Tag Archives: foster care adoption

The Gift of Concentration

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Although Athena has not been formally diagnosed, I’m certain she has attention deficit disorder 012like her sister – and practically every child who has been in foster care. Sitting still is not becoming common as it should the older she gets. So we’re using a light weight (bean bag neck warmer) to keep her from jumping around during meals.

The early learning kindergarten program perfectly masks Athena’s lack of concentration. She moves from one activity to another without much investment in anything she does. Next year, I plan to homeschool her. But this year it’s nice to send her off to school on occasion so I can work with Raine.

Still, Athena ends up staying home at least one day a week. The main focus is on concentration. Shortly after she came to me at 20mths of age, the pediatrician said Athena needed to be taught to concentrate. “Put her in a high chair and give her some toys to play with for a little while.” I did. And did things like putting her in the high chair when meals were not quite ready. Athena would have to wait. She also stayed in her high chair when she was done and the rest of the family still ate.

Now, she stays in her room playing Legos each morning while I shower and dress. She’s making necklaces as part of her at home schooling. In addition to concentration, this helps with her fine motor skills which I wonder about sometimes.

I’ve been reading The Believers by Janice Holt Giles. It’s a novel about the early Shaker movement in America. Living communally, each member is given a monthly task – working in the garden, laundry, meal preparations, etc. For a month they devout themselves to this job. Then move on to another posting.

I worry I’m not up to the task of teaching concentration. I bake cookies while doing dishes, watching Dr Phil, and giving instructions on how to create button art (in hopes of occupying the kids for a few minutes). My house is a series of started projects. My room is forever turning into a disaster. I’m not overly organized or great at concentrating.

The Shaker lifestyle is becoming increasingly appealing as I evaluate my own way of doing things. There’s a great deal I disagree with in their theology but I enjoy the concept of being fully devoted to a single task. It’s something I’d like to incorporate into my own life.

Fail as I may, concentration is still a gift I’m working on giving my children and myself.

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Ready to Wait

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In October I handed in all the adoption paperwork. I’d been waiting for my social worker to book a meeting. Apparently, she’d be waiting for the paperwork before booking a meeting. So I dropped it off. She mentioned being busy and that I was at the bottom of her list. I expected to hear from her by now. It’s been 5 months since I handed in the paperwork and one year since we first met about starting the adoption process again. There’s a complicated system that prioritizes some families over others. Just after contacting my adoption worker in November – leaving messages she didn’t respond to – I 026received a letter from the director of the adoption department. The mass mail out encouraged prospective adoptive parents to continue to wait. There was an explanation that priority is given to those willing to adopt older and/or special needs children as well as sibling groups. My adoption worker knows I am open to all three of those categories. I’ve left another message. Maybe she’s completed the other homestudies she had to do and can finally get to mine. 017 In the meantime, I’ve gotten a room ready in case my wildest dreams come true and we really do get a baby or babies. If not I can move the crib/toddler bed out and put in full size beds. For now I’ll keep them up to show we’re ready for babies – even if that’s not what we end up with.

Time Does Not Heal All Wounds

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Raine age 3

Raine age 3

This month marks 4 years since Raine came into my care. It’s something she’s been looking forward to for a very long time. The child, with a depth forced upon her by tragic circumstances, found significance in being with me longer than her birth mother.

But as the specific date draws near, emotions have derailed any positive feelings Raine might have expected. This past Saturday, I witnessed the life we used to live. When Raine’s eyes opened, she started screaming at everyone and about everything imaginable. This went on for nearly an hour in the morning then started again in the afternoon. Come evening she decided her room was unsuitable for sleeping in and that she would “absolutely never be sleeping anywhere near anyone named Athena ever again.”

I wanted to be calm. I wanted to be something other than what I was inside which was just plain fed up. It’s been a long time since life looked like this. How did I make it through that year and a half? “It nearly broke you,” a friend recently informed me. “I don’t think you have any idea how stressed you were.” In truth, I did. But I didn’t realize how evident it was to everyone else. I scraped by – pushing myself to love and embrace my daughter even when I didn’t want to. Occasionally, I shouted back in response to her irrational ranting. Later saying, “I wasn’t shouting just speaking really loud so you could hear me over all the noise you were making.” Raising my voice is something I was incapable of until I became Raine’s mother.

In the midst of the turmoil following the adoption, there was nothing I could do but ride out the storm – keeping my eye on who Raine really was. Under all the anger she heaped on me was a little girl who’d just lost her family forever. It didn’t matter to her that she now had a new one.

Since her room was unsuitable, I somewhat calmly told Raine to get her pillow and blanket. When she did, I marched her down to the basement. With visiting foster children, there were no other rooms available. Despite her pleas for help because “the basement is really creepy” don’t feel the need to pity her. We live in a newer home. The space is mostly finished and nicely put together. Raine was settled on a lovely futon in the warmest area of our home. She was hardly being mistreated, though an hour of screaming would give you an all together different impression.

My latest goal is to stop rewarding bad behaviour with increased attention. But after I got the other kids to bed, I did go down to see her because the screaming was getting on my last nerve.

“I wish someone else had adopted me,” Raine said when she’d calmed down a bit. This was something new. Nearly always in these moments of rage, she wishes to be back with her birth mother. I can understand that. It makes sense and I can stand being compared to an actual person. However, an imaginary perfect family that is happy to hang out with Raine while she screams at them and barks demands is someone I will loose to every time.

A lengthy discussion ensued. Early on, Raine admitted, “Whenever I act like this it’s because I’m thinking about my birth mom.” I acknowledged the pain and fear she’s carrying then assured her there is a way to be free. It will take time. But time alone won’t heal her heart. We’ve walked together for four years. Raine is not the brazen, defiant 3yr old who walked into my house. Most of the time, she’s quick to obey. She’s learned to love and think of others. She’s learned to share – even the tastiest of treats. When she first arrived, if anyone came near her while she was eating Raine would snap. Driven by the memory of lack, she was like a dog with a bone. My friend and I rejoiced the first time the little girl walked home from Tim Horton’s with her timbits. Normally, she’d devour them before they were even paid for. It’s been a gradual transformation caused by Raine’s choice to trust, a great deal of prayer, and my flawed determination. Time alone hasn’t brought her to this point. Time alone will not move Raine to complete healing.

In our conversation, Raine began describing her apprehension. This was the first time she’d ever spoken of it. Never sharing the details I knew, I assumed Raine had forgotten or blocked the memory. Dr. Phil’s warning not to ask children to deal with adult situations ran through my mind as Raine asked me to fill in the details of the vague framework she described. I suppose it’s too late. When apprehended just before age 3, Raine had already experienced more than most adults. She’s overheard social workers discussing details of her life that have left her confused and angry.

WP_000156For instance, she heard her birth family was living somewhere in a hotel. The terms around that word told me it wasn’t a good situation but all Raine heard was hotel. For quite some time she was furious to be stuck with my rules and limitations while she imagined her her family enjoying a Jacuzzi tub, swimming pool, hot tub, sauna, and all you can eat breakfast. She’s been to hotels in Niagara Falls. My friend and I regularly go with all our kids. It’s fun and the rules are lax. Raine really resented being in our dull home while her birth family was living it up in a hotel. Finally I had to paint a clearer picture of where they were.

Saturday evening, I answered the questions and painted some more pictures all the while wondering if it’s right. Honesty feels right. But Raine is 7. I tried, as always, to give her the truth while honouring the parents who brought her into the world. “Your birth mother’s heart is hurt. That stopped her from taking care of you.”

“Why doesn’t she just go to church?” Raine wanted to know. “Does she even know about Jesus? He can help her.”

“She knows about Him. And He’s trying really hard to help her,” I answered. “People have to choose to work with Jesus to heal their hearts. You’re choosing to work with Him. That’s why your heart is so much better than it used to be.”

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This is How it’s Done

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Despite all her progress, Raine still suffers from a great deal of social anxiety. This became overwhelmingly apparent when we visited the pediatrician on September 15, 2014. Normally she’s a little out of hand. But that day she was wild.

That prompted a referral for behaviour therapy. Owing to the fact that I don’t have private health insurance, our case went to the regional government funded organization. In a matter of days, someone contacted me to do an intake interview over the phone. I explained Raine’s history and the issues we’re still dealing with – which are social anxiety and the acting out that comes with that. The courteous woman informed me that, due to limited funding, private therapy was in the process of being done away with. “Group therapy is the direction the organization is heading in. As this services more families in a shorter amount of time.”

“It’s really unpredictable,” my pediatrician warned at our appointment. “You might get someone who is wonderful. You might get a therapist that isn’t really helpful. In which case, just end the treatment.”

Those words put this whole process into perspective. It might be helpful. It might not.

“Group therapy really isn’t going to work,” I told the kind woman on the phone. “Raine is very disruptive. It wouldn’t be a good situation for her or the other participants.”

“Well…….we do have a few one on one therapy options. But the wait will be considerably longer.”

We went with that option. Our intake appointment was booked for December 16, 2014 but the office had to rebook to January 20, 2015.

I explained to Raine where we were going and why the day before our appointment. She woke in a rage and proceeded to have a complete meltdown before breakfast. “I’m not getting dressed! I’m not having breakfast! And we’re not going anywhere!” she shouted as the sun came up. It was frightful as she rolled on the floor growling.

This used to be a daily occurrence. This used to be what our life looked like most of the time. It’s been so long, I’m caught off guard by the occasional slip backwards.

She did get dressed. She did eat breakfast. We did go to the appointment. We arrived a little bit early and the therapist was somewhat late. Raine had time to play in the waiting room and calm herself down.

We were escorted into the one office by the woman who we were scheduled to see. She introduced us to another therapist. We all sat in his office for a few moments. Then it was revealed that I would be staying there to meet with him and Raine would go elsewhere with the lady. Raine was eerily silent in the room while we were all together. This turn of event surprised us both. Reluctantly, she went.

And I thought, This is ridiculous! My child has sever separation anxiety issues. I explained that in the telephone interview. The whole scene was rather awkward and terribly executed. When I spoke to the therapist on the phone to confirm our appointment, she might have let me know this is how it would look. But she did not. And, apparently, this is how it’s done. So that’s what we did.

Perhaps being part of the foster care system makes me exceptionally suspicious. I wondered if the point of interviewing us separately was to fish for “causes of concern” or some sinister secret in our life that is causing her anxiety. I don’t know for certain what the rational behind the separate interview on day one is. The execution certainly left a lot to be desired. Still we did what was required in hopes of accessing the help available.

My interview involved repeating everything I’d said on the phone interview. The man made notes, underlining key items. I recounted what I know of Raine’s birth family, why she came into foster care, how adoption ended up being her fate, etc. He took it all in with detached professionalism. Then one of the standard questions had something to do with “violent images seen in video games or elsewhere.”

The man stopped and started with great alarm when I said, “Raine doesn’t play video games. Her media intake is very limited. She doesn’t have any computer access or anything so I don’t think she’s really seen violent images.”

“She doesn’t have computer access?” he inquired, with alarm.

“No,” I answered, wanting to laugh that this of all the information shared was his greatest cause for concern.

“She must ask for it, though.”

“No, she doesn’t. Raine’s happy to play with toys or draw. I find too much screen time increases her aggression. She watches movies some, but doesn’t use the computer.” The fact that she doesn’t ask for computer access seemed to console him somewhat. We moved on. That statement – no computer access – was written down and underlined.

At the end of our interview I was informed of the process moving forward. The gentleman will write up a report. The lady who interviewed Raine will write up a report. It will take at least 4 weeks to do so. Then, based on the report, someone, somewhere, will somehow decide on a therapist to see us for treatment. Then we will go on that therapist’s wait list. All of this, obviously, takes time. If Raine’s needs become more pressing, I was encouraged to call and they will see about speeding up the process. (Perhaps Raine’s lack of computer access will speed things up.)

Aside from that, the situation is hardly pressing. Raine is doing the best she has since her arrival nearly four years ago. There’s still some lingering issues that it would be helpful to resolve.

The gentleman escorted me to the room where Raine was being interviewed. The therapist informed me that my daughter didn’t want to go home at all. And I started to worry. Despite the finality of legal adoption, despite nearly four years together, there’s still a lingering fear of loss. It’s something that plagues Raine as well. She worries that one day she’ll once again be apprehended and lose me the way she lost her first mother.

I smiled and encouraged Raine to come along “because it’s nearly lunch time and I’m sure you’re getting hungry.”

The therapist quickly told me, “I said she could finish drawing the picture she’s working on. I think it’s important for her to complete it. She’s working very hard.”

003I’m terrible at small talk. I sat where I was told to. The woman made a few comments about Raine, I responded warmly. But resisted being drawn in. I worried about what Raine had said. There’s absolutely nothing that would ever warrant her being apprehended by child protective services. But we didn’t exactly have a great morning. She wasn’t really happy with me for bringing her there. At times, Raine can put a nasty spin on the truth. I suddenly felt insecure and wondered if I really am failing.

When Raine completed her picture. The therapist walked us, through many locked doors, out to the waiting room. “I’m really glad to have met you,” she said with surprising sincerity. “It was great to get to know you.” I took a deep breath. Maybe Raine didn’t paint such a bad picture.

Fulfillment

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This time last year, in a moment of reflection, the word that landed in my heart for 2014 was fulfillment. Today 2014 draws to a close, I’m pausing to reflect. It has indeed been a year of fulfillment.

For me, adopting is something God put in my heart as a child. It came to pass in a rather difficult manner that left me feeling doubtful. Having already been with me a year and a half, the finality of adoption sent Raine into a tailwind of grief. As she came to grips with the reality of loosing her birth family and the last name she was born with, I became the target for all her anger. There were times Raine actually accused me of stealing her from her birth mother. We reviewed the reality of how she came to me many times. It’s a sad story to accept – parents unable to care for you properly. Her grief was real and complex.
I never regretted my choice to adopt her, but questioned my ability to parent her. Maybe the couple the adoption worker had wanted to place her with could do this better – with more grace, more patience, more joy. Maybe. Maybe not. It’s useless to ponder because I challenged the adoption worker’s decision and won. On dark days, I would reread the final verdict from the review panel. They were sure I was the right parent for Raine and Athena. So often I needed an infusion of certainty.
This past year Raine has settled in – accepting her fate with joy. She’s now at peace most of the time. Overall, our encounters are positive. Homeschooling is often fun instead of a daily struggle.
“Your girls are so peaceful,” a friend recently remarked. She knows it wasn’t always that way. After being away most of 2014, my friend is experiencing the final product after seeing us at our worst in the midst of 2013.
This is the reality of adoption. Change is possible. Healing can happen. But coming together as a family is a process – especially when we’re starting from a place of brokenness.
Growing up with the dream of adopting, the Lord often called me to a place of prayer. As a teen and young adult I would spend hours praying into the children who would one day be mine. Often I read the story of John the Baptist’s birth in Luke 1. I’ve always loved John’s determination. He went against the flow – a direction I often find myself going in.

And the child grew and became strong in spirit….(Luke 1:80) I often prayed over the children who would come. That seemed to be the key – being strong in spirit. I knew then and know now that in myself, I can’t fix the many issues. I can’t take away the real pain of loss. I can’t wipe away rejection. There are things I can do to help. I can be a place of comfort, encouragement, and stability. There are things I can do and try to do consistently to ease the discomfort. But in the end, it’s the God of all creation who can bring healing. Knowing that, I prayed fervently for the day that I live in now.
As a teen and young adult, I could pray for hours at a time. I could delve into the Scriptures and discover His plans. Now as a single mom, I don’t have that kind of time. But I’m reaping the benefits of those prayers.
Not long ago, I was reading the Christmas story from the gospel of Luke. Raine kept trying to interrupt. I wouldn’t let her speak until we’d completed the section on John the Baptist’s birth – ending with the verse about growing and becoming strong in spirit.
“When I turn 10 we’re going to celebrate by taking a break from eating for three days. We’ll just pray all day and maybe all night. You and me, and Athena if she wants to do it,” Raine announced what was burning in her heart while I read to hear about John the Baptist. Her idea came from her spirit and she didn’t even have the word for it – fasting. That discipline has not been part of my life since Raine and Athena entered it. Nor is it something I’ve explained. All of a sudden, I remembered the years of prayer.
In those times of prayer, the Lord showed me my children following Him passionately in every stage of life. Raine embraces the things of God with fervency. She longs to understand more and more. Her spirit is strong and growing everyday.
DSC_8033This past year has been one of fulfillment. The daily battles, the discouragement, and the exertion of effort has given way to peace and joy. The dream I had of being a mom was technically fulfilled in 2012. But only in this past year have I reaped the joy of that relationship. There have been highs and lows, but in 2014 I’ve been able to enjoy my calling as a mom more often than not.
The theme for my church has been the year of the harvest. I am now seeing the harvest of the prayers I planted so very long ago. And I am reaping the rewards of the investment I made in Raine from the beginning. Even in the darkest times (after regrouping), I chose to return to her with love.
“It took so long because God knew Athena and I needed to be with you. He made sure you waited for us,” Raine said when I explained how long I’d waited to become a mom.
He knew. He knew how difficult it would be. He knew the joy on the other side. He knew I would be too tired and discouraged in the midst of our family’s formation to really pull on heaven. He knew. Existing outside of time, He held those prayers – releasing their fulfillment at the appointed times.
 
…You know with all your heart and soul that not one of all the good promises the Lord your God gave you has failed. Every promise has been fulfilled; not one has failed.
Joshuah 23:14
The Lord promised me a family full of love and joy. This year I saw the fulfillment of that promise. It’s been hard but He’s been faithful. Though many times I fall short as a parent, He has not failed.
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photos courtesy of Shannon Guiler