Dear J Bug: A Letter to my Former Foster Daughter

Dear J Bug,

Yesterday I was going through some clothes in the closet and found something that used to be yours.

Remember these jammies? I put you in them your first night here, and you crawled into my lap to watch Dora. You were so scared and were missing your mama dearly. You held onto me as if you felt some force was trying to pull you away.

Do you remember the next day, when you pulled those jammies out of your laundry hamper and tried to put them on? I knew you just wanted more snuggles so I pulled you onto my lap. I will never forget how you held my finger in one hand and played with my hair with the other.

We took you to the park later that day. Remember how much you loved the slide? Your foster daddy and I were so terrified you would fall because you were only a year and a half, but you were quite the independent little lady. You ran through the park giggling and jumping, picking up playground bark and handing it to us. What a thoughtful girl you are.

I remember the hard times too, sweet J Bug...how you laid awake in your crib until midnight because you were used to being up most of the night. The only sound you made was to whimper every 20 minutes or so. You needed me to come in, rub your back, and tell you we were still here to take care of you. I remember you sobbed during your first bath and flinched when your foster daddy moved too quickly. What had you been through little one?

Even though you were scared at first, you began to blossom after being with us just a few days. We played ball, colored, and took the doggie on walks. You began to offer crayons and toys to your foster daddy, and actually crawled up into his lap your fourth evening here. That made him so happy, J Bug, to know that you were learning to trust at least one man in your life.

The thing I remember the most is when you called me "mama" after being with us for a week. You said it meekly, waiting to see how I would respond, if it was okay. You brought tears to my eyes that day. I knew that you truly felt at home here. You knew you were safe.

I know the day you left was so confusing. We had to go to the DSHS office, a big scary building in the city. Your social worker was a man you had never met before. I tried to tell you he was going to take you to your grandma, a woman who loves you dearly, but it was too hard for you to understand.

You looked up at me, clutching my finger in your tiny hand, and inquired, "Mama?" My sweet girl, I am so sorry I could not take you to grandma's myself, but I was not able to. Leaving you crying with a stranger was so hard, and I shed many tears for you later that day.

You were so strong. I called your social worker later because I could not stop thinking of you. He said you did wonderfully and were so excited when they brought you to your grandma's. I was beyond relieved, but I knew your journey was just beginning.

I think of you often, and finding your fleece footie jammies yesterday brought memories of you flooding back to me. I was so blessed to be your mama for a short time earlier this year.

I know you will not remember me, precious girl, but I will always remember you.

All my love,
Your foster mama Katie

3 Surprising Frustrations as a Foster Parent

My parents have fostered for nearly 10 years, and I've been volunteering with at-risk youth since junior high. I'm not naive to the evil that's in this world. As a 23 year-old starting the process to become a foster parent, I thought that I was prepared for the challenges and mostly understood what foster parenting would be like.

I was so wrong.

I had always been involved in the lives of foster kids as a sister, respite provider/babysitter, and volunteer. Becoming a mother to these children is a completely different experience, one that came with many surprises and hard lessons learned. Here are three challenges that were surprisingly hard for me.

3. Feeling judged all the time...by everyone.

If I have a foster kiddo that has darker skin, I'm barraged with questions in public about his or her background. I really don't feel like my foster kid's life story is something that should be shared with the person behind me at Target, so I generally try to weasel out of those conversations. I may seem rude but honestly...my kids' feelings come first.

We also use the WIC program that provides some formula and baby food for our infants. Every time I use a WIC check at the grocery store my blood pressure goes up and I pray that no one will comment. I once had someone say that it was "interesting" I was on the WIC program yet purchased a bottle of wine in my next transaction. I've heard horrible stories from foster parents who were brought to tears because of hurtful comments about their use of WIC or their foster kids' behavior. 

Then there are the zillions of people who are part of the child's "team" within the state. These people I do care about!  Beyond the social worker, there's a court appointed guardian ad litem, therapy teams, doctors, nutritionists, staff at the therapeutic daycare...the list goes on. At least it motivates me to keep my house clean because people are coming in and out so much.

2. Damage control

As a foster parent I spend a lot of time cleaning up after messy situations my kids are exposed to. Many times, kids have incredibly strong emotional reactions to seeing their biological parents. One of our foster daughters needed hours of consolation after seeing her parent. We could see her little heart was hurting, and the fact we couldn't do anything to help was a terrible feeling. I've also dealt with situations where babies are given inappropriate food on visits that upsets their tummies...and I am quite literally cleaning up that mess the next morning. It's a party. 

Beyond visits, even our young foster babies and toddlers come with challenges that were surprising. The effects of early neglect are severe, and affect everything from ability to eat and sleep to the ability to properly attach. While I witnessed these struggles as a foster sister, becoming a mother to these sweet littles is a completely different experience, one that often leaves me teary and feeling helpless to ease their pain.

1. Taking care of my foster babies as my own, yet being completely powerless when it comes to their lives.

This is BY FAR the hardest struggle I have on a daily basis.

As a foster mama, I am up (every 3 hours most nights) with a crying baby. I change all the diapers and handle several wardrobe changes every day. I take him to doctor appointments and attend meetings regarding his case on a weekly basis. Yet, when it comes to the stuff that really affects his life, I have no say. 

I should say that I understand why my opinion wouldn't have as much weight as their parents (for legal reasons) and therapists/service providers (I don't have their training). Being able to understand why this is the case does not make it any easier, though.

My concerns about decisions in my foster kids' cases are completely dismissed. It's really amazing to me that despite being a child's sole caretaker 100% of the time, my opinion matters 0% of the time. This is what really breaks my heart...seeing my babies put into situations I know are bad for them. I just wish my "mom sense" about certain things was at least considered.

____________

Despite these frustrations, the joys of caring for these kids makes it worth it. I'm not going to stop fostering because of MY feelings of helplessness. It's not their fault that they are in this situation, and I fully intend on continuing this journey, even when it's hard.

Is it hard? Yes. Is it worth it? Absolutely.

One of the most common things I hear when I tell people we are foster parents is that they could never do it. I get where this comment is coming from, I really do, but it hurts me sometimes. It makes me wonder if people see me as cold or emotionless because we love our kids...and let them go.

This is far from the truth.

When Baby K left us so suddenly in April, I felt like my heart was being torn out...my chest ached and I couldn't catch my breath. As we grieved, more than one person said, "Oh, that is why I could never be a foster parent. I would get way too attached." or "You're so strong."

Let me tell you something. I got attached (there's no such thing as "too" attached, by the way). I got my heart broken, but I survived. I'm not heartless. I'm no stronger than the average person. I throw all of my love into my kids and yes it makes me sad when they move on...but that's okay.

I cannot handle the alternative...avoiding the pain of loss but knowing I'm turning my back on thousands of foster kids who need someone to love them.

If I had known of the pain I would feel at Baby K's loss, I would still do this all over again. Why? Foster care isn't about me. It's not about my husband or my marriage or our happiness. It's about showing these babies what they deserve: safety, nourishment, warmth, and love.

I hope that all who read this hear my heart, and do not take this as accusatory or think I'm upset. Please know that's not my intention.

But hey, if you feel a tug toward foster care, let it pull you. I get emails every single day with 20+ kids sitting in offices waiting for homes in King County alone. Allow yourself to love these kiddos and grieve for them when they go...they deserve it.

There's a Stroller in my Kitchen

Our condo has a tiny entryway that basically fits a welcome mat and 2 pairs of shoes. So naturally, after our walk last night, the stroller ended up pushed from the entrance into the kitchen right when I was getting dinner ready. I tripped over it 4389504 times, and when I was walking to the dining room to set the table, I stepped on at least two baby toys.

I then got T-man in his highchair, not realizing their was a cracker still there from his afternoon snack, and crumbs rained down onto Watson, waiting below for the baby's inevitable food spillage. Awesome.

I sighed and looked at my house full of toys, and now crumbs, and felt like a mess. I told this to the baby (he doesn't argue which is nice) and he just grinned at me with his two little teethies. Suddenly the toys and loss of square footage didn't even matter :)

I had the opportunity to get to chat with T-man's mom earlier this week and I'm so grateful. She is very saddened by the loss of her children, but is always excited to talk about what her baby boy is learning. It's a look into the life he's living outside of her home.

I realized last night that having this precious boy in my house - and the crumbs, toys, and drool that comes with it - is something that his mother desperately misses. Because of my conversation with T-man's mom, last night was the first time I began to grasp the loss that a birth parent faces when their children enter foster care. Their kids bring me so much joy...but as parents they are facing the toughest time in their lives. They are painfully aware of the milestones they are missing.

I know many may read this and think the parents "deserve" to miss out on this time with their babies. I do agree in extraordinary situations but for the majority of kids in care, their parents did the best they could with the hand they were dealt.

I'm sad for T-man's parents when they miss out on these sweet moments I get to share with him daily. My goal is to try to include them in as many events as possible, and share as many pictures as I can. After all, how can I love little man without caring about his parents too?

I will embrace all the two-teeth grins I get...and even the stroller in my kitchen :)

The New Normal...or Not

The last month and a half have been full of changes. We said goodbye to our first long-term placement, I graduated law school and started studying for the bar, and we've had three more foster daughters in the last month.

Since the end of April when baby K left, I've been struggling to get back to what feels "normal." At first, all I wanted was a baby again...any baby really. Being a mommy for four months then suddenly not being one anymore was weird, and I hated it. I didn't feel needed.

A couple of weeks after the goodbye, we took two little girls on a short-term basis because there was not a single home for them. When they arrived, having kids laughing in my house again filled me up with so much joy. The next day though, it didn't feel as "right" as the night before. I still didn't feel "normal" which surprised me.

Our two littles only stayed a couple of nights, then it was graduation and off to Cancun to celebrate with Brian. The day after we got back, I went to a board meeting at the Safe Place building and came home with a toddler. Oops.  

I was so excited to be a mommy again. At the time J bug was placed with us, I thought this would be a longer-term placement. Vacation was very healing for me, and I was finally able to look back on my time with baby K with fondness instead of sadness. The weirdest thing happened though. As I fell back into my mama routine, I still didn't feel "normal." I was so happy to have a toddler snuggled on my lap watching Dora, but I couldn't figure out if this was how I was supposed to feel...it's hard to explain. I was desperately seeking, searching for something, but I did not know what.

J bug went to live with a relative after week. I was full of competing emotions...relief that I could go back to worrying about just myself and bar prep, happiness for J bug that she would be reunited with family, yet sad to think I would again be childless.

I've been thinking about the idea of normalcy a lot lately, and I've come to the conclusion that maybe it just doesn't apply to me in the way I thought it should. Maybe in my life, the constant change that comes with foster parenting IS my "normal." Maybe I need to learn that on this path I've been called to, being a mom is normal, but not being a mommy is too.

I think that normalcy for me includes constant change. Just ask my mom and dad, long-time foster parents. Normal is a day when your foster daughter brings home an award from school. Normal is also a day when you have to call the local police on the same kid :)

I'm beginning to realize that every day holds many blessings to embrace and thank God for. If we don't have any foster kids, I will study extra for the bar or go on a date with Brian since childcare isn't an issue. If I am a temporary mommy, I'll embrace the snuggles, sweet smiles, and even the cheerios all over the floor.

Maybe my "new normal" is a lack of it...but you know what? I think I'm okay with that :)

No Longer a Mommy

I sat in the courtroom as the commissioner made her ruling.  "I am granting the motion for placement. I see no reason not to return the children immediately."

My chest hurt, my eyes stung, I couldn't breathe. I had written my "Caregiver Report to the Court" and emphasized the need for a slow transition for my anxious foster daughter. I had poured every ounce of love I had into my precious girl. I had communicated as often as possible with her CASA and her social worker. None of that mattered...I had failed my girl.

The commissioner treated my daughter like property.

My mind raced. I just kept thinking about how my baby girl would think I abandoned her after I worked so tirelessly to gain her trust. I thought about how it would feel to give her to a stranger to drive her down to her mother. There was no transition time before the move, something I knew my foster daughter desperately needed. It was all wrong.

Then came the guilt. Every time I had complained of exhaustion from lack of sleep, been frustrated with baby K's crying fits, or wished I could run to the grocery store alone replayed in my head. I thought that maybe if I had been more appreciative of every second, maybe she wouldn't have left me. Maybe I was not thankful enough, maybe I had not loved her enough.

I bargained with God, trying to make impossible trades. I didn't care if it was harder to study for the bar, I didn't care if I never got a full night of sleep again. I would give almost anything to have my baby girl back or at least have a slower transition, but this was not a trade I could make.

The three days after court were a blur. I sobbed as I packed up the clothes I had been so excited to buy for her and see her wear. I wrote a letter to her mom, explaining her schedule and what might be hard for her during this transition. It took me the full three days; I was too much of a wreck to write it all at once. Every time baby K reached for me or gave me a grin, I felt like I was being stabbed in the chest.

Saturday arrived way too fast. I got the call at 11:00 from the person who would be transporting my daughter to her new home. This was it. We grabbed her bags and I picked up baby girl from her toys for the last time. I buckled my baby into a carseat she'd never been in and shut the car door, blinking away tears as I waved goodbye through the window.

As soon as the car pulled away, I went back inside and immediately began to put her belongings from the living room into her bedroom. I couldn't bear to look at her toys, the playpen, and her little winter jackets knowing never again would I see her among these things. I cried later that day as I folded laundry that included her Easter dress and little hoodies. Everything I looked at reminded me of what we had lost.

Days later, I still break down at the little reminders - a tiny sock between the couch cushions, her empty carseat in the back of our car, her bucket of bottles on the kitchen counter. Our house is so quiet, and I don't really know how to define myself anymore.

Five days ago, I was a mommy. Now I'm not.

I don't write this to make you sad. I write this because I think it's important for people to realize that foster parents aren't machines. We feel immense sadness when our foster kids leave, we get "too" attached, and we love our foster babies like they are our own. Yet, we welcome broken children into our home because we know there will be so much joy when they're with us, and because these little ones deserve a home. I also write this for foster parents who feel that that no one understands their pain of losing a foster child. I promise, you are not alone in your grief.

During this time of heartache, I am reminding myself that the sun also rises and that better things will be coming. For now, it's time to grieve.

"Too" Attached: The Uncertainty of Foster Care

Tomorrow morning, there is a court date for our foster daughter's case that will likely set a plan in motion - a series of events that will determine the trajectory of a child's life. I knew I was signing up for heartbreak when I became a foster parent, but I'm still somehow surprised how deeply I am troubled by my foster daughter's uncertain future. I can't sleep, thinking about the "what if?" questions, and there is a deep sadness in my heart knowing there is nothing I can really do to protect my baby.

This is the point where many people will say, "That's why I can't do foster care. I'd get too attached and it would hurt too much when they leave. I could never do it."

Because I'm emotionally spent and frustrated with the system, I'm not going to sugarcoat this. Do you think it doesn't hurt me to think the baby I've cared for as my own may leave to go to an unsafe place? Don't you think my heart aches at the thought of having a quiet house devoid of baby chatter and PBS Kids?

The reality is, my chest literally hurts when I think about our foster daughter leaving our home. The current center of our world may cease exist to us. If what I've fought against is ordered by the judge, I do not believe she will continue to be the happy, well-adjusted baby she has become in our home.

Every giggle and wave makes me smile, but for the last few days, they have also been sobering reminders of what we could be losing. 

Guess what? I'm attached. Some may say "too" attached. Is this a bad thing, though? Doesn't baby K deserve to have someone fight for her best interests, no matter the outcome? Isn't she worth my prayers and tears? Every child deserves to have someone grieve for them when they are lost. 

No matter the outcome, I'm so lucky to have the opportunity to love on this baby! When I snuggle her to sleep tonight, I'll be thinking about what a joy and a blessing she's been and trying not to think about things that are out of my control. I'm just going to keep praying for the best and kissing those sweet cheeks.