Ready or not....here we go!

So  we've had this dream.  A dream that was only discussed on long road trips or occasional date nights.  We didn't tell anyone our dream for fear that if too many people knew, it would force us to do something to make it become a reality.  And that would be impossible.  There were too many risks, too many unknowns.  We were too fearful, too inexperienced and too busy to try and make our dream come to life.  So many toos.  The dream stayed hidden in our hearts for a couple of years.  Kept tucked away so that failure  would never happen because we would never even try.

However, this dream nagged and nagged.  It kept us awake at night, dominated our conversations and tugged at our hearts.  Something had to be done.

When a child is taken into custody with Child Protective Services, the intent for that child is to transition immediately into a foster home.  However, there are far too many children needing homes and not nearly enough foster homes to take them.  The result is children and infants sitting in office buildings for days and sometimes weeks while they are waiting.  Scared and confused children removed from their home only to be taken to an office building for sometimes days on end.  Separated from their friends and school, family, and everything that they know as normal.  Birthdays are missed, holidays are passed over, and everything the child knew is gone.

This reality is sickening.  We as a society have failed them.  In an effort to keep the children protected and safe, we have made them feel isolated and unwanted.  The worst part of all this is the infants.  Some of them born just days prior only to go straight to an office building.  Infants that deserved to be rocked, held and loved on, not sitting in carseats waiting to be "placed".

We dreamed of one day owning a house (separate from our own), staffing it, and filling it with infants waiting to be placed.  No more office buildings, no more sitting in carseats.  These babies could be loved and cared for in a home while they are awaiting their future foster family.  An emergency shelter house for infants.  A temporary safe house.

We started small.  We shared our dream with our foster care agency.  They were completely supportive and willing to help.  We made a few phone calls to the people in charge and had a few encouraging meetings.  The need was there, we just had to figure out a way to make it happen.  We started small, one baby at a time in our house.  The babies have come fast and left even quicker.  We have loved every second of doing emergency shelter.  It has confirmed our dream and made us think that this could actually become a reality someday.  We've had more meetings and made more phone calls.  Small, tiny steps towards a huge, scary dream. Our hope is to have our non profit status soon and for fundraising to begin shortly after.  We are scared. The fear of failure is real and almost paralyzing at times.  We realize that this could take years to happen. But we move forward. Step by itty bitty step. Our dream is no longer a secret.  As scary as it is to share it publicly, we know that we can one day look back and say we tried.

Stayed tuned for fundraising opportunities and ways that YOU can help a foster child!

I'm wrecking my kids. And I couldn't be happier

A common fear among foster parents and soon to be foster parents is how the decision will affect their children.   They worry about the damage that could be done.  How possible bad behaviors of the incoming children will or could affect the current children in the home.  After giving birth to two children and while we were waiting for our first fost/adopt placement, my mind often wandered to that place.  What if my kids resent me for bringing in other children?  What if they are emotionally scarred for life from the loss of foster children?  Will they be in therapy some day recounting the days of their youth when their parents took in children?  These questions would keep me awake at night and caused anxiety in my mind.

Two amazing adoptions and countless foster children later, I can officially say I've wrecked my kids.  There is no doubt in my mind that they will never be the same.  If I'm completely honest, it thrills me to say that.  Our decision to do foster care has completely changed our family.  It's shifted our priorities and changed our goals.  Our children have become experts in foster care and can often be heard talking about court hearings, visitations and social workers as if its no big deal. They even educate their friends on foster care.

That is not the reason why I'm thrilled. I've noticed a shift in their hearts. They are aware of the need for babies to have safe, loving homes.  They have witnessed and experienced diversity and families of all shapes and sizes, that it no longer fazes them when we see a family that isn't "typical".  They have a "what can we do to help" attitude.  The sad stories of abused children are no longer just something they hear about and feel sorry for, they have faces and names and at times, live in our home.

We recently had a family meeting, and I saw firsthand how greatly we have wrecked our children.  We have had a shelter baby in our home for the last 2 months.  Much longer than we keep our shelter babies.  We have become very protective of her and have fallen head over heels in love with her.   She has a horribly sad story of abuse, and a complicated case that will keep her in foster care for a very long time.  The worker has informed us that she needs to be in a long term foster care home that would also be open to adopting her.  She told us that she would like the baby to stay in our house, but that we would need to decide if we wanted to assume the risk of having her for a long time with the possibility of not getting to adopt her at the end.  After much dialogue and prayer, we decided to let our children make the call.  After all, it affects them the most.  They needed to be aware of the risk and possible outcome of the decision.
We told them what was going on, and our oldest asked a question,
 "So if we keep her in our home, we could love her and still risk losing her?"
"Yes, hon, we are taking a risk by keeping her in our house"
My third son, chimed in:
"Like you took a risk on me??"
Through a choked up voice, I croaked, "sweetie, you were the best risk we've ever taken"
My second son said, "and like we took a risk with Sissy?"
"Yep, we also took a risk like Sissy, but this might not end like hers did.  We could keep the baby for a very long time and maybe lose..."
I didn't even get to finish my sentence before I was cut off by 3 little boys chattering all at once.
"Of course we'll keep her, she needs a home!"
"She needs a family and we have one for her!"
"Why wouldn't we keep her??"
They then proceeded to burst into a chant, "Worth the risk! Worth the risk!  Worth the risk!"

It was at that moment I realized that at their young age, they have grasped the very concept that I had struggled with for nearly all my life.  They understood the call to action and were willing to put another person's needs above their own even though it meant possible heartache for them at the end.  They weren't paralyzed by their fear.  They only thought of the little life that needed love and a home.

So yes, I've wrecked my children.  I have wrecked their hearts for the orphan.  They will probably still be in therapy when they are older.  But most likely, the therapy will be because of their crazy mother, not because they grew up in a family that loved orphans.

I Could Never...

When people find out I am a foster parent, the number one response I get is, "I could never do that.  I would love them too much and I would die if they were taken from me.  How can you possibly do that?"

To be honest, I feel the exact same way.  Every time a baby enters our home, we fall in love and attach as if the child were our own flesh and blood.  No matter how long they stay, they are part of our family.  They deserve that.  They deserve someone to love them and cherish them.  They deserve someone to attach to them and bond with them instead of merely a babysitter, someone watching them and just passing time until they leave.  When each baby leaves, the grief is real.  It's real, and it's deep and it hurts.  In foster care, sometimes the baby leaving is not in the best interest of the child.  Many times, children are returned to the birth parents, only to be abused and removed again.  Other times, the child being returned home is the very best thing-a family is reunited and can start the healing process.  In either circumstance, there is grief and a loss.

Foster parents are not some robots lacking emotion, able to detach and simply care for a child without feeling bonded to them.  They just choose to not let the fear of loss paralyze the call to action.  I look at our sweet adopted children and I can't help but be overcome with emotion.  What if I had said no?  What if my fear of loss was so great, that I never took the risk?  I can't even imagine our life without them.  Even more so, I can't let my brain wander to where they would be if they hadn't been adopted.  Even for our shelter babies that do not stay, we go through the loss with each one.

I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be a foster parent.  Adoptive parent, yes, but foster parent?  No way, too much risk.  But now as I reflect over the past 7 years of foster care and adoption, I can see the beautiful story that has been woven into our hearts.  The sweet babies that have forever been etched into our memories.  The ones that have stayed, the ones that left.  I know for a fact that though the risk is great, the blessing is even greater.  My life has forever been changed by each sweet babe that has entered our home. In the words of a friend, "If it's a day or forever, I'll love you just the same".

Mama Bear

Last Thursday, the most beautiful 6 week old baby girl was delivered to our home.  She has fair skin, dark blue eyes, and dark brown hair that sticks straight in the air.  The boys took one look at her and nicknamed her "Rockstar".  She is perfection.  By far, our easiest shelter baby yet.
When we learned of her story and the reason she and her sisters were detained by CPS, our hearts broke into pieces.  Somehow her rough start at life made us feel even more protective of her.  After her initial check up at the doctor today, we learned more heart breaking news.  She now was facing medications and procedures to fix something that might have been caused from the two people that brought her into this world.
My blood began to boil.  I sent Keith a quick text of the findings, and his response was fury.  We are angry.  Angry at the people who hurt her so deeply, angry at the system that will most likely fail her, and angry that this is now her story.  She did nothing to deserve this.
After we vented to each other about our disgust over the situation, we made a vow.  We will do everything in our power to keep her safe.  We will be her voice.  We will make it our mission to see that she stays protected.  We will use our anger and disgust to fuel our mission to keep her away from danger.  The Mama Bear has come out.  It doesn't matter that she didn't come from my womb.  As long as she is in my home, she is my daughter.  She has two very determined foster parents that will love her and see to it that this cycle is broken.  Even though her days at our house are numbered, her voice will be heard.  

Not What I Wanted to Hear

She's been gone for a month.  Not a day goes by that we don't think about her.  She left after just two weeks with us on her two week birthday.  She was returned to the arms that failed to protect her.  As the social worker was picking her up to return her home, she mentioned to Keith that she didn't agree with the judge's decision and she had a bad feeling about the whole thing.  Keith had her promise to call us if she ever was removed again and was needing placement.

Yesterday morning, my phone rang.  I didn't recognize the number but picked up anyhow.  It was a man calling from the county regarding the sweet baby girl that had managed to steal our hearts a month ago.  Our fear had been confirmed.  She and her older sister were being detained again.  The man was calling to ask if we would take the baby girl back.  "Yes!" I practically yelled into the phone.  "You'll take her sister too?" He asked almost immediately.  With a lump in my throat, I had to tell him that we could take baby girl, but were not able to take her older sister.  He promised to call me right back.  A day and a half later, and I still haven't heard back.

 I pray that he found a wonderful family for both girls. Someone who will love them fully.   My heart aches for the two of them.  I want so badly to swoop them up and protect them from harm, their family, and the system that has let them down.  They deserve a future and a safe, forever home.  

A Family Grown, a Family Broken

I wrote this post a couple of months ago. I am one of the contributors for a women's blog, and wrote this shortly after we signed our daughter's adoption paperwork. Her adoption will be finalized Tuesday (!), so I thought it'd be fitting to repost it on here.

A couple of days ago, we signed the adoption paperwork to finalize the adoption of our daughter. A moment that should have made me giddy with excitement, left me feeling sorrowful and heavy hearted. A great loss had to occur for us to add a member to our family. A mother and father had to lose their daughter in order for us to call her our own. I remember feeling the exact same emotions when we signed paperwork for our son just two years prior. I grieved for his mother and her poor choices that led to this moment. I was saddened that a family was broken resulting in a broken and hurt little boy. Foster care and adoption is different than private/ domestic adoption. These parents did not choose to give up their child, most of them desire to keep their children. The children are removed from the home due to drugs, abuse, or neglect. Foster care is messy, emotionally draining and heartbreaking.

Though we rejoice and celebrate that two of our four children arrived to us via foster care and adoption, I can’t help but worry. I worry that someday, the dreaded question, “why did I get taken away?” will happen. I worry that the details or lack of, and memories of bio family or lack of, will haunt them. I worry that the wound is so deep, my words of assurance and comfort won’t be able to stand a chance to their questions and disappointment. For my son, we celebrate a beautiful semi-open adoption with his biological family. I don’t have to worry that he will feel the need to seek out his bio family since we see them a handful of times a year. For my daughter, the story is quite different. There is no trace of her birth parents. Not even an option for a relationship. I grieve that for her. On the flip side, we received our daughter at just 4 days old. I have pictures and memory of her early baby stages. I don’t have to worry that she will have any missing pieces when it comes to her childhood. As for my son, I didn’t meet him until he was almost two. I missed out on his early years and have very few pictures of him as a baby. I grieve for him every time he asks me what he was like as a baby.

So while we prepare with excitement to celebrate the adoption with a huge party, part of me is sad. And I think that the sadness is okay. I am not numb to the loss. I am fully aware of the “depth of the tragedy and magnitude of the privilege”, and I am so thankful to be on this wild, crazy journey called foster care.

 “A child born to another woman calls me mom.

The depth of the tragedy and the magnitude

of the privilege are not lost on me”-

Jody Landers

  

The Midnight Delivery

He was supposed to be delivered at 8. We raced home from a BBQ, speed-cleaned the house and bathed the kids. They were (as they always are when we get a new baby) giddy with excitement. We promised the kids that if they behaved, they could stay up until the new little guy arrived. 8 turned to 9, and as it approached 10, we put the kids to bed promising that we would have the baby kiss them good night when he arrived. 10 turned to 11, and I started to get irritated. Doesn't this social worker realize we're tired? Doesn't she care that we have already have 4 children and would like to get a decent night's sleep before the next day when we would have a 5th child to care for? The phone rang at 11:30 and a rushed social worker explained that there was a problem at the detainment, and she was now leaving the facility to head to our house for the drop off. They arrived to our house a little after midnight. An exhausted social worker with a sleeping 3 month old in the backseat. She apologized for the delay and explained the holdup as we carried the little guy into our house. We took a seat at the dining room table to sign some placement paperwork. We chatted briefly about her job and she shared that she had been working since 9 am that morning. I instantly felt guilty for my earlier irritation. She was not intentionally trying to deliver him late, she was just doing the best she could under the circumstances. She began to share about her frustrations with the county, her desire to make a difference, and her love for the children. We shared with her our passion for foster care and our dreams for the future. Over an hour passed, as we chatted about her various cases, our family and what the future might hold for the little baby that was just removed from his mommy. As she was leaving, I couldn't help but be filled with gratitude. I am so thankful for that social worker. I wish there were more like her in LA county. I am thankful that she is dedicated to trying to keep children safe. I am thankful that the new little guy in our house is safe from danger and has a loving (and loud) home to be in for the next couple of weeks. Next time I am about to become irritated or discouraged about system we are dealing with, I am going to remember our midnight delivery that turned into a midnight blessing.

The Unexpected Guest

We were supposed to be taking a week off from shelter care. We had back to back out of state trips planned, and we thought it would be best if we didn't take a baby and then request to have to have it moved because we were going out of town. Then we heard the news-23 babies sitting at the Welcome Center in Los Angeles. Every single one of them needing a foster home to go to. The Welcome Center is an office building used to house children when they are detained. It is a holding center of sorts. Designed as a waiting room for children right after they are removed from their home and waiting to be placed in a foster home. Legally, children and babies are not supposed to stay at the Welcome Center for more than 24 hours. However, the demand is too great. Too many babies and not nearly enough foster homes. Most of the time, children and babies wait in the office for 24 hours while the social worker is searching for a home. If no home is found, the child will leave the office building for a day and returned to the Welcome Center, and the clock is restarted. Such a sad and scary situation for any child to be in. So we said yes. We were told that the sweet little babe was born the day before and would be arriving to our house in the next couple of hours. It was a crazy, busy day full of many parties and plans. The sweet little baby arrived on our doorstep only to be whisked off to a birthday party. The kids were so excited to show off their new foster brother and it made for a really fun weekend. He was such a sweet joy, and the thought of him spending an extended amount of time sitting in an office building makes me cringe. Every newborn deserves to be held, kissed and loved on. Even if it means those kisses take place in the middle of birthday parties and chaos. If we had said no to that precious little baby, we would have missed out on the privilege of being his first mommy and daddy. The 4 days he spent with us was crazy, chaotic and exhausting, but the time was precious and memorable.

Short stay in our home, but forever in our hearts

Big brown eyes and wild curly hair. He came to us straight from the hospital. Not because he had just been born, but because he had suffered injury at the hands of the woman that was supposed to love and care for him. He was just two months old and had more broken bones than I could count on my hand. We knew he'd only be with us short while. A sweet, young couple had already agreed to love and protect him and adopt him if the time came. We would just be a safe place for this little one to land until his new mommy and daddy could come. We fell in love instantly. His sweet disposition and calm nature despite his pain, blew me away. Although we were excited for his new life with his new parents, we were so sad to see him go. His sweet foster mom continued to send us pictures and update us on his progress. We reminisced about him over dinner and the boys talked about him often. It was as if he was still a part of our life. We were already making plans with the new foster family to get together to visit and catch up. Then, late one evening, I received a text from the foster mom explaining that without notice, the little guy had been removed. Nobody was fessing up and admitting to abusing him, so the judge returned him home. Just like that. No accountability for the biological parents, no investigation, nothing. She was distraught and in shock. We were speechless and afraid for his safety. There is not a day that goes by that we don't think about that sweet baby with the wild, crazy hair. He weighs heavy on our hearts and we grieve for him and the rest of the children that fall prey to a broken system. We will continue to pray for his safety, his grieving foster mother, and healing for his broken home. Though we feel powerless, we can rest in the fact that The Lord loves him even more than we do and is pained even more than we are when this kind of tragedy happens. Though the pain and worry can be consuming, we try to focus on the importance of what we do. Even if these children get returned to harmful and dangerous situations, we know that they were loved and cherished every moment that they were in our house. The time here was not wasted.

The Call

I had just finished cleaning up dinner. Keith was at his cross country practice, and the kids had asked to watch a movie before bed. I settled in to watch it with them when the phone rang. A number from Pomona that I didn't recognize. "Is this Michelle?" The woman asked, when I answered yes, she followed with, " Linda gave me your number. Will you be home in about an hour? I have a two day old to drop off". One or two more follow up questions, and the race began. I swept the house trying to pull out/find itty bitty newborn things. The last baby we had was a 2 month old little boy, so a 2 day old premature girl was a different ball game. I sent Keith a quick text " newborn girl on her way" , to which he responded, " k". Shortly after my husband arrived home, a car pulled up. The kids had already been waiting on the porch with anticipation. They knew the drill, mommy and daddy watch foster babies and we love them and take care of them until a new home can be found for them. Every baby is like Christmas morning to them. They run around, pulling out stuffed animals for the baby, calling dibs on being the first to hold them. The social worker placed the car seat holding the tiniest baby on our dining room table. After I signed some papers, the social worker gave me the 2 crumpled up diapers she had in her purse. "Here", " this is all that she came with. Oh, and this bottle. She's probably starving since she hasn't eaten for about four hours. She's been sitting in my office all day." I lift the little peanut out of the carseat only to notice that she is covered in feces. I wonder how long it had been since she was changed since it was clear she hadn't been fed in awhile. The social worker quickly left promising that someone would call to schedule a home visit in the next couple of weeks. We spent the next two weeks loving and cherishing the sweet baby. We prayed over her, spoiled her and constantly gushed over her sweet little features. We knew she wouldn't be staying forever, but we treated her as if she were. We couldn't have loved her more if I had birthed her myself. Exactly 2 weeks after she arrived, my phone rang again. " the baby is being released to her dad, the social worker will be there to pick her up in a half an hour." Although I knew the day would come, I still began to cry. I cried over the sadness of never seeing her again, I cried with worry for her safety, and I cried over fear for her future. I know that as an emergency shelter house, we are merely a temporary safe house for the babies until a more permanent foster home is found for them. It had just never hit me until that moment, that some of these babies might leave our house to return to the hands that had hurt them in the first place. Some of these babies will have happy endings, their bio parents will recover and heal and they will be able to raise their children in a safe and loving environment, some babies will end up being adopted after reunification efforts have failed. Other babies will not have a happy ending. They might fall prey to the broken system and get caught in the horrible life of abuse and addiction. No matter the outcome, we will continue to offer shelter. We will love and attach to each and every baby. We will celebrate them and delight in them. We refuse to merely babysit. We will welcome them as our own and continue to pray for them even after they leave. The tears we shed when they leave are a good thing. It means that they were loved completely and deeply. They will forever be in our hearts and in the hearts of our children. A living breathing example for our children of showing love to others without expecting anything in return.