On Worry and Wisdom

Like sands through the hourglass...

Today marks the 100^th day that my husband and I have housed, fed, clothed and loved three children from another home. A really bad home. And as we fight through the day-to-day consequences of what others have done to harm these kids, we stand in judgment too of ourselves, of our home. And wonder if we’re up to it all.

I wish I’d had time to post more and share more about what it’s been like going through the first three months with the kids. We have seen more happiness and fun and joy through their eyes than we have in years. We have learned invaluable parenting lessons about routines, mealtimes, organization, paperwork and punishments. Love and logic. Some days the successes are there and you feel like you might be onto something with this whole parenting deal. Our 2yo girl has made rapid developmental progress in language and learning. Our 4yo boy is finally receiving all of the speech therapy he needs to overcome his delays. Our 5yo girl is so bright, helpful and charming that at times, I feel lucky to be around her at all.

But we live in a fishbowl. The foster requirements are crushing. How can I maintain a full time job and raise three kids when we have constant home visits and inspections and a monthly mountain of paperwork and a form for every drop of children’s ibuprofen that touches their little mouths? How can we bond as a family when our quality time is taken up by a small army of caseworkers and therapists, marking literally every day of the calendar with one meeting or another? In addition to the doctor, dentist and daycare? We couldn’t take the kids to their elementary fall carnival because we were stuck in an 8 hour re-training about the proper way to restrain children without hurting them. We can’t sit down to dinner until play therapy is over. Our little boy often asks, “who’s coming to our house today?”

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

You never know dear

How much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away. 

 

As we grow more attached to (and confused by) the kids, my mind wanders to their lingering termination of parental rights. Three parents are involved; two of three are out already. But one appealed. And our wait while the courts sort out that appeal could be up to a year, we are told. I know where he is, this man who sits in jail, in between these kids and their freedom from neglect and abuse. What I don’t know, and will never know, is why he hurt them and why he won’t let them heal. All I can do, I am reminded, is focus on what our adoption agency calls the big picture. Tell myself that however unbearable the uncertainty may be, it is temporary, and worth it.

All the time people tell me how lucky the kids are to be with us and what an amazing thing we are doing. I really appreciate the support. How these comments hit me depend on what is going on at that time. Did we just take them to the State Fair of Texas, feed them corn dogs and cotton candy and bring them home in one piece? Yes! We sure are the incredible parents these kiddos deserve. On the other hand, is our son redefining “toilet” by peeing in the trashcan and hamper? Is our daughter trying to lure her siblings into the closet to act out abuse that was perpetrated on her? Does it take 30 minutes to get out of the car because no child is listening, following directions, or maintaining a shred of respect for our role as parents, because we sort of aren't? Those days are the days when I lie to you and I say yes, thanks, amazing, lucky…but I know some of what really goes on around here would upset and frighten you. I wonder what you would think about how I handled it all, what advice you might be able to give, how you would judge me. But I am afraid to tell you the truth. This story is going to get ugly before it gets beautiful. Abuse does not get washed away with teddy bears and good intentions. We are in the fight of our lives for these kids. I really want to win.