing the visit to not be in the best interest of The Children. This would include but is not exclusively limited to threats or actual violence, drug use, criminal activity or the children displaying extreme distress during the visit. Further visits would be suspended pending mediation.

#8) The Permanent Guardians agree to provide an email update with a minimum of three (3) pictures of The Children on a monthly basis to the Biological Parent for the next 36 months, and quarterly thereafter. These pictures may include other members of the Permanent Guardian’s family. Digital copies of pictures will be provided annually.

#9) The Biological Parent will be invited to phone the Permanent Guardian weekly at anytime that would be considered appropriate (during day time hours) for an update on The Children, or to email as desired.

#10) It is understood that the Permanent Guardians do believe that contact with Biological Parent(s) is currently in The Children’s best interest and do hold dear to the values of Open Communication. The Children’s preferences will be considered in regards to visitation once she / they have reached the age to make an informed decision (approx. age 10) at the discretion of her/their Permanent Guardians. Her/their preferences will not alter the previous agreement of email or phone contact between the Permanent Guardians and Biological Parent(s) until The Children reach the age of 19. The Biological Parent agrees that until The Children are of the age of majority (19) that all direct contact (including phone, text, email etc.) between The Children and the Biological Parent will only be arranged with the informed consent of the Permanent Guardians.

#11) The Permanent Guardians agree to encourage and be supportive of a relationship between The Children and their Biological Parents. The Biological Parent agrees to be supportive in conversations to The Children of all parenting decisions made by the Permanent Guardians (including but not limited to health care, education, discipline, place of residence) and understands it is the sole responsibility of the Permanent Guardians to make such decisions. The Permanent Guardians will be referred to as The Parents of the children using terms such as Mom/Dad/Parents. The Biological Parent will be referred to as the Mother/Father of The Children using such terms as Mama /Inkwol or another term of endearment of the Biological Parent’s choosing. It is mutually agreed that at all times this parenting agreement will be referred to as permanent and at no time will The Children be made to feel that either their place of residency with the Permanent Guardians or their contact with their Biological Parent is temporary.

#12) All parties agree that maintaining The Children’s connection to their Chilcotin heritage is very important. The Permanent Guardians commit to making reasonable efforts to provide opportunities for The Children to be exposed to and learn about their traditional heritage and language. The Biological Parent agrees to be supportive of this process and provide reasonable support in this endeavour.

#13 ) We understand that this is a working agreement based on the development of our relationships over time and it may require modification due to time and circumstance. We realize that this agreement is not legally binding, but is to be upheld in good faith and with mutual respect. We agree to review and rewrite this agreement if necessary on a yearly basis, to be reviewed on or around the beginning of February of each year based on the request of either party. If no review is necessary, the current agreement will carry forward. If we encounter difficulties in the interpretation, application or modification of the agreement, we all agree to ask for the assistance of a mutually agreed upon mediator in resolving any such difficulties.

Signed on ___________________________________________

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.

Openness in Foster Care - Part 1

I stood in the lobby of our local government office holding a child I had only known for 4 days.  My husband stood beside me holding her sister.   I watched through the glass doors as their parents approached the building.  They paused on the grass outside the doors for one last cigarette before the scheduled two hours they would be inside the small room with their children.  It was their first visit with the babies apprehended by social workers a few weeks before. 

I absorbed my first impression as I looked at them and honestly wondered why it was I was holding their babies.  The father was clean cut and well dressed.  Their mother still had a belly swollen from carrying the infant my husband cradled in his arms.  Her clean hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail.  I couldn't begin to fathom what they were feeling as they finally turned to walk into the building.  I suddenly realized that we were about to be sized up in the same way.

The white, unknown foster parents of their babies.

Suddenly I was uncomfortably aware that my husband was wearing the "World's Best Dad" shirt he had received as a Father's Day gift the year before.  I cringed and hoped they didn't notice and consider it an insult.  I pasted a large smile over what I am sure was a nervous grin and greeted them as they walked through the doors.  

"Look sweetie, it's your mommy"  I said.    Her mother approached with a smile as introductions were made by the hovering social worker.  The stunned and grieving baby solemnly stared at her mother as I handed her over and then turned and stared at me from her mother's arms.  Jayde slept through it all, still cradled in Shel's arms until at the last moment as they entered the restricted visiting area, Shel passed her, still asleep,  to her father.

We returned early,  1 hour and 45 minutes later and were greeted by an anxious visit supervisor waiting for our arrival.  "They are ready to go" she said and the parents hurried down the hall towards us.  An exhausted and cranky baby was handed to me as the newborn continued to nap. 

I left, sickened by the sterility of the process.  I wondered what they thought of us.  If they were consumed by worry for their children in the home of strangers.  I had been in the tiny visit room with the broken and dirty toys and worried about the babies in that environment.  I considered the attachment concerns that I was aware of with both babies and questioned the wisdom of simply passing the children back and forth with no opportunity for the girls to see us together.  I worried.  I fretted.  I stressed and I prayed.

The next day I called the social worker and asked if we could do anything different for visits.  She called the parents and asked them if they were interested in meeting outside of the office.  They desperately wanted out of that office as well.

Two days later I nervously packed up the babies and headed to our local town park.  I was now the Foster Mom and the Visit Supervisor.

It was an adventure that I felt woefully unprepared for.  Little did I know what would happen next.

A Tough Letter to Write

I have had a stack of 60 pictures on my night stand for weeks. Sitting there. Waiting. They need to be sent. They were intended to be sent a long time ago to someone who is waiting for them impatiently. And still they sit.

Today I finally wrote the letter that I haven't had the words or the inclination to write that will go with the pictures. Our relationship with the kids birth father has tended to be happy-happy. ME so happy to hear from him because I know how important it is to the boys, HIM so happy to hear from us because he wants to know about the boys. So when you are clinging to contact and its so infrequent over the years, rocking the boat by addressing the tough stuff is sometimes hard to do.

It was time, however, for me to lay some things out for him that are bothering the boys. It was my job to toughen up and tell him the truth. I never want to hurt him, but if in not hurting HIM, I allow him to hurt the boys? That's far worse.

I ran this topic past adoptee friends, first parent friends, friends from the African American community and came to the determination that sometimes things left unsaid do more damage than saying the truth, with love, but truth none the less.

Why not have the boys write, some may ask? To be blunt, they never would. They would rather the relationship die out than to make the effort on their own. Contact from their first parents is so rare, so sparse, that to expect them at 13 and 14 to be able to write a letter and express their hurt and anger over a parents actions is simply too much of a burden to bare. Add to that the dynamic that this parent was also their abuser - the relationships are tenuous and for now, its my job as their mom to protect them, more than it is to protect the feelings of their first father.

The issue at hand? His refusal to use their last names in correspondence. I so can fathom his pain, the loss it must be to have to write a different last name for your child. A child once your "Junior" now carries the name of another father. A child named after a murdered cousin, now carries the name of another. And because I can fathom why it is so hard for him, I have let it go for years. But now the time has come where the boys scoff when the letters arrive, knowing that he won't acknowledge their reality - their truth. And so I wrote. Buried deep in a long, long newsy letter I tried to share my heart, but with as much honesty as possible.

G, I need to address some things with you and let you know its very hard
for me to do. Sometimes I like to pretend everything is wonderful
and never address the hard stuff, but sometimes doing that is wrong. **** I've deleted some other stuff going on in regards
to one of the boys wishes about contact ****

... Remember he is still just a kid and not able to yet understand
all the grown up issues. And from a parental perspective, the needs of the
adults HAVE TO come after the needs of the kids. Their needs have to be
the most important. This brings me to my third, and hardest, thing for me
to address with you. Greg and Eric both have a real problem with the fact
that you will never write their last name on the letters or cards you send to
them. I am going to assume its not a prison regulation thing, but rather a
choice on your part (correct me if I am wrong).

Greg, I understand how hard it must be for you to realize that they
no longer carry your name but I need to ask you to think of it from THEIR
perspective. They don’t remember ever being “B**s” – and that name, to
them, is associated with a horrible and sad period of their lives. They
were abused, seized by DFS, went through many traumatic things and then sat in
foster care for 3 years waiting for you and L to get things together enough to
parent them – all as B's. It was NOT their fault, nor ours, that the boys
were available to be adopted – but to them, adoption and their new last names
are VERY significant. It’s not their responsibility to help you process
your grief at the loss of your sons and the fact they now carry the name of the
man who gets to be their dad.

I can understand how hard it is for you to face, but if you could please
think of it from their perspective, I think it would help them. Greg
isn’t “Little Greg” or Greg Jr. anymore – he is Gregory J J , Eric isn’t
Eric B's, he is Eric R J. They don’t remember anything different and
what is important – the MOST important thing – is that is how they view
themselves. I so, so, so understand from your perspective that you
miss the little boys who were your sons, in every sense of the word – but if you
want to have a relationship with them someday understanding who they ARE will
help them accept you. I am sorry to say this so bluntly, but it’s an issue
to them, and I hate to see things building up for them, when maybe you had never
thought of it from their perspective.

G we love you and love the support you have given the boys – your words are
always encouraging and exactly what they kids need from you. I am sorry if
anything I have said in here is hurtful – that is NOT my intention, but its so
hard in a 5 minute phone call to address the tough stuff, even when it needs to
be said. I know you would have never, ever wanted this role or
imagined this situation when you first became a father. I know that
sometimes the consequences for your youthful choices must seem too
difficult to bear but I hope you know that always, always we put the needs of
the kids first. We love them with an undying, forever love, as we know you
love them too.

Hugs, prayers and many good wishes,
Jen

So, what do you think?