As I have been thinking about what I want to do with this blog, it occurred to me that I could do something beyond chronicling my own experiences. I am a clinical psychologist who specializes in children and adolescents and I was thinking that maybe I could offer some useful, educational and hopefully interesting material.
If I didn't plug it enough, please watch the YouTube video below. It is amazing.
That being said, I wanted to explain what often happens when children are removed from their biological parents and are moved from placement to placement. Many of them develop a syndrome that can be found in the DSM-IV called Reactive Attachment Disorder.
A child learns to develop healthy bonds with his/her caregivers when the caregivers are consistent in providing for the child's needs. However, when a child lives in a home where there is abuse or neglect, healthy bonding becomes nearly impossible. Instead, the child develops a deep distrust that adult caregivers will provide his/her needs.
When this situation is compounded by the child being removed from his/her natural home and placed in a stranger's home, it is not uncommon for a child to project preconceived biases on to the new caregivers. This makes moving into a new home not only frightening, but also makes it difficult for the child to form attachments to his/her new caregivers.
In these circumstances, hording food and running away, among many other behaviors, are common.
For more information, you can read an excellent article on Reactive Attachment Disorder here.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Have a little faith in me. . .
Happened by chance to catch a part of an annual show called Home for the Holidays. It is a show that encourages people to adopt children in the foster care system. I was so moved by Michael's Franti's performance on the show that I searched and searched until I was able to find it on YouTube today. He is interviewed at the beginning of the segment. Even you don't find the interview riveting, hang in there until his performance. Promise you won't be sorry.
If you are like me and need a reminder, you can use the full screen option to view.
If you are like me and need a reminder, you can use the full screen option to view.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Not this time. . .
Well, the System found a place where the 2 year-olds can be kept together. But glad they have us in mind now and hope the next kids that come up will be placed with us sooner rather than later.
For now, snowtubing to look forward to and a week of almost being totally off other than a few private patients.
And some time to write some posts answering the many good questions I was asked in the comments section on the other posts.
For now, snowtubing to look forward to and a week of almost being totally off other than a few private patients.
And some time to write some posts answering the many good questions I was asked in the comments section on the other posts.
Got another call
Just got another message, 2 two-year olds needing placement, a boy and a girl. I guess someone thought we did a good job and are looking to send up more kids already. I am so pleased.
I would take one. 2 two-year olds might be too much. We are going to be away on Saturday through Monday snowtubing, and a two-year old won't be able to participate. My husband is not keen on having to disrupt the tiny little vacation we have planned. Hoping they have someplace for the child(ren) until Tuesday. I would love to have another two year old in the house. They are too cute.
So crossing my fingers until Mr. D. calls me back to tell me the deal. Wish me luck.
I would take one. 2 two-year olds might be too much. We are going to be away on Saturday through Monday snowtubing, and a two-year old won't be able to participate. My husband is not keen on having to disrupt the tiny little vacation we have planned. Hoping they have someplace for the child(ren) until Tuesday. I would love to have another two year old in the house. They are too cute.
So crossing my fingers until Mr. D. calls me back to tell me the deal. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
My need to be a foster parent. Personality test to take included.
On my second post that I wrote for this blog, my friend E_Fink commented, "I am anxious to hear why you were so emotional about becoming a foster parent."
Warning, this post is going to be very shrinky. Don't bother making fun of my profession in the comments section. I know all the criticisms already. And agree with quite a few of them.
Ok a premise. I always say, once you get to know a person well enough, the crazy comes out. So here is my "crazy."
One of my tweeps, daniopp asked me a while back what I thought about the Enneagram test. Though I am a clinical psychologist, objective personality testing, the category in which the Enneagram test falls, was never a focus of my graduate school program. I took it once, scored a "2" or "Helper." It is a well studied test, well researched as a valid tool and you can take a version of it here .I know a lot of people don't buy into these tests, but humor yourself. See what you find. Feel free to share your score in the comments section and how accurate you think it is.
Here are some descriptions of the "Helper" type taken from the website I linked to above. Though I tested through the roof as a "2," not every detail is accurate for me and if you take it, same will be for you.
Some information about "The Helper" (the Two)
Helpers are warm, concerned, nurturing, and sensitive to other people's needs.
How to Get Along with Me
* Tell me that you appreciate me. Be specific.
* Take an interest in my problems, though I will probably try to focus on yours.
* Let me know that I am important and special to you.
* Be gentle if you decide to criticize me.
What I Like About Being a Two
* being able to relate easily to people and to make friends
* knowing what people need and being able to make their lives better
* being generous, caring, and warm
* being sensitive to and perceptive about others' feelings
What's Hard About Being a Two
* feeling drained from overdoing for others
* being upset that others don't tune in to me as much as I tune in to them
* working so hard to be tactful and considerate that I suppress my real feelings
Twos as Children Often
* are very sensitive to disapproval and criticism
* try hard to please their parents by being helpful and understanding
* are outwardly compliant
Twos as Parents
* are good listeners, love their children unconditionally, and are warm and encouraging (or suffer guilt if they aren't)
* are often playful with their children
* can become fiercely protective
So, that is a decent, not perfect, description of who I am. As a very introspective person, and because like almost all psychologists, I have been on the other side of the couch, I have a good idea how I became that way. Because of my family dynamics, I was a caregiver from very early childhood. I am an oldest child and very much took on the personality of one (lots of googling you can do on birth order). I never wanted to rock the boat at home, and became very sensitive to the moods and needs of others as to not cause trouble and in attempt to earn others' approval. I was very studious but my EQ (emotional intelligence) is by far stronger than any other subtype of intelligence, likely because I needed it to be. When on the other side of the couch, I have been referred to as having a "savior complex." Of course that also explains my choice in careers. Having a "savior complex" is often not a good thing, and I am working on finding only healthy ways to channel the "complex".
Everyone has sources of fulfillment in their lives. I overdo it in this area, often to my own detriment. Foster parenting is something I felt I *needed* to do because I have spent so much time with inner city kids who have not done well in the System and I *needed* to feel I was doing my part, even if it were to just save one.
Warning, this post is going to be very shrinky. Don't bother making fun of my profession in the comments section. I know all the criticisms already. And agree with quite a few of them.
Ok a premise. I always say, once you get to know a person well enough, the crazy comes out. So here is my "crazy."
One of my tweeps, daniopp asked me a while back what I thought about the Enneagram test. Though I am a clinical psychologist, objective personality testing, the category in which the Enneagram test falls, was never a focus of my graduate school program. I took it once, scored a "2" or "Helper." It is a well studied test, well researched as a valid tool and you can take a version of it here .I know a lot of people don't buy into these tests, but humor yourself. See what you find. Feel free to share your score in the comments section and how accurate you think it is.
Here are some descriptions of the "Helper" type taken from the website I linked to above. Though I tested through the roof as a "2," not every detail is accurate for me and if you take it, same will be for you.
Some information about "The Helper" (the Two)
Helpers are warm, concerned, nurturing, and sensitive to other people's needs.
How to Get Along with Me
* Tell me that you appreciate me. Be specific.
* Take an interest in my problems, though I will probably try to focus on yours.
* Let me know that I am important and special to you.
* Be gentle if you decide to criticize me.
What I Like About Being a Two
* being able to relate easily to people and to make friends
* knowing what people need and being able to make their lives better
* being generous, caring, and warm
* being sensitive to and perceptive about others' feelings
What's Hard About Being a Two
* feeling drained from overdoing for others
* being upset that others don't tune in to me as much as I tune in to them
* working so hard to be tactful and considerate that I suppress my real feelings
Twos as Children Often
* are very sensitive to disapproval and criticism
* try hard to please their parents by being helpful and understanding
* are outwardly compliant
Twos as Parents
* are good listeners, love their children unconditionally, and are warm and encouraging (or suffer guilt if they aren't)
* are often playful with their children
* can become fiercely protective
So, that is a decent, not perfect, description of who I am. As a very introspective person, and because like almost all psychologists, I have been on the other side of the couch, I have a good idea how I became that way. Because of my family dynamics, I was a caregiver from very early childhood. I am an oldest child and very much took on the personality of one (lots of googling you can do on birth order). I never wanted to rock the boat at home, and became very sensitive to the moods and needs of others as to not cause trouble and in attempt to earn others' approval. I was very studious but my EQ (emotional intelligence) is by far stronger than any other subtype of intelligence, likely because I needed it to be. When on the other side of the couch, I have been referred to as having a "savior complex." Of course that also explains my choice in careers. Having a "savior complex" is often not a good thing, and I am working on finding only healthy ways to channel the "complex".
Everyone has sources of fulfillment in their lives. I overdo it in this area, often to my own detriment. Foster parenting is something I felt I *needed* to do because I have spent so much time with inner city kids who have not done well in the System and I *needed* to feel I was doing my part, even if it were to just save one.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
My MIL's priorities versus ours
Some background. My husband and I both come from Orthodox Jewish families and had strict Orthodox upbringings. While we ourselves continue to be active in our Jewish community, we are not Orthodox or observant of many laws with which we grew up. We tend to describe ourselves as the Black Sheep of the family. Our siblings, all 6 of them between us, are strict Orthodox Jews.
When we first considered becoming foster parents, we considered adopting a little girl. As was expected, our families asked if the child we would take in would be Jewish. We replied that we reached out to some Jewish agencies in our state to let them know we existed in case a Jewish child was in a need of a foster home. There is no designated Jewish foster agency in our state like there is in NY. We told our families that we were open and more than happy to provide a home for a child or children of any race, any religion, or ethnicity.
Things blew up with my MIL when we discussed potentially adopting a child through the foster care system. She said, "but the child won't be Jewish!" To which we responded, if we were to adopt a child we would have him/her converted to Judaism. My MIL responded that the child would not be able to be converted via an Orthodox conversion because we are not observant. I get really, really heated in these conversations and I could feel my face getting hot. I said, the child would be Jewish in our eyes, and their Jewishness if not a priority to us anyway. If the child wants to convert via Orthodoxy later in life, there would be nothing to stop him or her. She couldn't stop going on and on about her concerns about the child not "really" being Jewish. Finally I lost my temper and said, all of your children have 3 or more children, (except for the youngest who I am sure will one day too), this is our way to have more children in our lives. We are entitled to that being welcomed as a good thing!
I mean for goodness sakes! I can't name one friend I have in my life that has ever been anything but supportive of our goal to foster or adopt a child. They babysat our kids when we were at trainings, gave us girl toys in case we had a girl placed with us and when they see us always ask for updates.
About 2 weeks ago, long story short, we were connected with a Lubavicher about potentially taking in a foster child who had been placed with his nonJewish aunt. As I am writing this post, as a way to channel my current irritation, my MIL is on the phone with my husband spending her time asking about the backstory regarding the Jewish child that we never even met who was safely with a family member. She asked nothing at all about the three incredible children that were actually placed with us. My son told me that when she had called earlier in the week, the first question she had asked when my son told her that we had three children with us was "are they Jewish?" He had responded "no, but they had a good time lighting the chanukiot with us."
I don't know how many times we need to explain that our priorities are not hers. Our goal is not to dig up a Jewish child (though we would be glad to have one), it is to give a temporary family to a child, any child, between the ages of 2 and 8, who needs a home. We would not feel any more or less fulfilled if the child were Jewish.
I imagine that her inability to shift her thinking to understanding what our goals are rather than what she thinks they should be is not going to change any time soon. And I recognize that intellectually. But man, it is still hard to listen to.
When we first considered becoming foster parents, we considered adopting a little girl. As was expected, our families asked if the child we would take in would be Jewish. We replied that we reached out to some Jewish agencies in our state to let them know we existed in case a Jewish child was in a need of a foster home. There is no designated Jewish foster agency in our state like there is in NY. We told our families that we were open and more than happy to provide a home for a child or children of any race, any religion, or ethnicity.
Things blew up with my MIL when we discussed potentially adopting a child through the foster care system. She said, "but the child won't be Jewish!" To which we responded, if we were to adopt a child we would have him/her converted to Judaism. My MIL responded that the child would not be able to be converted via an Orthodox conversion because we are not observant. I get really, really heated in these conversations and I could feel my face getting hot. I said, the child would be Jewish in our eyes, and their Jewishness if not a priority to us anyway. If the child wants to convert via Orthodoxy later in life, there would be nothing to stop him or her. She couldn't stop going on and on about her concerns about the child not "really" being Jewish. Finally I lost my temper and said, all of your children have 3 or more children, (except for the youngest who I am sure will one day too), this is our way to have more children in our lives. We are entitled to that being welcomed as a good thing!
I mean for goodness sakes! I can't name one friend I have in my life that has ever been anything but supportive of our goal to foster or adopt a child. They babysat our kids when we were at trainings, gave us girl toys in case we had a girl placed with us and when they see us always ask for updates.
About 2 weeks ago, long story short, we were connected with a Lubavicher about potentially taking in a foster child who had been placed with his nonJewish aunt. As I am writing this post, as a way to channel my current irritation, my MIL is on the phone with my husband spending her time asking about the backstory regarding the Jewish child that we never even met who was safely with a family member. She asked nothing at all about the three incredible children that were actually placed with us. My son told me that when she had called earlier in the week, the first question she had asked when my son told her that we had three children with us was "are they Jewish?" He had responded "no, but they had a good time lighting the chanukiot with us."
I don't know how many times we need to explain that our priorities are not hers. Our goal is not to dig up a Jewish child (though we would be glad to have one), it is to give a temporary family to a child, any child, between the ages of 2 and 8, who needs a home. We would not feel any more or less fulfilled if the child were Jewish.
I imagine that her inability to shift her thinking to understanding what our goals are rather than what she thinks they should be is not going to change any time soon. And I recognize that intellectually. But man, it is still hard to listen to.
Friday, December 18, 2009
The little man. Hands in toilets and all.
The smallest of our three new friends was a two year-old boy named K. I should preface. I have 2 biological sons. My bio sons were also 2 once upon a time, like 6 and 9 years ago. They were NOTHING like this one. All that baby proofing with my boys, didn't even need it. They didn't care to open cabinets, turns knobs or push chairs to climb up on stuff. The are even tempered, pretty laid back, moderate energy kids. They take after their dad in that way (I am not quite as laid back as my husband).
K's first night at our house made our very tidy home(the cleaning lady had been there earlier that day) into an area that looked much like I imagine Dorothy's home did when she came back after the tornado.
He touched everything. Opened the garbage trying to pull stuff out, moved chairs to get to the light switches to turn on and off the light, put his hands in the toilet. Thinking maybe the toy room would be a better idea, I took all the kids down there to explore. He took out every toy. In half an hour he had managed to take everything out of its place.
One comment my 11 year old made to my husband as we were processing this whole experience was that "mommy kept sweating when making sure K stayed safe. It was too much. Mommy only sweats when she exercises."
By the end of the second day I used my mommy and shrink know how and got it figured out. Lots of gates in rooms with a few toys at a time as to not overstimulate. Plus a sturdy step stool by the light switch so he could turn off and on the light as much as he pleased.
The first night, before I gave him a bath, he motioned that he wanted to sit on the toilet. So I put him on the toilet. After a minute or two, nothing was coming out, so I took him off. Just I was about to put him in the tub, guess who peed all over my rug? I laughed so hard I almost chocked.
There are no words to describe how cute this child is. He came with what my sister would call "mini gangsta clothing" and super low buzzed hair. He smiled every second, happiest child I have ever met. Hand him anything and he said, "tank yu" He danced as he held out a toy truck that plays music a hundred times if it was once. He saw a Happy Birthday sign from my son's recent birthday and yelled, "A!" and started to sing the alphabet song in gibberish just to end with "Yay!" He could count to 12 and when watching soccer on TV kept pointing to the ball saying, "score!"
We figured out right on the first night a technique to put him to sleep. While I was taking care of the girls, my husband directed my sons to sleep and sat in front of the TV with K and his sippy cup until he fell asleep. K's sisters had told us that their mom would give K his asthma medicine in his sleep because otherwise he would fight it. Good thing they told us.
Nothing sweeter than walking into my room to see K asleep in my husband's arms. When sure he was fast asleep, my husband moved K into his bed. While I was still sweating, my head spinning and my mind racing as to how to ready everything so it would go smoothly in the morning, my husband walks in, smiled and said, "this was fun!" Rewarding, challenging, worthwhile, yes. But on the first night, "fun" was not what I would have described it. But as my husband pointed out, "but look at how much you are smiling." And I was.
K's first night at our house made our very tidy home(the cleaning lady had been there earlier that day) into an area that looked much like I imagine Dorothy's home did when she came back after the tornado.
He touched everything. Opened the garbage trying to pull stuff out, moved chairs to get to the light switches to turn on and off the light, put his hands in the toilet. Thinking maybe the toy room would be a better idea, I took all the kids down there to explore. He took out every toy. In half an hour he had managed to take everything out of its place.
One comment my 11 year old made to my husband as we were processing this whole experience was that "mommy kept sweating when making sure K stayed safe. It was too much. Mommy only sweats when she exercises."
By the end of the second day I used my mommy and shrink know how and got it figured out. Lots of gates in rooms with a few toys at a time as to not overstimulate. Plus a sturdy step stool by the light switch so he could turn off and on the light as much as he pleased.
The first night, before I gave him a bath, he motioned that he wanted to sit on the toilet. So I put him on the toilet. After a minute or two, nothing was coming out, so I took him off. Just I was about to put him in the tub, guess who peed all over my rug? I laughed so hard I almost chocked.
There are no words to describe how cute this child is. He came with what my sister would call "mini gangsta clothing" and super low buzzed hair. He smiled every second, happiest child I have ever met. Hand him anything and he said, "tank yu" He danced as he held out a toy truck that plays music a hundred times if it was once. He saw a Happy Birthday sign from my son's recent birthday and yelled, "A!" and started to sing the alphabet song in gibberish just to end with "Yay!" He could count to 12 and when watching soccer on TV kept pointing to the ball saying, "score!"
We figured out right on the first night a technique to put him to sleep. While I was taking care of the girls, my husband directed my sons to sleep and sat in front of the TV with K and his sippy cup until he fell asleep. K's sisters had told us that their mom would give K his asthma medicine in his sleep because otherwise he would fight it. Good thing they told us.
Nothing sweeter than walking into my room to see K asleep in my husband's arms. When sure he was fast asleep, my husband moved K into his bed. While I was still sweating, my head spinning and my mind racing as to how to ready everything so it would go smoothly in the morning, my husband walks in, smiled and said, "this was fun!" Rewarding, challenging, worthwhile, yes. But on the first night, "fun" was not what I would have described it. But as my husband pointed out, "but look at how much you are smiling." And I was.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
My day at church?
Previously posted on DovBear April 6, 2008
The way our first day of foster care training began, my husband and I would have thought that we had walked into Rev. Wright's church rather than a state sponsored training session.
As soon as we walked in, we were greeted by the trainer who was complaining that she wished she could have put on gospel music in the background first thing in the morning instead of the jazz she was playing - but of course she couldn't do that because then (sarcastically) someone might complain since we were in a state building.
Ok. Fine. She likes gospel music, nothing wrong with that.
Then we were each asked to introduce ourselves by answering for the group:
1.What was I doing here?
2.Who influenced my life?
The trainer, to set the tone, decided to introduce herself first. She went into a whole long monologue about how God had brought her to this state on a visit from another state where she had been working as a salesperson. . .how God had ensured that she were offered a job doing social service work while she was on the visit. . how God made it possible to sell her house in just 2 weeks and close in four so she could move to this state and do God's work for these children. . .how she had never planned to return to this state but she had accepted that this was God's plan. . .
Praise the Lord.
And she continues. . .And I don't care if you call him "God" or "Elijah" (yes, she said that) or "Atheist" - no one can tell me that God doesn't make the sun come up everyone morning. . .
Praise the Lord.
And then the first participant introduces herself . . . brought up in the church. . .doing God's work. . .
Amen.
And the next. And the next.
All brought up in church. All apparently doing God's work. Every one of them. Very nice.
And then finally, three people left, my husband, myself and a sweet older woman to my right and it is my husband's turn to introduce himself . . .
My name is (his name) and I was also brought up in the faith community. In fact, my father is a Jewish ra. . .
Fine. Normally I am all for shining the spotlight on my Jewishness, especially in a situation where I (in this case we) am clearly the only Jew and am doing something positive, against stereotype, while surrounded by folks who may not know much about Jewish people. But something (not something, previous experience - and I almost hate to say it cause y'all know how P.C. I usually try to be) told me that here was probably not the place to shine that spotlight.
But fine. Now everyone knows we are Jewish.
So later, the trainer talked about a woman who had 10 kids with multiple fathers, all of whom had been absorbed by the system. She said that some had asked why the judge couldn't have her tubes tied.
And then the trainer abruptly turns to me and says, "because that would be like saying you should have your tubes tied because you are a Jew."
You know when your gut gives you those little warning signs?
Great. Training is going to be just super.
Well, seven hours of training down, twenty to go.
Praise the Lord.
The way our first day of foster care training began, my husband and I would have thought that we had walked into Rev. Wright's church rather than a state sponsored training session.
As soon as we walked in, we were greeted by the trainer who was complaining that she wished she could have put on gospel music in the background first thing in the morning instead of the jazz she was playing - but of course she couldn't do that because then (sarcastically) someone might complain since we were in a state building.
Ok. Fine. She likes gospel music, nothing wrong with that.
Then we were each asked to introduce ourselves by answering for the group:
1.What was I doing here?
2.Who influenced my life?
The trainer, to set the tone, decided to introduce herself first. She went into a whole long monologue about how God had brought her to this state on a visit from another state where she had been working as a salesperson. . .how God had ensured that she were offered a job doing social service work while she was on the visit. . how God made it possible to sell her house in just 2 weeks and close in four so she could move to this state and do God's work for these children. . .how she had never planned to return to this state but she had accepted that this was God's plan. . .
Praise the Lord.
And she continues. . .And I don't care if you call him "God" or "Elijah" (yes, she said that) or "Atheist" - no one can tell me that God doesn't make the sun come up everyone morning. . .
Praise the Lord.
And then the first participant introduces herself . . . brought up in the church. . .doing God's work. . .
Amen.
And the next. And the next.
All brought up in church. All apparently doing God's work. Every one of them. Very nice.
And then finally, three people left, my husband, myself and a sweet older woman to my right and it is my husband's turn to introduce himself . . .
My name is (his name) and I was also brought up in the faith community. In fact, my father is a Jewish ra. . .
Fine. Normally I am all for shining the spotlight on my Jewishness, especially in a situation where I (in this case we) am clearly the only Jew and am doing something positive, against stereotype, while surrounded by folks who may not know much about Jewish people. But something (not something, previous experience - and I almost hate to say it cause y'all know how P.C. I usually try to be) told me that here was probably not the place to shine that spotlight.
But fine. Now everyone knows we are Jewish.
So later, the trainer talked about a woman who had 10 kids with multiple fathers, all of whom had been absorbed by the system. She said that some had asked why the judge couldn't have her tubes tied.
And then the trainer abruptly turns to me and says, "because that would be like saying you should have your tubes tied because you are a Jew."
You know when your gut gives you those little warning signs?
Great. Training is going to be just super.
Well, seven hours of training down, twenty to go.
Praise the Lord.
Memories that I want seared into my brain
You know those moments in time that you just want to capture and never forget? Those that video would not do justice because you want to remember and feel the feeling again? I had an amazing number of those moments in the past 3 days (3 days!) that I wish I could sear into my memory forever. Let me tell you about a few moments with the girls.
The girls, T (age 7) and S (age 5) were smiling, outgoing, friendly and curious about their surroundings from the first moment I started to show them around the house. The first night, after so much excitement, they went to sleep easily, insisting on sleeping in one bed head to toe. Granted it wasn't until 11pm, but they went to sleep with no resistance at all.
The second night was different. My husband read them a bedtime story as he did the first night and left the room. Soon I heard T start to cry. I went into the girls' room and S told me that T was homesick. S was rubbing T's back in an attempt to sooth her sister. I asked the girls if they wanted me to stay with them until they fell sleep. They said yes and wanted me to lie down next to them. So I took over for S and rubbed T's back as she continued to cry, "I miss mommy, I want mommy." I kept rubbing her back until she fell asleep. When T fell asleep, S allowed herself to relax enough to fall asleep as well.
On Wednesday, the third day, the children's mother had a court date. We knew that the System was going to advise that the family be reunited. She had completed a 6-9 month rehab program to fight her alcoholism, stayed sober and complied with every demand the System had required of her. She was already having successful unsupervised weekend visitations with her children, a sign that the System was getting ready to reunify. So Wednesday was a big day. In the afternoon I received a call from the children's case manager that the mother, had, in fact been awarded custody of her children and the worker would be coming to get them the next morning. When the children arrived home, they were excited to say the least.
That night, as I was giving the girls a bath, they asked me if they could wash my hair. So I leaned my back against the tub and leaned my head back to they could pour water over my hair. They asked me if I could get a comb so they could braid my hair like theirs. T told me to cover myself with a towel so that I wouldn't get wet. The she poured water over my hair in a way that I could only describe as gentle and loving. She carefully combed it through over and over again then poured water again. They never did braid my hair, but it was a really special bonding moment. One unlike I had ever experienced before.
This morning when the children were getting ready to leave, T wanted to whisper something in my ear. She whispered, "if this happens again, I want to come back to your house." I assured her that her mommy was ready for them to come home forever, but if she needed to be in foster care again, she could come back to my house. To which she asked, "can you tell that to the case manager?"
The girls, T (age 7) and S (age 5) were smiling, outgoing, friendly and curious about their surroundings from the first moment I started to show them around the house. The first night, after so much excitement, they went to sleep easily, insisting on sleeping in one bed head to toe. Granted it wasn't until 11pm, but they went to sleep with no resistance at all.
The second night was different. My husband read them a bedtime story as he did the first night and left the room. Soon I heard T start to cry. I went into the girls' room and S told me that T was homesick. S was rubbing T's back in an attempt to sooth her sister. I asked the girls if they wanted me to stay with them until they fell sleep. They said yes and wanted me to lie down next to them. So I took over for S and rubbed T's back as she continued to cry, "I miss mommy, I want mommy." I kept rubbing her back until she fell asleep. When T fell asleep, S allowed herself to relax enough to fall asleep as well.
On Wednesday, the third day, the children's mother had a court date. We knew that the System was going to advise that the family be reunited. She had completed a 6-9 month rehab program to fight her alcoholism, stayed sober and complied with every demand the System had required of her. She was already having successful unsupervised weekend visitations with her children, a sign that the System was getting ready to reunify. So Wednesday was a big day. In the afternoon I received a call from the children's case manager that the mother, had, in fact been awarded custody of her children and the worker would be coming to get them the next morning. When the children arrived home, they were excited to say the least.
That night, as I was giving the girls a bath, they asked me if they could wash my hair. So I leaned my back against the tub and leaned my head back to they could pour water over my hair. They asked me if I could get a comb so they could braid my hair like theirs. T told me to cover myself with a towel so that I wouldn't get wet. The she poured water over my hair in a way that I could only describe as gentle and loving. She carefully combed it through over and over again then poured water again. They never did braid my hair, but it was a really special bonding moment. One unlike I had ever experienced before.
This morning when the children were getting ready to leave, T wanted to whisper something in my ear. She whispered, "if this happens again, I want to come back to your house." I assured her that her mommy was ready for them to come home forever, but if she needed to be in foster care again, she could come back to my house. To which she asked, "can you tell that to the case manager?"
Finally getting a call
Monday December 14th I was home with my 8 year old son who was under the weather. Normally I would be at work at that time and have missed the phone call that resulted in our first foster care placement. At about 11am, I spoke with Mr. D, the guy who finally fixed us in the System to reflect the fact that my house is licensed for 4 foster children. Four is the maximum allowed in our state.
Mr. D explained that he had a sibling group 2 girls, ages 7 and 5 and 1 boy, age 2, who were in need of respite beds. They had been living in a foster home, their third, since May and their foster parents needed to leave the country for about 3 weeks to attend a funeral and spend time with their family.
When my husband and I first got ourselves into this we envisioned one little child, certainly not three. But we had been waiting for almost two years. I was promised that these were well adjusted children who had been doing well in their foster home. Mr. D explained that the children were placed in foster care after someone made a call to the System to report a near drowning of a child who was being neglected by her very drunk mother.
Thinking my husband would think I was crazy for considering 3 kids our first time out, I told Mr. D that I would call my husband and see what he thought. My husband asked a few questions, which I was able to answer and said, "let's do it."
I started crying, like so hard that my husband couldn't understand me. I had been wanting to do this so badly for so long that I couldn't believe it was finally happening. Maybe in another post I can properly explain why my reaction was so intense (like maybe during a lull between placements). When I got myself together, I asked my son what he thought. My eight year-old had been waiting as long as we have been for a foster brother or sister. When we got licensed he put stuffed animals on the bed in our spare room, readying the room for a child to feel welcome and comfortable. My son, with no energy because he was sick, smiled and said "yes, the children should come stay with us."
So I called Mr. D and told him we'd do it. Three hours later, 3 of the most adorable children arrived at my house with all of the belongings they had been carrying with them in the almost year they had been in foster care.
I got all the info, how they would get to school by the System, when one has therapy, when they have visitation with their mother and when to give the 2 year old his asthma medication via a nebulizer. It all sounded manageable but I admitted to the worker that my biggest fear was that I will send the girls to school without their hair properly done. I said, I don't want the kids going to school looking like some clueless White lady did their hair (the children are African American and came with those cute multiple braids and twists in their hair with the cute little clips on them). The worker promised me that she would make sure in the morning that the girls looked presentable. And off she went, leaving me with 3 children, their stuff and my eight year old son who was too lethargic to even show an interest.
Mr. D explained that he had a sibling group 2 girls, ages 7 and 5 and 1 boy, age 2, who were in need of respite beds. They had been living in a foster home, their third, since May and their foster parents needed to leave the country for about 3 weeks to attend a funeral and spend time with their family.
When my husband and I first got ourselves into this we envisioned one little child, certainly not three. But we had been waiting for almost two years. I was promised that these were well adjusted children who had been doing well in their foster home. Mr. D explained that the children were placed in foster care after someone made a call to the System to report a near drowning of a child who was being neglected by her very drunk mother.
Thinking my husband would think I was crazy for considering 3 kids our first time out, I told Mr. D that I would call my husband and see what he thought. My husband asked a few questions, which I was able to answer and said, "let's do it."
I started crying, like so hard that my husband couldn't understand me. I had been wanting to do this so badly for so long that I couldn't believe it was finally happening. Maybe in another post I can properly explain why my reaction was so intense (like maybe during a lull between placements). When I got myself together, I asked my son what he thought. My eight year-old had been waiting as long as we have been for a foster brother or sister. When we got licensed he put stuffed animals on the bed in our spare room, readying the room for a child to feel welcome and comfortable. My son, with no energy because he was sick, smiled and said "yes, the children should come stay with us."
So I called Mr. D and told him we'd do it. Three hours later, 3 of the most adorable children arrived at my house with all of the belongings they had been carrying with them in the almost year they had been in foster care.
I got all the info, how they would get to school by the System, when one has therapy, when they have visitation with their mother and when to give the 2 year old his asthma medication via a nebulizer. It all sounded manageable but I admitted to the worker that my biggest fear was that I will send the girls to school without their hair properly done. I said, I don't want the kids going to school looking like some clueless White lady did their hair (the children are African American and came with those cute multiple braids and twists in their hair with the cute little clips on them). The worker promised me that she would make sure in the morning that the girls looked presentable. And off she went, leaving me with 3 children, their stuff and my eight year old son who was too lethargic to even show an interest.
Some Background
In January 2008, my husband and I decided that we were ready to become foster parents. We had discussed fostering over the years. We have 2 incredible biological sons ages 8 (aka Z - now 10) and 12 (aka J-now 13). We adore our sons and love children in general. We decided that adding children into our lives via foster care was the right route for us. So over the years, we discussed fostering and potentially adopting when our sons got older.
Wanting to foster, for me, stems largely from my professional work. I am a Clinical Psychologist who works mostly with children from the inner city. Many of them have been through the foster care system. So many have not only been traumatized or neglected by their biological families, but by the system that is set up to protect them. Many foster parents sign up for the job to make money, many are ill equipped to manage children with special needs, emotional problems and challenging behaviors. As a result, many children who have been in foster care do poorly in adulthood and a high proportion of them resort to criminal activity and wind up incarcerated. Many also end up alone, with no HS diploma and too often, homeless.
I adore many of the children, most of whom are teenagers, that I have and do work with. Having worked with many teenagers while employed at a juvenile detention facility, I have had over 50 teens with whom I have worked die at the hands of gang violence. Some of these kids I grieved over in a big way. Every now and then I meet one that I want to take home. I mean really want to.
So in January of 2008 we began the process of becoming licensed foster parents (aka resource parents) for our state. We had fingerprints, background checks, psychological forms to fill out, a check of our financial status, 40 hours of training, and an inspection of our house. We were told it would take 5 months to complete the process, but it took close to a year. By January of 2009 we were able to hang up our official license on our refrigerator and wait for a placement.
The calls didn't come. I called the worker assigned to our home to ask why. She responded, "be patient, it will happen." Six months after we were licensed I was contacted and told that there had been an error and the system had us in the computer as having no beds available. We were promised this would be fixed. Still no calls. In November of 2009, I sent my resource worker an email. I explained that at my place of work, I often come across foster parents with children poorly groomed and who are uninterested. I have even seen (and reported) foster parents hitting their charges. I told her that I couldn't understand why we weren't getting placements.
A few weeks later, I received another call. I was told, once again, the System had been showing that we had no beds available. We were promised that it would be fixed. Finally it was fixed and on December 14, 2009, we received a call asking if we would take a sibling group, 2 girls ages 7 and 5 and their little brother, age 2 for a week to 3 weeks. This blog starts there. . .
addendum: As of July 21, 2010, CD (China Doll) joined our family. She joined us at the age of 17 months. As of January, 2011, we have fallen completely in love with CD and hope to adopt her. She is a happy, healthy little girl who is growing and thriving. Unlike the nickname I gave her on this blog, CD is anything but fragile. She is resilient, strong willed and doing her job being a curious, rambunctious, almost two year-old. Her parents have been out of the picture, by their own choice, since the day she was removed. Our letter of intent to adopt CD will be submitted to the court in February.
Wanting to foster, for me, stems largely from my professional work. I am a Clinical Psychologist who works mostly with children from the inner city. Many of them have been through the foster care system. So many have not only been traumatized or neglected by their biological families, but by the system that is set up to protect them. Many foster parents sign up for the job to make money, many are ill equipped to manage children with special needs, emotional problems and challenging behaviors. As a result, many children who have been in foster care do poorly in adulthood and a high proportion of them resort to criminal activity and wind up incarcerated. Many also end up alone, with no HS diploma and too often, homeless.
I adore many of the children, most of whom are teenagers, that I have and do work with. Having worked with many teenagers while employed at a juvenile detention facility, I have had over 50 teens with whom I have worked die at the hands of gang violence. Some of these kids I grieved over in a big way. Every now and then I meet one that I want to take home. I mean really want to.
So in January of 2008 we began the process of becoming licensed foster parents (aka resource parents) for our state. We had fingerprints, background checks, psychological forms to fill out, a check of our financial status, 40 hours of training, and an inspection of our house. We were told it would take 5 months to complete the process, but it took close to a year. By January of 2009 we were able to hang up our official license on our refrigerator and wait for a placement.
The calls didn't come. I called the worker assigned to our home to ask why. She responded, "be patient, it will happen." Six months after we were licensed I was contacted and told that there had been an error and the system had us in the computer as having no beds available. We were promised this would be fixed. Still no calls. In November of 2009, I sent my resource worker an email. I explained that at my place of work, I often come across foster parents with children poorly groomed and who are uninterested. I have even seen (and reported) foster parents hitting their charges. I told her that I couldn't understand why we weren't getting placements.
A few weeks later, I received another call. I was told, once again, the System had been showing that we had no beds available. We were promised that it would be fixed. Finally it was fixed and on December 14, 2009, we received a call asking if we would take a sibling group, 2 girls ages 7 and 5 and their little brother, age 2 for a week to 3 weeks. This blog starts there. . .
addendum: As of July 21, 2010, CD (China Doll) joined our family. She joined us at the age of 17 months. As of January, 2011, we have fallen completely in love with CD and hope to adopt her. She is a happy, healthy little girl who is growing and thriving. Unlike the nickname I gave her on this blog, CD is anything but fragile. She is resilient, strong willed and doing her job being a curious, rambunctious, almost two year-old. Her parents have been out of the picture, by their own choice, since the day she was removed. Our letter of intent to adopt CD will be submitted to the court in February.
addendum as of January 2012: CD is almost 3 years-old and has been with us for going on 18 months. We have been officially put on the adoption track. We are hoping that the adoption will be finalized in the next 6-12 months. We are over the moon that CD will be a forever part of our family. We are so very lucky that she found her way into our lives. She is an extraordinary little girl and I love being her mom.
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