I Wonder
If you're a stressed out foster parent of a baby - is the stress any worse or different because you know that this child is still NOT YOUR CHILD?Huge moments still reveal the fact that Cookie is not our legal daughter. Back in May, we changed her name in every place and with everyone who knew us and her. Her nameplate above her crib at daycare changed. She became Mia Elizabeth Lastname.
But every time I call the pediatrician, I have to call her my foster daughter. I have to use her legal name. I am reminded of how little free will and choice I have.
I have had conversations with First Steps for intake evaluation since Cookie was born with drugs in her system. I had to tell them so much I didn't want to tell again. "Was she full term?" asked the nice woman on the phone. "I don't know. Her birth mom had no prenatal care we know of. She gave birth at the hospital, and then left. She was 7 lbs. when she left the hospital, so we assume she was full term." We assume a lot.
{BTW, Cookie did not qualify for services from First Steps. After the initial evaluation, at 9 months, she scored at the "advanced" level for a 12 month old. I do NOT say this as any indication of anything we did, or as a comparison in ANY way (I detest this competitive parent crap). It IS a PRAISE GOD moment for how He healed her and released her from any harm. On Christmas morning, she was healed. You can go back in my blog to around that time to read the full account.}
Last night, at 2 am, I lost it again. Cookie woke up and decided to cry and arch her back and thrash about in my arms and have a royal fit (she is developing a big personality - more on that later). I haven't written about this - but I've been extremely ill for 2 weeks now, and am on the second round of antibioticcs. I am exhausted and physically drained. On top of that, our house was burgalarized and my entire jewelry chest stolen and my digital camera. My only physical posessions of much value - gone. My grandmother's engagement ring from my grandfather - 75 years old - gone. My sweet 16 emerald ring - gone. While we were at work. But I digress.
It's been a hard two weeks.
Last night's fit-pitching sent me into anger mode. I was holding Cookie while she thrashed about and cried and Michael asked "Do you want me to take her downstairs?" My reply was, "I want her to SHUT UP!! I WANT one night of sleep. I WANT to not be freakin' sick. I want my things back. I want to not go through this every freakin' night!" And Michael (bless his heart) quietly got out of bed and took Cookie from me. I was angry. I sat at the top of the stairs, tears pouring down my face, as I watched Michael sit on the sofa in the darkness downstairs. I heard Cookie snoring. I sobbed, "I can't take any more." And I cried - loudly. One of those cries that shakes your entire body, where you cry so hard you feel you might vomit, or pass out - or both. Fortuantely, I did neither. I did "the drill". I went into my bathroom, sat on the commode, peed (TMI), and sobbed. I held my head in my hands and ran my fingers through my hair. I got it together and crawled back into bed and fell asleep. I woke up later with Michael and Cookie in their usual spots - Michael on his side of the bed, and Cookie in the middle (thank God for King-sized beds).
I was angry that I do so much for a child who isn't legally mine. Any one can come at any time and take her away. It's a reality of foster care. She's not ours until the judge signs that piece of paper - and we've got quite a few steps to get through before that happens. It feels like it's been a long time, and yet I know there are folks who foster for YEARS before finally being able to adopt their kids (Jane, I think of your story especially.) There is a resentment there. This case has been "over" a long time ago. Dad's in jail for 9 years, mom's a junkie, and there are no suitable family members who aren't also part of "the system". A brother and sister were already adopted out almost 2 years ago. We knew all that by the time she was a month old, and Biomom still hadn't made contact. Biomom didn't even see the baby until she was 2 months old. By then, it was already over.
Sometime in October the warning lawyer should file paperwork with the court indicating that Biomom can't be found. Then, we'll get a court date for TPR. Then I will breathe a little easier. It will still be hard. Being a parent of a confident toddler is hard.
She's smart and so beautiful, and so strong willed - and her little personality and sense of self is developing so rapidly. She's learning what she can and can't control in her universe, and that has to be frustrating. Heck, it's frustrating for me - and I'm 35.
posted by No Longer In Crisis @ 9/27/2006 04:26:00 PM
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