foster parent

The Neediest Child

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I love all my children. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep them safe. I enjoy them – watching them learn and grow and adventuring with them. It’s so cool to see how far each one of them have come. How unique each child is and how together we create this family.

There is a child in my pack that pushes my every button. It seems like every minute he’s doing something to get negative attention. It’s non stop and some days I feel like I’m about to lose my ever-loving mind. His voice reaches an octave that makes me want to chew on glass and run with scissors. He will wake up at 3am to go potty and then will decide to wake the entire house up and have a party. He won’t follow simple directions. He makes unsafe choices that make it hard to trust him. When he pees all over the toilet and bathroom floor, when he’s clumsy and breaks something of mine, when he lets the shower curtain drip water all over my bathroom floor, when he leaves the car door open all night and the batter dies, when when when… over and over and over again – I feel like he’s punishing me. I know it’s not rational. It’s trauma. The scars of severe neglect. I’m struggling. And so is he. At school he has started this thing where he’ll retaliate against his teacher by wetting his pants if he’s asked to wait a few minutes before using the restroom. He’s now no longer allowed to use the restroom alone because he violated another student’s privacy by crawling under the bathroom stall… the other student happened to be wiping at that moment and startled, got his feces on my son. It was quite literally a shit show. Once a star student, he’s refusing to do his work and disrupting his class.

It’s exhausting and I am having a hard time not feeling resentful this season. There is so much shame and sadness around this issue.

There’s no Idiot’s Guide to Fostering and Adoption. Or maybe there is and I didn’t read it? Lol. Nobody told me that there would be scenarios like this (or that laundry would be a 24/7 cycle). I don’t feel as bonded with this child. There’s a click that’s missing. He’s 7 and talks like a baby and wants to curl up and have me hold him like a baby. And I feel like such a bad mom because I’m not getting it or don’t have the emotional capacity to be what he needs in those moments. Some days I fantasize about him growing up as an only child in another woman’s home. I truly believe he should be an only child and would thrive. That he’s been so neglected, he worries that there isn’t enough love or attention or food or whatever for him. But there’s no chance of single childhood happening. If I ever recommended the thought to a social worker, we’d risk the powers that be coming in, taking the sibling group and them possibly bouncing around many homes again, separated like they were before. This child has huge trauma and people who know trauma and kids know that the kids who need the most love often ask for it in the most unloving ways. Knowing he went through a dozen homes before he walked through my door, in April of 2018, I can’t let him go through that again. I won’t let it happen.

I’ve been hearing from other foster and adoptive moms who have had similar experiences and it’s so encouraging to know I’m not alone. I’m not giving up on this kid. I truly believe these behaviors and issues will pass and things will get better for our family. More importantly, things will get better for him.

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.

 

Legally FREE!

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“A child born to another woman calls me Mommy. The magnitude of that tragedy and the depth of that privilege are not lost on me.” – Jody Landers

My sweet J’s,

Today is the day you became legally free. What this means is that at trial today, and after years of hard work and with the help of handfuls of professionals, a judge terminated rights of your birth parents. It’s a tremendously sad thing – to be legally free – a ward or orphan of the state – but it’s also equally happy in our case because it means we are another step closer to adoption where we will earn the privilege of being your Mom and Dad FOREVER!

Being legally free also signifies that we will have a closed adoption. We get to close the  door on a past in which put your safety and wellbeing in jeopardy, and ensure that’s never compromised. We will get to make ALL the decisions for you, once you’re adopted. We are so extremely grateful for your birth parents, we’ll continue to pray for them to be well, and we will be open to answering any questions you have when they arise. And if later down the road they are sober and safe, and you want to meet them, we are open to that. In the meantime we will continue to talk with the highest regard for them for they unknowingly gave us our greatest blessings yet – YOU!

Today we focused on the good. And we celebrated with “legally free” cake. You requested we sing the “Happy Birthday” song to you so that you could blow out the candles together.

Big J was especially excited to hear about becoming legally free because he can’t wait until the day adoption closes and some of our rules change.  (Like mandatory life jacket in a foot of water or in the hot tub when Mom and Dad are sitting next to you.) “I’m FREE,” he squealed with such delight! “I’m FREE!”

We dream of a future for you that’s so bright. Dream big, my loves!!

The next steps for us will be to wait for our newly assigned Adoption Social Worker to meet with us for monthly Health & Safety Checks (the torch gets passed from our current Social Worker) & to retain an attorney to guide us through the adoption, and we hope to be done in the next 6 months. See you at the courthouse!

❤

One more thing…

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Think back about your first day of high school. If you can’t pinpoint first day, then your first memories, experiences that you recall about high school. Were you nervous? Scared you wouldn’t fit in? Worried about what people would think of you – your clothes, the way you looked, the way you talked, the backpack on your back, the brand of shoes on your feet…. did you sleep well the night before or did you toss and turn? Did you find your classes okay, among the sea of students in the seemingly never ending hallways? Did any familiar faces greet you in your classes, the hallway or cafeteria? Were you shown kindness?

As I sat there in the student services office with my 10th grade foster daughter on the first day of school, I was once again in awe of her resilience. And burdened with the sadness of the reality of how many hoops our foster youth have to jump through. It’s no wonder less than half graduate high school. Sobering, isn’t it? We spent two hours the day before at the school doing tour stuff, paperwork and calling social workers and attorneys for transcripts and info and records with the objective of having everything ironed out and perfect for today. We woke up at 5:30am to be at school the moment the doors opened at 7:00am. 40 minutes later and her first period class started without her because her file was not put into the system. It wasn’t a priority to the registrar… ouch, I thought. Is that coming from a place of privilege? Am I in the right being annoyed that they didn’t set her up already? My girl’s file sat on the desk for more than half of the day the day before. (In case you are wondering, I kept my mouth shut. In an effort to be a good-ish role model, and because teachers and school faculty are HEROS, I bit my tongue when I wanted to lay into any one of the 4 women who sat within 3 feet of her file all day yesterday.) Really?!?!? Are you FREAKING SERIOUS?!? The file sat ALL day on the desk. In fact, it hadn’t even moved from where I left it yesterday morning. Did they realize how difficult this day is? That she’s nervous. That this school is easily 4 times (or more) larger than any other she’s attended? That it’s her birthday week – her QUINCE – and she’s living with people who were strangers 5 weeks ago? That she knows nobody here? How much time, inconvenience, would it have cost them to pick up her file (completely COMPLETE & with transcripts) the day before and enter it into the system so that she could start her first day on the right foot? It might not have been a priority for the registrar, but to me it was. I took the day off work to focus on setting her up for success this school year… it was ONE MORE THING. One more obstacle she didn’t need, one more X on her back, and today of all days.

I wondered what she’s feeling, this sweet girl, as she sipped on her white mocha that we picked up on the way to school. Celebratory Starbucks for the first day. I hoped she’d be okay. I hoped she knew that she’d get through this day just fine. I hoped she would make friends easily and find some comfort this day and week. That she wouldn’t worry about what’s happening at court tomorrow for her. That she wouldn’t worry about where she’ll be welcome. The list of worries goes on. As if life isn’t hard enough, foster kids have to juggle social workers, CASA (court approved special advocates), attorneys, attorneys for special circumstances, court dates (where sometimes they spend all day in the court room), family visitation, therapy appointments, foster family support groups, etc… it’s a lot for anybody to handle, let alone a 10th grader.

There is a saying that goes “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.” Think about it, BE about it and have a great day!

N

 

Fostering

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My precious J’s,

You might remember a time when we opened our home to other foster kids. I don’t know if, when you read this, we will still be fostering. I hope so, but only time will tell.

A few months after we received you into our family, we had to start preparing to get our foster care license (Every foster family’s journey looks a little different. Sometimes it is required that the foster family have their license before receiving a child. But because we knew of you as friends of friends, we were an exception called “suitable others.”). As we attended classes and trainings our world was shook by the information of just how many kids there are in foster care and how the number of willing and able foster care homes available falls short of that number. That every night dozens of kids are displaced to sleep in offices or hotels under the supervision of social workers. Your Dad and I started to think that although our purpose is to be your forever parents, maybe we were also put here to provide a safe temporary home to other kids that may be on the path to reunification with their birth families. To help them heal, to be in a safe home, to experience the joys of family vacations, dinner together around the table, homework time, movie nights, bike rides, etc… Or perhaps to help a teen transition into the next phase of their life and gain independence with a little support. To be their cheerleader and remind them that they are worthy of and able to achieve any dream.

When a child is taken into protective custody, it is a traumatic experience. They did absolutely nothing to ask for or to deserve what’s happening to them. They may have witnessed a crime, or experienced some form of abuse or neglect. They have been separated from their parent or caretaker, and possibly even their sibling(s).  They may end up spending hours in an office while a social worker puts them into the system and tries to find them a willing and able foster home. It is the worst day of their life. Watch ReMoved, a powerful short film which follows a girl through the foster care system, starting with being taken into protective custody.

We have had the tremendous honor of being a safe landing pad for handfuls of kids taken into protective custody over the past six months. You both have been so amazing with sharing your parents, your puppies, your home and your toys with these kids as they transition to safety. And our therapist has held your hands and mine every step to process and to gain new skills as we make room in our hearts and home for these kids. You are deeply generous and have the most sincere hearts. I am so lucky and proud to be your Mom.

My wish for you throughout this journey on which our family has embarked, is that you find grace, not perfection. To know that you are worthy. You are enough. That you don’t have to chase Pinterest perfect anything. That your past doesn’t define you, that you don’t need to “try to measure up” to anything. That the good life is real, raw, slow, and rich with flaws. Take risks and know that we will be here to catch you.

You are loved more than you will ever know, my sweet boys.

Thoughts of Adoption…

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My beloved J’s, we are a month away from trial with your birth father and there are so many things happening behind the scenes. Court dates for dependency. Pre-adoption planning meetings. Counseling. Conversations with your therapist regarding how to best go about this transition.

The biggest question this week is – Do we go for a closed adoption or an open adoption? Your birth mom has already been terminated, meaning she has lost her rights to you, but there remains a chance for your birth father to have some sort of rights. Although very limited and infrequent, and we aren’t talking visitations, we are looking at perhaps sending him a Christmas card with a photo of you once yearly. Giving him the opportunity to hold onto something of you – a photo, an update that you’re alive and well, hope for your future, something tangible. We really want only the best for you. Is keeping this door open to a past that put you in danger really what’s best for you? Are we being selfish by wanting to slam that door closed and deadbolt and chain latch it? I wish we had more clarity on this matter. Two thirds of the professionals working alongside us on your case are advocating for a closed adoption. A new professional that joined the case this week is telling us to consider an open adoption because it poses the least risk – meaning, if we had a closed adoption, and there was a loophole, we could potentially lose you later down the line. Very slim chance, but still a risk I don’t think we are willing to take. It’s all very confusing. And maddening. And ridiculous. What do we do?

Yesterday Big J had a meltdown because he’s angry that we have all these restrictions placed upon us by our “social worker” (State Licensor) that we wouldn’t have if you were 100% ours and adopted. This week he is upset about having to wear a life jacket in the hot tub even when Mom & Dad are sitting right next to him… or to walk in 2 feet of water at the beach… or the water slides or Great Wolf Lodge. There are certain risks we cannot take because if something were to happen, you could be taken from us. Just like that. Gone. So we worry. About the bruises you get on your shins from romping around and rough housing with each other. The road burn Big J got when he flew off his scooter coming down the hill from school. The falls. The scrapes. The questions professionals are always asking you during our check ins; How did you get that (bruise or scrape)? Do you feel safe here? Do you get enough to eat? Sometimes I wish we could put you in one of those giant inflatable bubbles and keep you tucked away from any danger.

“I WANT TO BE ADOPTED TODAY!” Big J screamed. “WHY WON’T YOU ADOPT ME ALREADY?” It’s frustrating. I know. Us too. Believe me when I say you don’t have to worry about this. It will happen. You see, there is a ton of bureaucracy that happens before adoption. So many steps and so many things that have to align. And if your birth father makes any appeals, the process could be stalled another 18 months. Another reason we may consider an open adoption… Hang in there, we love you.

We are going to have one heck of a party when that day comes and is CLOSED!

Big J at the Principal’s Office

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Big J – You are the sweetest, kindest, most sincere little boy so it surprises me to hear that you struggled like this today. I knew there would be conversations about you pushing boundaries with your new found freedom as a big kid. And, I knew that a trip to the principal’s office would be inevitable… after all, we signed up for this. I just didn’t think that it would happen on Day 4 of Kindergarten. Seriously?!?!

We probably need to take a parenting class so we can learn how to best help you in these types of situations. The idea of adding another class / time commitment to our already insane lives makes me feel a little sick. Right now your 5 year old self is sitting at a desk with me in our home office, working on your Costco Kindergarten workbook. I’m enjoying this time with you to chat one-on-one and to just be next to you.

“I lost my happiness,” you said as you described the incident in detail to me. Sounds like it was a hard day. I know the feeling. Transitions are hard. Monday’s are hard. Life is sometimes hard. Tomorrow is a new opportunity, a fresh slate – just keep on keepin’ on. There is a village that loves you more than you’ll ever know.

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)

The day we got you…

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Big J, Little J, I want to tell you a story about our beginning.

The day we got you – November 29, 2016 – was just like any other Tuesday in Seattle. The weather was a cool 46 degrees, overcast, and the ground was still wet from morning showers. It was as if the sky had been crying for us earlier. It was a hard day for everyone, your Grandpa and Aunt especially. Your Aunt and Grandpa took the day off from work to pack up your belongings and move you into our home. In this moment I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult and sad that must have been. To love you so much and want something else for you. Giving you to us was the ultimate sacrifice. So badly they wanted you to have a family. Coupled with the tragedy of losing your Grandma just weeks earlier, and the emotions of the holiday season, it was an especially grueling day to say the least.

At noon your Aunt pulled up to the front of our house in her white pickup truck, along with your Grandpa, packed with bicycles, Big J’s skateboard (which I’m still hiding in the garage for fear you’ll break bones and CPS will take you away), helmets, toys and a black basket with a few pairs of clothes, 2 pairs of shoes and 2 pairs of boots. Everything you had in the world. I greeted your family and the three of us stood there somber for a moment, each of us afraid of breaking down in the driveway. It’s impossible to put into words the pain I felt and witnessed. You see, we would later celebrate gaining you two amazing boys in our family (how did we get so lucky?!?), but in that moment it was devastating because, in a way, your Grandpa and Aunt were losing you. I asked a few light questions like “What are the boys’ favorite vegetables?” and “What is their bedtime?” I also asked your Aunt to bring us some photos of your family that I could frame and have around the house so that you’d have some familiar faces and happy memories to think about.

This was the very first time your family had seen our home, the place you would soon call your own. They checked out your bedroom and a few other rooms and then we walked back out the front yard toward the truck. I started to say “thank you” but a half-sob escaped and suddenly I felt embarrassed. My face was hot. “Who I am to cry in this moment?” I thought. “This is their moment. This is about them. Not me.” Just weeks ago you had plans that would take you all the way to Florida to live with your grandparents.  Everything changed for you. Again. I’m so sorry. The three of us choked back tears and agreed that we’d see each other back here for dinner. As they retreated to the truck, I closed the garage door and sobbed quietly in the garage for a few minutes. Oh my heart.

My mom, who you call Cookie Grandma, was in the room adjacent to the garage, preparing the house for your arrival. She was so excited. We spent the previous week overhauling your room and the house for you. I have the most amazing realtor friends who donated bunk beds and bedding, some staple clothing, games, puzzles, etc… And the house was filled with gifts for you to open from family and friends. So many people came together to show you love and to support us. It was an exciting time. I’m forever grateful.

We planned this day a week earlier at the Bellevue DSHS office where your social worker and 2 of her supervisors sat around a conference room table, along with your Grandpa, Great Grandma, and Aunt, your CASA (Court Approved Special Advocate) and me. Attending via telephone were several other professionals, including your attorney who would file the court order for you to live with us, and more importantly, give Mauricio and I authority to make all decisions pertaining to your health, education and overall wellbeing. The magnitude of this privilege wouldn’t resonate in my mind until days later. A whole room full of people who love you and want the very best for you sat in this room, planning this day – the day that you would become a part of our family.

It was really important to me that you boys have as smooth a transition as possible. That you wouldn’t feel as though you were being “dropped off” at a stranger’s house. So I planned a dinner and game night. On the evening of moving day, your Aunt, cousins, Grandpa, and 2 family friends came over and we shared the table. We feasted on lasagna, a penne pasta in white sauce, salad and garlic bread (thanks, Costco!). Everyone was happy that night. After you boys finished dinner, you took your cousins upstairs to explore your new bedroom and play games… and for a few moments we forgot that you’d be shortly saying goodbye to your family. Before leaving, your family took you downstairs to the family room where you sat on the couch and took photos together. Then your Grandpa took you upstairs and tucked you in to bed. As they left our house, you both wailed and screamed “Papa! No! No, Papa! Don’t Go!” “PaaaaaaaaPaaaa!!” Mauricio and I sat in silence downstairs. We cried. We comforted you. We cried. It was heartbreaking. And it went on for about 40 minutes. Then I rubbed your backs, and as if by magic, you both fell asleep almost instantly.

This was the day we got you. Everything we hear today from our social workers, CASA volunteer, liaison, your family, and legal professionals tells us that we will be your forever home. During our last meeting with our social worker, she said adopting you will be “a slam dunk.” It’s hard to celebrate that because nothing is ever certain until it happens and because of the loss of your biological family unit. How can we celebrate someone else’s tragedy? But as you both know all too well, plans aren’t always set in stone. Although we pray that we get to have you in our family forever, we also pray that whatever is best for you will happen. God doesn’t always give us a roadmap. We pray for your Mom and Dad to be healthy and to make good choices. And if we end up only being temporary in your lives, know that there is nothing temporary about our love for you.

Nothing is temporary about our love for you.

Love you,

Nikki

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