labels and decisions.

More new submissions.  Rethinking older ones. 

Are we giving each one the time it deserves?  We were told to submit to as many as we could, but then it feels like the ones you really want you don't get picked for, and the ones who you weren't really sure on the fit are the ones that come through.

One that we originally said no to keeps coming back to me in my mind and heart.  We didn't read the documents that the caseworker sent, because the initial response had said some things that scared us. 

I need to get it in my head that there are no perfect children...anywhere.  Not just foster kiddos, but any kiddo.  I can't be afraid of 'issues" that she might have.  I am not fearful of some things, like ADD or ADHD, or even Anxiety Adjustment Disorder.  But some are a little more scary.  Mood Disorder for one.

What exactly does that mean?  Are they mentally ill, or is this just a manifestation of something like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Soldiers who are coming back from the war have PTSD.  Are they also suffering from varying types of Mood Disorder? Do they get the help they need? Is it a lifetime disorder or is it something that can be fixed in time?

These questions plague me, gnawing at my brain. So, initially we weren't sure on a little girl we submitted on. 

She seems to have an 'invisible friend' and immediately in the foster kid world that sends up huge red flags to everyone.  Oh, she might be schizophrenic...but then again, countless kiddos who are in 'normal households' have imaginary friends and don't immediately get tagged with these HUGE baggage CLINICAL Brands!

How does one know? What can we handle and what can't we handle?

The key is to keep moving forward in the adoption process until you know for sure that it IS something that you just CANNOT handle.  Keep saying 'YES' until you have to say 'NO' and read up on everything first before you give an answer off the cuff just because initially a word scared you.

What are labels anyway? Who decides if they are permanent or not?  Helen Keller was basically thought to be hopeless.  All it took was one individual who had hope, and perserverance.  Her lifeline came in the form of a stubborn teacher. 

I can be stubborn.  I can be patient.  I can love.  I contacted our adoption worker and asked to be reconsidered.  I finally got the courage to read the documents.  Had to laugh. It wasn't nearly as bad as my mind had made it.

Silly.  Hope renews.

Read the label.  Study on it.  Get as much information as you possibly can.  Then decide.

Labels.

A Child Is Waiting

I just watched a movie, "A Child Is Waiting."  Filmed in 1963, it starred Burt Lancaster and none other than Judy Garland, our Dorothy of the Wizzard of Oz.

Sadly, it told the story of a little boy whose father brought him to a school, or home, for the mentally challenged.  Rueben, a borderline mentally challenged boy portrayed in black and white, brought home the stark reality of life for kiddos back in the days where misunderstanding allowed kids to be shoved into institutions and spend their lives there, forgotten and unloved.

Little Rueben sat every Wednesday during the allotted 'family visiting day' for his folks to come visit him, but alas, they never came. 

His little anquished heart could not move forward, it was stuck. Stuck right in that spot where his daddy left him. Stuck.

How many of the kiddos in the foster system feel like little Rueben?  How many nights do they yearn for their parents, or any parents, to come and save them, and take them home? 

A Child waits. 

For me?

I can only hope so.  I can only pray so.

A child waits...

hungerpangs

I saw a lady yesterday who went through the adoption foundation training classes with us.  Her and her husband went through so that they could adopt a niece of theirs, keeping her out of the foster system.  They already had her in their home while they took the class.  (I got to see the beautiful girl a few weeks ago)

I admit it.  I was jealous. Jealous of the fact that she never had to go through all the ups and downs I have gone through with submitting our home study and waiting, waiting, waiting to hear some tiny bit of news.

She has had her share of ups and downs, I am sure. But at least she had the prize right in front of her!

Why is this so hard? We want a child.  A child needs us. Put us together, people!! It isn't rocket science!!

But, then I listen to the news.  A mother who adopted a boy is in the spotlight.  For abuse. How did SHE get to adopt a child anyway? Here we are, wonderful, loving parents...and we have yet to be selected.  How does this happen? 

The selection process is slow.  I guess it has to be. Pick the best parents for that child, or children.  Make sure they can handle the upcoming challenges. Make sure the fit is the best they can make. So, that there are no mistakes.

I am hungry. 

Nothing satisfies this hunger, this yearning.  The gnawing at my heart and soul is a daily occurance.  The pangs I feel are real, not imagined.  They claw at me, demanding my attention.

I yearn for a daughter or daughers. Simple. Plain. Honest truth.

The empty caverness space must be filled, but how can I speed up the process? How can I help it happen?

Hunger pangs.

Pickin' beans...pickin' kiddos

Just picked over 6 pounds of beans from the garden.

Who would have thought our little 25 x 25 plot could produce so many!

My back aches.  The rich, dark ground was still wet from watering it this morning, so I just bent over and picked on down the aisles. Ouch!

Bountiful harvest.  I see that I need to pick more zuchinni and summer squash..as well as cucumbers.

I love having fresh produce from our garden. No chemicals, no added preservatives, no coloring.  Just plain ole honest to goodness fresh veggies!

Of course, it means work too.  The sink is now full of beans that will either need to be blanched and frozen, or canned.  Over the winter, we will be able to enjoy all the fruits of our labor, so it is worth it.

Pickin' out kiddos is a bit tougher.  We have to find the right fit, the right little plant to transplant into our own garden. All their faces smile at me...pick me, pick me! Which one will be the right one? Who will she be, our daughter? My heart is already turning the soil, adding the fertilizer, getting it ready for planting. 

My prayers go out to her, whoever she is, where ever she is...Lord, begin the transformation now...the letting go of expectations, the acceptance of a new garden. We accept Your infinite wisdom...your perfect timing, your perfect daughter for us.

Our adoption worker sent a link to a girl in Texas.  Wow...she sounds like she would fit right into our family, our lives. Not all kiddos I read about evoke an emotional response. 

She did.  I cried. 

Maybe it is her.  Maybe next summer she will be pickin' beans alongside of me in our garden.

summerdazed

Summer days are flowing along too fast for me.

Commercials on T.V. are already advertising sales on clothes and must haves for school. This is my second year being in this exact spot in time, all while waiting (not always so patiently) for the news that we might have been selected to go to committee for adoption.
How many of you are in this same predicament?
My hopes were to have a child/children by the time summer came along, so that we could have all summer to get to know one another, to form some type of bond prior to school starting. Last year, summer came and went in a daze. Then our hopes turned to “maybe before Thanksgiving?” but no kiddos, then on to ‘well, maybe by Christmas?”…still no kiddos.
This year rolled around and once again, I hoped and prayed fervently that our child would be with us before summer came. Tantalizing thoughts of camping trips and smores lay before me. Biking trips and day hikes. Trips to the zoo and fishing along the banks of Buena Vista ponds.
Yet, here I sit, with no child/kiddos.
My heart is ready. My home is ready. We are ready, already.
Summer is whizzing by in a daze.

day-to-day

Sigh.

Perhaps an even bigger one...

SIGH.

I keep checking on the status of the kiddos we submitted on through the OARE site.

Good news? They are all still showing "ACTIVE."  This means to me that I still have a shot at getting picked to go to committee.  A chance to be their mom.

I have been to committee once.  We were the second family...the 'back up' so to speak.  Terrible, but I kept hoping that somehow it wouldn't work with the first family, and they would come to us.  That lasted about a month long, the wishing...but over-all  I am grateful for the kiddos sake that it did work out, that they found their family. Out of the foster system and into a loving family.

I want it to be my turn.  My turn to be selected.  Been hoping a very long time.

I mentor a girl who just turned 11 today.  She is absolutely a sweet, wonderful girl.  She spent the afternoon and evening here with me yesterday.  I took her up to a fun little spot along a small river and we played in the water, catching crawdads...learning about them...and just splashing around.

We are finally at a place where we are comfortable just being together...no worries, just taking it day by day.  I don't have to worry about finding something to entertain her every second.  She was with me for 8 hours and the time flies by quickly.  She said something that warmed my heart when we finally left the picnic spot...she said, "This was the best day ever." 

Those simple words drove home the reality; that I am going to do okay at this. I can do this.

I realize that this is how it could be, if and when we finally adopt our girl, or girls.  Just livin' day to day...basking in the knowledge that she/they aren't going anywhere, that we have all the time in the world to explore new places, to bond even more, to love even deeper. 

Lookin' forward to that.

Day to Day.

whenopportunityknocks

How many times does the proverbial door of opportunity open anyway?

How many chances does one get? 

We were asked to consider two girls, siblings, that needed placement rather quickly.  It was to be a newer type of placement, starting with Mentoring them for an undetermined amount of time, then if that worked out, moving on to fostering them, and ultimately adoption. 

I have to admit, I do like the idea of that program.  It is much less stressful for the kiddos, without the pressure of expectations on their plates.  It gives the adopter a chance to get to know the real side of them.  I base this statement on my current experiences with mentoring a ten year old girl.  She doesn't feel like she has to 'put on an act' for me, she is genuine and real. With no fear of rejection.

The major problem I knew we would have to overcome is their age.  My husband agreed to siblings IF they were young, such as "L" and "M" were.   I am a whole lot more flexible on that than my husband.  I would take a boy/girl group too, but he doesn't want to. 

We were sent the files on them, at least part of them.  No pictures.  No profile.  Just a clinical evaluation of them.  Two girls, ages 12 and almost 10.  Nothing of real concern in the evaluations of them really, other than the normal ranges of Adjustment Disorder with Anxiety (totally expect that!) and ADD or ADHD. 

We were supposed to read about them and talk about it and decide.  My husband said no.

Our caseworker had mentioned that if we keep saying no, we won't get a child.

Should we just settle then? I am torn.  I don't want to lose an opportunity.  I don't want to pass up a child/or children if they might end up being the right fit. For an adoption to be a success, there needs to be as many positives as we can possibly fit in. I think settling increases the chance of failure.

In the back of my mind, in the front of my heart...I feel like we need just a little bit younger girl/girls.

How many chances will we get? How many times will opportunity knock on our door?

I am fearful.

MEOW!

I am currently fostering four little kittens, whose mother was killed when they were about 2 1/2 weeks old. 

A gentleman brought them into the clinic where I work and pleaded for someone to take them. 

I, being the soft hearted fool that I am, raised my hand and said "yes" with a huge "SUCKER" painted to my forehead!

Now nearing 3 weeks into feedings, helping them potty, cleaning them up and hearing them persistently squalling every 2 1/2 hours...I find myself exhausted.  Yes, I admit it.  I have thrown up my hands in the air and cried to the heavens, "WHAT on EARTH possessed me to take these things?" My husband looks on, amused, as I complain about scratch marks on my ankles from starving kittens clawing their way up my leg to get to the one and only nipple, full of milk.

Seriously, they act like they haven't eaten in days.  Meow, meow, meow!!!

What on earth, you might ask, does THIS have to do with adoption?

AHHHH.....

There will be times when we ask ourselves, "WHY did we do this?" "What on EARTH was I thinking?!"
There will be times when we cry to the heavens, and fall upon the bed, completely and utterly exhausted.

The kittens don't care how I feel.  They only have survival in mind.  When and where is the next meal coming? Who can scratch and claw their way first to the nipple? Who will be the strongest one, and push the other off?
Survival.

We haven't been matched yet.  But, I do know there will be those low moments.  Best to be honest with myself. Best to prepare for it now in my heart.  Best to know that beyond the survival methods we will face with these kiddos, there lies a broken heart, waiting for the walls to come down...waiting for that moment when they finally realize their needs are actually being met and they can relax, relax into our hearts.

Meow!

reminderz

Squish.

Squish, squish...mud oozes through bared toes as I plod along.

This could be a moment of pure disgust, of pure horror...or of pure joy.

I happen to be a tomboy at heart, and think that the feeling of the wet earth is a good thing.  A moment of bliss.

I could chose to look at the negative side of things, and run for the showers.  I could look at it as a hinderance...walking on a clear path is the easier, less dirty route and I could get to my destination sooner. 

I could chose to sit down and wallow in it too.

But I don't.  Not today.  Not tomorrow. 

I choose to relish it.  To laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all; to continue trudging along on this uneasy path, the path of adoption.

I have to remind myself of that beach long ago.  (see first postings) The footprints in the sand.  Mine and a child, or children...running through the wet sand...barefoot.  Oh the possibilities!

I chose to remember.