Best: "I do not think it means what you think it means"

We're in that quiet space between placements where I don't have much to write that's appropriate for this blog.

That doesn't mean life isn't going on, of course. Susan started middle school. That's brought us to a new building with a whole new set of staff, which means I have to rebuild the relationships that make an IEP team work. I'm thankful that the timing of S's return has allowed me to focus more time and energy on that right now and I've asked the agency not to call me about another placement until I have her well and truly settled into middle school.

But I had a conversation with a friend this week that led in a "foster care" direction and found myself articulating something I've never actually put into words before. My friend asked me if I felt good about the end result of our cases. Did I think the children were in the right place?

One of the biggest steps (for us) in becoming foster parents was learning to accept the fundamental truth that "best interest of the child" doesn't mean "best parents." We have to accept that there is value in a child remaining with blood relatives. A lot of value. Value that outweighs a lot of things. It is more important to place a child with a relative than to place them with a family that can offer them better parenting. It is more important to place a child with a relative than to place them with a family that can offer them a better standard of living. It is more important to place a child with a relative than to place them with a family that can offer them more time and energy on a daily basis. There is even more value if that relative is the mother or father of the child.

This sounds arrogant. But I really do believe that Mr D and I are better parents than the biological parents of any of the children that have been placed with us. I do believe that homes with 2 adults are better for children than homes with only one. (Let me explain that last one. It's not that I don't think single parents can be good parents. I know some excellent single parents. It's simply that I believe that being a parent by yourself is hard. It's hard not to be able to trade off with another parent when you're having a really bad day. It's hard not to have someone to talk to about your child who loves them and knows them just as well as you do. It's hard to have the entire financial burden of supporting a family fall on you all the time. It's hard to be the only adult in a household. And when so many things in your day-to-day life are that hard, it's hard to be the best parent you can be.) In spite of those beliefs, I don't think any of the children placed with us should have stayed forever -- it would not have been in their "best interests." All the benefits that would come with becoming a part of our family are completely outweighed by the negative impact of pulling them away from a birth family that was safe, that loved them and that was willing to try to be the best parents they could be.

I've said this before. I haven't yet had a placement where the children had been abused in their home. My cases have all been neglect cases, and none of them have been severe neglect. They've been the sort of neglect that happens when a young, single parent gets lost in trying to keep up with everything and the care of the children begins to slip through the cracks. Or the sort of neglect that happens when a parent has a substance abuse problem. Someday that will change. Someday, I will get the placement that comes with physical injuries inflicted by a family member. Or the placement that comes neglected out of callous disregard for the life of the child. Or the placement whose parent can't (or won't) get clean in order to get their kids back. And for those children, their "best interest" may not be to go home. But I haven't had one of those yet. All I've had so far is parents making really big mistakes. So I do the best I can to parent their children while they try to fix those mistakes and ensure they don't happen again. And then, in the "best interests of the child", I send those children home.

Home Again

S has returned to her mother.

The "transition" was as non-transitional as I had feared. I got a call one day saying that the caseworker was requesting permission from the judge to send her home in about two weeks.

I didn't give S that date as a return date. I chose to wait until we heard from the judge lest the answer be no -- there was a sizable chance the judge would require an appearance in court. Let's say that return date was July 25th.

On the afternoon of 24th, I called the caseworker. I left her messages every where, asking where we stood on the reunification date -- was it "tomorrow"?

I got a call back on the 25th. She was to be returned on the 28th . . . in 3 days.

There would be no more visits before that return date.

So, it was, in fact, "this time you won't come back here from Mommy's house."

I'm not sure she understood. She reacted very calmly to being told it was going to happen. She asked occasionally how many more days until The Day. Once or twice she talked about "when she comes back here" and I had to gently reiterate that she wouldn't be. She reacted very calmly to packing up everything she owned and loading it in the car. She got a little clingy at the actual hand-off -- lots of hugs and kisses good bye, and she wanted me to strap her into her car seat.

Her mother and I hugged each other and smiled a lot. Her mother said she wants us to keep in touch. Her grandmother was there too, and she said the same. S rode off in the car with her grandmother -- because it was the vehicle with room for her carseat after all her things had been loaded. Grandmother stopped the car and rolled the windows down to tell me that S was saying she loved me.

Her mother has worked hard on her case plan and has done everything required of her to get her child back. I hope and pray that the changes she has made in her life are long-lasting ones. I believe that her mother will encourage her to keep the photo album we made for her for as long as she wants it. I don't know how much contact we really will maintain -- we live about an hour apart -- but I appreciate the offer and the care for S's mental health that prompted it.

It's been a few days now since we filled the van with S's things and drove off, returning with an empty vehicle. Her room is empty. We are slowly beginning again to refer to it by its wall color, instead of as "S's room." (This is requiring conscious effort on our part right now, but we believe it's better to change the name of the room now and get used to it, than risk slipping and calling that bedroom "S's room" when the next placement comes and has moved into it.)

As far as when that next placement will come, I've told the agency to give me several weeks. Last time we sent a long-term placement home, we said we would take a break, but really only took about 2 weeks. I need more time than that.

The Originals will start school soon -- we are buying school supplies, getting hair cuts, going to doctor's appointments, and getting ready to meet teachers. We will get the new school year under way and I will spend some time on projects around the house. When the Originals have been in school for about a month, then I will consider taking another placement.

Unless that turns out to be one of those Famous Last Words....

Foster Care Sucks

We are very close to S's return to her mother. I believe that is the right conclusion to this case and I support it wholeheartedly. Well, mostly wholeheartedly.

The transition "plan" is fuzzy. She is currently spending a few nights a week with her mother -- her father is still on supervised visitation. That's not the problem -- the parents aren't "together." The problem is that there is no set date planned for the actual final return. It's just "we'll do this for a while and then submit a petition to reunify early next month."

That doesn't work well for a 4 year old.

I've asked for a target date.

I've explained that it really helps S when we can mark big days on the calendar, so she can watch them get closer as we mark off days at bedtime. I've even explained that she does OK when the date changes a little bit, but I really need a date to work with. (As in, we could manage it if we'd told her it would be August 12th and found out on the 8th that it would actually be the 14th. Or the 10th.)

I still don't have a date. I have a vague "before school starts."

This isn't a transition. Not for the child, at least. At this rate, from her perspective, we will go from "you're spending a couple of nights a week at Mommy's" to "this time you don't ever come back" with no notice.

I am beginning to talk about "soon" to her.

Last week, she melted down and told me that Mommy's house is not "safe." She told me a story of seeing a man living there hitting Mommy. I nearly crashed the car, thinking I'd been advocating all this time for her to return to a dangerous living environment.

She is, however, 4. And I know that her sense of elapsed time is not very strong. So, it was hard to tell whether this had happened during a recent visit or some time in the past. Of course, I documented it by sending a description of the conversation off to the caseworker. About a day later, the caseworker called me to let me know she had looked into it -- S had a name for the man, which I'm sure helped -- and the man in question is incarcerated, has been since before S came into care, and will be for years to come. Big sigh of relief. She may be remembering past trauma that happened in that house, but at least we really aren't sending her back into an unsafe place.

Today, she melted down again. She told me that the only things that are ever on Mommy's TV are scary and that she doesn't want to go back there. She wants to stay here.

I don't know how to help her with that. I can't. I held her and rocked her and told her I was sorry. I told her we loved her and we were glad she liked it here, but that Mommy loves her too. I told her it's OK to tell a grown-up something is too scary for her to watch and then to leave the room so she doesn't have to see it.

The reality is that it's been nearly a year -- a quarter of her life. Our house is home to her now. We are the stable, loving family that she thinks of as "hers" and Mommy is someone she sees and plays with on a regular basis.

I think we've successfully taught her that WE will keep her safe and cared for. That OUR boundaries are firm and reliable. But she is struggling -- oh, so much -- to believe any of that is true in the home to which she is returning. And I can't promise that it is. I believe her mother loves her enormously. I believe she will go to the ends of the earth to TRY to care for her. But I am not under any illusion that the structure and routine that we have built that helps S thrive will be continued. I doubt that there will be monitoring of television and radio content to ensure that it is appropriate for little ears and eyes. (This is a parent that has claimed more than once that the child's favorite movie is Coraline. This same child who was too scared to watch all of The Little Mermaid at my house.)

None of that is a reason not to reunify. It just sucks.

Medical Paperwork Fun

S needed some dental work done. She was terrified of the first dentist, who first put off doing the work for 6 months (in a vain hope that she would be better able to sit still for them by then), then said they would have to sedate her to get the work done and ultimately waited until I called them to follow up on the appointment call I was supposed to have gotten to tell me that they wouldn't actually do that work themselves.

So, I found her a new dentist.

I love this new dentist so much I have switched my biological children to this new practice. (Their previous pediatric dentist doesn't accept Medicaid.) They have been incredible. Patient, loving, calm, composed, understanding, reasonable, warm.

But the biggest moment for me was actually something the front office staff did.

My agency requires me to get a specific form filled out at every medical visit. I've been told (by county caseworkers and by medical staff at a number of different places) that they are the only agency that does this. These same people have also told me that they wish more agencies did something like this. It's a simple form. It just lists the office's contact information (name, address, phone, fax), the child's name and birthdate and then has about 5 short questions. Essentially, it's a list of the purpose of the visit, what diagnosis (if any) there is, whether a follow up is needed, and any post-visit procedures that should be followed. The form has my agency's name in big letters at the top of the page. And my agency's name is something along the lines of "Agency Foster Care," so it's pretty clear from the form what the purpose is.

I always offer the form to the front office staff, and they generally look at it like I'm insane and end up having me hand it to the doctor in the actual exam room. Sometimes the nurse or front office person will take it, but they make me say multiple times that I need this filled out because the child is in foster care. Usually in the waiting room. Possibly surrounded by other patients and their families.

At this pediatric dentist, I finally, FINALLY got something that felt like a professional reaction. It was clear she'd never seen the form before, but she took it, glanced over it, and turned to the hygienist who was going to be seeing S. Her head was now turned in such a way that I could just see the side of her face and the only other people who could see her face were staff. She held the form up so the hygienist could see it and said, "she needs this filled out" and mouthed "foster care."

It's amazing how little things like that can make such a huge difference in my comfort level. 

Sigh.

Just when I thought I couldn't be more surprised with how completely messed up this case is.

S's mother is very close to being approved for overnight visits, as part of the plan to begin to transition her home. Yay!

The caseworker is filling out paperwork to submit to the judge to request that change. She said that "it's better" if she can include statements of support from as many different people involved in the case as possible. (I heard that "it's better" as "the more of these I have, the more likely the decision is a quick one.") OK. So, she's got my support, her own, bio mom's, and the CASA's....and she's waiting on one from S's GAL.

That's sounds fine, right?

Except when you know that this is the first I have heard of the existence of S's GAL.

Almost 11 months into the case.

S has an attorney representing her in court that is someone I have never met and who has made no attempt to have any sort of contact with the child he or she (I don't even know which!) is supposedly representing. (And I've been to court, by the way. Always accompanied by S. So it's not like there hasn't been an opportunity to meet me or has been an opportunity to meet S that I might not know about.)

And I thought the CASA -- who I've seen about 3 times -- was bad. At least I know her name.

Stealth Evangelism

Disclaimer: I'm a Christian foster parent. If you don't want to read about my struggles with some aspects of my faith, skip this one. If you do read and feel compelled to comment, please be kind. :)

I've always had a difficult time with evangelism in the sense of converting others to Christianity. I know the scripture verses -- "Go and make all disciples", "No one may enter the kingdom of God, except through (Jesus)" -- but when it comes to actually approaching someone who is not a believer and attempting to convince them to change their minds about that? Really not comfortable with doing anything along those lines.

Part of this I blame on the Southern Baptists of my childhood, whose idea of evangelism was to passionately proclaim that those of us who did not attend their church were all doomed to eternal torment. (I wasn't Baptist, but I was raised Christian. I thought the evangelical Christians of my high school were misguided and offensive....especially when I saw how they interacted with friends of mine who were Jewish or Muslim.) Another part if it is simply me shrinking from the logical result of the whole process, since that might require me to attempt to convert several of my own close family members. Family members who have always treated our difference of opinion when it comes to faith with tolerance and respect. Family members who have never attempted to convince me that I am wrong and should agree with them. I struggle to believe that I am called to be the one to shatter that family harmony.

So, I don't evangelize. I rationalize this pretty well and, on a certain level, I believe that my rationalizations have merit. It is not "honoring my father and mother" to treat them with less tolerance and respect than they treat me. I spread the gospel by living what I believe, not by talking about it. I behave in ways that I hope puts a positive light on "what Christians do." I raise my children in the church... and I mean, really, in the church. We are involved in all sorts of small groups and mission projects and fellowship activities and Bible studies. And our children are aware that our motivation for becoming a foster family is rooted in a belief that we are called by God to do so.

I realized recently, however, that foster care has led me into a type of evangelism that would never occur to me otherwise. As a foster parent, I am raising other people's children. And I am raising them in the church as well. (Aside: We foster through a faith-based agency. When counties place children in my home, they know they are getting a Christian family that is actively involved in a church community. This is one of the reasons we chose to foster through this agency -- they just aren't going to send me a child who is actively participating in a different faith, although they will send me children with no faith background at all.) We have always discussed our faith with children in terms of "what we believe" and "at our church, we do this".

S was recently given a children's Bible. She actually already had one, but she loves both of them. She "reads" them over and over. She picks them for bedtime stories almost every night. She has talked about her Bibles to her parents.

When this child came to us, she knew nothing about God or Jesus. As far as we can tell, she had never attended church. Her mother was not opposed to our teaching her about the Christian faith -- when S asked her mother if she went to church, she mumbled something about "needing to get back to that" -- but it was not a part of their lives. 

10 months later, S talks about what she has learned in church. When she sees a cross, she talks about Jesus dying and coming back to life. She knows that Jesus lives in her heart and in the hearts of others. Someone asked her teasingly one day why she was so pretty; she replied calmly that it was just how God made her. She watches VeggieTales and she loves to go to church.

Soon (I hope), I will be sending this 3 year old girl back to her mother. The child that I am sending back is certain that God loves her. She is equally certain that He loves everyone else, too. The child I am sending back is likely to ask her mother about "her church" and to pressure her to find them a church home. (I'm under no illusion that this is going to be the norm. But S is one determined little person.)

It's almost like I'm sending in a little stealth evangelist to convert her mother. That's a form of evangelism I can be comfortable with. Even if does seem a little sneaky.