Oops.
I just realized I never did post an update after we finalized C's adoption.
It did happen in late February, we have pictures with the judge, her name was legally changed and we are just waiting for the state to send us an updated birth certificate so we can finalize all the paperwork. (I'm hoping the attorney will manage to "accidentally" get us a copy of the original birth certificate again, too.)
The home is officially closed -- I have no more bedrooms! -- but we have asked to be notified if there is another biological sibling. Birth mom is incarcerated (and has been for about 4 months), so I'm assuming we're safe from that all for a little while. I asked the caseworker, somewhat jokingly, if there was any news of another pregnancy already; she said she sure hoped not. I'm crossing my fingers that the jail would tell DFCS if they had a pregnant prisoner with a history with CPS, so that means she's probably not pregnant right now. I really have no idea what we'll do if we get that phone call; agency caseworker said (if birth mom was pregnant already), she would go ahead and decline the placement on our behalf to save us from ourselves. We'd still want to know of the child's existence, even if we couldn't take the placement, and hope to be able to set up contact if another baby ended up adopted. But that's all a bridge to cross when we get there.
Mr D and I went away for a weekend recently -- our annual just-us trip -- and noticed that "five" is apparently the number that makes people say "wow!" when asked how many kids we have. We heard it almost every time; that happened rarely when we used to say "four." I can't imagine what people would say if we ever start saying "six." (There I go again. I will not think about another sibling, I will not think about another sibling. I will not think about another sibling!)
It's nice to be down to normal business -- no more caseworker visits, no more documenting medications, no more asking for copies of visit notes from the doctor -- and I have a little less of the time-on-my-hands feeling that I had after Lucy's adoption finalized. A busy 2 year old and a baby starting to crawl will keep me quite well occupied, thank you very much. Also, there were never family visits for C, so that was one less thing that went away, so to speak.
It's a little strange to be thinking about colleges and preschools at the same time, but the age gap is really what makes this doable for me. I can't imagine having added two little ones when my original crew were younger and less self-sufficient.
Showing posts with label Who They Are. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Who They Are. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Friday, September 25, 2015
Where Things Stand
A bullet point update, because I am Always Too Tired right now.
- The SwaddleMe swaddling blankets (pictured to the left, although ours are shades of pink) have been a life saver. C needs to be wrapped up tightly a lot of the time, especially to stay asleep. Her withdrawal symptoms include a lot of jerky flinching, which wakes her up. Mr D and I have realized that we are both very, very bad at swaddling a baby in a blanket. These things, though? Fantastic.
- At first, the blankets were only saving my sanity while we remained in the house. C hated the car and, of course, I had to unswaddle her to put her in the car seat, didn't I? But, then! I realized what the little hole in the back of the blanket was for. I CAN SWADDLE HER WITH THESE WHILE STRAPPING HER INTO THE CARSEAT. Answer to prayer.
- Birthmom's surrender is official and final and done. There does not appear to be any plan for a final visit.
- Birthdad has stated his intent to surrender, but has still not actually been seen by the caseworker. I doubt he will want a final visit, even if offered one, since such a visit would also be the first time he's seen her.
- Caseworker seems very thorough and on top of things. It makes me happy when they actually want to see the child's bedroom and check under the baby's clothing; I know I'm not hurting this child, but it's the caseworker's job to ensure it.
- I used up my Dreft on the second load of her laundry. I'm not buying more. She's doing fine with her clothes washed in our regular detergent.
- Daytime sleep is still a bit of challenge.
- Every day, I see a little bit more happy baby time and a little less screaming, miserable, withdrawing-from-drug-exposure baby time. Hooray!
- Lucy is equal parts proud of and jealous of her baby sister. She points her out to people -- "Bay-bee!" -- and insists I go running if she hears her over the monitor. On the other hand, she's gotten very clingy to me and begun to resist letting Mr D or Peter doing things for her, especially when she's tired.
- Tho Originals are still being big helps, although I try to limit what I ask of them, other than being more responsible for their own things. (I no longer make school lunches, for example.)
Monday, September 14, 2015
Early Days
C arrived during Lucy's naptime on Friday and then it was the weekend. Today is the first time I've really had to be alone with both littles awake. That's fun. (Well, no. No, it isn't. Hopefully, it will be fun. Later.)
C seems so tiny -- although she's a healthy weight. We're still working on figuring out the best bottle/nipple combination for her. She has a very strong suck, so she gets frustrated with store bought "infant" nipples with their slow flow because she wants the formula to come out faster! This is the learning curve that happens with every baby, of course.
She has no issues with night/day confusion, thankfully. She'll usually take at least one long sleep overnight. We've haven't discovered a consistent daytime nap schedule yet, but I'll take that over night time sleep issues any day.
She's generally happy if held, which is where the challenge this morning came in. I can't just hold her all day, as much as I might want to do that!
To answer Emily's question, the big three are being big helps right now and are completely in love. Edmund held her (sitting carefully on the couch) for me the other day when I needed to go clean Lucy up from a diaper explosion. Peter came home from a run and immediately invited Lucy outside to play with him on Sunday evening while Mr D was out doing the grocery shopping. (He'd thought he could get back before Lucy got up from her nap. He was wrong.) Saturday afternoon (while Lucy napped), I was trying to get a screaming C to settle down and Susan came down from her room to ask if there was anything she could do to help me. I'm well aware this spontaneous helpfulness won't last, but I'm using it while I can!
Lucy is fascinated, but a little clingy. She calls C "Bay-bee." It's adorable. Except when she screams it at the top her lungs when "Bay-bee" has just started to drift off to sleep....
C seems so tiny -- although she's a healthy weight. We're still working on figuring out the best bottle/nipple combination for her. She has a very strong suck, so she gets frustrated with store bought "infant" nipples with their slow flow because she wants the formula to come out faster! This is the learning curve that happens with every baby, of course.
She has no issues with night/day confusion, thankfully. She'll usually take at least one long sleep overnight. We've haven't discovered a consistent daytime nap schedule yet, but I'll take that over night time sleep issues any day.
She's generally happy if held, which is where the challenge this morning came in. I can't just hold her all day, as much as I might want to do that!
To answer Emily's question, the big three are being big helps right now and are completely in love. Edmund held her (sitting carefully on the couch) for me the other day when I needed to go clean Lucy up from a diaper explosion. Peter came home from a run and immediately invited Lucy outside to play with him on Sunday evening while Mr D was out doing the grocery shopping. (He'd thought he could get back before Lucy got up from her nap. He was wrong.) Saturday afternoon (while Lucy napped), I was trying to get a screaming C to settle down and Susan came down from her room to ask if there was anything she could do to help me. I'm well aware this spontaneous helpfulness won't last, but I'm using it while I can!
Lucy is fascinated, but a little clingy. She calls C "Bay-bee." It's adorable. Except when she screams it at the top her lungs when "Bay-bee" has just started to drift off to sleep....
Saturday, September 12, 2015
She's here!
Kayla went to the court date and signed the surrenders.
Biodad didn't show up. The caseworker still hasn't actually seen him. And she was at the hospital when C was born. He wasn't there then and the NICU reports that he has never visited. Kayla keeps telling the caseworker he's at work. When the caseworker told me that, she made little air quotes with her fingers.
So, the case goal is unofficially adoption, but the caseworker (who only does the intake) isn't sure if the county will have to assign us a foster caseworker first until they can get biodad into the office to sign his paperwork. We are irritated by the delay because we're so spoiled by Lucy's case that we let ourselves wonder if another December finalization was possible. (Lucy was legally free in mid-August! If C is legally free in early September, maybe....?)
She is already off the one medication that she was still on. She's tiny -- I'd forgotten how little 9 pounds really is! -- and beautiful. She seems to be doing OK. Mostly, she got held a lot yesterday and spent the night in the swing, waking to eat and settling back down pretty well.
Biodad didn't show up. The caseworker still hasn't actually seen him. And she was at the hospital when C was born. He wasn't there then and the NICU reports that he has never visited. Kayla keeps telling the caseworker he's at work. When the caseworker told me that, she made little air quotes with her fingers.
So, the case goal is unofficially adoption, but the caseworker (who only does the intake) isn't sure if the county will have to assign us a foster caseworker first until they can get biodad into the office to sign his paperwork. We are irritated by the delay because we're so spoiled by Lucy's case that we let ourselves wonder if another December finalization was possible. (Lucy was legally free in mid-August! If C is legally free in early September, maybe....?)
She is already off the one medication that she was still on. She's tiny -- I'd forgotten how little 9 pounds really is! -- and beautiful. She seems to be doing OK. Mostly, she got held a lot yesterday and spent the night in the swing, waking to eat and settling back down pretty well.
Friday, September 11, 2015
Rolling
When things finally move in foster care, they can move very, very fast.
I got a text Wednesday night saying that DFCS was filling out the paperwork to take custody on Thursday and would set things up so we could go visit Baby C.
Mr D and I plotted and planned to go Saturday afternoon when Peter could watch Lucy since NICUs don't allow children into the unit.
Then I got a call on Thursday from the county caseworker. C was going to be discharged "today or tomorrow" and the nurses would really like us to come visit so they could go over everything with us directly.
We ended up at the NICU yesterday with Lucy in tow and just took turns visiting with C.
There is court this morning, at which both parents are expected to officially surrender their rights. After court, the caseworker will pick C up from the hospital and bring her here. If court goes as expected, we are already looking at an adoption case.
She was born with quite the cocktail of drugs in her system and it has been a lengthy withdrawal and weaning process. But, she is off of all but one of the medications used for that and on a "tiny" dose of the remaining medication.
She's about a month old. She is smiling and cooing at the nurses and they clearly adore her.
She sleeps best while rocking in a swing, per the NICU nurse, which for sure simplifies the whole "where does she sleep" question I was stressing over way back when. (She sleeps in the swing because that's what the medical staff told us to do. We are working on assembling an assortment of swings and swing-like objects to keep all over the house. When she gets big enough to not need to do that, she will move into Lucy's room. )
Mr D and I went out to dinner last night because we could. And soon, we can't. Word is starting to spread. (We told the church staff, he told some co-workers and (biggest source of spreading) the players and parents of the team he is coaching right now.)
Here we go.
Bracing ourselves.
I got a text Wednesday night saying that DFCS was filling out the paperwork to take custody on Thursday and would set things up so we could go visit Baby C.
Mr D and I plotted and planned to go Saturday afternoon when Peter could watch Lucy since NICUs don't allow children into the unit.
Then I got a call on Thursday from the county caseworker. C was going to be discharged "today or tomorrow" and the nurses would really like us to come visit so they could go over everything with us directly.
We ended up at the NICU yesterday with Lucy in tow and just took turns visiting with C.
There is court this morning, at which both parents are expected to officially surrender their rights. After court, the caseworker will pick C up from the hospital and bring her here. If court goes as expected, we are already looking at an adoption case.
She was born with quite the cocktail of drugs in her system and it has been a lengthy withdrawal and weaning process. But, she is off of all but one of the medications used for that and on a "tiny" dose of the remaining medication.
She's about a month old. She is smiling and cooing at the nurses and they clearly adore her.
She sleeps best while rocking in a swing, per the NICU nurse, which for sure simplifies the whole "where does she sleep" question I was stressing over way back when. (She sleeps in the swing because that's what the medical staff told us to do. We are working on assembling an assortment of swings and swing-like objects to keep all over the house. When she gets big enough to not need to do that, she will move into Lucy's room. )
Mr D and I went out to dinner last night because we could. And soon, we can't. Word is starting to spread. (We told the church staff, he told some co-workers and (biggest source of spreading) the players and parents of the team he is coaching right now.)
Here we go.
Bracing ourselves.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Tuesday is Monday this week
Yesterday was Labor Day, so I knew I most likely wouldn't hear anything until today at the earliest.
We got a tiny bit more information on Friday afternoon along with something that sounded like a promise of more that never came.
C was not premature; she was full term. But she is withdrawing. A NICU nurse told me once that Lucy's prematurity may have actually benefited her health in the long run since it meant less drug exposure time. That didn't happen with C. That's all I know about her health. I don't know how bad the withdrawal is or how they are treating it. At this time, she is not placed with us (officially) so I have no rights to information and have to wait for caseworkers to share.
There is still no estimated discharge date.
Biomom does still indicate a plan to surrender rights, but it appears nothing will move forward on that until CPS actually takes custody of the baby. That won't happen until the hospital tells them when they expect to discharge her. At that time, the caseworker can give the hospital permission to talk to us about how she's doing and what's going on.
No one has talked to biodad about his plans. Tom had the impression that biodad was "not interested" and even might not know about the baby. I don't think that's right. The photo shoot from Facebook indicated that he knew about the pregnancy and the county caseworker commented that his contact information was the same as Kayla's so they are still living together. A message has been sent to him to go talk to the caseworker this week. If he does, we will hopefully know his plans; if he doesn't, that will hint (to me) at a plan to surrender, because wouldn't you make sure to go see the caseworker if you thought you wanted to work a case plan? Of course, it might also hint that Kayla never passed on the message.
We still do not have permission to go visit her in the hospital.
The last conversation on Friday ended with the caseworker saying she was going to call the hospital for an update and would get back to me. I haven't heard anything since.
We went ahead and told the kids and did some furniture rearranging in bedrooms to make things work better with two little ones sharing the room that is currently just Lucy's. Lucy, of course, has no idea what is about to happen. It'll be interesting to see how she reacts.
We still don't know so much important stuff. The biggest being WHEN?
We got a tiny bit more information on Friday afternoon along with something that sounded like a promise of more that never came.
C was not premature; she was full term. But she is withdrawing. A NICU nurse told me once that Lucy's prematurity may have actually benefited her health in the long run since it meant less drug exposure time. That didn't happen with C. That's all I know about her health. I don't know how bad the withdrawal is or how they are treating it. At this time, she is not placed with us (officially) so I have no rights to information and have to wait for caseworkers to share.
There is still no estimated discharge date.
Biomom does still indicate a plan to surrender rights, but it appears nothing will move forward on that until CPS actually takes custody of the baby. That won't happen until the hospital tells them when they expect to discharge her. At that time, the caseworker can give the hospital permission to talk to us about how she's doing and what's going on.
No one has talked to biodad about his plans. Tom had the impression that biodad was "not interested" and even might not know about the baby. I don't think that's right. The photo shoot from Facebook indicated that he knew about the pregnancy and the county caseworker commented that his contact information was the same as Kayla's so they are still living together. A message has been sent to him to go talk to the caseworker this week. If he does, we will hopefully know his plans; if he doesn't, that will hint (to me) at a plan to surrender, because wouldn't you make sure to go see the caseworker if you thought you wanted to work a case plan? Of course, it might also hint that Kayla never passed on the message.
We still do not have permission to go visit her in the hospital.
The last conversation on Friday ended with the caseworker saying she was going to call the hospital for an update and would get back to me. I haven't heard anything since.
We went ahead and told the kids and did some furniture rearranging in bedrooms to make things work better with two little ones sharing the room that is currently just Lucy's. Lucy, of course, has no idea what is about to happen. It'll be interesting to see how she reacts.
We still don't know so much important stuff. The biggest being WHEN?
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
It begins. Finally. Maybe?
I got a text this evening from Anna.
She's in the hospital. She'll be having (relatively minor, but unplanned) surgery tomorrow and will be out for about a week. She wanted to tell me what she knew and give me her supervisor's contact information as her supervisor will be covering for her while she's recovering from the surgery.
What she knew: C is expected to stay in the hospital for one more week. Kayla plans to surrender rights (already!?), so CPS may take custody tomorrow. (They usually wait until discharge to take custody, probably for budget reasons, unless they need to prevent the parent from visiting the child in the hospital.) If they do take custody tomorrow, we might be approved to go visit C in the hospital between then and discharge. The supervisor (let's call him Tom) will be talking to the county caseworker tomorrow to get more information.
I responded thanking her and telling her to quit worrying about us. (Can I just take this moment to say something that I hate hearing? I could never do Anna's job. I can't imagine being in the hospital and having to contact a bunch of people individually to tell them about it because my job required personal connections with so many and was so time-dependent that it wouldn't work to send out a blanket email: "I will be unavailable from x date to y date for personal reasons. Contact my supervisor if you need something before I get back.") She asked me to keep her posted.
I just texted the supervisor because I had one question I wanted to ask before he talks to the county caseworker. Kayla is surrendering; what about biodad? I'd be shocked if he makes a different decision with this child than he did with Lucy, but you never know. Regardless, do we have to wait out another DNA test?
My plan is to wait until about mid-day tomorrow before calling Tom to follow up. Until then....I'm feeling kind of...frozen. I want to leap into prep work with energy -- get the beds set up, pull out the baby clothing, put our support network on notice. But I don't think I can really do that until after we hear tomorrow's update. We haven't even told the kids yet.
So many questions. Surrendering already...does this mean no visits? No case plan? Do we go straight to an adoption worker? How unheard of is this?!
Lucy's case was fast. This one? Sounds like it could be even faster.
She's in the hospital. She'll be having (relatively minor, but unplanned) surgery tomorrow and will be out for about a week. She wanted to tell me what she knew and give me her supervisor's contact information as her supervisor will be covering for her while she's recovering from the surgery.
What she knew: C is expected to stay in the hospital for one more week. Kayla plans to surrender rights (already!?), so CPS may take custody tomorrow. (They usually wait until discharge to take custody, probably for budget reasons, unless they need to prevent the parent from visiting the child in the hospital.) If they do take custody tomorrow, we might be approved to go visit C in the hospital between then and discharge. The supervisor (let's call him Tom) will be talking to the county caseworker tomorrow to get more information.
I responded thanking her and telling her to quit worrying about us. (Can I just take this moment to say something that I hate hearing? I could never do Anna's job. I can't imagine being in the hospital and having to contact a bunch of people individually to tell them about it because my job required personal connections with so many and was so time-dependent that it wouldn't work to send out a blanket email: "I will be unavailable from x date to y date for personal reasons. Contact my supervisor if you need something before I get back.") She asked me to keep her posted.
I just texted the supervisor because I had one question I wanted to ask before he talks to the county caseworker. Kayla is surrendering; what about biodad? I'd be shocked if he makes a different decision with this child than he did with Lucy, but you never know. Regardless, do we have to wait out another DNA test?
My plan is to wait until about mid-day tomorrow before calling Tom to follow up. Until then....I'm feeling kind of...frozen. I want to leap into prep work with energy -- get the beds set up, pull out the baby clothing, put our support network on notice. But I don't think I can really do that until after we hear tomorrow's update. We haven't even told the kids yet.
So many questions. Surrendering already...does this mean no visits? No case plan? Do we go straight to an adoption worker? How unheard of is this?!
Lucy's case was fast. This one? Sounds like it could be even faster.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
My Superstition Was Wrong
Well, I still have Dreft left, but I got The Call today.
"Anna" (our agency caseworker) called. She started out with pleasantries -- How's Lucy doing? Did your big kids start school this week? -- but quickly moved on to "I guess you know why I'm calling."
We're not sure exactly when she was born, but sometime in the last few days. We don't know her name yet. For now, I'm mentally calling her Baby Sister.
She was early, but we don't know by how much.
She (and Kayla) tested positive for substances that they should not have in their bodies right now. (Kayla is claiming it must be the meds given her in the hospital for labor pain, which is exactly what she said when Lucy was born, too. That's because the drug that she finds the most hard to give up is a prescription painkiller, but what she fails to understand or remember is that the drug she abuses is part of a family of drugs that is never given to laboring mothers.)
At the moment, Baby Sis is staying in the NICU. She's showing no symptoms of withdrawal yet (a good sign), but the hospital plans to monitor her for a while before considering discharge. Also, since we aren't sure how early she is -- or how big she is -- there may be preemie reasons to keep her in the hospital as well.
Anna got the call from the county caseworker as a professional courtesy and a feeler. Caseworker didn't know exactly when they'd be looking for an actual placement -- they don't know yet when Baby Sister can leave the hospital and they don't usually even start looking for a foster home until they have a discharge date -- but she knew our agency had a family that recently adopted a sibling. Would we be available and/or interested? Anna was able to say we might be, but wise enough to ask for more information.
So many things we don't know: Are there any concerns about her development? What are they? (That may or may not be a dealbreaker; it honestly depends on what the concerns are.) Will the county even attempt reunification this time? (Again, may or may not make a difference, but would be nice to know.) Is it the same father? How early is she? What was the drug? What hospital? Can we come visit if she's in the NICU for a while? When are we looking at placement?
Anna is waiting for a call back with those answers and will call me when she gets them. She doesn't expect to get them quickly -- this is pretty low on the caseworker's priority list until she has a discharge date. Meanwhile, I'm in a bit of a nesting, cleaning frenzy and mostly feeling excited at the idea that Lucy might get to grow up with a sibling near her age. I haven't told anyone except Mr D who is feeling a bit like we're having a surprise pregnancy. We still plan to tell no one until we have more details and know for sure she is coming. Or as for sure as foster care gets.
"Anna" (our agency caseworker) called. She started out with pleasantries -- How's Lucy doing? Did your big kids start school this week? -- but quickly moved on to "I guess you know why I'm calling."
We're not sure exactly when she was born, but sometime in the last few days. We don't know her name yet. For now, I'm mentally calling her Baby Sister.
She was early, but we don't know by how much.
She (and Kayla) tested positive for substances that they should not have in their bodies right now. (Kayla is claiming it must be the meds given her in the hospital for labor pain, which is exactly what she said when Lucy was born, too. That's because the drug that she finds the most hard to give up is a prescription painkiller, but what she fails to understand or remember is that the drug she abuses is part of a family of drugs that is never given to laboring mothers.)
At the moment, Baby Sis is staying in the NICU. She's showing no symptoms of withdrawal yet (a good sign), but the hospital plans to monitor her for a while before considering discharge. Also, since we aren't sure how early she is -- or how big she is -- there may be preemie reasons to keep her in the hospital as well.
Anna got the call from the county caseworker as a professional courtesy and a feeler. Caseworker didn't know exactly when they'd be looking for an actual placement -- they don't know yet when Baby Sister can leave the hospital and they don't usually even start looking for a foster home until they have a discharge date -- but she knew our agency had a family that recently adopted a sibling. Would we be available and/or interested? Anna was able to say we might be, but wise enough to ask for more information.
So many things we don't know: Are there any concerns about her development? What are they? (That may or may not be a dealbreaker; it honestly depends on what the concerns are.) Will the county even attempt reunification this time? (Again, may or may not make a difference, but would be nice to know.) Is it the same father? How early is she? What was the drug? What hospital? Can we come visit if she's in the NICU for a while? When are we looking at placement?
Anna is waiting for a call back with those answers and will call me when she gets them. She doesn't expect to get them quickly -- this is pretty low on the caseworker's priority list until she has a discharge date. Meanwhile, I'm in a bit of a nesting, cleaning frenzy and mostly feeling excited at the idea that Lucy might get to grow up with a sibling near her age. I haven't told anyone except Mr D who is feeling a bit like we're having a surprise pregnancy. We still plan to tell no one until we have more details and know for sure she is coming. Or as for sure as foster care gets.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Who They Are -- M
M is a baby.
She was born at 31 weeks gestation and tested positive for exposure to multiple drugs. She spent a month in the NICU at the hospital in which she was born. When she was discharged, she went directly into foster care.
Her mother also tested positive at the birth for drug use. She admitted to one of the drugs, claimed the others "must be what the nurses gave me for pain." (That's, um, not possible.) M is her 3rd child. Her first two were already removed and her rights to them were terminated last year. I'm told that she made virtually no attempt to work her case plans for those two children, insisting that she did not have a drug problem and did not need rehab, regardless of what the case plan required. The oldest is currently in the works to be adopted by her foster family; the younger (now middle) child is already adopted by a paternal family member. All three children have different fathers.
When we were called about baby M, we were told there was a "high likelihood" of her becoming available for adoption. It was important that her foster home be willing to adopt her, if it came to that, to minimize the number of moves in her life. We agreed.
There are no resources available in biomom's family. The caseworker was unsure about biodad's family, but doubted anything would come of that. In our state, having prior TPR's does not mean you automatically lose rights to future children, but it is grounds for DFCS to request permission from the judge to skip the will-the-parents-work-the-case-plan step.
It's still too early in the case to know if she really will become a permanent member of our household, but it is much more likely than any of the other cases have ever been. (The closest previously was S, whose mother stepped up, worked hard and got her daughter back.) I'm hearing mixed messages. I heard the judge tell BioMom that DFCS would work with her and "hand her baby back" if she did what she needed to do this time; the caseworker told me she is having a "staffing" in May in which she will request permission to file for TPR. Caseplans were written and given to both parents last week. They have weekly, two hour visits, none of which have actually been two hours (they have either been significantly late or left early at every visit.). My current mantra is: it's too early to tell what will happen. I think the month of May will be revealing -- will TPR get filed? will there have been any progress on the case plans?
Right now, she just eats and sleeps and fills her diapers, blissfully unaware of the uncertainty swirling around her future.
She was born at 31 weeks gestation and tested positive for exposure to multiple drugs. She spent a month in the NICU at the hospital in which she was born. When she was discharged, she went directly into foster care.
Her mother also tested positive at the birth for drug use. She admitted to one of the drugs, claimed the others "must be what the nurses gave me for pain." (That's, um, not possible.) M is her 3rd child. Her first two were already removed and her rights to them were terminated last year. I'm told that she made virtually no attempt to work her case plans for those two children, insisting that she did not have a drug problem and did not need rehab, regardless of what the case plan required. The oldest is currently in the works to be adopted by her foster family; the younger (now middle) child is already adopted by a paternal family member. All three children have different fathers.
When we were called about baby M, we were told there was a "high likelihood" of her becoming available for adoption. It was important that her foster home be willing to adopt her, if it came to that, to minimize the number of moves in her life. We agreed.
There are no resources available in biomom's family. The caseworker was unsure about biodad's family, but doubted anything would come of that. In our state, having prior TPR's does not mean you automatically lose rights to future children, but it is grounds for DFCS to request permission from the judge to skip the will-the-parents-work-the-case-plan step.
It's still too early in the case to know if she really will become a permanent member of our household, but it is much more likely than any of the other cases have ever been. (The closest previously was S, whose mother stepped up, worked hard and got her daughter back.) I'm hearing mixed messages. I heard the judge tell BioMom that DFCS would work with her and "hand her baby back" if she did what she needed to do this time; the caseworker told me she is having a "staffing" in May in which she will request permission to file for TPR. Caseplans were written and given to both parents last week. They have weekly, two hour visits, none of which have actually been two hours (they have either been significantly late or left early at every visit.). My current mantra is: it's too early to tell what will happen. I think the month of May will be revealing -- will TPR get filed? will there have been any progress on the case plans?
Right now, she just eats and sleeps and fills her diapers, blissfully unaware of the uncertainty swirling around her future.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Newborn Fog
The state keeps sending me younger and younger kids.
I think this was deliberatly planned to ease me back into night-time feedings. Because, good heavens, if we'd been doing this 3 years ago, when Edmund needed me to help him get his breakfast in the mornings and Susan needed me to remind her of each step in her morning schedule to get out the door and even Peter would sometimes get distracted and lose track of what time he needed to leave the house for the bus....I never would have survived it. Now, though, they can all get their own breakfast, they generally get themselves ready and out the door on time; all I'm really doing is packing their lunches. So, for now, I'm doing that the night before, just in case M has a rough night.
Generally, though, baby M is doing fabulously. At just over 2 months of age, she's finally passed her due date, making her adjusted age positive.
(Early Intervention came out to do her initial assessment before her due date. The worker told me, laughing, that there really wasn't much point to it yet...she just wanted to get her into their system for later and she'll come back in a few months. Development for preemies is assessed based on their "gestational age" -- the age they would be if they'd been born on time. When EI was here, her adjusted age was "negative 1 week." Developmental goals? Eat. Sleep. Grow. Keep breathing.)
Speaking of breathing, there have been no more scary incidents leading to hospital stays.
But she is eating every 3-4 hours around the clock. And each feeding takes about 30 minutes, plus a few more minutes to mix up a bottle of formula (or warm one from the refrigerator) and then clean up afterwards. So that means our sleep mostly consists of a series of 2-3 hour naps. Mr D takes a turn when he can, but since I can nap during the day and he has to go to work, that mostly consists of taking the last feeding before bed, so I can go to bed early. Even with that help, I'm spending most of my days in the hazy land of not-quite-enough sleep that I like to call "newborn fog."
She's growing like crazy -- already outgrown some of her preemie clothes. The 0-3 month clothes are still a little big, so she's hanging out in "newborn" size for now. As she gets bigger, she will begin to be able to go longer without eating -- already, last night, she slept for a 5 hour break between feedings -- and before I know it, she will sleep through the night. At which time, I will wake up and run to her room, terrified that she's stopped breathing again and then not be able to go back to sleep because of the adrenalin surge caused by that panic. But eventually, she'll do it regularly enough that I will expect it and then, oh, then, I will truly get a good night's sleep.
I think this was deliberatly planned to ease me back into night-time feedings. Because, good heavens, if we'd been doing this 3 years ago, when Edmund needed me to help him get his breakfast in the mornings and Susan needed me to remind her of each step in her morning schedule to get out the door and even Peter would sometimes get distracted and lose track of what time he needed to leave the house for the bus....I never would have survived it. Now, though, they can all get their own breakfast, they generally get themselves ready and out the door on time; all I'm really doing is packing their lunches. So, for now, I'm doing that the night before, just in case M has a rough night.
Generally, though, baby M is doing fabulously. At just over 2 months of age, she's finally passed her due date, making her adjusted age positive.
(Early Intervention came out to do her initial assessment before her due date. The worker told me, laughing, that there really wasn't much point to it yet...she just wanted to get her into their system for later and she'll come back in a few months. Development for preemies is assessed based on their "gestational age" -- the age they would be if they'd been born on time. When EI was here, her adjusted age was "negative 1 week." Developmental goals? Eat. Sleep. Grow. Keep breathing.)
Speaking of breathing, there have been no more scary incidents leading to hospital stays.
But she is eating every 3-4 hours around the clock. And each feeding takes about 30 minutes, plus a few more minutes to mix up a bottle of formula (or warm one from the refrigerator) and then clean up afterwards. So that means our sleep mostly consists of a series of 2-3 hour naps. Mr D takes a turn when he can, but since I can nap during the day and he has to go to work, that mostly consists of taking the last feeding before bed, so I can go to bed early. Even with that help, I'm spending most of my days in the hazy land of not-quite-enough sleep that I like to call "newborn fog."
She's growing like crazy -- already outgrown some of her preemie clothes. The 0-3 month clothes are still a little big, so she's hanging out in "newborn" size for now. As she gets bigger, she will begin to be able to go longer without eating -- already, last night, she slept for a 5 hour break between feedings -- and before I know it, she will sleep through the night. At which time, I will wake up and run to her room, terrified that she's stopped breathing again and then not be able to go back to sleep because of the adrenalin surge caused by that panic. But eventually, she'll do it regularly enough that I will expect it and then, oh, then, I will truly get a good night's sleep.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
...and a Crazy Day!
I answered the phone and Mr D told me that he was still at the hospital, M was fine, but he was exhausted and I should check my texts and call him back. He had sent me text updates as things happened, knowing they wouldn't wake me, and that way the timeline was clear and coherent as it would not have been if he'd tried to tell me about it by the time we were talking. (He's a smart man.)
The children's hospital had not agreed with the emergency room's plan to send M home. Instead, they wanted her transported to their emergency room, via a special pediatric transport ambulance. Mr D waited 3 hours for the ambulance, because there's only one and she was now pretty low on the triage list for it. (After all, she was stable and in a hospital.)
Around 3am, she was in the children's hospital ER and nurses were attempting to take blood. That was when it happened again. Monitors went crazy and she began turning blue again. One nurse ran out of the room, carrying M and giving rescue breaths as she went. Another paused long enough to tell Mr D that they were heading to a trauma room immediately because M's heart and respiratory rates had dropped dangerously low. Once they had her stable again, she was admitted.
When Mr D and I spoke on the phone, they were in a PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care) room. He had an idea for a plan for the day, so we discussed it. I would get the respite boys up and take them with me to take Peter to his event, drop Peter off, come home to meet person picking up the respite boys, then go back to the event. Seemed like the best idea and it worked fairly well. (The sporting event was the opposite direction from the person who was coming to get the boys, so it wasn't realistic to change that plan, even if I had wanted to call that person -- who I didn't know -- that early on a Saturday morning!) In the end, I missed all of Peter's actual competition, but he was graciously understanding, which was a relief.
M was transferred from the PICU to the NICU on Saturday afternoon, at which point Mr D finally came home. She had spent a total of about 24 hours in our home before returning to the hospital.
The children's hospital had not agreed with the emergency room's plan to send M home. Instead, they wanted her transported to their emergency room, via a special pediatric transport ambulance. Mr D waited 3 hours for the ambulance, because there's only one and she was now pretty low on the triage list for it. (After all, she was stable and in a hospital.)
Around 3am, she was in the children's hospital ER and nurses were attempting to take blood. That was when it happened again. Monitors went crazy and she began turning blue again. One nurse ran out of the room, carrying M and giving rescue breaths as she went. Another paused long enough to tell Mr D that they were heading to a trauma room immediately because M's heart and respiratory rates had dropped dangerously low. Once they had her stable again, she was admitted.
When Mr D and I spoke on the phone, they were in a PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care) room. He had an idea for a plan for the day, so we discussed it. I would get the respite boys up and take them with me to take Peter to his event, drop Peter off, come home to meet person picking up the respite boys, then go back to the event. Seemed like the best idea and it worked fairly well. (The sporting event was the opposite direction from the person who was coming to get the boys, so it wasn't realistic to change that plan, even if I had wanted to call that person -- who I didn't know -- that early on a Saturday morning!) In the end, I missed all of Peter's actual competition, but he was graciously understanding, which was a relief.
M was transferred from the PICU to the NICU on Saturday afternoon, at which point Mr D finally came home. She had spent a total of about 24 hours in our home before returning to the hospital.
...Followed by a Scary Night...
I survived the afternoon with the 3 year old and the baby. (How did I do this every day when Susan was born and Peter was not-yet-2?) Peter was invited out to dinner by a friend to celebrate his birthday, so he left the house before Mr D came home from work and took the next baby feeding at about 6pm. While the baby was eating, I fed the other kids dinner, with Mr D and I planning to eat together after all the kids were down for the night.
That didn't happen.
M had mostly finished her bottle and Mr D was trying to convince her to take a little more, when he suddenly went very still and stared at her. He called me over and asked if her color was OK, hoping what he was seeing was a trick of the fading light.
It wasn't.
She had stopped breathing and was turning blue. We immediately began tickling her feet, moving her arms and mentally rehearsing infant CPR steps....when she suddenly inhaled again. Her breathing was uneven and choppy for a few minutes and her color slowly changed from blue to white to her natural skin color again. She was OK, but now what?
It didn't seem right to call 911 now. The emergency was over, wasn't it?
It wasn't possible to just assume everything was OK and go back to normal. We were both terrified to take our eyes off of her now, knowing that the only reason we had known she'd stopped breathing at all was that Mr D happened to be holding her and looking at her at the time. How could we possibly sleep tonight?
So, we called the pediatrician's office to ask what to do. They told us to take her to the emergency room, but to be sure that a second adult was in the car to sit in the back with her just in case it happened again while on the way. (If it did, we were to pull over immediately and call 911.) Well, that could be tricky.
At that time, we actually had 2 adults in the house. But we also had a 3 year old foster child, who we certainly weren't going to take to the emergency room. The 1 year old was still off with Marcie. We also had Susan and Edmund, who we would have left at home alone in an emergency, but couldn't leave in charge of a foster child. After staring at each other blankly for a few seconds, Mr D and I agreed we should call the caseworker. Maybe she knew of someone nearby who could come sit at the house for a while....
Mr D explained what was going on. Unfortunately, the caseworker didn't have an immediate idea for someone to call. She asked if we would be comfortable with any of our biological kids in charge, prepared to break the rule about caregivers for foster kids because of the emergency. But, the only child we would leave in charge of a 3 year old was out at a birthday dinner. While we were all desperately trying to brainstorm a solution, it rang the doorbell. Marcie was back.
After some discussion, the plan was formed. Marcie rode in the car with M while Mr D drove, leaving Marcie's car in our driveway. I stayed at the house with the other kids and got them to bed. The caseworker met Mr D at the emergency room, intending to drive Marcie back to our house to get her car, but Marcie called a good friend to pick her up instead, so the caseworker ended up staying at the emergency room with Mr D.
The nearest emergency room is not a children's hospital, but it does have a separate children's emergency department, so that's where they went. M spent almost no time in the waiting room (preemies are very high on the triage priority list!), and the doctors and nurses were pretty sure it was sleep apnea, something very common in preemies. At about 10pm, Mr D told me that they were probably going to discharge her soon, but had put a call in to the nearby children's hospital (where N had his surgeries) to get their opinion first. I went to bed, expecting that he would be home sometime in the wee hours of the morning and wanting to be sure that at least one of us was rested for the next day. Because the next day was already going to be busy. Respite boys were to be picked up at 9am, Peter had a sporting event in the morning where he (and an adult to drive him) needed to leave the house around 7am and would be back around 1pm, immediately followed by a birthday party that afternoon.
I woke to the phone ringing just before 6am, with no Mr D in the bed beside me.
That didn't happen.
M had mostly finished her bottle and Mr D was trying to convince her to take a little more, when he suddenly went very still and stared at her. He called me over and asked if her color was OK, hoping what he was seeing was a trick of the fading light.
It wasn't.
She had stopped breathing and was turning blue. We immediately began tickling her feet, moving her arms and mentally rehearsing infant CPR steps....when she suddenly inhaled again. Her breathing was uneven and choppy for a few minutes and her color slowly changed from blue to white to her natural skin color again. She was OK, but now what?
It didn't seem right to call 911 now. The emergency was over, wasn't it?
It wasn't possible to just assume everything was OK and go back to normal. We were both terrified to take our eyes off of her now, knowing that the only reason we had known she'd stopped breathing at all was that Mr D happened to be holding her and looking at her at the time. How could we possibly sleep tonight?
So, we called the pediatrician's office to ask what to do. They told us to take her to the emergency room, but to be sure that a second adult was in the car to sit in the back with her just in case it happened again while on the way. (If it did, we were to pull over immediately and call 911.) Well, that could be tricky.
At that time, we actually had 2 adults in the house. But we also had a 3 year old foster child, who we certainly weren't going to take to the emergency room. The 1 year old was still off with Marcie. We also had Susan and Edmund, who we would have left at home alone in an emergency, but couldn't leave in charge of a foster child. After staring at each other blankly for a few seconds, Mr D and I agreed we should call the caseworker. Maybe she knew of someone nearby who could come sit at the house for a while....
Mr D explained what was going on. Unfortunately, the caseworker didn't have an immediate idea for someone to call. She asked if we would be comfortable with any of our biological kids in charge, prepared to break the rule about caregivers for foster kids because of the emergency. But, the only child we would leave in charge of a 3 year old was out at a birthday dinner. While we were all desperately trying to brainstorm a solution, it rang the doorbell. Marcie was back.
After some discussion, the plan was formed. Marcie rode in the car with M while Mr D drove, leaving Marcie's car in our driveway. I stayed at the house with the other kids and got them to bed. The caseworker met Mr D at the emergency room, intending to drive Marcie back to our house to get her car, but Marcie called a good friend to pick her up instead, so the caseworker ended up staying at the emergency room with Mr D.
The nearest emergency room is not a children's hospital, but it does have a separate children's emergency department, so that's where they went. M spent almost no time in the waiting room (preemies are very high on the triage priority list!), and the doctors and nurses were pretty sure it was sleep apnea, something very common in preemies. At about 10pm, Mr D told me that they were probably going to discharge her soon, but had put a call in to the nearby children's hospital (where N had his surgeries) to get their opinion first. I went to bed, expecting that he would be home sometime in the wee hours of the morning and wanting to be sure that at least one of us was rested for the next day. Because the next day was already going to be busy. Respite boys were to be picked up at 9am, Peter had a sporting event in the morning where he (and an adult to drive him) needed to leave the house around 7am and would be back around 1pm, immediately followed by a birthday party that afternoon.
I woke to the phone ringing just before 6am, with no Mr D in the bed beside me.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Who They Are -- N
N was so close to being 10 months old when he arrived, we might as well have called him that. As I finally find time to write this post, he is 11 months old, having been here for over a month.
He is super sweet -- he hugs and snuggles and "kisses". He lights up when the people he loves appear....and he has quickly attached to me and to our oldest biological child. He is attaching more slowly to Mr D and the other two kids. And when I say "lights up", that almost understates it. He grins with his whole face, his sparkling eyes nearly disappearing in chubby baby cheeks, and his chin lifts up towards the person he is greeting. He waves his arms excitedly or lifts them towards me in request to be held and he kicks his feet furiously. (He's not standing alone yet.) If he's in crawling position already, he will head towards me (or Peter) at all speed.
I'm not as concerned about his attachment to me as I was at first, because he has shown some normal, age appropriate "stranger anxiety" as well. When I drop him off in the church nursery, he cries as soon as he realizes I am leaving, but he is fine in less than 5 minutes. When strangers in the grocery store try to talk to him, he stares at them blankly for a few minutes before maybe granting them a smile, a "word", or some hand clapping.
He does not like to be left to play alone, which is also age appropriate. He will entertain himself with toys for short periods if someone stays nearby -- I see him checking periodically to ensure I haven't snuck off -- which at least makes it possible for me to put his clean clothes away in his room! Mostly, though, he likes to play with someone or to be on the go somewhere.
We've had an assessment for developmental delays, and he is very slightly behind in motor skills and on target every where else. So, we will begin physical therapy soon.
He sleeps amazingly well and wakes up happy. Although I can tell that he likes some foods better than others, I've still never had him refuse one. (He will refuse food when he's full, so I don't think this is a "history of nutritional neglect" symptom; I think he's just what my mother used to call "a good eater.") Seriously, still the easiest baby I've ever had.
The CPS investigation into his injury is "complete", but everything is in something of a holding pattern because the police investigation isn't finished. I'm a little confused by all this, because I don't see how a child abuse investigation can be complete if we still don't know if there will be a criminal complaint filed. This is our first case in which child abuse charges have been considered. I suspect we will never really know if his injury is the result of some terrible accident or the effect of someone reaching a breaking point at which they snapped and hurt him; it seems to be clear that it was not part of a larger pattern of consistent, regular abuse.
I am finding it easier than I expected to set the "why" aside. I have trouble imagining him being difficult enough to lead anyone to that point (and I'm not naive about how difficult infants can be -- I had one with colic), but I've discovered that I just don't think about that all that much. The "what happened" and "why" are not our part of the the process. Our part of the process is to love on this little guy; to care for him and to ensure he is safe for the time that he is in our home. And that is what we will do.
He is super sweet -- he hugs and snuggles and "kisses". He lights up when the people he loves appear....and he has quickly attached to me and to our oldest biological child. He is attaching more slowly to Mr D and the other two kids. And when I say "lights up", that almost understates it. He grins with his whole face, his sparkling eyes nearly disappearing in chubby baby cheeks, and his chin lifts up towards the person he is greeting. He waves his arms excitedly or lifts them towards me in request to be held and he kicks his feet furiously. (He's not standing alone yet.) If he's in crawling position already, he will head towards me (or Peter) at all speed.
I'm not as concerned about his attachment to me as I was at first, because he has shown some normal, age appropriate "stranger anxiety" as well. When I drop him off in the church nursery, he cries as soon as he realizes I am leaving, but he is fine in less than 5 minutes. When strangers in the grocery store try to talk to him, he stares at them blankly for a few minutes before maybe granting them a smile, a "word", or some hand clapping.
He does not like to be left to play alone, which is also age appropriate. He will entertain himself with toys for short periods if someone stays nearby -- I see him checking periodically to ensure I haven't snuck off -- which at least makes it possible for me to put his clean clothes away in his room! Mostly, though, he likes to play with someone or to be on the go somewhere.
We've had an assessment for developmental delays, and he is very slightly behind in motor skills and on target every where else. So, we will begin physical therapy soon.
He sleeps amazingly well and wakes up happy. Although I can tell that he likes some foods better than others, I've still never had him refuse one. (He will refuse food when he's full, so I don't think this is a "history of nutritional neglect" symptom; I think he's just what my mother used to call "a good eater.") Seriously, still the easiest baby I've ever had.
The CPS investigation into his injury is "complete", but everything is in something of a holding pattern because the police investigation isn't finished. I'm a little confused by all this, because I don't see how a child abuse investigation can be complete if we still don't know if there will be a criminal complaint filed. This is our first case in which child abuse charges have been considered. I suspect we will never really know if his injury is the result of some terrible accident or the effect of someone reaching a breaking point at which they snapped and hurt him; it seems to be clear that it was not part of a larger pattern of consistent, regular abuse.
I am finding it easier than I expected to set the "why" aside. I have trouble imagining him being difficult enough to lead anyone to that point (and I'm not naive about how difficult infants can be -- I had one with colic), but I've discovered that I just don't think about that all that much. The "what happened" and "why" are not our part of the the process. Our part of the process is to love on this little guy; to care for him and to ensure he is safe for the time that he is in our home. And that is what we will do.
Friday, March 22, 2013
On a lighter note...
Because it's age appropriate, we've talked a lot about "private parts" and "privacy" with S.
In the grocery store today, walking by the magazine section, the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition was on display.
S giggled and pointed and said "I can see her private parts."
We agreed that the lady on that magazine cover should put on a shirt.
In the grocery store today, walking by the magazine section, the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition was on display.
S giggled and pointed and said "I can see her private parts."
We agreed that the lady on that magazine cover should put on a shirt.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Who They Are - S
S is a 3 year old girl.
She's chatty and bossy and absolutely adorable. She already has Mr D wrapped around her finger.
She has no noticeable delays, no major behavior issues that have shown up so far. She's afraid of the dark and doesn't want to go to sleep, but she's 3.
She melts down if you try to close her bedroom door with her alone in there. So she naps with the door open. At bedtime, we leave it open and explain that we will close it when we go to bed. She's OK with that. When I leave her room at night, she asks where I'm going. She's happy to hear something as simple as "I'm not leaving the house."
She is going to be the case that breaks our hearts. Either way. Because Mr D has already commented that he could see adopting her if her case went to TPR. (So has Peter, oddly enough.) It is way too early in her case to even begin to guess how likely that is. We are afraid that she will be that one that was "so hard to let go" when she goes home. And yet, we can't hope for her family to fail her either.
She's chatty and bossy and absolutely adorable. She already has Mr D wrapped around her finger.
She has no noticeable delays, no major behavior issues that have shown up so far. She's afraid of the dark and doesn't want to go to sleep, but she's 3.
She melts down if you try to close her bedroom door with her alone in there. So she naps with the door open. At bedtime, we leave it open and explain that we will close it when we go to bed. She's OK with that. When I leave her room at night, she asks where I'm going. She's happy to hear something as simple as "I'm not leaving the house."
She is going to be the case that breaks our hearts. Either way. Because Mr D has already commented that he could see adopting her if her case went to TPR. (So has Peter, oddly enough.) It is way too early in her case to even begin to guess how likely that is. We are afraid that she will be that one that was "so hard to let go" when she goes home. And yet, we can't hope for her family to fail her either.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Who They Are - D
D is a 5 year old boy.
He was due to start kindergarten the day after they were taken into care, so he missed his first day. We live in a different county, so he started here about 2 weeks into the school year.
He adores his "momma." When his grandmother talked to him at court before they went before the judge about going to live with his daddy, he told her he wanted to stay with me. Since then, however, he has declared that he wants to go to Daddy "until Momma gets out of jail."
He does not like the rules and boundaries that we have set in place and is fighting them with every fiber of his being. He is aggressive and angry. In his first week of school, he came home with bad behavior marks on 3 out of 5 days. He says he doesn't know why he does things like push people or not listen to his teacher when she tells him to quiet down. He screams and cries when I try to talk to him, no matter how gently, about a behavior that needs to change.
He told me he wishes he was with his momma, because "momma don't care about school." He also says he "hates this house" because Momma doesn't have rules. (We often explain our rules in terms of "at this house, we....don't hit .... use nice words.... sleep in our own beds.....")
He is shocked and angry when I enforce the consequences that I warned him would result from certain behavior. I say, "If you can't walk with me in the parking lot, you will have to hold my hand." Within 3 minutes of my saying that, he is dancing over the cracks in the middle of the road, about 10 feet from me. I call him over and take his hand, and he tries the whole way to the car to twist it away from me, crying and screaming the whole time.
He reacts to the simple homework from Kindergarten with anger and frustration for about 10 minutes..."I can't! I don't know what to do! It's too hard!"....then, when I don't let him give up, settles down and does it all. Usually correctly. In a very short amount of time.
He is just so angry and so scared. He hits and bites himself when he melts down. I've already sent in a plea to hurry up his assessment for counseling because it is so obvious to me that he needs help figuring out how to handle all those big feelings. More help than I can give him alone.
The caseworker thinks it is likely that he will be sent to a family member at the 10 day hearing. (Might be Daddy, might not.) I have mixed feelings. Although I don't know how long I can handle the aggression and the anger and the lashing out....I want to see him in a stable environment. With counseling. And I don't know if he'll get that in a family placement. But maybe there would be less anger and lashing out with a family member? I don't know.
Trying really hard to hand this over to God and trust that He will guide the people making those decisions. Praying those people are listening to what God wants them to hear.
He was due to start kindergarten the day after they were taken into care, so he missed his first day. We live in a different county, so he started here about 2 weeks into the school year.
He adores his "momma." When his grandmother talked to him at court before they went before the judge about going to live with his daddy, he told her he wanted to stay with me. Since then, however, he has declared that he wants to go to Daddy "until Momma gets out of jail."
He does not like the rules and boundaries that we have set in place and is fighting them with every fiber of his being. He is aggressive and angry. In his first week of school, he came home with bad behavior marks on 3 out of 5 days. He says he doesn't know why he does things like push people or not listen to his teacher when she tells him to quiet down. He screams and cries when I try to talk to him, no matter how gently, about a behavior that needs to change.
He told me he wishes he was with his momma, because "momma don't care about school." He also says he "hates this house" because Momma doesn't have rules. (We often explain our rules in terms of "at this house, we....don't hit .... use nice words.... sleep in our own beds.....")
He is shocked and angry when I enforce the consequences that I warned him would result from certain behavior. I say, "If you can't walk with me in the parking lot, you will have to hold my hand." Within 3 minutes of my saying that, he is dancing over the cracks in the middle of the road, about 10 feet from me. I call him over and take his hand, and he tries the whole way to the car to twist it away from me, crying and screaming the whole time.
He reacts to the simple homework from Kindergarten with anger and frustration for about 10 minutes..."I can't! I don't know what to do! It's too hard!"....then, when I don't let him give up, settles down and does it all. Usually correctly. In a very short amount of time.
He is just so angry and so scared. He hits and bites himself when he melts down. I've already sent in a plea to hurry up his assessment for counseling because it is so obvious to me that he needs help figuring out how to handle all those big feelings. More help than I can give him alone.
The caseworker thinks it is likely that he will be sent to a family member at the 10 day hearing. (Might be Daddy, might not.) I have mixed feelings. Although I don't know how long I can handle the aggression and the anger and the lashing out....I want to see him in a stable environment. With counseling. And I don't know if he'll get that in a family placement. But maybe there would be less anger and lashing out with a family member? I don't know.
Trying really hard to hand this over to God and trust that He will guide the people making those decisions. Praying those people are listening to what God wants them to hear.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Or maybe so?
Another call today. Another pair of children looking for a place to be safe.
This pair is 5 and 3. They are coming tonight.
I don't really have time to say anything else right now.....
This pair is 5 and 3. They are coming tonight.
I don't really have time to say anything else right now.....
Friday, September 9, 2011
Who they are - O
O is a 3 year old boy. He is talkative and cheerful, with a quick smile and an infectious laugh. It's difficult to understand everything he says, because most of his consonants are skipped or slurred. But his vocabulary is huge. And he is always talking. Always telling you about everything he sees, everything her remembers. Always asking, "Why?"
He picks up the rules quickly. He may not always remember to follow them, and he may not like them much, but he knows them. After he's been with us for 2 weeks, he begins to show us his displeasure at having the ones he doesn't like enforced. "Naptime!" is met with a scowl, crossed arms and a seat on the steps. But we haven't seen a temper tantrum yet.
He loves to play with cars, trains, trucks and toys that make noise. Oh, how he loves toys that make noise.
The hardest thing to see about him is the ease with which he has accepted being in the strange house, with no one he knows. He carries the phone around the house, trying to "show" his father his room. He asks occasionally, "Mommy not here?" but my response that she isn't doesn't elicit a reaction. He parrots back "miss you" on the phone calls, but I'm not sure he means it. He lights up at being told he gets to see Mommy (or Daddy) today, but doesn't seem distressed to return to us afterwards. He's lived in so many different places in his short little life that being somewhere different is . . . normal.
He adores his big sister. Watching the two of them confirms for me that this is one area where the foster system gets it right; to separate these two from each other would be cruel. They've lost everything else that was ever concrete in their lives. They need each other.
After he's been with us a month or so, he gets more challenging. "Don't do that" is responded to with "but I want to!" while continuing the action. He's still getting out of bed at night and trying to sneak into his sister's bed. He wants to sleep "with his eyes open." But the defiance is still very age-appropriate. He's testing our limits -- do we mean what we say? What will we do if he doesn't obey us? -- and we are doing our best to remain calm and firm.
He picks up the rules quickly. He may not always remember to follow them, and he may not like them much, but he knows them. After he's been with us for 2 weeks, he begins to show us his displeasure at having the ones he doesn't like enforced. "Naptime!" is met with a scowl, crossed arms and a seat on the steps. But we haven't seen a temper tantrum yet.
He loves to play with cars, trains, trucks and toys that make noise. Oh, how he loves toys that make noise.
The hardest thing to see about him is the ease with which he has accepted being in the strange house, with no one he knows. He carries the phone around the house, trying to "show" his father his room. He asks occasionally, "Mommy not here?" but my response that she isn't doesn't elicit a reaction. He parrots back "miss you" on the phone calls, but I'm not sure he means it. He lights up at being told he gets to see Mommy (or Daddy) today, but doesn't seem distressed to return to us afterwards. He's lived in so many different places in his short little life that being somewhere different is . . . normal.
He adores his big sister. Watching the two of them confirms for me that this is one area where the foster system gets it right; to separate these two from each other would be cruel. They've lost everything else that was ever concrete in their lives. They need each other.
After he's been with us a month or so, he gets more challenging. "Don't do that" is responded to with "but I want to!" while continuing the action. He's still getting out of bed at night and trying to sneak into his sister's bed. He wants to sleep "with his eyes open." But the defiance is still very age-appropriate. He's testing our limits -- do we mean what we say? What will we do if he doesn't obey us? -- and we are doing our best to remain calm and firm.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Who They Are - L
L is a 7 year old girl. She seems, initially, like a "normal" child. Sometimes she's too loud or forgets to put things away; she always responds to correction with an apology, a cheerful attitude, and an immediate correction . . . which may or may not last. As time goes on, though, we realize that she is always watching. Always walking the balance of finding the "right" thing to do. She never says anything negative to anyone about anything else. She may say she doesn't want to do something, doesn't like that food, shouldn't have to go to bed then; but, she never complains to someone else.
She has a need to always be -- or have -- the best. At everything. Her school is bigger than ours; it's pre-K through college. Her mommy is very good at cooking. And sewing. Her grandfather built that church. She's been to our school before, she thinks for a grade it doesn't offer. And the stories change when she talks to someone else. To us, "her school" (which one? in 3 years, she's attended around 8, not including daycares) is bigger and better than the one she will attend with us; to her mother, the school here is "really, really big!"
L knows everything. She's read all those books that our 11 year old is reading. (And yet, she's still sounding out some of the words in her grade-level appropriate book.) She's changed schools so much because she's just so smart and the teachers didn't have anything to teach her. (And yet, she cannot do the grocery store math problems that my same-age child can do.) It is clear that she is very quick, very observant, and probably quite bright. But somehow, she has the impression she has nothing left to learn, while her school disruption has left her with gaps in knowledge that she should have been taught, but wasn't.
Nothing is ever her fault, regardless of whether the event needs blame. A call of "These cars need to be put away!" is immediately answered by her with "T got them out!" She removed her toy from its charger too early "by accident." Her brother, O, falls while running in the house (against the rules) as she flees, telling him to "chase me, chase me!"; it was "O's fault" he got hurt, because "he shouldn't be running."
She has to be a part of everything. A conversation with another child is constantly interrupted by her answering for them. I tire of gently saying, "I wasn't asking you."
We are slowly easing her towards understanding that not everyone has to be good at everything. That everyone makes mistakes and it's OK to say, "oops, I messed up." Slowly, because some of this is her trying desperately to be in control of something - anything! - while her whole world is falling to pieces around her. The other kids in this house have 2 parents, still married, who clearly love each other, so she must have . . . everything else.
Mr D says she's manipulative. I don't like the word, although I know what he means. Manipulative implies a negative intention, which I don't think she has. She has learned to manipulate others by playing on their sympathies in order to get what she needs or thinks she needs. After her mother tells her she doesn't want to hear about her ex-husbands new wife, L only mentions the new wife to tell her mother she got her stuck in the tubes at the playground and "isn't that good?" We have to help her learn that we will meet the true needs without the manipulation and that she cannot manipulate us in to fulfilling her desire for things that are not needs.
What we'll never know: How much time we have to teach her these things and whether we succeed.
She has a need to always be -- or have -- the best. At everything. Her school is bigger than ours; it's pre-K through college. Her mommy is very good at cooking. And sewing. Her grandfather built that church. She's been to our school before, she thinks for a grade it doesn't offer. And the stories change when she talks to someone else. To us, "her school" (which one? in 3 years, she's attended around 8, not including daycares) is bigger and better than the one she will attend with us; to her mother, the school here is "really, really big!"
L knows everything. She's read all those books that our 11 year old is reading. (And yet, she's still sounding out some of the words in her grade-level appropriate book.) She's changed schools so much because she's just so smart and the teachers didn't have anything to teach her. (And yet, she cannot do the grocery store math problems that my same-age child can do.) It is clear that she is very quick, very observant, and probably quite bright. But somehow, she has the impression she has nothing left to learn, while her school disruption has left her with gaps in knowledge that she should have been taught, but wasn't.
Nothing is ever her fault, regardless of whether the event needs blame. A call of "These cars need to be put away!" is immediately answered by her with "T got them out!" She removed her toy from its charger too early "by accident." Her brother, O, falls while running in the house (against the rules) as she flees, telling him to "chase me, chase me!"; it was "O's fault" he got hurt, because "he shouldn't be running."
She has to be a part of everything. A conversation with another child is constantly interrupted by her answering for them. I tire of gently saying, "I wasn't asking you."
We are slowly easing her towards understanding that not everyone has to be good at everything. That everyone makes mistakes and it's OK to say, "oops, I messed up." Slowly, because some of this is her trying desperately to be in control of something - anything! - while her whole world is falling to pieces around her. The other kids in this house have 2 parents, still married, who clearly love each other, so she must have . . . everything else.
Mr D says she's manipulative. I don't like the word, although I know what he means. Manipulative implies a negative intention, which I don't think she has. She has learned to manipulate others by playing on their sympathies in order to get what she needs or thinks she needs. After her mother tells her she doesn't want to hear about her ex-husbands new wife, L only mentions the new wife to tell her mother she got her stuck in the tubes at the playground and "isn't that good?" We have to help her learn that we will meet the true needs without the manipulation and that she cannot manipulate us in to fulfilling her desire for things that are not needs.
What we'll never know: How much time we have to teach her these things and whether we succeed.
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