Tuesday, December 4, 2012 – Friday, December 7, 2012

Two days after pseudo-placement / respite #1 left, it was Tuesday. I went in to work to see one outpatient and catch up on some paperwork from the weekend.  The bat phone rang again.  Yes, already!  This is how I expected it to be last month.

The question, could we take two boys right now?  They were 9 months and 2 years.  
Sure.  
The DHS worker would call.  
I packed up, called home to inform the troops, and we were all very excited. 

I was home in three minutes, then Hubby and I went to put the carseats in the car.  The boys were at a police substation and I needed to go get them.  The infant seat had been gifted by a friend and we simply could not get it tight in the car.  I had put it in the car next to our boosters to see if they would fit three across, but just now (in the black of a cold December night), realized I hadn't actually installed it.  Very unlike me.  I was not pleased with myself.

Did I mention that it was freezing out?  For any of you in the tropics, frozen fingers do not install car seats.  Just in case you wanted to know.  So, we looked for instructions, looked online, and left a message for the friend who gave us the seat.  No luck.  Finally, I tossed it in the back of the car and headed off.  Hubby and kids were getting beds ready.  It was already late.

On the way to the police station, I called the worker to see if he had a seat, or if I should stop to buy one.  He said to just come there.  When I arrived, he said the mom was willing to let me take the baby’s own seat.  (Good start for this mom – not hostile about loosing control and taking it out on us by saying no.  Good decision for her little guy to keep him safe). 

The worker went to a back room in the station and brought out 9mo chubby cheeks and then went back for 2yo petite guy.  They were Asian, and I had heard some family members had gone “back” to the family’s country of origin, so I asked if English was spoken at home.  (Logical, especially for first or second generation family).  I was told yes.  I asked if formula was anything special, specifically was it dairy free (again, logical, given high percentage of those of Asian descent with decreased lactase production).  Nope.  English was fine and “normal” formula.

The worker and police officer took about 10 minutes to get the car seat in my car.  (Remember, it's freezing, and I now have two children who know me as a total stranger). The infant seat was just as loose as the one we had tried.  Just the lap belt going over the rear-facing seat and it slid side to side.  Now, I know I’m picky about these things, but this was nuts.  I have just had Britax seats, and those things aren’t moving, let me tell you. NASCAR restraints have nothin' on a Britax. (Britax, you are welcome to gift me a new seat for that unsolicited advertisement).  I prayed all the way home.

The older boy ended up being a complete delight.  We were all in love.  The sweetest smile I have ever seen was there for hours, especially when hubby put him in the Kelty backpack carrier and took him, bundled up, for a walk to look at Christmas lights.  What a memory!  I was pretty sure he did NOT speak English, however.  A few times he used a word when playing with a car that sounded a lot like the Chinese word for car.  I was quite certain they were not Chinese, but pretty convinced he was naming the car in another language.  (Intuition first prize once again – later found out they only spoke Vietnamese. I ASKED, people. I specifically ASKED! I could have gotten someone to teach me a few words appropriate for a baby or 2yo so they weren't so scared! I feel so bad for them).

The younger guy projectile vomited everywhere after feeds.  I mean, world record setting distance on these vomits.  The next day, we changed him to soy and it was better, but still not great.  To shorten this up a bit, the worker relayed my adamant discourse on the issue, and I’m told the judge ordered feeding evaluations.  Yay that baby will get help!!!

The reason I really don’t know what happened with the feeding evaluations, is that the boys went home that Friday.  They had a visit with mom and dad at the DHS offices in another county.  The parents lived in another county, but were taken in by the police in our county, so the kids were placed in our county initially.

The night before the visit, I was up with little one until 5am – that’s when he finally went to sleep.  I messaged our supervisor and the worker to say I really couldn’t drive the boys the hour to where they needed to go after three nights of no sleep.  The worker (not pleased, but it was a complete safety issue), said she would pick them up, (she lived 20 minutes from us) and that the visit would take a few hours because if it went well, she would do a home evaluation of the parents home.  Um, you were just going to let me drive an hour to your office, then sit there, unknowingly, for hours? 


Placement questions learned through experience #3: Ask what all the visit will entail, and what time it will end -- every time.  

The worker knew I had to go to work at 12:30, but never mentioned the visit would not yet be over prior to that until I called that morning.  So, she took "the boys", as we still call them, and their things (just in case they didn’t return).  If they were to return, hubby would leave work, go get them and bring them home to our Friday afternoon nanny.  That afternoon when I was at work, the case worker sent a text message.  The boys would not be returning, and we needed to pick up our car seat.

[Silence]

It was kind of a numb feeling.  
We hadn’t yet gotten settled.  
Is this how it would always be?  
We were all sad.  Our kids cried.  One of them cried a lot.  Could I keep doing this to our kids?  It’s good to learn to deal with goodbye, but could I crush them every week?  Wow.  A lot to think on, for sure. 

That night was long. 

That night was quiet. 

Pieces of our hearts had been filled …

then torn away. 

 
Well, I stink at blogging on time.  The date of this post says 12/02/12, but today is really 03/04/13.  

What? 

It's just like our kids' life books or scrapbooks. Sometimes, the emotion is so great, you don't have words, so you do nothing.  That's what I did for a couple of months.  I wrote in my mind, but not on paper or on screen.  I've decided to catch up.  I'll be back dating posts from December 2 through March to let you know what has transpired.  I'm writing for us and I'm writing for those who may wonder if this path is for them.  I found an amazing blog when we were first seriously considering foster care, and read the last two year's worth of posts in two days.  It made all the difference in the world to me.  Maybe I can be here for someone as well.

Here we go ...




Friday, November 30, 2012 – Sunday, December 2, 2012


I was so tired.  I had been praying that God would bring us a baby – in some way.  Having just fallen asleep, much later than planned, my phone rang.  Every time my phone rings, I RAN. Seriously RAN, to the phone. The kids stopped everything and gathered around.  I didn’t take a shower without the phone sitting within reach.  It was seriously messed up.

This time, it was actually one of the sweetest home supervisors from our agency.  To make it short, she wanted us to take a short term placement.  S was a 3month old baby, currently in the hospital.  A friend of her foster family had fallen while holding her and she was injured.  DHS had to investigate before allowing the foster family to take her home.  They estimated 1-2 weeks.

Well, it wasn’t a baby for us long term, but I got exactly what I had asked for, didn’t I?  Perhaps my prayers should be more specific? I was to work at the hospital the next day, and would then pick her up and bring her home. 

As soon as I got to the hospital,  I checked in.  (One of my patients was in the next room, so they would see me go by anyway.  Thought I’d check in first – and off the clock, just to be clear.  Don’t want to be seen as robbing my employer).  I spent time in the baby’s room with her caseworker, the home supervisor, and agency representative.  They said I may not be taking her after all. 

[Instant focus on maintaining facial expression.]

I was sad, but tried not to show it. After all, it’s not about me, is it? While seeing my patients, the home supervisor texted me as the plan changed twice more.  I was taking her, but it would be called respite, then I wasn’t taking her again, but they would ask the foster family if respite was needed.  Next thing I knew, they wanted me to spend the night at the foster family’s house to care for the baby at night and let the foster mom and dad sleep. That was weird for me. Really weird. Just sayin’. Thankfully, I didn’t have to give an answer to that before they changed their minds again.  She would be discharged to the original foster family, but they would bring her to us that night for a night of respite, required by the powers that be.

Placement lessons learned from experience #1: Anything and everything can and will change! Prepare your children – and your own heart - with words like “maybe”, and “possibly” when referring to a placement who has yet to step foot in your home.

We had a very fun evening with this sweet one, but she was achy, and we aren’t allowed to give anything for pain without written orders of dose, time, etc.  I texted the foster mom and she said the hospital discharge papers said you could give the dose on the box – great we had an order.  Wait, she’s too young.  The box says ask a physician.  The system is frustrating.

Placement lessons learned from experience #2: Ask for specific, written med orders before leaving the hospital every time!.

The next morning, DHS received the physician’s info and decided this was completely an accident and the foster family was at no fault at all.  The foster mom RACED over to retrieve her beloved little one, and we were once again four …