I've kept a journal since I was a senior in high school. There have been times when I've laid it aside for weeks and even months at a time, occasionally because life has been too busy or because there just wasn't much going on. Most often though, if I am silent there is something big brewing. My blog is no exception.
On August 12, the two children who'd been with us since New Years' Day - the two children we'd planned to adopt - were sent to a new foster home at our request.
Suffice it to day that it was a HELLACIOUS late spring and summer, one of self-doubt, guilt, pain, violence and then knowing and finally resolve and peace.
I wish that I could share the details, mostly to let others who are considering disrupting a placement know that they are not alone. But as with all things foster-care related, there are so many things that must remain unspoken. Let's try and figure out what I CAN say, though.
First I guess I would say that they were (are) wonderful children. We are and will forever be grateful to have been a part of their lives.
Secondly, I can say with absolute certainty that we gave them a wonderful life while they were with us. They had experiences they never would have had. One of them came to us unable to read and left our home in the average reading group of their class. There were trips to aquariums and to see bald eagles care for their babies. They rode in parades, played sports, took lessons, and went to summer camps. They stayed with us in a mountain cabin and swam in streams. They fed emus and zebras. They built snowmen and made snow angels. They had health issues taken care of.
Two of my favorite memories were made on our front porch. One night I woke them after they were both asleep, bundled them up, and took them out front to see big fat snowflakes flying through the air (a rare sight in our neck of the woods). It was perfectly still and perfectly quiet and we were all mesmerized for a time. Another evening just at dusk, we gathered them up to sit on our steps and watch a couple of bats fly through the air at tree-level, catching bugs.
There were hugs and boo-boos kissed and hours and hours of conversations and a lot of laughter.
There were also things we were not told before we accepted the placement.
One of those things D*F*C*S absolutely knew about and did not reveal to us.
The other was known by the first foster mom and she chose not to share it with social services OR with us, until the day the kids left our home. Then suddenly she unburdened herself to me, saying things that literally left my jaw hanging open. She described nearly word-for-word the things that we experienced in our home - violent things - that she'd experienced with one of the children on a daily basis for the months they were with her. She finished up lamely with, "I thought I told you."
This is a woman who claims to be a good Christian and who framed herself as someone who would be totally honest with the questions we asked before we accepted the placement. This is a woman who chose to withhold information from us and more importantly from the social workers who might have gotten help for this child 18 months before they started receiving it. Because she was too LAZY. Because she could not be bothered. I have no idea how she lives with herself.
But I digress . . .
The fact of the matter is that if we'd known of either situation, we would have declined the placement without a moments' hesitation. We would never even have agreed to meet with them.
As it was, we did everything we knew to do for the kids and did everything we knew to do to make the situation work. I could write pages about all that we did to seek help, but it would feel too much like I was trying to justify myself. To be honest, I don't have to answer to anyone but God and my husband, and they already know all the steps we took.
Our choice finally had to come down to this . . .
Were we willing to live in a home where there was violence - where there was a good possibility that as the child got older, we would live in fear for our safety?
We placed the phone call to have them moved.
This was one of the two most heartbreaking choices of my life yet I have not, for one moment since, doubted that we did the right thing for all of us. Ultimately we would have come to resent this child and the pain and chaos they brought to our otherwise-loving home. That would have been a recipe for disaster. The child deserved better than that and so did we.
We love their new foster parents and pray every day that the kids have made their last move. My fear is that the new foster parents will get the same run-around and lack of support and help that we did, and will at some point throw up their hands and have them moved too. I would never judge them for that. How could I, after all? But it is my very real fear.
I have lost what little faith I once had in the foster care system and in many of the people who work in it. Everyone can see and clearly agrees that this child is troubled and needs help, yet the people who are PAID to advocate for these kids are failing them at every turn.
So there you have it - the reason for my silence. I'm sure I will have more to say in the weeks and months to come. In fact, you may not be able to shut me up.
