IT'S ALL HAPPENING! We are foster parents.

Visual approximation

They say the only constant in life is change. The bunk beds being installed in our guest room today are proof positive of that. This post has been percolating in my mind for five days. It occurs to me that I never thought in advance how I would write this one. The one where we got kids. 

At approximately 3:26 p.m. on Monday, July 22, 2013, Texas Child Protective Services confirmed with our adoption agency the (pending) placement of three foster children in our home. At long last! For better or worse, Shawn and I are going to be parents. In a great big hurry. Like ripping off a band-aid. 

How can I make this announcement sound traditional? It’s a girl! And a boy! And another girl! Bless their hearts. And they will come to live with us on Friday. Details! I will share all I can. As these are children in foster care and not legally ours, confidentiality must be maintained for the time being. I can say that they are a 5 year old girl, a 4 year old boy, and a 2 year old girl. They’re from a mostly rural background, they’re white, and they need a lot of help to overcome the abuse they have endured. The reason they’re coming to live with us so quickly is that CPS is removing them from their current foster home and wants a new placement right away. Two of the kids require play therapy, and their foster parents of the last year or so can’t meet that need. With children in foster care, meeting these needs is not optional – it is state law. So the state’s caseworker began searching for a potential foster-adoptive family, even though the kids aren’t legally free for adoption at this time. The state’s goal is unrelated adoption, as they expect that the children will not be able to return home to their biological family. This is in line with our plans to foster what they call “legal risk” children until they’ve achieved termination of parental rights and we can adopt them. 

So. 

The rest is a blur. I really don’t even have time to write this. I’m doing it for myself, so that I can take a minute to look at what is happening to us and maybe remember how I felt in the dozen feverish days I had before we became a party of five.

I could not write anything two weeks ago when Shawn and I were selected for another ‘staffing’ call for three Hispanic girls in Houston. It was once bitten, twice shy for me as we waited for the results of the caseworker conference call to come in and again, we weren’t chosen to be the family for those girls. I’d been losing faith in a system that hadn’t given us kids for two years. Two agencies. Three different adoption paths. Two chances at being picked that both fell through. Financial barriers. Heartbreaking risks and disappointments. A while back I took my little collection of if-we-get-kids stuff and put it in the closet where I couldn’t see it anymore. I was giving up. A week later, my phone rang.

She got the call today,
One out of the gray.
And when the smoke cleared,
It took her breath away.
She said she didn't believe,
It could happen to me.
I guess we're all one phone call from our knees. 

“Closer to Love” – Mat Kearney

We had four hours between the time the phone call came in and the time CPS confirmed they were placing the kids in our home. Now we have 6 days until the punkins arrive. We get to meet them only once before then, on Monday, for an hour. Right now we don’t even have a photograph. The growing pains are unreal. My emotions change every ten minutes, vacillating between joy, excitement, doubt and terror. My phone rings even more often than that, with calls from the agency and close family (the only ones who knew – until now!). Our to-do list is unreal. How do you prepare to raise three kids you don’t know in two weeks? Finally we are the ones ordering bunk beds and calling family and making plans – it’s all happening. Fast. This week has been the maybe the most surreal of my life. I thank God for our families. They are living proof of why these kids are so important. Family can be everything. And ours have done more in this one week – already – than I can ever repay them for. Bunks and books and toys and bedding, advice and infinite research on school, daycare, healthcare...We have car seats and mattress pads. We are going to have to buy DIAPERS. We’re swamped with paperwork, rules and regulations. As Shawn said, it feels as if we’re moving, but in our own house. Suddenly our books and trinkets are being packed away to make room for little clothes and toys.

We’re making room in our hearts as well. Just two weeks to adjust after 12 years together doing whatever the heck we wanted to do, whenever we wanted to do it. Shawn’s working on what will be our new daily routine. I may have to trade in my car. We wonder what is going to be the last movie we see together in a theatre.

We know it’s not about us. It’s about these kids. Three little ones who are about to have one of the worst weeks of their short, painful lives so far. On Tuesday, they go to a meeting to say goodbye to their biological mother forever. On Friday, they leave the foster home where they have been for over a year. And after all that shock and trauma, they will land here. I know there’s no way any of us will be ready – in any sense of the word - for what’s coming. Shawn compared it to standing at the edge of a cold pool. “You know it’s going to be cold and painful but you just hold your breath and jump in.” Just in case, though – could somebody keep a life preserver handy?

Counting chickens before we're matched

Most potential adoptive chickies are in sibling groups of three.

Since we were approved as a foster/adoptive home in mid-December, forty-two children have passed through my inbox. I've made a binder now, with printouts of all the emails, broadcasts and photos (if included) that have been sent over from the agency. Just keeping track of who's who, who's still on the list and who's been taken off, the paperwork, names and ages and circumstances has become a part-time job. One that I'm really enjoying, because being up to our ears in broadcasts increases our odds of being matched!

So how does it look, the foster/adoption process by the numbers? We have been at this for about a month and a half with the new fost-to-adopt agency. Here's how it breaks down so far:

42: number of children for whom we've received broadcasts
3: average number of siblings in each broadcast
12: number of broadcasts for which we've submitted our home study
2: number of broadcasts for children with whom we did not get matched
1: number of broadcasts withdrawn from consideration due to CPS error
4: number of broadcasts for which we declined to submit our home study
9: number of broadcasts for available children for whom we're still in the running
24: number of hours we get to decide whether to submit for each broadcast

We've seen kids aged 9 mos to 14 years, with an average age of 5 years. 24 of the kids have been boys, 18 are girls. 7 of the broadcasts have been for legal risk foster children, while the other 9 are for children that are already legally free for adoption. Overall, we have already received more broadcasts in a month and a half with our new agency that we did in 9 months with the last one.

One thing I can't allow myself to count is the time as it passes. The years since we started this process, the months of paperwork and training, the weeks and days as potential kids come and go. That's the part of this gig that gets really hard after...well, after a while. I said I wouldn't count.

On the bright side, my mind is filled with images of precious kids out there with whom we could be matched, with the possibilities of parenting. I wish I could share them here, the photos, the inconsistent descriptions, the crazy names! My husband said to me this week, "Sweetie, our kids are going to have weird names." There's just no way around it. We have not received ONE broadcast that doesn't contain at least one child with a name that's either unusual, misspelled, or just plain nuts. Since we can't go around telling everyone "We didn't name them, they're adopted!" we are going to have to allow folks to assume we chose these bizarre monikers or we don't know how to spell. But then, "What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet."

A lockbox inside a lockbox

CPR training is every bit as exciting as it looks.

It's always been my policy at work not to let anyone know all I'm capable of, lest they expect me to do it. As I am now, weeks or even days from being licensed to foster parent, I worry about the things I know how to do. I know how to administer psychotropic medications. I know how to restrain a kid who is trying to injure me without causing harm to him/her. How to stop him from choking me, biting me, kicking me, grabbing me. How to perform CPR. How to properly discipline a traumatized child, one who may be acting out as a result of any number of tragedies. How to keep a Life Book so the child has a continuing sense of place, understanding of self. I know how to protect him, care for him, and properly provide for him. I'm just afraid I may have to do it.

Over the past two months, Shawn and I have been working with our new agency to become a licensed foster home. Outside of the mountains of paperwork we've completed and 20 hours of training, we can prove to anyone that our cars are inspected and insured, that we've paid all our taxes. We can show you our three-year certified driving history, our diplomas, the fire escape route for our home. We've documented where we'll be if there's a disaster, we've wall-mounted a fire extinguisher, we've re-vaccinated all the cats. I'm in the process of background-checking my parents and sisters. The health inspector and fire inspector have signed off. Essentially, it's all over but the lockboxes.

MINIMUM STANDARDS FOR CHILD-PLACING AGENCIES
Subchapter J, Foster Care Services: Medical and Dental
Division 4, Medication Storage and Destruction
§749.1521. (4) Store medication covered by Schedule II of the Texas Controlled Substances Act under double lock in a separate container.

The only thing left between us and a foster license is a series of locks. Locked up tools, locked up cleaning supplies, and in the case of certain medications, a locked box inside another locked box. As I think about my errands for the weekend, it just barely strikes me as odd that I have to find a way to keep Schedule II medications under double lock as required by law. It no longer occurs to me that it's strange that I even know what I'm talking about (I know most people don't). What I know is if I don't have a lockbox inside a lockbox by Tuesday morning, we won't get our license. Tuesday is the first of two visits by our caseworker that will finalize the process, part interview and part home inspection. After that we will begin to receive broadcasts for available children again, this time for legal-risk foster placement in our home with the intention to adopt once the child or children are legally free.

I'm excited that Shawn and I have worked hard and have nearly survived another trial on our unique path to parenthood. And I'll have all those locks in place on time. What I'm more concerned about is what we are unlocking. This license is the key to opening ourselves up again, to more children with the potential to become ours. Opening up our home to the fishbowl that is foster care and the visits from CPS and agency caseworkers and child advocates. Opening our minds to the idea of documenting every doctor visit, every pill taken, every t-shirt purchased, every altercation, every breath it seems, that this child or children will take in our care. Opening our hearts and our arms to troubled kids who will not be ready to love us back. To be honest, it's my telltale heart I wish I could put inside of two locked boxes sometimes. But it's a bit late for that. Because soon, everybody is going to know what I can do.