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.  

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 …

Seventeen hours after signing our contract and home study, we received a call asking us to take two boys into care.  One was older than the age we said we felt appropriate for us - I suppose that's another post all together.  Still, there were a couple of things that made me wonder if they were supposed to come to live with us.  Things like an uncommon ethnicity for our area that is similar to ethnicities already in our home and a food allergy we already know how to handle.

I knew that I couldn't call my husband then let them know, because they can't wait.  These kids needed a home immediately and if you aren't sure, they move on to calling someone else.  Well, the person who called said, in response to my one question, "I can call so-and-so and get back to you."  Wow!, I thought, that gives me time to call my husband.  Amazing.  So, we lamented and prayed, wondering what was right.  We had discussed this exact age and gender scenario the night before and said it wouldn't work ... until the other factors came into play.  While waiting for a call, the kids and I dropped our lessons and ran around, locking the medicine and cleaning cabinets, picking up a bit, making sure outlet plugs hadn't been removed, and I threw in a load of laundry that I was planning to do that night.  Still no call back, so my husband called the person at the agency, waited for a return call, and then found that she had already placed the boys with someone else.

[Void].  That's kind of how it felt.  Had God made the decision for us while we just couldn't decide?  We really were not prepared for the older child, so it's probably best in the long run, but, boy, it was still a little sad.  I've been wondering whose home they went to and if we'll ever run into them.  I'm wanting to make sure the foster family knows everything about the food allergy, and generally, feeling responsible.  I know, I know, it was just a phone call.  I'm not good at saying no to kids in need, but they found a safe place right away.  I shouldn't worry.  I should stand with what we know is best for our family at this time, still, little hands and hearts can surely melt mine.  

I hope the phone rings again soon.  I don't even want to get in the shower, for fear of missing a call.  Guess then, they'd have to change that home study statement about me being "well groomed".  Maybe a laugh or two will help.

November 6, 2012.  The day we became licensed as a family foster home.  Wow!  After dropping the kids at a wonderful friends' home, we headed to the agency office to review our home study for any potential errors, and sign contracts.  

This is the fourth home study report about ourselves we have read, and they are always hilarious.  Really, it's so funny to read what the social worker gleaned from a few visits with you, and to see how they incorporate all the 'required' elements.  Social workers and physicians, alike, use the phrases "well groomed" and "nicely dressed" as ways of saying you aren't dirty and have the ability to keep a child relatively clean as it pertains to their health.  It's an important point, but it always makes me laugh.  I'm thinking, "You've never shown up at my house unannounced at 10am when I don't have to be anywhere until 12:30, have you?"  LOL!  We had a few great laughs as we spent 40 minutes reading and correcting typos, which branch of the military my father served through, spellings of family member's names, correct abbreviation for my home state, oh, and our vitals.  Yes, our heights, weights, colorings, etc. were switched.  I'm sure someone was looking at it thinking, wow, this woman is inches taller and pounds heavier than her husband and trying to picture us stretched or shrunk.  A funny sight came to mind for sure.

That complete, our home supervisor will make the changes, print out a final copy and file the final copy with DHS (who already has the unedited version).  I'm sure they'll get us a copy as well, for the funny file.  It's fun to show the kids what went on during the path to them.

We signed an education plan stating we will complete 20 hours of foster care specific training per year.  Our agency has 2 hours per month of education groups we can attend, so that's 24 if you can be there each month - child care provided.  (You're glad I helped you with that math, aren't you :-).  You can also do online training for a small fee at a specific website or do some approved reading.

Back to pick up the kids and home to cheer and cry over various election results.  Quite a day!

Eleven weeks and five days -- let's just say 12 weeks, ok?  

Twelve weeks, and we *finally* have an ok from the FBI and state BI saying that we are not criminals!  WooHoo!  I honestly was thinking this past week that it may never happen, that something unknown was in our path and we would never be certified.  I started to give up on hopes and dreams, both for us and for the children in our path.  The process is now rolling again, and God's timing is evident.  

Our report was sent to DHS and will be read and reviewed either tomorrow or next Thursday.  We have been assigned a home supervisor and need to meet with her to be sure there are no mistakes in our written report, sign education agreement plans saying we will have a minimum of 20 hours of foster care related education in the next year, and sign contracts.

After that, we carry a phone non-stop and wait for a call asking us to invite a child to our home to be cared for until a judge decides the location they will call home.  Here's to doing our best! 

We'll keep you posted!

This weekend, we participated in the Launch classes (12 hours).  This is typically the introduction prior to starting the content classes for foster parent training.  We initially met with the agency the day prior to the last launch, so had to wait for this one.   They allowed us to go ahead and attend the other classes, so we didn't have to wait until now to begin, and I am very glad.  I wish I would have had the energy to type a post right after the trainings.  At this point, I don't recall many of the specifics I would have liked to share, but will get them to share at some point.  The bottom line is this ... we are entering into missional foster care.  Our mission field is our own home.  Does this mean our goal is for religious conversions.  No.  Our goal is to love children and families because they are created by and in the image of our Lord.  We are not doing this for money (you'd have to have many, many kids and spend almost nothing on them to make money).  We are not doing this for status.  We are becoming a foster family because children and families need to be loved and this is what our Lord has for us to do.  This is our path to helping those in our community, and, as a result, helping our community itself.

Sometime, I'd love to share about the horrible history of foster care in America, and the beautiful picture of what it can be when people with a heart for the children and families come together to do this right.

Overwhelmed.

Grateful.

In Awe.

Blessed.

Nothing new to report.  Really.  Nothing.  It's been 12 days since our last class.  We're just waiting for our home study writer to call and set up a time for interviews and home inspections.  Waiting.  Waiting.  Then, when they call, I'm sure I'll be in a momentary panic trying to obtain a spotless house!

We are looking for another crib - a non-drop-side.  One that we had is not going to work, although, I'm thinking that the four side pieces may make a really neat garden trellis.  I'll see if someone can use them in a fabulous garden display.

Saturday afternoon, DB took several items to the Salvation Army thrift store as a donation.  He mentioned this morning that the store was having a 50% off sale all day and all items.  Our daughter and I were out to run a few errands and thought we'd stop in.  I wanted to purchase uni-gender jeans and khaki's in several infant/toddler sizes if they were in good condition and reasonable cost.  Thought those would be wise items to have around.  Well, we found those and more.  It doesn't look like much in the photo, but we were able to get 48 pieces of clothing for $30.  A few items were $1, but most everything was 50 cents!  Because we were shopping for boys or girls birth to two, we were able to just choose the higher quality items, and not have to look for a particular size.  We decided, and hubby agreed, that even if we do not get to use certain sizes, they can be given to another foster family, and for $30, it was a wise investment.  I must point out a few special buys, however -- don't ya love a good deal :-).  See the striped sweater near the center of the picture?  It was marked $0.00.  They gave it to me for ... $0.00!  A pair of Children's Place khaki shorts uni-gender, of course) with *Tags Still On* for 50¢!  Two items in like-new condition (each 50¢) that were exact items our daughter had when she was small  (aawww).  Oh, and my husband wanted me to mention that red onsie on the left of the picture.  It was 50¢ as well.  Something on the shoulder appealed to him.  LOL! Hope the kiddo is a Buckeye's Fan!  We were pretty excited to find this for daddy.  (Don't worry, we'll get Husker gear too)!  

And, just because we're talking deals, our daughter bought a long lace curtain panel and valance for her room for $2, and we found a Danish plate that was not price marked.  They gave it to us for $1.50 - guess they didn't notice the limited edition stamp on the back or know much about Danish collectibles.  We'll see if my grandmother has this particular one.  If she does, we'll just keep it for us.  

I hope we can get on an email list to know about future 50% off days.  The thrill of a bargain!  The only thing better would be if folks would just donate items directly to foster families.  Wish I had realized this for so many years!

Wow!  What a month it has been.  We not only made it through, but enjoyed, eight nights of class, three hours each.  In addition to the paperwork previously listed, there were five more packets of Q&A, several additional forms, state rules and regs to read word-for-word, and more.  We have one more class - a Friday evening / all day Saturday class.  We will also begin our family interviews and home study this month.  If all goes well, we will be licensed as a family foster care home by early or mid October.

There is so much to share from our wonderful classes, but it may need to sink in a while longer.  If you've been to a professional continuing education course or a retreat of some sort, you know the feeling - so many amazing things to share with everyone at home, but you somehow don't even know where to start.  It will come in pieces, I'm sure.

One of the beautiful things about the classes is that our own children were able to attend with us, and spend the hours with other children and great staff playing and building their own friendships.  They are now very at home in our agency's building and really enjoy being there.  In our state, there is privatization of foster care, meaning that the state contracts not just directly with individuals, but with private agencies, who then contract with the foster families.  The wonderful thing about this is that our agency also employs our home supervisors, and provides significant support to the foster families in the form of training, support groups, family activities, and more.  This makes for better families and better homes for the kids.  Our agency also has a factory that makes it's own currency and items which can be purchased with this currency.  The names, the store, and everything about it are wacky and fun.  Kids earn this currency when in the building for any activities, for helping out in a myriad of ways, or through incentive programs.  They can then purchase items at the store.  The original kids of foster families are also included, which is fabulous.  These children may or may not be as excited as their parents to welcome new children to their home, give up half of their room or closet, or deal with the anxiety of the unknown.  A little prize always increases the fun factor.

This weekend, we'll be preparing our home for the home study - a bit more cleaning and organizing (although I know it won't be completely done ... does anyone else's spice cabinet, refrigerator, or coat closet just explode into complete disorder on a regular basis?  Second law of thermodynamics, anyone?) Among other things, Hubby will be adding the infamous child safety locks to all kitchen and bath cabinetry, while I'll be working on making the grandparent guest bed *not* look like it's four feet off the ground after we added risers underneath in efforts to find more storage space. (Suggestions?) The goal is to be at least comfortable with where things are (figuratively and literally) by the end of the weekend.  I'll have to make a list of everything we did to prepare the home once we're done.  (I like lists.  Did you notice?)  Have  a fabulous Labor Day weekend, and don't forget to show thanks for the opportunity to labor for our families and for the kingdom.