Foster2Forever

by

My Struggle with Attachment Disorder

toddler-tantrum-foster-child-trauma-bonding-attachmentHe was out-of control – as if demons had taken over his soul. His screaming was unintelligible. His body was flailing about with his arms punching the air or anything in the way. His face was the color of a sun-ripened tomato. His kicking jerked as his body contorted into different directions.

This wasn’t just a tantrum.

My role as a mother is to raise my precious preschooler into a Godly man. But my doubts overwhelm me during these moments. Had Satan already taken hostage of my child through a disorder known as Reactive Attachment Disorder or RAD?

In these moments, I am broken. I fall to my knees crying out for God to release the demon from my beloved child.

Through the prayers, God is awakening me to devote myself to this child.

Whatever it takes, dear Lord!

My child has emotions from his neglected infanthood that he cannot understand or control. His desire is to have all his physical needs met and feel that unconditional love.

As his mother, I have to make sacrifices. I’ve taken him out of full-day school. I’ve taken family leave from work to demonstrate to him that Mommy loves him and wants to be with him.

I devote my life to my son.

A problem that isn’t too large for my Lord and Savior.

Have you liked Foster2Forever’s Facebook page?

by

Another Placement

If you “LIKE” Foster2Forever on Facebook, you saw a link to our new community forum about our new placement…

.

Bubba, my 20-year-old stepson, is back home – for a little while – at least until he is able to go out on his own again.  He didn’t want to move back home, and at first resisted, but given the situation of having to find a new place quickly, he is here.  Stinkpot and Lil Bit are excited to have their Bubba home.  We are all in the transition phase of an adult child moving back in.  [Bubba has a different schedule that the rest of us.:)]

However, this incident really made me think about the youth that have aged out of the foster care system. Bubba didn’t want to move back home, but he knew this:

We are his family and he could always come home!

I have read statistics that up to 33% of former foster kids that have aged out of the foster care system will become homeless within three years.[1]  Nearly as many (30%) will be arrested.  Here are some other disheartening statistics:

  • 50% will drop out of school;
  • At age 21, only 25% will still be enrolled in school;
    only 2% will have earned a 2-year-degree
  • 62% will be unemployed 12-18 months after aging out;
  • 50% will be unemployed at age 21; median yearly income will be $5,450
  • 60-70% will have babies by the age of 21

Courtney, M., Dworsky, A., Cusick, G., Perez, A., & Keller, T. (2007). Midwest Evaluation of the Adult Functioning of Former Foster Youth: Outcomes at Age 21. Chapin Hall Center for Children, Univ of Chicago.  Wertheimer, R., (2002) Youth Who “Age Out” of Foster Care: Troubled Lives, Troubling Prospects, Washington, D.C.: Child Trends.

These youth have endured dysfunction and trauma in their families of origin, and have sadly, come to the realization:

“I have nobody. I am alone.“

Nowhere to go when they’re down on their luck. Sad when you think about the nearly 30,000 youth that age out of the U.S. foster care system every year.

Our Bubba does have a place to go, and now we are transitioning with him assimilating back into our family. [He has a different schedule and is now a smoker.]

Have any of your foster kids aged out yet?  Have any of your adult children moved back home?  I’d love to hear your stories!

Come join us in our community on Thursday at 2pm CST for a LIVE CHAT!!!

by

My Confession: The Rejection of My Mother

DiedI have been grieving.  I have been grieving a loss. Not a death – a loss. The loss I feel of not having a loving, caring mother.

Last November, I was ecstatic about our adoption of Lil Bit – thrilled that he would finally be ours after a rubberband custody battle. However, that happiness was contradicted by a broken heart.

Knowing that Lil Bit’s adoption would be on National Adoption Day, I asked my mother to be a part of this special day. I asked (begged) her on Labor Day (in September).

Her reply to me was: “But that’s when we are having Thanksgiving. Why don’t you change your adoption day?”

“Mom, I can’t change National Adoption Day. I will be adopting Lil Bit the weekend of your Thanksgiving. Why don’t you celebrate Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving weekend or another time?”

“But that’s when we always have Thanksgiving.” (for only the last 3 years)

“Mom, I can’t change National Adoption Day. I guess we won’t be coming for your Thanksgiving unless you change the date.”

There was no other mention of Thanksgiving, even after numerous conversations about Lil Bit’s broken arm, the investigation into our foster home, and his adoption.

Two weeks before National Adoption Day, I called my mother to let her know the details of the adoption.  She began making excuses about why she couldn’t come. Her hours at work had been cut so she didn’t have the excuse of having to work. But, of course, it was all about the money and how she didn’t have the money to put gas in her Toyota Corolla. There were other excuses too. After the call, I was downtrodden, knowing in my gut that she didn’t want to share in the joy of our adoption.

After speaking with my wonderful husband, he suggested that we just send her a $100 gift card for gasoline.

However, when I called her up the week before the adoption, before I could tell her about the gift card, she began lamenting about all the people that were coming to her home the weekend of our adoption.  She was having her early Thanksgiving and didn’t tell me. My eyes were clouding over with tears when I asked her, “Do you want me to bother sending you an invitation to the adoption?”

Her reply was: “No, don’t bother.”

I hung up the phone and began crying. My soul was flooded with emotion over all of the past rejections of my mother.

My entire childhood I was told over and over that I was ugly and just an overall horrible daughter. My sisters and I never did enough to help her. We were constantly referred to as “damn kids.”

When my parents divorced, at age 14 I chose to live with my dad. For years, I heard how it was my fault that she didn’t have custody of her kids. As an adult, I read the divorce decree and discovered that she did have custody as long as she lived in the county. When I asked her why she didn’t just move back, her reply was: “I needed my mother.” (My younger sisters were 11 and 7 years old. She was 35.)

I’m not writing all this for you to join my pity party or tell me how terrible my mom is. I guess I’m writing this to let you know how a neglected child never completely heals from the rejection of a parent.

Did my mother ever do anything to warrant CPS involvement? No.

However, the verbal taunts and rejection from my mother still haunt me as an adult.

I guess that is why I’m so passionate about a child going to good home, instead of to a home that is just “good enough.”

by

When the Call Comes, But the Kids Don’t. Waiting!

Last week, we received a very exciting phone call – a call for the adoptive placement of 2 young girls!

I was so excited to announce the news to you last Tuesday on Facebook, albeit prematurely. As a seasoned foster parent, I should know better.

Often times in foster care, the calls come but the kids don’t.

It has been nearly a week, and our caseworker has not heard back from the girls’ caseworker.

What my intuition is telling me:  The family members probably balked at adopting the girls (they are in 2 separate relative homes), hoping another family member would adopt.  However, rather than send their little ones off, the family will step up.

I can totally understand. And I am thrilled if this is the case for these little girls.

If the girls do come, I’m sure it won’t be before Easter, although I would love to share the story of the resurrection with this cookie recipe.

However, in the mean time, we wait…

Other Waiting

The biopsy was excruciating; I’m sure my outbursts of pain permeated that floor in the hospital during the ordeal. However, that pain has a purpose to bring peace of mind. The doctor is extremely optimistic, performing the biopsy as a precaution.

Now we wait to receive the results on Friday the 13th, no less…

How many “failed placements” have you had?

by

Did She Drink When She Was Pregnant?

My nine-year-old daughter, GB, is diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, Autism, and Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD). The Bipolar is well controlled with medication. I honestly am not sure about Autism… Autism and FASD have a lot of similarities. I am sure of the FASD. So far, FASD seems to have the most challenges.

What is FASD?

FASD is described as a number of different physical, neurological and mental birth defects caused by a woman’s consumption of alcohol during pregnancy.

First Signs of FASD

GB’s birth was far from ideal. Although her birth weight was good, the birth was difficult. Her APGAR scores were 6/6 and she was transferred to a NICU about an hour from me. Her breathing improved, but she had a very weak suck. They put a clean white diaper under her chin and after every feeding, weighed the diaper to determine how much formula she had actually consumed. Weak suck is one of the first signs of FASD.

When she was released, she went home to two mentally ill parents and was severely neglected for almost six months. When her parents abandoned her, my husband and I took over. GB never smiled. She couldn’t hold her bottle, and formula still leaked out the sides of her mouth. She never cooed, she never babbled. She was silent or screeching. She made no eye contact, except with me. She was up four or five times a night, every night. Children with FASD are at high risk for attachment problems.

GB started receiving Early Childhood Intervention Services when she was seven months old. She received Occupational Therapy, Speech Therapy, and Special Education Services, for a total of 7 services a week. After a few months, the ECI people met with me. They wanted me to know that GB was unable to generalize and had fixations. Examples they used were once they taught GB to “pretend” a red rectangular block was a phone, she then could not use any red rectangular blocks as anything but a phone. She would also not use any other kind of block as a phone. When they taught her how to build a tower of ABC blocks, she could not build one using colored cubes. They suggested I visit a neurologist.

Physical Features of FASD

GB was diagnosed with FASD before her first birthday. She had the Fetal Alcohol features. Small eyes, smooth philtrum, and a thin upper lip. Over all, GB’s facial features were more pronounced than 97% of children diagnosed with FASD.

Photo courtesy AAFP

Sensory Issues of FASD

GB had many fetishes each of which lasted a long time. A bubble wand, a specific pencil, sunglasses, cutting up white paper into little scraps. Any interference in these activities resulted in a melt down. GB couldn’t deal with loud noise, cold weather, or large groups of people. Years of therapy have made this better. Sensory struggles are also common in children with FASD.

As a child gets older, FASD can mimic many other disorders.

Overlapping Characteristics of FASD –                      Click on the image to see full chart

It is critical that the right help is found for the child as early as possible.

Although GB still struggles, I can’t imagine where she would be today if she hadn’t received so much early intervention.

GBsMom is 55 years old and working on a PhD in Educational Psychology. She has been an adoptive and foster mother for over 30 years. Most of her kids have been some combination of Bipolar, FASD, RAD, ADHD. She has been married for 35 years and is raising her second family, GB, 9, and Hope, 6. She blogs about her life at Adopting Special Needs.

by

My Confession: Growing Up in Poverty

I grew up poor! 

My childhood home was little more than a leaky-roofed shack. The hole in the sunken dining room floor occasionally permitted various animals, such as possums, to take up residence in our Texas home at night.

But did I really know poverty?

The hand-me-down clothes that were new to me and made me feel proud caused classmates to ridicule me.

But did I really know poverty?

I have recently been moved while reading Kisses from Katie, the incredible story of a 2007 high school graduate who is changing lives for orphaned children in Uganda (she adopted 14 of them). The poverty in Africa is nothing that I can fathom. I grew up in poverty by United States standards, but certainly not by worldwide standards.

In Africa, poverty and HIV are a way of life.  HIV is epidemic in most African countries – over 15% of the adult population of South African countries is infected. The epidemic is partially due to the poverty – many women and children become involved in sex work in order to live and eat. Another factor for the epidemic is the culturally-accepted practice of polygamy and domestic abuse (1). Violence, coerced sex, and rape is rampant – 1 in 4 South African women are raped (2).

In Africa, due to the lack of medical care, HIV is a death sentence. Many children are orphaned at a young age.

But there is a way out!

Let’s say you’re an African child growing up in poverty. A church nearby your home announces that they have partnered with Compassion International and because of this partnership, if you are registered in the program, you will receive benefits that were never before available to you. Benefits like:

  • educational opportunities
  • health care and health-related instruction
  • nutrition
  • life-skills training

And opportunities to hear about and respond to the gospel!

It’s all very exciting so you get registered at the local church. The church volunteers gather information about you and your family and take your picture. You’re officially registered!

You now have all the financial benefits of this program but there’s more! You are going to be connected to one sponsor. You just have to wait for someone to sponsor you.

And for some children, they wait and wait and wait…

My heart is with these African children waiting for 6 months or longer for someone to sponsor them, especially the boys. If a boy’s heart is changed, will he continue the cycle of polygamy and violence against women that fuels the spread of HIV?

Maybe our family can make a difference in the life of 11-year-old Ghana boy, Godfred? Or 12-year-old, Mugisha in Rwanda? Can your family make a difference?

I didn’t really know poverty.

Although just a little more than a shack, I was in a home with running water.

Although I didn’t wear Nike shoes or Calvin Klein jeans, I had clothing.

Although much of it from a garden and fruit trees, I had food in my belly each night.

Although the color of silver, my molars are still in place to chew food.

Although there is a scarred indentation on my left bicep, it is a permanent reminder that I cannot die from smallpox.

I didn’t know poverty.

Sponsor a Waiting Child from Compassion International on Vimeo.

by

When Angels Appear

Isn’t God’s timing impeccable? Perfect?

Feeling a bit downtrodden from Monday’s ambush of online harassment, the negativity was affecting my disposition.

On Tuesday, I rushed into a monthly board lunch meeting for a local non-profit. I was running late due to a last-minute appointment with my allergist. I quietly sat down next to a new member of the board.

Unknowingly, I sat next to a gentleman that God had brought to me as His messenger through His marvelous plan.

This foster parent found encouragement in the most random way.

At the conclusion of the meeting, as I was getting up to leave, I said to Mr. Messenger, “Hi, how you doing?” His overwhelming response: “Wow! You won’t believe this! Last week, I was chair of a jury and my eyes were opened wide. I had no idea what goes on. Tell me, do you know any foster parents?” Taken aback, my busy mind quickly filled with thoughts of horrifying foster home abuse. “I’m a foster parent,” I sheepishly responded.

Mr. Messenger quickly grabbed my arm squeezing and excitedly exclaimed,

 

“THANK YOU! I’m so glad that there are people like you to take care of these kids in foster care.”

 

Just the encouragement I needed that day!

 

Thank you, Lord, for your perfect plan. For how you place your angels in my life at just the precise moment. You put a series of events in motion that fall together perfectly. So overwhelming that my small mind can’t fathom.

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God. ~Romans 8:28 God has perfect timing. This foster parent was given encouragement at just the right moment. #angels

by

Are You Martha Stewart? Or Hoarders?

They wanted to become foster parents and felt that it was their calling.  They had researched and were felt they were ready to begin the process to become foster parents. But what was holding them back?

Here is an excerpt from an email I received from a concerned reader:

“I have an issue that is holding me back from asking questions from an agency: I am terrified of the home study. I know that isn’t uncommon, and I realize much of it has to do with where chemicals are kept, and smoke detectors. But the thing I am worried about is, do they expect me to be Martha Stewart, or even her distant cousin? I do not enjoy housework. But I do it. I am not a neat freak, but I do like knowing where things are. I sort in piles, shuffling back and forth until the paperwork is finally ready to be filed AFTER each billed paid, every business called, every extra envelope discarded. We have lived in this house for a year, and I still have a few boxes that are stored mementos to go through and find homes for, because we don’t have the same amount of storage here as we did at our previous home.”

You Don’t Have to be Perfect to be the Perfect Parent

I shared with Jo how  I’m no Martha Stewart either.  I do struggle with the mounds of paperwork that comes with being a foster parent in addition to the bills and such from just running a household.  And please don’t look in my closet! Or my bathroom counter. {However, I am finding some great organization ideas on Pinterest!}

I did share that although you don’t have to be perfect, you do have to abide by the rules. You do have to keep cleaning products out of kids reach. We have baby locks on cabinets. You do have to lock medicines (we hired a locksmith to install a keyed lock on the medicine cabinet).
Also, our caseworker regularly checks to make sure that there are no dirty dishes out and that foods in the fridge are covered.

You can't be a Hoarder!

So, dear readers, what advice would you share in regard to the topic of housekeeping?

by

This is How Inefficient our Government Really Is

Have you read this book written by a former foster child?


We were so excited to finally adopt our Lil Bit! Now, over two months later, we are still anxiously awaiting the arrival of his new birth certificate!

Yesterday, while glancing through the mail, I saw a plain white envelope from the state Health and Human Services! I excitedly opened the envelope to find…

Lil Bit’s Medicaid card!

Printed on the card in bold was his new name! Our family name! Lil Bit’s first “official” card with our family’s name!

After our excitement waned, I began going through the rest of the mail. To my surprise, was another envelope from the state Health and Human Services, identical to the first. Could it be his birth certificate?

My curious hands opened the second envelope to find…

another Medicaid card!

Not a duplicate card. Another Medicaid card printed with Lil Bit’s BIRTH name!

So now we have TWO Medicaid cards with both of Lil Bit’s names. (Same Medicaid number, of course)

For those of you whose adopted children receive Medicaid, is this what normally happens?

How much longer until we receive Lil Bit’s birth certificate?  Which name will be printed on it?

I’m Clever

Sway