foster kids

Brave

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This is my favorite definition of bravery. “The ability to look fear and hurt in the face and say ‘move aside. You are in the way.’” 

I want to be brave. I want my kids to be brave. I want them to do courageous things even when they are scared and riddled with doubt and anxiety. My wish for them is that they always know they were put here on purpose and for a purpose. There are no accidents or mistakes here.

The times in my life during which I have experienced the most formidable amount of fear and anxiety have also been the times in which I’ve grown the most and transformed into a better version of myself. Needless to say, as we press forward toward adoption, fear and anxiety have had a backstage pass to my life these days. It’s overwhelming.

Taking on foster care was the bravest thing I’ve done. Adopting even braver. These kids have changed me. My purpose. My priorities. Everything.

I’m hearing all sorts of whispers of fear in my life right now. “This is only going to get harder.” “Once the adoption happens, all doors to support will be closed.” “You’re going to be legally responsible for their actions.” “Can you really do this?” “They are damaged – they will never be whole. You can’t fix this.” “If a recession hits, do you really think you’ll be able to financially provide the life they deserve?” “Say goodbye to your marriage… it’ll be splitsville by the time they are in middle school.” “You’ll be working for the rest of your life.”

Brave is my word this season. It has my focus. My attention. My mantra so to speak. A few of my current nightstand reads: Brave Enough by Cheryl Strayed, 100 Days to Brave by Annie F. Downs, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, Option B by Sheryl Sandberg and Adam Grant, and I am Malala by Christina Lamb and Malala Yousafzai. If you’re looking for some inspiration, I recommend any of these (note: the book 100 Days to Brave is a devotional type read and may not be your cup of tea depending on beliefs. 👌🏼 No judgment here!). One thing I’m learning as I focus on “Brave” this season is that there are no regrets. That it’s okay – normal even – to feel scared. It’s not without fear and hurt. That it’s important to strive for progress, not perfection. It’s about letting go – of control, of the ideals around “what I thought my life would look like,” and embracing the uncomfortable unknown. Brave isn’t a feeling but a choice.

Let go and be brave my friends! ✌🏼

“Without courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency. We can’t be kind, true, merciful, generous or honest.” – Maya Angelou

The System is Broken

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I feel guilty complaining about the heaviness of our burden here. Because overall we are really really blessed. We have 5 amazing kids who we are adopting this year.

There is a mama in my foster family support group who is living through every foster parent’s nightmare. The two young kids she has been raising for almost three years now are going back to a bio parent. The issue isn’t that they are being reunified, the issue here is that there are serious questions about safety and stability – there’s no foundation for her. Bio mom is barely sober, has no job, has a history of using drugs with her other children (who she gave up to foster care over a decade ago), has made no progress with mental health goals, and the list goes on. She got a housing voucher just a couple of weeks ago and it feels like the Department is putting the cart before the horse. I don’t understand what the powers that be are thinking here. I believe these children belong with their bio mom, but not yet. She needs time. They need time. The transition needs more support than a free housing voucher and a monthly health and safety visit. These children deserve better.

Another mama in my foster family support group has been caring for her fifteen year old granddaughter. A victim of trafficking. This woman tracked down her granddaughter, who had been injected with meth from a group of men that had been abusing her. When the grandmother pursued putting her granddaughter in rehab, the powers that be moved her to a friend’s home where there’s no accountability and high risk for illicit activities and drugs.

Yet another mama in my foster family support group who has been raising twin girls since they were babies 3 years ago, is losing her girls… again. Their parents went to jail for murdering their sibling. About 18 months ago the powers that be tried placing these girls with a bio relative who then failed their background check. The girls came back to this foster mama. Now the powers that be want to try moving them back to this same relative they were once removed from for safety reasons. The reason for their uprooting? Their skin color (or native american heritage).

Another foster mama poured out her heart at a recent meeting. A boy she had been raising for almost 3.5 years was reunified with his bio mother before his bio mother was actually ready to care for him. The week before and in a drug binge, this bio mom left her car on the side of the road, with her 6 year old son inside, gave him her cell phone and had him call this foster mom to come find him. He couldn’t tell her where he was so at almost 11pm, she begged him to get out of the abandoned car, walk to a corner and spell out the words on the signs. For the last year he has spent every weekend at this foster mama’s house… because that’s where he’s safe. That’s where there is food. That’s where someone is caring for him. I know this boy. My sons have gone to pre-school with him.

And another foster mama in my network is being banned from taking any more foster placements. Because she was a whistleblower. She spoke out to the media about her last foster daughter who was moved to an alleged bio father out of state, who turned out to not even be this girl’s real father, and he beat this precious baby so badly that she is blind, suffers constant seizures, and will never be the normal, happy child that she was before the move. This child should have never been moved. This man had a violent crime and history of assault in his background.

Are you mad yet? You should be. I could tell you at least twelve more stories like these. People I know. Kids I’ve met. A system broken in more ways than I can count. Children are slipping through the cracks every day. EVERY DAMN DAY! When is enough enough? When are we going to foster real change? When are we as a community going to commit to the hard work and invest in the future of these kids instead of letting them fall into the cycle of abuse, neglect, drugs, government assistance, prison, mental health problems, homelessness, etc…?

 

Respite

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*Note – in no way is this post meant to criticize or put down any foster parents who use respite. Respite is important. Also in no way is this post meant to put down or pressure my family and friends for not watching our kids… because you’d have to be CRAZY! LOL

Let’s talk about respite care. Respite care is planned or emergency care of a a foster child or children. It’s a program designed to give the caregiver a temporary break. Perhaps they have a vacation or need to go out of town for a funeral, or they just need a weekend “off.” I don’t know all the details but I believe foster caregivers accumulate 2 respite nights per month cycle and can schedule respite a week or so in advance through their social worker.  The respite care providers are licensed foster parents who usually just do respite care (they decide how often and can say no to any requests). We’ve never used respite. I just can’t justify it. If I am called to love this child as my own, whether temporary or forever, then how can I be okay with dropping them off at a stranger’s house for a day or a weekend or a week? It doesn’t feel right. I wouldn’t be okay with that if it were my bio child. And since my kids all have anxiety and abandonment issues I feel as though a respite arrangement would create further episodes of anxiety and feeling abandoned. Foster parents don’t usually have personal relationships with the respite care providers. I would be okay with leaving my children (probably dividing them) with family or friends though. People I know, like and trust. I’m not trying to take an “anti respite” stance, rather explain to you where my thoughts are and why I’ve never been able to use respite services. There is no shame in using respite.

I 100% understand why foster parents seek respite. Burn out. Family death. The child in their care is pushing them too hard and they need a mental health day. Planned vacation before that child came into care. Work trip. ETC…

There have been many times when I’ve wished I had a better support system (friends and family, I love you dearly, please don’t feel bad about this. 6 kids is A LOT. I get it. Your house cleaner just came yesterday and you want to savor the next few days of freshness. You don’t like noise. You’ve already raised your kids. Your car isn’t big enough. You too are burning fuel at both ends. It’s life. You didn’t sign up for this, we did.) Many times. There have been times when I feel like I’ve been really clear to family members that “Hey, I need help here. I need a break. Take a kid. Take two. Take them all. PLEASE!” and it’s gone unanswered. Sometimes it hurts my feelings. Sometimes it makes me jealous and I keep score and feel resentful. I try so hard not to go there.

If I could rewind the clock to a year ago or a year and a half ago, I would have asked our social worker to help connect us with someone who does respite. You know, let us introduce our kids, take them to dinner, and help our kids build a connection with respite foster parents. That way we could have planned some downtime and felt comfortable asking for help when the burden has been heavy. We also never planned to adopt all 5. Our sibling set of 3 was only ever going to be temporary. And they had such huge emotional and behavioral issues that made it hard to even consider disrupting them. I remember thinking 3 months into our placement with these kids that an “end was in site.” We kept taking all these “last vacations” thinking our time with them was limited. I’d get rest once I knew they were safely reunified. LOL… my spa day never came!

There’s an isolating component to fostering that I don’t think anybody knows about until they actually foster. It’s very isolating. It’s a roller coaster. People see you differently. Aside from the major changes in priorities and routines, people tend to put us in the “Saint” category or the “Crazy” category. I want to encourage you, if you are fostering, to make a plan for finding down time and self care when things get hard. When you feel alone. Approach your friends and family, or connect with your social worker about respite. Do it before you are “too far down the line” and riddled by guilt and stress.

Redacted Files

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These two thumbdrives, given to me this afternoon (August 28, 2019) by our Adoption Social Worker, possess the entire histories of our 5 children. Detailed compilations of their trauma, how they came into foster care, vital records, birth records, CPS intake calls from strangers, maybe even family, legal records, case notes, notes from CASAs, etc… Their stories before they were mine. A formality in the process of adoption, this is the State’s way of giving an adoptive parent every piece of information they need to make an educated decision as to whether to complete the adoption of their child. It’s called the Redacted File or Disclosures. Redacted because a professional whose sole job for the State is to sit down and black out any names or addresses or contact information listed in the records, probably spent ten hours sifting through the lives of my babies, blacking out names of birth family, former foster parents and other placements, and any information that they deem necessary to keep private. (Yeah, let that sink in next time you want to complain about your job. Someone’s full time job is pretty much whiting out documents.)

Do I really need to look at these? I don’t think that there is anything we could discover about our kids that would change our minds about adopting them. We’ve seen all the behaviors. We’ve lived this life. We know we have an uphill journey. Adoption isn’t a cure for our kids’ past trauma, for the neglect or abuse or exposure to drugs in utero.  We know that the clock is ticking for two of our kiddos – that therapy and medical interventions need to happen NOW and be consistent so that they don’t repeat the cycle ahead of them. What could we possibly discover that we don’t already know about our kids. We love them so so much!!

Aren’t you afraid your kids will end up like their birth parents? I’ll admit, and I’m ashamed to say this but… YES. I am. What if I invest my whole heart and life and every resource I have into giving them a good life and they choose to follow their birth parents’ footsteps. Heroine. Meth. Crime. Homelessness. Domestic Violence. The thing is, there is no guarantee. Drug addiction doesn’t discriminate, white picket fence or not. Although some of the trauma and experiences my kids have had to walk through may predispose them to certain certain struggles, there is hope. And a future (Jer 29:11). I only have ten more years until my  “first born” is an adult. I can’t have strings attached like I’ll only love you if you don’t struggle with drug addiction, suicidal ideation, and depression. 

Will reading the files on these thumbdrives help me understand my children better? Should these thumbdrives be saved for when our kids are adults and have questions? There are so many thoughts.

I feel reluctant to open these files.

Like most decisions made in our household, Mauricio and I will sit down together tonight and discuss the pros and cons to opening these thumb drives. And then we’ll do it together. Knowing how broken our system is, I’m expecting there to be a lot of heart breaking details on these drives – handfuls of foster homes, CPS intakes, police reports, children returned to situations of neglect and abuse, concerning behaviors, emails between the Department, etc… It will break us. I know it will. We don’t need the beginning of their story to change the ending. But we’d do anything to give them a redo and be able to take away the challenges they’ve faced and will continue to face as they grow older.

 

Give Me a Break!!!

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B35AFC14-1751-49C1-A902-88C16249AB8DThe kids spent the night at my Mom’s house last night! Hooray! So Mauricio and I got a very much needed date night in last night. Sadly, I can’t remember the last time we had a date night. We love our kids and we ENJOY our kids and everything we do is for our kids, so don’t feel too bad for us! 6 kids is A LOT though and sometimes (a lot of the time) I wish I had more help. I wish I had the regular date nights that our friends have. But I get it. And when you have 6 kids, it’s not an easy undertaking to secure a babysitter. The logistics of 6 kids is overwhelming. And on top of the sheer number is the fact that our kids have trauma backgrounds and triggers and behaviors and while they thrive in our highly structured environment, they are master manipulators and highly skilled at taking advantage of teachers, daycare, etc… So we have to get creative about investing in time together. Sometimes it’s an early morning puzzle over coffee, or breakfast on the deck, or an hour in the hot tub after the kids are sound asleep (or at least pretending to be). Sometimes it’s playing hooky during a week day and doing brunch and a movie or adventure elsewhere. I’m so grateful, though, for this mini break. To catch up on sleep, to unwind in peace and quiet, and to get things done without “helpers”. The house is clean, the laundry is done, back to school supplies have been organized, laminating projects for the kids’ routines are completed, and now it’s oh so quiet. (I LOVE IT!!! *Insert a thousand confetti emojis*) WHAT A TREAT!!!

My mom sent this photo of the kids getting their back to school shoes. So grateful for this blessing! (And lucky for them because this Mama is more of a Walmart shopper.)

Struggling to Bond with a Child Doesn’t Make You a Bad Person

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If you are a foster parent and you find it hard to bond with a foster child in your care, you are not a bad person. It is not wrong to struggle and face obstacles. What is wrong is treating a child differently than others in your care, giving them less affection or opportunities because of how hard they are to bond with. Kids with trauma are hard. Some of these kids have experienced so much neglect or abuse that they haven’t learned something that would otherwise be common sense for the average child their age. That’s why they are with you. So it’s okay if you find yourself feeling completely worn out by that child’s emotional immaturity or because they are 6 years old and can’t dress themselves or they obsess about food or they have a hard time paying attention or because teaching them about hygiene and getting them to take frequent showers feels like an enormous burden. Just remember that it’s not their fault and that they aren’t intentionally trying to make things hard for you. Try to avoid thinking in terms of “behaving badly” but recognize this as they are having a hard time. And don’t let your frustration show. How blessed are we, that we get to love on and help a child become more independent?!? That is the goal… to help a child become as independent as possible, knowing they might be returned to a situation of neglect.

As a foster parent I have been so blessed to bond with and genuinely love every child that has come into my care. My husband feels very much the same. That’s not to say we haven’t struggled or suffered. Because we have. We’ve had kids come into our home that have had us saying (more like whispering in the privacy of our bedroom) “what were we thinking?” “Can we really do this?” “Why wouldn’t the placement desk inform us of this issue?”

Remember YOU are amazing! YOU provide safety and hope. YOU have opened your heart and your home to a child in need. YOU can do hard things! YOU can love a difficult child. Keep up the hard work, YOU! YOU are creating change. ❤️

 

 

 

Trauma is _____________.

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Trauma is a kiddo melting down while at the happiest place on earth. Shriveled up in a ball, body shaking, crying so hard it hurts his head, burns his throat, and makes him nauseous. Trauma is the scariest thoughts or feelings at the most inconvenient of times. It looks like a foster kiddo peeing his pants in fear at the sight of a police officer because that police officer reminds him of that one time his dad beat his mom, almost to death, and as a result, he lives with strangers. It’s having to immediately pull the car off the freeway because the siren of a passing ambulance triggered unbelievable anxiety and fear for the 7 year old that moments before was playing legos in peace. Trauma is the child that stands over my bed at 3am, making sure I haven’t left him. Trauma is that child that asks me hundreds of times all throughout the day if we have enough food. “What’s for breakfast?” “What if I want more” “Will there be milk?” “Will we have snacks?” “What kind of snacks?” “What’s for lunch?” “Mom, did we have dinner? I can’t remember!!!” Trauma is the child that’s scared to leave my arms at school because she doesn’t know if she’ll ever see me again. Trauma is a child calling me “Mom” after only knowing me for hours. It’s a child begging me to stay forever, after less than a week in my home. Trauma is the girl that screams all throughout the night, haunted in her sleep by god knows what and we hold her and rub her back and we pray for the nightmares to end. God, why won’t they end? 😫 Trauma is a little girl living with strangers because her parents sold her to pay for basic things that you and I take for granted. It’s ordering a seatbelt cutter off of Amazon, hoping it arrives the same day, while holding a precious young teen who is experiencing suicidal ideation because their world feels too heavy for them. Trauma is mean and ugly and raw. It rocks its victims to their core, taking their breath away, stealing their feelings of safety, security, warmth and love. It’s a kindergartener throwing chairs at his teacher, ripping posters and artwork off the walls of the classroom, destroying everything he can because he’s angry… his emotions are too big for him and he doesn’t know where these feelings are coming from or how to deal with them. It is that child that pushes me so far to see how I’ll respond because everyone before now dumped him off at the social worker’s office when things got hard. Trauma is the child that arrives at my house in the middle of the night, reeking of cigarettes and urine. “Hi, my name is ____________.  The kids call me ___________ or ___________. Are you hungry? Here’s your bed, here’s the bathroom, here’s your jammies, this bear is yours. Do you want a hug? Can I rub your back?” It’s a child acting out on a family vacation because in his last placement, he was moved again to another strange family’s house immediately following a family vacation…just when he was starting to feel at home. It is that child that hoards food so bad you find a stash of fermented shelf unstable food under their bed along with ants. It’s is trying to breath through your mouth and act as nonjudgemental as possible while you clean up a child that made themselves vomit. It is crying into your pillow for one minute after bathing a child that responded with such terror and horror at the sight of a shower / bath. As if they were in severe danger. It is hearing a child say they’ve never had a bed before. It’s is muttering “efff it” and giving the kids their favorite cereal for dinner because they’ve had a shit day… and you did too… and you’re not about to make them eat another one of your “healthy” paleo experiments… and besides, you didn’t have time to pick up groceries on your designated shopping day because the school called 6 times and you had to go deal with a kid getting expelled from school, and work sucked and “did I pay those bills yet?” and the house doesn’t meet your cleanliness standards, there are 12 loads of laundry that need to be done, 4 beds that need to be made because the kids had accidents, and you are tired and angry and empty and wondering “why am I doing this? I miss my care free life. And traveling. And reading novels in a nice quiet bath.” It is watching a child flinch because even though you were only redirecting their negative behavior, they were expecting you to hurt them physically… because that’s what they are accustomed to. It is checking your teen girl’s tablet to make sure she’s not at risk for trafficking. Checking her wrists and legs to make sure she’s not using her shaving razor to cut. It is stripping a baby down after a visit with their birth family to check for marks on their body, praying to god there are no burn marks, bruises or signs of abuse from the 3 hour unsupervised visit they returned from. Trauma is relentless; unpredictable emotions, uncontrollable feelings, flashbacks, distractions, grogginess. It is a random recipe of self preservation, hyper-vigilance and dissociation. It is deep emotional scars that affect learning, relationships and growth. Trauma is trying to ground yourself in the midst of a panic attack that creates such intense physiological symptoms, that you think you are dying. But you’re not. And you know it; you just have to push through it. Keep going.
Trauma is processing events with a professional and seeking guidance so as not to trigger our kiddos.

Trauma is an invisible wound. Purveyor of billions of dollars in research, services, billable hours. It is an overwhelming amount of booze and pills and habits that would break your mother’s heart. It is shame and lust. It is begging for mercy. It is trying to keep it all together. It is the kid that’s hardest to love and bond with. It fuels burnout, making this foster life so difficult.

I was told by one of my kids’ therapists this week, “You should consider seeing a therapist just for yourself. The things you witness and experience as a caregiver for kids with trauma may be creating your own trauma.” I laughed because realistically where am I going to find that kind of time in my INSANE (ly wonderful life) and because there is some truth to what she’s saying. BUT instead, I bought a subscription to Sirius XM Satellite Radio so I can listen to the comedy station non stop in my car…. because laughing is cheaper than therapy. And it’s fun. And because trauma is sometimes avoidant coping. We laugh, we smile, we tell the world everything is fine … even when it’s not. Even when we are choking up water from the sea we are drowning in. It’s okay.

Trauma has made my kids resilient. They bounce back. They are tough as hell. They are brave and funny little warriors who understand far more pain than the average human being. They crack jokes at moments that would bring another to their knees. But not my kids.

Resilience.

 

Vacation to Disneyland

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Disney photo

The last week of June we took the most magical trip to Disneyland with the whole family! J & J, we didn’t tell you where we were going… for months leading up to this trip we told you we would be going on a super secret family vacation. After so much build up, it’s hard to tell who was more excited for this trip; the kids or the parents. The night before and the morning of, we had social worker appointments to get through… it was a marathon week for us to prepare for vacation. On the plane you were given Disneyland coloring books and Disneyland themed snack packs. You were so good on the plane. We watched tv, played games, and enjoyed the thrill of adventure.

I wanted my mom – your Cookie Grandma – to be a part of the magic so I surprised her the week before with a plane ticket and instructions to keep it secret! She was going on another plane that would take off from another terminal in the airport so I thought the surprise was in the bag… but just as we were using the restrooms before boarding, Mauricio spotted her. So we got to squeeze her in the airport before seeing her again at our vacation rental that night.

When we arrived at our vacation rental house, over a Costco pizza dinner we told you that the next day we’d be going to Disneyland. You were so excited. And we were excited. You had no idea the magic ahead of you.

For 5 days we experienced the all-you-can-take magic, adventure, and joy of Disney at Disneyland and California Adventures. I am so grateful we had this adventure with you. To bond as a family, to see you experience so much happiness, and to see you dream – that made this trip extraordinary. Dream big my little loves. You really can have it all!

We love you so much and look forward to many, many more family vacations and adventures.

Love,

Mom  / Nikki  (You started calling us “Mom” and “Dad” a couple of weeks ago… what a joy it is to hear you say that and to sign that… you can have more than one mom… know that we’ll be there for you whether we become your “forever parents” or not. We love you)

This is war

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Another successful meeting with our social worker. Successful because this past month we’ve survived the dentist, the doctor’s office, vaccinations, Kindergarten registration for Big J, Head Start registration for Little J, meetings with teachers and counselors and our Licensor. Check ins with our CASA (Court Approved Special Advocate), our Family Liaison at school, and our social worker.

Nobody warned me that I’d have to put on armor and fight for just about everything. It’s maddening. There is so much bureaucracy, a result of DSHS being ruled by a budget. And I get it, I really do. If it wasn’t that way, everyone would have a Massage Envy subscription for stress management and a pantry full of Le Creuset. It’s the same reason we don’t go out to eat every night – it’s not a necessary expense. But ensuring that you both are healthy, and happy and THRIVING, that you have the means to be resilient — everything related to that goal is necessary. Everything.

Back in December a woman from DSHS called me and asked me a series of questions from a pre-printed questionnaire, twice – for both of you. It was maybe 7 minutes of dialogue each time and at the end of this approximate 15 minute phone call the lady determined that Little J was not in need of any sort of  Mental Health Counseling or evaluation. I was stunned. Livid. I mean how can someone who has never met you, who hasn’t heard your full story, who can’t even begin to comprehend the depth of what you’ve experienced determine that after a brief phone call? How does she have that kind of authority? She isn’t a licensed mental health practitioner… given her job title, she may have a bachelor’s degree, and that’s a coin toss. Come on, she reads from a script all day. And the decisions she has the authority to make are life altering. It’s scary. Her reasoning was that you were probably young enough that your memories of any trauma, any neglect would be low. You are 3 years old and scientifically there is probably some truth to that. You don’t remember much about your biological parents – in fact, you recently saw your biological mother at your maternal grandma’s funeral and you didn’t know who you were looking at when she asked to take a photo with you and Big J. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need any help or services. That doesn’t mean that you don’t need play therapy or a safe neutral place to talk to a professional and process what you’ve experienced. I wanted you to be assessed by someone possessing the appropriate qualifications to make that judgment. And your teachers and family liaison at school were 100% on board, they even prepared documentation of behaviors and concerns for you. So at our court date, I asked the judge to please order at the very least an assessment. And he graciously agreed, stating “I order that Little J be given an assessment…” That day I messaged our CASA, our social worker, the counseling team, and let them know. We should have had you in your initial intake for counseling the very next day… but the counseling team and DSHS would not allow it as the judge had not created a written order. They said this order was purely verbal and would not count. I sat in court with both the AAG and DSHS Supervisor, and it’s egregious that they didn’t have record of this order – someone could have pushed this through. So we pressed on with our CASA and about a week – week and a half later we had the written order for treatment. And, within an hour of receiving that news, I had you scheduled for a 2 hour intake appointment where we’d later meet your counselor and play with a PT Cruiser Barbie car together on her office floor.

… what about the kids in foster care that don’t have someone to negotiate for them, to fight these battles? God only knows, there’s a million+ What happens to them? Or the kids whose foster parents don’t have the time and energy to advocate for these necessities? It’s a FIGHT for just about everything. I have the freedom of being my own boss and setting my work hours around your agenda and needs. That’s a luxury most foster parents don’t have. We are so fortunate, I can’t even begin to express  how lucky we are. To have you in our lives. To make ends meet. To advocate for you. The system is broken in more ways than I can count. But you will always have people on your team that will go to bat for you any day of the week.

Love you,
Nikki