I figured it is time I address some things that have been increasingly raising my blood pressure. So, in an attempt to speak reason to those with the best of intentions (at least I choose to believe they have the best intentions) and to keep from assaulting someone either verbally, physically, or both, I've decided to put this out on the interwebs.
1. I AM a real mom. I am not a babysitter. I am not a social worker with two live in clients. I am a mom who worries at night when her child is sick. I am a mom who mends broken hearts only the hearts I mend aren't broken over silly things like boys and friend drama but trauma so disgusting and perverse that I, as a grown educated adult who professionally functions as a therapist, can't even comprehend.
2. This girls ARE my children. Yes, they have biological mothers. One daughter may still return to her biological mother. My other daughter will never return to her biological mother. But in my eyes there is no difference between the two. I AM their mother. They are MY children.
3. Yes, those of you who know us personally know we went from not having kids to two teenagers very quickly. All of you know that we are foster parents. We all know what it means for a child to be a foster child. However, this DOES NOT give you any right to ask them private, personal questions in the middle of Walmart, the street, or even in my own home about WHY they are in foster care. It's frankly none of your damn business and if they want to share that information with you I'm sure they'd rather not do it next to a whole bunch of strangers.
4. For people who do not know us personally we want them to look at us and think we've always been a family. That these girls are our biological children. This does not mean we are trying to replace the parents they have had. This is because we want a NORMAL life for two girls who haven't been fortunate enough to have what many of us consider "normal." We don't leave the house wearing tee-shirts that read: Foster Mom, Foster Dad, Foster Daughter. We dress like normal people because we are.
5. I don't care if your mama, grandmama, auntie, best friend's boyfriend's great aunt Bertha were foster parents please refrain from sharing 'horror stories' and definitely don't think you know everything that happens in the foster care system and how to best raise my daughters. Like I said, I'm a trained counselor and next year will be a Masters level therapist. I know all about dealing with emotional issues, mental illness, and trauma. I also know a thing or two about empathy and love and how to show it and express it.
6. If we see each other in public, don't introduce me and my daughters as your friend Allison and her "foster kids." This will get you unfriended from not just Facebook but from my LIFE.
7. Don't tell my girls you "understand them" or that explain how you were punished when you were a child so you "sympathize" with them. The punishments they have endured was worse than anything YOU could ever imagine.
8. Don't "sympathize" with them. They aren't broken. They aren't abnormal. They aren't aliens of a difference species. They are children. You're not their therapist or social worker so keep your Dr. Phil sound bites to yourself.
9. When I'm frustrated because I'm a mom to two tweenagers, don't tell me that it would be "easier" if they were "normal." Because that just makes you look ignant. (Yes, I meant to spell it that way).
10. All I ask is when you see us in public, when you see our daughters I want you to try to act the way you would act had I given birth to both of these girls and raised them for 12 and 13 years.
11. Under no circumstances should you EVER ask me in front of my children or ask them directly in front of us if we will be adopting them or if they want to be adopted. 1. It's none of your damn business and 2. We've been a family for 2 months. Adoption IS the plan if and when all parent rights are terminated IF the child wishes to be adopted. These adoptions will take place over a period of time and after family therapy to make sure it's the best option for them. Putting either my husband and I or my daughters on the spot is not appropriate. EVER.
We're a normal family brought together by unfortunate circumstances. My daughters have already been victimized in ways that sicken the deepest depths of my soul don't continue to make them feel different. Think about it: how would you feel if the life you were living (however miserable and abusive it was) was your normal and then all of a sudden you were put in a home with strangers and told, "this is your family now." How would you feel? I'd be scared shitless.
These girls are stronger, smarter, and wiser than most. No it hasn't been easy on them or on us. But I'm a very protected advocate (it's part of my real mom duties) and I will not tolerate anyone calling attention to their differences. We work very hard to protect their privacy and to make them feel safe, loved, comfortable. When we introduce them as our daughters to our friends they know our friends know they are in foster care. They aren't stupid. Maybe some of you need to think that just that introduction alone is difficult enough on them and you shouldn't follow up with "what county are you from?" or "who's your worker?" or "do you know so-n-so, she works at DHHR?"
Just say hello. Ask them if they are excited about school (not their "NEW" school, just school in general). Ask them what they have done this summer. Ask them about their hobbies or favorite shows or movies. And for the love of ALL that is holy, unless you have been involved with my children from the beginning and know what you're talking about, don't tell them, "You're with a good family now." We NEVER condemn the biological family regardless of what happened in the past. Family is family and by telling them how nice of a family we are sends the message of, "your other family was shitty."
My husband and I are raising children in the same difficult world you are. We face the same challenges and worries about school bullies, illness, raising strong, independent well-rounded children as you do. We just have a little bit more junk to work through than most. Don't pity us. Don't pity our daughters.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Failure Is An Option
So often we hear that failure is not an option. Those five words are supposed to make us believe that if we try hard enough, work diligently enough, and want it bad enough that failure will never enter into our lives. Those five words are bull puckey.
Failure is an option. Frankly, when it comes to foster parenting I have learned that all options must be on the table. That includes failure. Now, many counselors, social workers, foster parents, and other professionals may look at that statement as a foster mother who has resigned herself to fail. To give up. To surrender. Throw in the towel. That's not what I mean.
We've been going through some battles in this house. I've been going through these battles wearing two different hats, utilizing two different brands of logic, and what I have managed to accomplish is wearing myself out to the point where I don't want to try anymore but yet deep down I continue to push on. I picture the social workers in our lives snapping a whip and yelling at me to, "Mush! Mush!"
I have two daughters. Both have endured different types of situations. I won't be getting into those situations because they are not pertinent to the point I'm trying to make here. What is pertinent is one is very angry and the other is not. Or at least not so much.
Anger is a deadly disease. It will come into your home and infect all inhabitants and there's no medication, no quick cure to make it go away. There's no period of time when you can reasonably expect the anger to fade. I know this because, even though professionally I function as a therapist (when I'm not being a SAHM) but because I have had my own afflictions with anger.
Along with anger comes bullying. My youngest is full of anger. She wields that anger like a light saber (I'm not a Star Wars fan so I hope I used that term right) and it completely disrupts the moods, attitudes, and lives of everyone in the home. I've used various types of techniques to correct the negative behavior, the attitude, and the bullying. I've sunk as low as some good old fashioned passive aggressiveness. But not anymore.
Last night my husband, my daughters, and I had a family meeting. In that meeting I laid it all out as honest and free of bull puckey as possible: do you want to live her or not? I then went on to say that living here comes with certain expectations that I am no longer willing to budge on. In order to remain living here she will need to: treat all family members in the home with respect (watching tone of voice, the words she chooses, the non-verbal communication she expresses), she will no longer be able to talk to my 13 year old like she's been talking to her. She is to treat everyone in my family (extended, friends, professional or strangers that come into our home) and people she meets on the street with respect whether she feels she owes it to them or not. If she cannot abide by the simple rule of: do unto others as you would have them do unto you then this is not the right place for her and she will more than likely be moved to a third home.
I never wanted to pull this card. I never wanted to dangle that carrot. But I had to come to the realization that it's not a bait and switch tactic. It's not a dangled carrot to entice a desired behavior. It's simply the way it is going to be around here. It's simply what we, as parents, are willing to accept. It's a way of life that we demand. It's the honest truth. If she cannot or is not willing to accept the way this family engages with each other and others then she's not a good match for this family and we have to make a break.
I didn't tell her this to hurt her feelings or even compel her to comply to rules or expectations of which she does not wish to comply. I told her this because if her personality is such that will not allow her to abide by the simple rules of this house then it's not a good fit. If we're not happy she can't be happy either.
She told us she wants to say. She apologized to her sister. She still had a good degree of attitude in her voice and words but I'm not expecting overnight miracles. Today she's doing a lot better. She's not 100% happy (I banned Facebook in the home) but she's not given me any reason to correct her tone, attitude, or behavior either. She hasn't complained today. I also talked with her counselor and demanded weekly sessions to get to the root of the anger. I told the counselor what the expectations in this home are and I want to get to the point where we start to notice changes or we all need to come to an agreement that this isn't working.
She's such a bright, beautiful girl. I told her this. She's capable of so many things. Deep down behind all the hurt, the anger, and the pain is a girl who just wants to feel safe, loved, and happy. If I didn't see, honestly believe in my soul, that this girl didn't want for herself what we want for her then I wouldn't put any of us through these attempts at behavior modification. But as idealistic as I am, I've had to come to the realization that even if she wants it worse than we want it for her, we still may not be the best people for her. The technical term then would be to say we "failed."
My husband and I set out on the journey to love children who needed a stable, happy, loving family where they could feel safe, secure, and happy. We said from the beginning that we would never "fail" them. But by not being honest about the problems we're facing and owning up to the most viable of options we have at our disposal then we will have failed.
Failure is an option. If you're a foster parent long enough, a placement is going to fail. It's okay for a placement to fail. What is not okay is to fail the child. Failure is NOT an option when it comes to the happiness, safety, and well being of the child. That's why, however harsh you feel I was (and I understand your judgment of me), I had to be honest with her. This placement may turn around and be the best thing for all of us, but it also may fail. I have accepted that if the placement does fail it's not because we failed her. I have come to a peace that if we come to the decision this placement is not in the best interest of all parties then I will accept the failure of the placement. I will not allow my desire to help result in failing the child. She's deserving of more than that.
Within the deepest part of my soul, on the days when I have reached what feels like the breaking point of my sanity, I keep holding tight to the Word God spoke into my heart several years ago: For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11). God's plans may not be for this placement to work but if the time comes to admit defeat, I trust I will feel that peace within and know I'm doing the right thing. My prayer is that it doesn't come to that. But my faith affords me the knowledge that whatever is in store for our future as a family, we do not walk alone. We have been given a divine plan, a purpose, hope, and a future.
Failure is an option. Frankly, when it comes to foster parenting I have learned that all options must be on the table. That includes failure. Now, many counselors, social workers, foster parents, and other professionals may look at that statement as a foster mother who has resigned herself to fail. To give up. To surrender. Throw in the towel. That's not what I mean.
We've been going through some battles in this house. I've been going through these battles wearing two different hats, utilizing two different brands of logic, and what I have managed to accomplish is wearing myself out to the point where I don't want to try anymore but yet deep down I continue to push on. I picture the social workers in our lives snapping a whip and yelling at me to, "Mush! Mush!"
I have two daughters. Both have endured different types of situations. I won't be getting into those situations because they are not pertinent to the point I'm trying to make here. What is pertinent is one is very angry and the other is not. Or at least not so much.
Anger is a deadly disease. It will come into your home and infect all inhabitants and there's no medication, no quick cure to make it go away. There's no period of time when you can reasonably expect the anger to fade. I know this because, even though professionally I function as a therapist (when I'm not being a SAHM) but because I have had my own afflictions with anger.
Along with anger comes bullying. My youngest is full of anger. She wields that anger like a light saber (I'm not a Star Wars fan so I hope I used that term right) and it completely disrupts the moods, attitudes, and lives of everyone in the home. I've used various types of techniques to correct the negative behavior, the attitude, and the bullying. I've sunk as low as some good old fashioned passive aggressiveness. But not anymore.
Last night my husband, my daughters, and I had a family meeting. In that meeting I laid it all out as honest and free of bull puckey as possible: do you want to live her or not? I then went on to say that living here comes with certain expectations that I am no longer willing to budge on. In order to remain living here she will need to: treat all family members in the home with respect (watching tone of voice, the words she chooses, the non-verbal communication she expresses), she will no longer be able to talk to my 13 year old like she's been talking to her. She is to treat everyone in my family (extended, friends, professional or strangers that come into our home) and people she meets on the street with respect whether she feels she owes it to them or not. If she cannot abide by the simple rule of: do unto others as you would have them do unto you then this is not the right place for her and she will more than likely be moved to a third home.
I never wanted to pull this card. I never wanted to dangle that carrot. But I had to come to the realization that it's not a bait and switch tactic. It's not a dangled carrot to entice a desired behavior. It's simply the way it is going to be around here. It's simply what we, as parents, are willing to accept. It's a way of life that we demand. It's the honest truth. If she cannot or is not willing to accept the way this family engages with each other and others then she's not a good match for this family and we have to make a break.
I didn't tell her this to hurt her feelings or even compel her to comply to rules or expectations of which she does not wish to comply. I told her this because if her personality is such that will not allow her to abide by the simple rules of this house then it's not a good fit. If we're not happy she can't be happy either.
She told us she wants to say. She apologized to her sister. She still had a good degree of attitude in her voice and words but I'm not expecting overnight miracles. Today she's doing a lot better. She's not 100% happy (I banned Facebook in the home) but she's not given me any reason to correct her tone, attitude, or behavior either. She hasn't complained today. I also talked with her counselor and demanded weekly sessions to get to the root of the anger. I told the counselor what the expectations in this home are and I want to get to the point where we start to notice changes or we all need to come to an agreement that this isn't working.
She's such a bright, beautiful girl. I told her this. She's capable of so many things. Deep down behind all the hurt, the anger, and the pain is a girl who just wants to feel safe, loved, and happy. If I didn't see, honestly believe in my soul, that this girl didn't want for herself what we want for her then I wouldn't put any of us through these attempts at behavior modification. But as idealistic as I am, I've had to come to the realization that even if she wants it worse than we want it for her, we still may not be the best people for her. The technical term then would be to say we "failed."
My husband and I set out on the journey to love children who needed a stable, happy, loving family where they could feel safe, secure, and happy. We said from the beginning that we would never "fail" them. But by not being honest about the problems we're facing and owning up to the most viable of options we have at our disposal then we will have failed.
Failure is an option. If you're a foster parent long enough, a placement is going to fail. It's okay for a placement to fail. What is not okay is to fail the child. Failure is NOT an option when it comes to the happiness, safety, and well being of the child. That's why, however harsh you feel I was (and I understand your judgment of me), I had to be honest with her. This placement may turn around and be the best thing for all of us, but it also may fail. I have accepted that if the placement does fail it's not because we failed her. I have come to a peace that if we come to the decision this placement is not in the best interest of all parties then I will accept the failure of the placement. I will not allow my desire to help result in failing the child. She's deserving of more than that.
Within the deepest part of my soul, on the days when I have reached what feels like the breaking point of my sanity, I keep holding tight to the Word God spoke into my heart several years ago: For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11). God's plans may not be for this placement to work but if the time comes to admit defeat, I trust I will feel that peace within and know I'm doing the right thing. My prayer is that it doesn't come to that. But my faith affords me the knowledge that whatever is in store for our future as a family, we do not walk alone. We have been given a divine plan, a purpose, hope, and a future.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Post Placement Depression
Whenever a new mom has her baby there's often a period of time when she experiences depression--post partum depression. I know it is often due to the sudden reduction/change in hormones but I'm sure it's also caused by reality not being as idealistic and glamorous as the dreams and the assumptions the expectant mother had prior to the birth. In other words, there's a let down.
I've been a mom to two girls ages 12 and 13 for over a month now. I love them dearly but things have been difficult on me. Just the sheer adjustment of going from a family of just my husband and I to a family of four has been difficult. But then there's the fact that what I expected to happen, my primary motivation over the past year of what I wanted to happen didn't. We started this process for a son. One little boy in particular. But we have two beautiful daughters.
It's been difficult to adjust to hormones, moodiness, attitudes, and drama. And given the fact we're foster parents we cannot leave them home alone and only individuals who have had sufficient background checks can assist us with child care, therefore, it's pretty much been me and the girls 24/7 for six weeks.
I'm the kind of person that has to have some personal time and space when I'm alone and that's been difficult to come by. Jeff and I haven't had a date in a long time. So I have been having a hard time adjusting.
I feel like I have post placement depression. I expected to roll on into parenthood all easy like and that things would just gel and be amazing and I'd feel like a mom and I'd be so excited and wake up every morning like Mary Poppins. When that didn't happen (because it was an unrealistic expectation) I began to question everything I've thought, wanted, prayed for, and worked for over the past couple of years.
I'm not saying I regret becoming a foster parent. I'm also not saying there haven't been times when I've thought I regretted it. But I came to realize that much like an expectant mother, I built up the birth of my motherhood into some fantasy wonderland full of gum drops and skittles. I was prepared to be a football mom to a beautiful African American young man born on Christmas day.
I lost focus of my mission: to be a mom. Just like much of how I've lived my life, I set my mind on something 100% out of my control and just assumed that's what would happen. I knew that God had called Jeff and I to be foster parents. BUT God called us for HIS reason not OURS. He had two girls that He knew needed us as much as we needed them. I needed to change my focus. I needed MY vision to be clouded so that HIS vision could become clear.
I am slowly learning how to let go, let God. It's hard for the controlling person that is typing this blog. But I'm trying.
I love my girls. I am glad Jeff and I pursued foster care. I'm glad that even on the hardest days when I was ready to throw in the towel I didn't. Parenting isn't easy regardless of how you become a parent. But in the end, when you step back and look at what you've accomplished, take stock in the beauty that has come into your life, it makes dealing with the unpleasantness (attitudes/drama/sassiness) easier.
I thank God for giving us this desire and for sending us these girls. I pray He continues to be my strength and my guide through the difficult times.
I've been a mom to two girls ages 12 and 13 for over a month now. I love them dearly but things have been difficult on me. Just the sheer adjustment of going from a family of just my husband and I to a family of four has been difficult. But then there's the fact that what I expected to happen, my primary motivation over the past year of what I wanted to happen didn't. We started this process for a son. One little boy in particular. But we have two beautiful daughters.
It's been difficult to adjust to hormones, moodiness, attitudes, and drama. And given the fact we're foster parents we cannot leave them home alone and only individuals who have had sufficient background checks can assist us with child care, therefore, it's pretty much been me and the girls 24/7 for six weeks.
I'm the kind of person that has to have some personal time and space when I'm alone and that's been difficult to come by. Jeff and I haven't had a date in a long time. So I have been having a hard time adjusting.
I feel like I have post placement depression. I expected to roll on into parenthood all easy like and that things would just gel and be amazing and I'd feel like a mom and I'd be so excited and wake up every morning like Mary Poppins. When that didn't happen (because it was an unrealistic expectation) I began to question everything I've thought, wanted, prayed for, and worked for over the past couple of years.
I'm not saying I regret becoming a foster parent. I'm also not saying there haven't been times when I've thought I regretted it. But I came to realize that much like an expectant mother, I built up the birth of my motherhood into some fantasy wonderland full of gum drops and skittles. I was prepared to be a football mom to a beautiful African American young man born on Christmas day.
I lost focus of my mission: to be a mom. Just like much of how I've lived my life, I set my mind on something 100% out of my control and just assumed that's what would happen. I knew that God had called Jeff and I to be foster parents. BUT God called us for HIS reason not OURS. He had two girls that He knew needed us as much as we needed them. I needed to change my focus. I needed MY vision to be clouded so that HIS vision could become clear.
I am slowly learning how to let go, let God. It's hard for the controlling person that is typing this blog. But I'm trying.
I love my girls. I am glad Jeff and I pursued foster care. I'm glad that even on the hardest days when I was ready to throw in the towel I didn't. Parenting isn't easy regardless of how you become a parent. But in the end, when you step back and look at what you've accomplished, take stock in the beauty that has come into your life, it makes dealing with the unpleasantness (attitudes/drama/sassiness) easier.
I thank God for giving us this desire and for sending us these girls. I pray He continues to be my strength and my guide through the difficult times.
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