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.