z z z z z z z

First, this post is all about Z. If you hadn't guessed.

Second, this post is all about hitting the "snooze" button. Because basically, that's exactly what has happened with Z's case, as I found out at today's social worker visit.

For those of you who follow me on Facebook, you probably saw that my mom recently had to say good-bye to Z . . . as she wasn't sure she would get to see him again before he had to return home. This was emotional and hard for all of us -- except Z. He's still pretty clueless, cute little baby.

Mom and Z saying good-bye

Well, today, I was happy to tell my mom there's a chance she might get to see him again.

Z's case has sort of been put on a pause.

Obviously, the clock is still moving. But instead of having a big "green" light toward him returning home at the end of summer, early fall . . . it now looks like a "yellow" light. Proceed with caution. It looks like he'll be with us through the fall, and maybe longer. (Nothing is final until it's final -- so even this is just a guesstimate. As my friend Bethany says, foster care teaches you to take it one day at a time.)

While I'm not a fan of delaying permanency, as we are QUITE attached and keep getting more attached as the days go on . . . I do agree with caution and being realistic. If he is going to return home, I want it to be stable and safe. And I'd rather us all go forward with eyes open, than to get a call after he returns home that someone got hurt or worse.

Maddy loving on her brother

After last week, I was dreading seeing our social workers. I assumed that I would actually be getting a date today. Or at least a certain month that he would return home. And I also was embarrassed about the fall at the allergist's office and the possible CPS investigation.

Apparently, our social worker and guardian ad litem didn't even know that CPS was considering investigating me. They knew about the ER visit, and that I had to self-report -- but they hadn't heard that CPS had called me back and was considering a full investigation.

They totally didn't understand why I told them it all stressed me out . . . until I explained that a similar situation had happened to a friend, and her baby did get taken away. (Though I want you to know that it was a ridiculous call, and they were found clear of any wrongdoing.) Our social worker was totally annoyed that CPS considered investigating, and said that he had just lost some respect for his own department. He said he has a full year of health & safety reports on me that he would have been happy to submit proving that I'm a capable and safe parent. He also told me he was prone to accidents as a child, and knows that "this stuff happens."

It was honestly so reassuring.



We have court next week for Z's case. It's not a permanency hearing, but just a review. As usual, I'll have to fill out a court report. Z has a lot of medical testing to do in the next few months, so I know there is a lot to update the court on.

Goofy boy wants to do the splits

Between his appointments, Maddy's appointments and tummy issues, and both girls starting school this fall -- there certainly is a lot going on around here.

As almost every person in the grocery store comments as I pass by with my entourage, "it looks like I have my hands full."

And I do. But in spite of all the challenges of having kids in the way I have them -- I'm really grateful to have them each here with me. They are a handful of blessing.

The day I was reported to CPS

Tonight I want to write about the hard things in foster care. And not the big hard things. The not-so-big ones. Or maybe, the not-so-big, but could turn really-really-big, but you don't know for sure so it's crazy stressful.

Yeah, that one.

Z fell Wednesday afternoon at the allergists' office. 

He doesn't like doctor's appointments, and we seem to have a lot of them. He is tired of being held or strapped in a stroller or car seat. He wants to climb and jump and roll and grab everything and get into every drawer and cupboard.

Books, toys? Totally not interested.

So yesterday, by the time our doctor was ready to start the exam and questions, Z was already over it. He was squirming to try to get out of my arms. I didn't want him going all over the floor, trying to open cupboards and climb up the table, so I sat him in the chair, with me right behind him, hands inches away in case he tried to fall.

Well, as you know, trying to answer a lot of questions from the doctor and keeping your 1-year-old calm and quiet can be a challenge. You don't really feel present with either person. Just half there for both of them. In the end, the doctor asked a question, I looked up to answer, and Z slipped through my outstretched hands onto the floor.

Well, mostly onto the floor. I caught his legs before his body hit the ground. But his head did hit.

Now most of you moms will say, this stuff happens. And you are right. It does.

But when you are a foster parent, this stuff is huge. It's the not-so-big-of-a-deal to you that could potentially be a mega-huge-deal to foster parents.

Z acted ok the rest of the visit. I knew I would have to fill out an incident report, but I didn't expect what happened later

The next day, while bathing Z, I saw this on his ear.

At first, I thought it had happened at his visit. But since there were no notes on the report saying there was an accident, I decided that it probably happened when he hit his head the day before.

I called our caseworker, filled out the form, and was instructed to go to the ER if we found a bump.

You guessed it ... We found a bump, and off to the ER we went.

The Dr. was not concerned at all by his bump and bruise. Thankfully she did not call CPS to report is.

But we still got reported.

By me. 

 I had to according to Washington State law. 

So here I am, already feeling like a crappy parent, beating myself up in guilt (like most moms do), and now I need to tell CPS of all people that yes, I screwed up this parenting gig and an accident happened. And it was my fault.

Again, you might be thinking, accidents happen. Surely they know this, and it's not a big deal right?

Except it can be a very big deal. A friend of ours had her own foster son taken away, without any chance of a good-bye, had her own children pulled from school, and questioned, and had their licensed pulled for a time while the investigation was complete for -- of all things -- a fall at the doctor's office.

This was the not the first report CPS has gotten on us.

If you all remember, Leyla had to go the ER three times for a fall, and once had to have a CT scan done. CPS was reported each of those times. 

And each time, we were told it was a formality and never heard anything about it again.

But today was different.

Today I got a call from CPS. They were going to get more info on this accident, call the doctor's who were involved (the allergist and the ER doctor) and also needed me to send his discharge paperwork from the hospital.

They would either just keep the referral on our license, or they would do a complete investigation.

We would know by the end of today.

Well, you can probably imagine my ball of nerves today.

There was a possibility that they could take Z from our home today. There was a possibility that I would not get the good-bye I planned for, that my family and friends would not get to say good-bye that they hoped for. 

They could take my other two children in for questioning. They could get very personal, very quickly, and we wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

All because of that one stupid mistake I made.

You can be an awesome parent 99% of the time, but man, that 1% is killer. That one time you don't pay enough attention. That one time you are distracted. That one time your in-control parenting falls apart. 

It just takes once.

And so today I rushed around, filling out more paperwork, trying to get the image of CPS taking Z away out of my head. Trying to keep tears at bay, and not let me stress affect my other two kids.

And then finally we got the call.

They will NOT be investigating. 

The report will be on our license, my mistake forever on record. But at least right now, we have Z for another day, and things will move along as planned.

Some of you guys tell me you couldn't do foster care. And as much as I advocate for you to be foster parents, on the one hand, I totally get it.

I hate being front and center when it comes to CPS. 

I have nothing to hide. But you know, no one wants to go through that. No one.

As you guys continue to pray for us, pray that we can stay clear of accidents throughout the rest of Z's stay.

Just this morning, I prayed that God would help me walk by faith and not fear.

And then CPS called. And I was afraid.

I just might have already failed my prayer today. But as we continue down this road, I hope and pray God can continue to help me trust in him when the scary stuff comes.

That I can trust he's already in control. Even as we learn to let go along the way.

10 ways to help a foster child without being a foster parent

As I write this short blog on my phone, I'm cradling Baby Z --- our foster son of almost a year --- in my arms. 

He's fitfully sleeping. I just finished singing "You are my sunshine" ... always keenly aware that the words, "You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away..." ring much truer than I would like.

Many of you have told us that you respect our role as foster parents. Some of you have asked how we are going to do it ... you know ... the "giving back" part. (I usually tell you I have no idea how to give a baby back. We haven't done that yet.)

Most of you conclude by saying that you could never do what we do.

I've already done my best to let you know that actually, you could be a foster parent. (And you'd probably make an amazing one.)

In case you still want to help ... but truly believe you can't be a foster parent yourself (yet) ... I want to give you some ideas on how to still help foster children. Because I know your heart (it's awesome), and I know there is still so much left you can do --- even if you can't take a child long-term into your home.

1. Provide meals for foster families when they receive a placement. (And by placement, I really mean a child.)

God made it so that most families have an average of 9 months to prepare physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually for a new baby to enter a family. That gives time to not only grow a human, but also to make freezer meals, hold baby showers, do registries, prepare nurseries, purchase appropriate clothing, and nest to your heart's content.

Foster families only get about 24 hours notice before taking a child (give or take 23 hours). And that's if they are lucky.

Foster care moves quickly ... Usually, it seems ONLY in this stage ... And as a parent, it is OVERWHELMING. 

I have gotten the call about a baby in the morning, and was told to be ready to pick her up, brand-spanking-new, at the hospital that afternoon. 

No matter how much you think you have the room ready, it's not quite enough. You don't know the gender or the age of the child that is going to be placed in your home, till you get the call. You don't know what they will come with --- in our case, only a week's worth of clothes for our foster son. (And we had 0 boy clothes on hand.)

Not only is it hard to prepare, but with a new child, a social worker has to come to the house within 24 hours. You have SO many appointments those first few weeks, it is crazy. There is paperwork, doctor's appointments, sometimes court to attend, day care to set up ... The list is long and crazy.

Plus you have a child that has changed living situations, is living now with strangers, and is likely stressed and possibly traumatized.

All that to say ... Preparing for a child in 24 hours is a lot of work, and stress, and chaos ... Even if the foster parents are happy to do it. A meal would be a ginormous, super amazing, mega huge thing to do for foster families. Like really. Huge like the Hulk. A REALLY BIG DEAL.

If you are far away, consider sending a gift card to a pizza place or take-out restaurant. Or volunteer to organize meals via Mealtrain.

Vow that if a foster family you know gets a new child, you'll let them know meals will be the last thing they have to worry about.

2. Give or lend clothes, age-appropriate toys and books.

After having two girls, all our clothes were decidedly pink, purple or princess. When Baby Z came along ... Well, he didn't have a chance. (And yes, for awhile, his pajamas were quite girly. Sometimes, they still are.) 

Our toys were equally girly. Sure, we had some blocks and Legos and a few other gender neutral toys, but our one and only dump truck was pink and purple. (No joke.)

I'll always remember when my friend Maria came by and dropped off a few bags of boy clothes, plus several boy books and toys. (FINALLY --- a proper boy truck for the boy!) 

I'll also be forever indebted to my girlfriend Alex, for lending me tons of hand-me-downs, helping me keep Z looking good for over 6 months.

A stranger on a local "buy for baby" Facebook group GAVE me her jumper she had originally posted for sale, just because we were foster parents.

These were all huge blessings!

Before you gather up all your unwanted baby items, send them to Goodwill, hold a garage sale, or post them on Craigslist or Facebook ... Call or message your foster friends to see if they need anything.

If you don't know any foster families personally, Google "foster care agencies" then give them a call. Ask if they need any donations of clothes or toys. 

If there are no agencies, call your local DSHS. They have to stock visitation rooms (rooms designated for bio families to visit the kids in a secure, supervised location) with toys, puzzles, books, and baby gear. Many times, they could use some new-to-them toys.

If you have clothes to donate, check in with your local foster care clothing closet.

Your unwanted, unnecessary items to YOU could be a huge blessing for a foster family, and lift a big financial burden from their shoulders. So start giving and start lending!

3. Throw a baby shower for your friends who are fostering.

If you have friends that have just announced they are fostering, or are hoping to adopt from foster care, offer to throw them a shower. While you will always want to check with the foster couple first, I think this is even more important if the family is fostering or adopting because they don't already have biological children. Why make them miss out on this really fun part of becoming a family?

I know this might seem a little untraditional, as foster children are often not permanent additions to the family. But if someone is getting licensed, throw them a shower anyway. They have lots of purchases they'll need to make in order to get their home foster ready. For instance, even though our crib was perfectly safe and in great shape, we had to purchase a brand-new crib because of a state law, just to get licensed. 

You can also help them get caught up on the basics. Do they have a double-stroller if they are intending to take a sibling set? Do they have gift cards for diapers, formula, wipes and clothes? Do they have bedding for the crib, and a smorgasbord of toys or books to keep on hand? 

If a foster child's parental rights have been terminated, and the foster family is moving forward with an adoption, now is the perfect time to offer to celebrate the joyful addition to their family. The focus at this point might not be so much on preparing for baby --- as in many cases, the child has already been living with the family. But this is an opportunity for you to celebrate with them, and let them know that you are just as much in support of their family growing as you would be if they were giving birth.

4. Take their picture.

Are you a photographer? Are you just really handy with a camera? Offer to give their new family, and especially their child, a portrait. While a family portrait is likely not something they'll want to do right away, it can be an amazing gift to parents when their foster child is about to return home. 

It is also a gift to the foster child. Most foster children don't have access to photos of themselves. Help give that child memories to take with them once they leave.

5. Volunteer. 

Our foster agency, West Sound Youth for Christ, holds quarterly trainings for us foster parents. You may not know this, but like physicians and nurses, we are required by state law to do continuing education. 

To help us meet our ongoing training requirements, our agency holds a dinner and training night for our family ... Complete with childcare. Volunteers help prepare and serve our dinner, and watch our kids.

You could be that volunteer! 

6. Organize an Angel Tree at your church for Christmas ... Or purchase gifts for a child featured on the tree.

Our agency partnered with our church this year to provide Christmas gifts to children in care.

Most states DO give a monthly stipend to foster parents who have taken in a child... But that stipend has to cover clothing, food, formula, diapers, wipes, activity expenses, school expenses, extracurricular activities and more. For homes who have taken in several children (or already have several children of their own), Christmas can be somewhat of a financial burden. 

This year, even though we did not request it, Z was placed on a tree, and received many clothes, books and toys. And when he moves back into his bio parent's house, he'll definitely be taking these along with him.

7. Pray.

Foster care is amazing ... And hard. Rewarding... And hard. Totally worth it ... And hard. 

Cover foster families in prayer. Pray for their marriages, and the other children in their home. Pray for healing of children's emotional and physical wounds.

Pray extra hard during transitions. Pray for God's protection on this family as Satan seriously does not like to see his work go undone. And pray for the bio families as well. 

I'm constantly amazed at the people who have told us they pray for our family. Seriously guys. One of the best things you can do. Loving a child like your own and then letting them go takes a super-human love and super-human strength. It is basically God in us. So pray for us. And pray hard.

8. Provide respite.

Did you know that is some states, you can babysit foster children, even overnight, without being licensed? 

In Washington state, trusted friends and families can care for a child for up to 48 hours without having to be licensed. This is JUST enough time for a couple to get away for a weekend, reconnect, and put some of the stress of foster care behind them ... At least for a while.

When Z was not sleeping (and by that, I mean he was waking up anywhere from every 20 minutes to 6 times a night), friends Jessica and Jamel took Z for a weekend ... So Ryan and I could get some much needed sleep. This was another really.big.deal. (Sleep and food are pretty much at the top of my priority list, can you tell?)

You can also get licensed JUST to provide respite. Respite is overnight, state-paid babysitting for foster kids. You don't have to take a child long-term, and you get to decide when, the ages, and how long you want to provide respite ... But this is a HUGE need that doesn't require a long-term commitment. 

Currently, because of vaccination laws, there is a shortage of homes for foster babies under age 2. And this means that finding respite through our agency is extremely difficult, as they have lost half of the homes that were available to these children. 

If you think you could love on some children for a weekend, or a week or two ... Contact an agency and find out how you can become licensed for respite.

9. Donate. 

Some foster parents have extra needs. Like this family here. Meet my friend Shellie. She is caring for 7 children, 2 of them medically-fragile foster kids, in spite of her chronic health issues and crazy busy schedule. In order for them to continue caring for these two children, they need to purchase a 12-passenger van, as Shellie can no longer drive at nights --- making their current system of taking two cars everywhere impossible. 

If you have been blessed with extra, consider giving to a foster family in need.

Or donate to a non-profit foster agency, like Youth for Christ. 

10. Become a foster parent.

Ok, ok. I said you didn't have to become a foster parent to help.  And clearly there are LOTS of ways to help without getting licensed yourself. But you can't SERIOUSLY expect me to write a post about helping foster kids without mentioning becoming a foster parent yourself, can you?

I just want to encourage you to mull it around for a while. Call an agency or DSHS and find out what's involved. Talk to your partner. Look at your house and see if there's room for two more little feet.

I'm not saying foster care is for everyone . . . but that's the point, right? It's not really FOR US.

It's for hurting, abused, neglected kids who need love, security, and a place to call H-O-M-E.

You don't have to have a lot of living space, be the perfect parent, be a stay-at-home parent, have tons of nice things or a huge income to be a foster parent. You need love, and patience, and the willingness to be inconvenienced for the sake of a child.

We all see horrible news stories every night of children that are taken from abusive situations, or have been neglected, sexually abused, and sometimes murdered. We have seen with our eyes ... Even if we didn't want to --- the plight of these hurting kids. 

Yes, they system is far from perfect, and yes, it's hard. (I think I mentioned that a time or three.) But it is worth it.

As part of our family's legacy, we can say that we have taken in a child who was starved for love and nutrition, helped him catch up completely, given him the tools to love and attach to others, and know what it means to have a family. And this legacy is one that our own children will grow up knowing. (Not to mention the fact that one of my own children would not be here of it weren't for us taking the plunge, and deciding to do foster care.)

How amazing would it be for this to be your legacy too? 

You can do respite, receiving care, adoption only, short-term or long-term care ... You can take babies from the hospital or college students who need a home to go to on weekends and holidays. You choose what you are comfortable saying "yes" to.

So before you just say, "I can't do it . . . " I want you to ask yourself, "What if I can?"

No matter which of the 10 ways you choose to help without becoming foster parent  (OK, OK, it's really 9 ways) . . . let's lock arms and start changing these kids' lives one meal, one toy, one outfit, one prayer, and one sleepless night at a time. 

Because THEY ARE WORTH IT.

The start of a good-bye

Today I sit here. Tears streaming. This is not the first time I've cried for Z. And it sure as heck won't be the last.

You see, maybe a week or two ago, God has laid the idea on my heart that I need to love Z's mom.

Can I be honest? I don't want to love her.

It is so much easier to demonize her. To blame her continually in my mind for what caused Z to enter foster care to begin with. It is so easy to look at her with contempt. With a "holier than thou" attitude. With the thought that she's the one that screwed up, and I'm the one that's fixing it.

It is so easy for my brain to trick me into believing that I am real mom. She's just the one that gave birth.

It's the ugly, dark part in my heart. And it's not right.

But how do I love her?

Our caseworker for our agency came over today. We talked about court and all that went down there. Then we talked about reunification.

What it will likely look like. What I can do now to make it go as smoothly as possible.

And then she brought up the other "R" word. Not reunification.

Relationship.

"If you have a relationship with mom, it might make it easier for you to say good-bye. Maybe start a journal that you can write notes to her before visits. And then she can write notes back to you. Write encouraging things to her. And one day, when she has overnight visits, you might be able to transport Z there. You'll get to see where they'll live. It might help too for you to see him with her. She needs to start coming to doctor's visits and the like."

And so the "how" now has a plan.

I'm to love her by sharing as much of her son with her as I can. I'm to love her by encouraging her. I'm to love her by praying for her. I'm to love her by anticipating and celebrating with her the milestones she's hitting. I'm to love her by letting her parent at his appointments.

Friends -- I can't do this. This is no small, easy task. Only God can do it through me -- and I seriously need your prayers to get me through this. To love mom as much as I love Z. To hold my heart and arms wide open to both of them.

To let go. To let go. To let go.

Over, and over in my heart over the next 6 months. Even as I throw Z his first birthday party. And watch him take his first steps. And teach him more words. And snuggle him at night. Watch his smile change as his teeth come in.

Even as I fall in love deeper with this child I consider my son -- I am still to let go.

Since court on Monday, it feels as though some giant time bomb is just ticking, ticking, ticking. 6 more months to love your son. One day less. One night less. I am marching toward a good-bye I don't want to make.

And yet, I chose this pain. This grief. I chose it, and I'll live it. And I would still do it all over again for Z.

But I can't do it alone. More than ever I realize I can't do this foster parenting gig thing alone. I need your support.  Mostly your prayers. Mostly to know that when we say good-bye . . . when he leaves our home for the very last time . . . when I kiss his softy fuzzy head as the social worker takes him away . . . I need to know you all will be there with me.  Missing him. Loving him. Praying for him.

And lifting our family up.

Juxtaposition

 

My heart is overflowing with emotions right now.

 

That of course is nothing new for you readers. But there is this juxtaposition of everything in my heart.

 

On the one hand --

 

We had a fabulous day. I love my new moms group I'm a part of.

 

As an "infertile" mom, I usually avoid these kinds of groups. But with Baby Z in my arms, it is easier somehow -- even as he is not mine to claim. Plus, the focus is not as much on pregnancy as other groups I've been a part of -- so this really is the perfect fit.

 

I just have felt "filled up" after coming home the last two weeks. It's such a welcome break from the every day of cleaning, cooking, changing diapers and handling tantrums. (Not that I am complaining about those things -- just saying that a break for the day in, day out is a welcome relief.)

 

Also, we had Z's PT appointment today. He blew them out of the water with all his progress not just in the last 2 weeks, but in the last 3 months we've had him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He started CRAWLING today -- just to show off for them I think. We were so excited. The PT and special educator could not stop talking about how well he is doing. Technically, he's still behind. But he's made such progress, it really is like seeing another baby than the one we had even one month ago.

 

And so my mama heart is full. I'm proud. I'm excited for him. I'm feeling refreshed and ready to tackle some of my big dreams.

 

 

But then my mama heart is also broken and angry.

 

I don't watch the news. But I have noticed a trend in my newsfeed lately. Horrible, horrible things are happening to kids. 

First, there is the lady with the bridge.

She took her 6-year-old to the middle if this ginormous bridge at night... And threw him over the edge. 

As a human, I can't comprehend this. My heart just can't wrap itself around what would make a mother kill her child ... And then in such a horrifying way. 

But as a mom to an almost six-year-old ... There are no words. I see my little Maddy before me, and I wonder what that little boy felt. I see in my mind his arms and legs wrapped around his mom as she hoists him up. I can only imagine his terror when she pulls him to the edge, and lets go. 

Why?? This is senseless. I want to rewind time and tell her to drop her son off at DSHS. Or a friend's. Or anywhere but over a bridge. Why can't time just go backward for once?

I want to take away the fear this boy felt. I want to take him away from a mentally unstable mom and give him a good home. 

And then today, I read this. 

A 3-year-old boy beaten to death. Tortured for 3 days until becoming unresponsive ... Hanging upside down while his mom laughs at him. 

His crime? Not eating breakfast. 

How he died? 

 "Little Scotty McMillan is dead. Over a three day period ... he was systematically tortured and beaten to death. He was punched in the face and in the stomach. He was scourged with a homemade whip. He was lashed with a metal rod. He was tied to a chair and beaten. He was tied upside down by his feet and beaten. His head was smashed through a wall."

http://fox13now.com/2014/11/06/couple-charged-after-3-year-old-boy-hung-up-by-feet-systematically-tortured-and-beaten-to-death/

And I just can't stomach it. 

Why? Why did no one notice that these children were regularly beaten? How could anyone intentionally beat a child? 

And so ... I'm left with a juxtaposition.

On the one hand, I see so much good going for the little man I'm helping raise. So much hope and growth and laughter. I feel so much hope for our family.

And on the other ... Kids are being beaten and tortured and killed by their parents and caregivers. 

I wish my home were big enough for them all. I wish I could protect every child from abuse. I wish every child belonged to a safe and loving family. 

I wish we all could do just a little bit more for these kids.

Microblog Monday: Why "I'd get too attached" just doesn't cut it

"I can never be a foster parent. I'd get too attached."

If I had a dollar for every time I heard this. In fact, I hear it almost every single time me being a foster parent comes up. 

So, I want to clarify a little something.

1) I am not some woman with the super power to love and attach only to the extent that it won't hurt me. 

That super power doesn't exist. 

I loved Leyla and I love Baby Z as though they were mine. 

I fight the inclination to post a cute Baby Z photo on FB every day. I am proud of every single milestone. His eyes melt me, and his screams can dissolve me to tears. I love to hold him and play with him and get those super cute laughs. His snuggles are the best.

 

You could even say I'm attached. And it will hurt to say good-bye. 

So if you are the kind of person that would get "too attached", congratulations. You'd be a great fit as a foster parent.

2) Attachment is kinda the point. 

Ok, so I would love to hear about the last time you stopped by your local orphanage. Seriously. If you have visited an orphanage here in the states, please comment and tell me about it. 

But... My guess is you've never seen one.  Right?

That is because the US got rid of orphanages. Why? Because of attachment. 

When a child doesn't form a bond to a person before the age of 2, their ability to function as a normal person is severely impaired. And that bond was not forming  in a group home or institution. 

A kid needs a family. 

Our family for instance is a little crazy. Our kids hang from walls, literally. So maybe we aren't perfect. But we are loving. And we're available.

Bio is of course first choice. But when a bio family can't provide that bonding in a safe and loving atmosphere, enter foster families. 

Enter me. And Cari. And Keri. And Deanna. And Kryssi. And Elizabeth. And a ton of others. 

We step in --- and we get attached. At least, as much as we can. We stand in the kids' corner, advocate for their needs, love them as if we gave birth to them, dream, and pray, and hope for them with all our might. 

And then one day, we have to say Good-Bye. 

We have to let go and hope that all of our love and sleepless nights and fears and hopes and prayers and meetings and sensory tools and visits and preparations were enough. 

We hope that we bonded and they bonded to us. We hope that we gave them the gift of the ability to trust others. To believe in their own worth. To know they are loved. To know that God has never forgotten them. To know that there is something to love and relationships outside of abuse and neglect. 

In short, getting too attached is one of the best gifts we could give these kids.

Even if it hurts to say good-bye.

And if I might add one more thing... 

If being a foster parent sounds like it's just setting yourself up for hurt... I want to challenge you. 

These children did not choose to be foster children. Their lives are completely up in the air, and are dependent on total strangers' decisions. 

When you guard your heart so carefully that there is no room for them in it ... They do not disappear. When you dismiss their plight with a wave of your hand and a quick excuse, they are still without a home. 

Just recently, at one given time, there were 150 children in my county that needed a home. 30 of them were placed in our county. Baby Z was one of them. The other 120 had to be shipped off to other counties... Far away from everything they already know. 

Foster families who are already stretched thin take in one more kid because no one else will. Social workers have the kids sleep on sofas in their offices until they can find a home, somewhere. Siblings are broken apart and only get to see each other every once in awhile. 

So maybe ask yourself ... What if I could. What if I could get attached, love a child, and say good-bye? What if I could give a kid love and stability because that's what our home is made of?  What if there is a child out there who is worth the risk of getting my heart hurt?

I can promise you one thing ... There is. 

There have been two for me. 

And when it comes time to say good-bye to this sweet precious thing I'm holding in my arms as I write ... I know he is worth every single tear I will cry. 

 

 

 

To read more about foster care, and the start of our journey, start here "Fostering-to-Adopt: Our Story, Part 1."

 

http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2014/04/fostering-to-adopt-our-story-part-1.html

Vacation, Baby Z, and an MRI

I'm sorry it's been so long since I posted. I have a million drafts that need finishing and reworking, and yet I'm struggling to get those done.

A few of you have emailed me your stories recently ... I'm sorry I have also not gotten back with you, but I have read them, and I appreciate you taking the time to write. 

Life has been a little crazy lately. 

Baby Z moved in about a month ago, and life has gotten jam-packed with appointments, home visits and phone calls. He is a darling baby, but not the best sleeper yet.

As for me ... I've been having some medical issues going on. Numbness, tingling, pins and needles, fatigue, muscle weakness and pain have been spreading through my body slowly over the last 7 weeks. 

It started with my finger, and has progressed. At almost all times, my hands, lips, tongue, and throat feel numb or tingly. Usually at least one arm or one leg is also affected. My limbs fall asleep so easily ... Standing, sitting, walking... It doesn't seem to matter. 

Right now, they are thinking it's Vitamin B12 deficiency. (My numbers are in normal range, but still on the lower side.) I'm getting shots in the bum every 2 weeks for who knows how long. 

Yesterday, I had an MRI done. They are looking for either brain lesions, which would signify MS. Or a brain tumor. 

I get the results back late this afternoon, and I feel nervous about that. So far, the shots haven't eased up my symptoms any ... But if it is just a deficiency, it may still take a few weeks to start showing results. 

Also, I just returned home from a "vacation" with my best friend Robin. I can't keep my eyes open much longer, so I'm just going to post some pics of my time there:

Both of Robin's boys can after Olivia and our journey of infertility. I really had a hard time "celebrating" with her during her pregnancies. And she was more than sensitive to me about it by almost never posting pregnancy photos or complaining. I was nervous at first when she asked me to come help out with baby. But everything turned out great. 

Ok, I'll update here once I know results from my MRI today.

Three tiny, wee little letters we just couldn't say

In my lifetime, I've met a few phantom babies.

Or rather, I didn't meet them.

They were the what ifs, could haves, wish it could have beens, once was, now no more babies. They WERE. But they weren't. All at once. Some I called mine. Others I never once had a claim on.

I've never seen any of my phantom babies. Not on an ultrasound, not in person.

And yet each and every one has a little part of my heart.

We met another phantom baby this week.

Well, we didn't really meet him. But we learned his first name. I knew he was 9 lbs, and scored an 8 on the Apgar test. I knew he was 2 days old, and I knew why he was being taken at birth from his mom. I knew he was healthy.

I knew that the moment I saw him, I would fall head over heels for him.

And I knew he could be my foster son the very next day if all I did was utter three tiny, wee little letters. "y-e-s."

I think Ryan and I both WANTED to say yes.

As soon as I got the call just before 6 pm, I woke Ryan up from his nap. And we started planning. There was no time to lose. We had just 3 hours to make our decision.

"Ok, could we use a pack and play in our room for the first few weeks? What will we need to get? When could he start day care if we needed it?" We texted our social worker, drilling her for answers to every question that came to mind.

Most people take years or at least months to decide to have a baby. Then they have an additional 8-10 months to PLAN and make room for said child.

We had 3 hours to decide. And less than 24 before he would be a semi-permanent place in our home.

As the 3 hours wore on, our questions changed.

"If Ryan is overwhelmed with taking on 2 training positions at work, how will he feel having to come home to a newborn, and not getting much rest at night? Will Rachel be able to keep up her momentum in her business? How will we cope if/when it's time to say good-bye? How will this impact Leyla and her high-needs?"

(Maddy, we knew, would acclimate pretty well. She REALLY wanted this baby. Her prayer that night was darling. "Dear God, please help all of us be really good parents to this baby [because she's a parent now??], and make tonight go by really fast so we can hurry up and get our baby brother. Amen.")

I felt somehow that meeting him might make it clear to me, so I asked our worker if we could go to the hospital to see him. (Maybe I was just hoping he would be so stinking cute, there'd be no way we could say no.) Had it been earlier in the day, we could have met him. But not then.

I knew it was just as well.

We prayed. We took time alone. We took time together. We called our closest family for advice and to ask for prayer. We got food to-go, and took the kids to the park.

I stared at the clouds, wishing an answer would just land on my heart. Some sort of assurance that whatever was God's will would become so apparent to me. The only thing I got was that God was really, really big.

No white dove came.

I prayed, "God, I want to do your will. If saying yes to this is saying yes to your will, by all means I'll say yes. If saying no means saying yes to you, then we'll say no. Please just make it clear!"

As I took Leyla in the stroller around Lion's Park, and watched a family of 5 closely as I strolled by. I longed to stop them and interrogate them. "Your kids are spaced like mine are. Tell me, what was adding the 3rd like? Can you handle it? Was it overwhelming? How did you cope? What advice can you give?"

Instead, I smiled prettily at their adorable family, and pretended that I wasn't making a momentous, life-altering decision at that moment and was desperate for their help. (Because they were experts after all on our situation. Having 3 kids spaced just so apparently made them perfect candidates for advice.)

When we packed up and came home, we put the kids to bed. We both were getting exhausted, but no closer to a decision.

We talked more to family, and the deadline was ticking up on us.

Closer, and closer, and closer the minutes turned to hours, and 9 approached us like a freight train.

And we were nowhere near ready for it.

9 came.

9 went.

Stress came and snuggled closely between Ryan and I. I could tell we were now on different pages. He was ready to say no. I still wasn't convinced.

As 10 came, I still had no peace either way. Ryan was disappointed to have to say no, but in his mind, there really wasn't any alternative.

I think I knew the answer would be no all along. It's just that I didn't want to acknowledge it. I didn't want to admit that maybe I couldn't handle it right now. I didn't want to tell this sweet little tiny baby that, "I'm so sorry you're being taken from your mommy right now, but we don't want to disrupt OUR little family either. So, I hope someone takes you in."

I made Ryan text our social worker our decision.

Then I read it, didn't like his wording, stole the phone back, and wrote my own reply.

"I wish with all my heart our answer were yes. You know I would love to have a newborn baby in my home. But after talking about it with Ryan, and praying and talking to friends/family, we feel it's in the best interest of our little family to say no for right now."

I made him push "send."

And then I added ...

"Even though it kills me to say that."

And it did. As soon as we sent it, I wanted to unsend it. I wanted my words back, and I wanted to change them to a y-e-s. I wanted to be crazy busy trying to prepare my home for a newborn in less than 12 hours. I wanted to post on Facebook that we were adding someone to our family for a little while. I wanted to serve God and I wanted to serve this little baby.

But I couldn't forget that first, God has called me to serve the people I'm in relationship with NOW. Ryan and I made some big decisions recently about focusing on our family and getting US to where we want to be.

And if having this baby stretched me too thin -- or was too hard on Ryan -- I didn't want there to be this feeling of "YOU chose this for our family!" instead of "WE chose this for our family -- and we'll make it through."

And so, the text stayed just as it was.

And phantom baby has entered my life. He hasn't quite left it yet. And maybe he won't.

And maybe it's just as well, because it reminds me to pray for him.

As I drove to visit our new baby cousin yesterday, I could "see" baby J's newly installed car seat from the rear view mirror. I imagined hearing him cry during his first car ride. I imagined wrangling my two kids and him in and out of our errands yesterday. I envisioned holding him proudly as I chatted with my new business builder over coffee. I envisioned the messy diapers, the 3 am feedings, wearing him as I made dinner and tried to keep Leyla from some crazy accident.

I envisioned taking pictures of Maddy holding her brother. And Leyla trying to gently poke his eyes.

And I pictured the social worker appointments, and doctor's visits, and nutritionists and physical therapists, and all the other people we might need to meet regularly with, like we did for Leyla. And I envisioned packing him up to go visit his mom, then worry that he wasn't doing well there, but never knowing for sure.

And so today, as I packed up for play group and an Arbonne coffee date, phantom baby joined us too.

There was some comfort in his presence. Even if admitting all this makes me sound like a crazy person. He is the baby we almost had. He is the baby I wanted, but needed to let go.

I will never know the answer to what if.

"What if he was meant to be our son? What if the home that took him wasn't safe? What if he needed us? What if we were supposed to say yes?"

But at least I can know the answer to the things that I most assuredly need to know.

Can Ryan and I make a decision and respect each other's needs in the process?  Can we accept our limitations as a family?  Can we trust that God is bigger than us and bigger than our decision?  Can we rely on the support of our friends and family no matter what decision we make? Will we chose to make our marriage and our children our top priority over ministry?

Without a doubt, the answer to all of the above is a resolute YES.

We said no to a baby. But said three, wee little tiny letters to our marriage and to each other.

"y-e-s."

And maybe, just maybe one day, we can say those letters again to our marriage, our kids AND a foster child all at the same time.

In the meantime, phantom baby is still on my heart. And I pray for his wee little life. And I would ask that you do the same too.