Vodka goes in the freezer

You can learn a lot from a 6 year old foster daughter.

 A few days ago H (my son- 12yrs old, almost 13) asked if he could have a glass of cranberry juice with his dinner and as he's pouring it, Big A informs him that vodka goes in cranberry juice. Oh yay, now H will have something fun to share with his friends. Great. It actually wasn't the first time I'd heard her say that but now that her speech is clearer it's harder to miss the inappropriate things she says. I interjected and said that vodka is actually not for kids but that juice alone is ok and closed the subject, or so I thought.  We don't drink alcohol very often at all but I got a bottle of vodka recently to go with some grapefruit and cranberry juices I bought because it sounded good! (Plus having 3 kids just makes me want --need?-- to drink sometimes. Don't judge.) Mind you, I do not talk about drinking alcohol and I keep it out of reach and put away up in a high cabinet. For the sake of time I decided to put the vodka next to the juice in the fridge. No sooner had I done so, I hear "Vodka goes in the freezer."  I hadn't said anything about it being a bottle of vodka but obviously she had seen one before and knew what it was. A tiny little blond girl knows what a specific type of alcohol bottle looks like and knows what to mix it with. Maybe she'll be a fabulous bartender someday?

And at least she's not telling the dog to get out of her f*&%ing way anymore... (yep, she did that in the first few weeks she was here. She also acted like a wild monkey in many ways, because she pretty much was, due to some pretty severe neglect and isolation but I'll post more on that another time...) I have to seek out the humor in our lives right now, otherwise it's just overwhelmingly depressing because we don't know what's going to happen in the future of these girls. Plus things are just hard and challenging a lot of the time and if I don't laugh I'll cry. I have a huge list of challenges that we deal with on a very regular basis but one that relates to this post so far is the hyper-vigilance that Big A carries around with her everywhere. She is kind of like a puppy around the house and follows me everywhere. She always is asking where everyone is (immediate family members that aren't home in the moment) and wants to know what they are doing and she always asks me what I'm doing whether it's obvious or not. She calls out for me if I leave the room. She won't really allow herself to be in a room alone unless it's bedtime or quiet time. She also can't really sit down and focus on a task or play with a toy or game for more than a couple of minutes. She will watch TV for as long as I let her and so I have to limit myself, as it's the only way to get anything done around here!

If I get to the car before her and open the door first she panics until she can get her door open and get in the car. Once we park she immediately asks if I'll open her door (child locks are on) because she's worried I am going to leave her in the car. She's also always worried that I'm going to leave her home alone and is usually a little panicked when we are headed out the door and outside to the car. I'll also say, she's not verbal about these fears and worries. It's taken a long time to figure out what causes her to freak out. I now know more or less her list of worries and that has helped a lot.

She also asks "Why?" to everything I say. She used to say "What?" to everything I said, wanting me to repeat it back. When I stopped repeating she eventually stopped saying "what?" thank goodness! And her first answer to questions and instructions is "no." Every time. Even if it's something she wants or likes she will almost always say no first, then yes. I like to call her Major Contradictor. I admit, she is a tough nut and hard to like sometimes. She doesn't want to be here, she thinks her abusive and neglectful parents walk on water and does not understand at all why she can't be with them. Up until recently she didn't even like to refer to me as her "foster mom" and would always instantly correct anyone who referred to me as her mom. Now that she understands the term "foster mom" a little more she is more open to it but it has to be that specific and will not let anything else slide. I wonder if it's an instinctual thing, to cling to your parents no matter how neglectful and abusive they are?  Like in caveman days, the little caveman children would follow their parents along so they could be fed and kept alive. An instinct of survival.

I actually think that watching her little sister bond with us has helped her to be more open to us emotionally and she is able to trust us more which is nice to see. She is by no means a "monster child" (said for the benefit of my foster mom friend L :) and does have a very sweet side which is so very nice to see when she's willing to share it. She is starting to trust but she still watches my every move and asks me why I'm doing things. I'd give you an example but it really is anything and everything you could think of. And she likes to tell me what she thinks I'm doing wrong. And those are usually funny. Like vodka goes in the freezer... :)

Today

My friend M encouraged me to just write and don't post chronologically (I had to use spell-check to get that right!) and I'm taking her advice. I think that's part of why I haven't blogged is because I used to journal and then sit down and copy it here. All in order, nice and tidy. Since I don't deal with tidy anymore (I'm changing diapers again people!) I'll just toss my old ways.

I don't journal anymore because my brain is too fried at the end of the day! I bought a new, shiny, cute little journal months and months ago and it sits empty and blank on my bedside table. I look at it, if that counts! But usually that makes me feel guilty about not writing so I just don't even look at it most of the time. I'm pretty sure it has a fine coat of dust to keep it company. It hasn't started whispering to me yet so I take that as a sign that i'm still mostly sane, just too lazy and unmotivated to write. Yay me!

So here I am, with 2 little girls. Sisters. I'll call them Big A (6 yrs. old) and Little A (2 yrs.old) here for the sake of privacy. We are well into the easier stretch, past the honeymoon and it's being over and the crap that goes with that. A peace has come with school starting and implementing a very predictable schedule. Finally. I really thought I wouldn't be able to do it for much longer, they were very high needs at first and being that we didn't have much experience with this, it was hard-- In a much different way than fostering has been hard in the past. This young age is a lot different and both girls have a lot of difficulty with communication and that has been a big problem. But we are all figuring each other out and that is comforting.

Today they have been here 5 months. It's a bittersweet time because we have worked hard for and established some consistency for them and so they are a little happier, a lot healthier, and making up for lost time on so many fronts. Too be honest they are two completely different kids from the ones that showed up on our doorstep. I'll talk about that more in another post, or two or three. It's a big story. Their improvement is the sweet part. I think the bitter part is the fact that there is talk of returning them "home" (a very relative term. In this case it means back to their birth parents who did not take good care of them) by the end of the year. And that fact in itself is also bittersweet (maybe I should change the name of this post?) because sometimes they are just. so. hard. We are at a point where if we get too much more attached to these little gals, it's gonna get way harder emotionally.

I can feel the turning point and it's now, today, last week, next week, tomorrow, I'm not sure. We've tried to create a safe and secure life for them and intertwined our hearts in the process and they thrive here even as they long for their parents who didn't care for them. It's so darn painful to watch. Can I use that word again, Bittersweet?

I should blog

So even my dad is asking me to blog so I probably should. I have 5 months of fostering to catch up on and am a little overwhelmed by the idea of documenting everything because it is ALOT! Just wanted to share that i will be getting started soon. Maybe this post will be a good start. I'm just so far behind! Ugh! I have no point to this post other than some motivation for myself by typing a few sentences... Who's listening here? (just wondering...)

On we go

I'm just going to admit now that I've been in a funk. I've avoided writing because it's painful and often scary to share my thoughts and feelings. But today, in this new year, hopefully I can convince myself to consistently write. It's what I really need even though it's not always what I want.

The good news is we have healed and rested and are ready to foster again. My great fear was that we were done and that just didn't feel right to me. It felt like the abandonment of a dream, the loss of purpose in our lives. But time heals all wounds. I feel like we learned SO much and have lowered our expectations. I also feel like the lowering of expectations isn't always a bad thing. In our case, it will just make things easier and still fulfill our goal of helping kids. We aren't so concerned about the whole adoption thing. If it happens great, if it doesn't, fine. We just want to put ourselves out there and see what comes along. We've done a little respite care which is basically babysitting for other foster parents and that has been nice.

I'm going to copy from my journal an entry that I wrote a couple months ago. I want to make clear that we aren't some big religious family. I was raised going to church and my husband wasn't. Over the years I've done my fair share of questioning everything that I was ever taught growing up and I think I've settled into a good place. We found a church we really like that is all about helping the community. Ironically enough over the years they have become big advocates for fostering and adoption and I think that has kept our chins up through all the doubts we've had in our foster care experiences...

Each Sunday as I sit in church I find myself feeling that conviction (such a "church" word) to foster children. I just can't shake this feeling that there's a child out there meant for us. One that will be a perfect fit. I don't mean that it will be easy. No, taking in a broken child is never easy. But I just feel like God has a plan, and that child will make his or her way home. To OUR home. And his or her life will be changed for the better and we will just know that it's right. I don't want to give up on that dream. The loss of that dream weighs heavy on my heart. What if we miss it? What if we wait too long? What if we've already waited too long and that child is gone? Lost. Maybe K was it. We've certainly lost her. I feel a hole was left and that it's meant to be filled again. And the longer we sit and mourn that loss, the longer the next child must wait. All these children sit and wait. They waited through abuse and neglect and they wait to be loved. Most give up. I feel responsible in a way. How many kids gave up today? That little light in their eyes puffed out because they just couldn't take it anymore? I feel like not giving our home, our hearts, we are in essence taking away from what they deserve. Just a home, just a family who loves them. This basic right so many of us take for granted. I know it's not everyone's "calling" to be foster parents. But I do believe it's mine and right now as I go through my simple life that's quiet and slow, I feel sad. If you don't have a purpose to your life, what do you have? I guess I just don't feel like I'm living...

So obviously I was feeling a little dramatic when I wrote that but it felt good to get it out on paper. I have felt a little lost lately. Like I'm a bump on a log and writing this stuff helps motivate me. By nature I am a very lazy person. Although I think that laziness is fueled by depression. Or vice versa? That's frustrating.

unhappily ever after

I would like to say that things are ok; that K was offered rehab and jumped at the opportunity to straighten out her life. But no, things are not ok. K ran away, literally ran out the door and out of our lives the moment she found out she was headed back to the group home. We sat and watched her go and were bewildered by the look of uncertainty on the faces of the social workers who asked us to surprise her with the news. It hit me later that they have no idea what they are doing. (I can sometimes be slow on the uptake.) It was like slow motion watching them look at each other and then discuss the idea of going after her. They walked out the door and up the street a bit, coming back moments later saying they didn't see her. Pardon my lack of refinement here but "No shit you didn't see her. She was RUNNING!" I said that it my head but wanted to scream it. Helpless, scared, angry, relieved, guilty, numb... My emotions were roiling and almost two weeks later they still are.

We were told that she is no longer our problem and that it is not our job to look for her. We packed up her things and they will be put into storage presumably along with the sparse belongings of other runaway foster kids. Most kids get moved around with their belongings stuffed into garbage bags. That's how K moved in and I couldn't bear to pack her things that way. I used boxes, plastic bins and some suitcases. I thought it would make me feel better, to pack it all up and end the chapter. But she hasn't returned and we are left without any type of closure whatsoever. I'm sad, I'm depressed, I'm angry, I'm worried. Everything she owns still sits in her room waiting for the social worker to pick up --it's almost like an open wound in a morbidly over-dramatic way... And the reality is K probably won't come back to retrieve her things. She's been on the run before and knows how to survive with the clothes on her back and help from friends. She changes friends often though and I can't imagine that living this way is really any way to live. Hopefully she just gets tired of it before she gets into too much trouble.

When the social workers returned a few minutes later from their "chase" or "search" or whatever it could pathetically be called, they told us to call the police to report her missing. They also recommended that we have her phone turned off immediately and that we change the locks on our doors. There was worry that she may be angry enough to come back and cause trouble. We have a security system on our house that we installed because K was consistently sneaking out at night. We eventually became so frustrated with her lies, broken promises and lack of regard for her safety and ours that we had a system installed on all our windows and doors. We were finally able to sleep at night knowing K was safe inside and our home was locked up tight. For months I had lain awake at night wondering if K was in her bed with the window locked or had she sliced through the screen again and left without even closing the window behind her. I was so sleep deprived that for awhile I felt like I had when my son was a baby and woke me up several times a night. -Delirious, cranky, and exhausted. Not a good combination for maintaining sanity, especially when trying to survive along side a troubled teenager. Anyway, though we now had the security system it still didn't help with our peace of mind. We were told she could possibly come back and seek some sort of revenge and we were freaked out.

When the police officer arrived to file the missing person report, his lack of interest was clear. Halfway through asking questions he received another call and he jumped at the chance to leave, saying he'd call us soon. A seventeen year old runaway in the foster care system is unfortunately not top priority. I am sure that file is sitting in a stack somewhere and will only be looked at if K does something to get into trouble with the police. That is really the only way we can hope it works out. She currently has warrants pending for uncompleted community service. If she's found by police she'll be held in juvenile detention (again) and then placed in a group home (again) and be placed on probation (again) instead of rehab which she needs most. I'm tired of writing this story. It's just too sad on so many different levels...

The day she ran I got a call from the social workers in the morning saying they had gone to the school to pick her up but she wasn't there. Not a surprise to me but I was surprised by a text from K asking for money to go to a movie. (Have I mentioned the fact that by now I don't believe a word she says?) That teenage (and probably stoned) brain didn't register that 1. I hadn't given her much money directly besides a small allowance since she'd stopped taking the drug and alcohol tests we'd requested of her. 2. She hadn't done any of her chores that week and 3. She hadn't attended any of her classes that day. Seriously, I wanted to shake her and say REALLY!!?? The social worker told me they were planning on removing her from our home that day and I was to try to get her there without mentioning that fact. I texted K back asking what time she wanted the money. She said told me and I said I'd be home then. K hadn't spent much time at home besides to sleep for the past month or so. It was rare for her to return home in between the time school let out (though she rarely actually went to class) and her 9pm weeknight curfew. When she did it was usually just for a few minutes to change or grab something to eat. She hadn't joined us for a family meal in quite a few weeks.

When K walked in the door she was flummoxed. She practically babbled, standing there with her mouth hanging open unable to comprehend why the social workers were there, H was home way early from work and I wasn't standing there waiting cash in hand to fund her "movie" (again, REALLY??!!). She was asked to sit down and listen and she did. This reeked of an episode of "Intervention" just without the wonderful opportunity for rehab or anything that would actually help her. She was confused and unsure of what to expect. The social worker mentioned that things hadn't been going well lately to which K agreed. H and I, who had spent the past hour trying not to hyperventilate, took turns explaining that this had been an extremely painful decision and that we were very worried about her, she needed more help than what we were able to provide. "This isn't working for you or for us," we said. We told her that if our birth son was struggling we would do everything possible to get him help. We told her we love and care for her but that she could no longer stay with us. She stood up and asked where she was being taken. When the social worker moved to block the doorway she told K that she would be going back to her former group home. K pushed her out of the way and ran. She hasn't returned and we are left without any type of closure whatsoever. I'm sad, I'm depressed, I'm angry, I'm worried. I'm also troubled by this question: Why would we ever want to do this again? Not only is K a victim in this broken system but so are we.

PS:

My 16 yr. old, sweet cat Buster went missing about a week after K left. Coincidence? Maybe. She had really liked him and called him her boyfriend. Since she has a history of stealing from us I wouldn't put this past her at all and at the same time I really want to think that I'm wrong and just being paranoid. The very hard part is that I really don't know at all where either of them are. K was with us for 10 months and I do feel a loss, but I've had Buster for 13 years. That loss is so much more painful, not only because he has been with me for so long but because he loves me.

A tragic love story--Part 3

By the end of that first meeting, we looked around at everyone ("Team K" we eventually named the group), and asked when we could meet her. There was a collective relief felt round the table. Shoulders relaxed as they realized this meeting had not been yet another wasted hour of their time. I can't even imagine how many meetings these social workers sit through along with prospective foster parents that end in shaking heads and no responses. We where IN and ready to go. We wanted her.

Waiting anxiously to hear when we could meet her, I got a call a few days later asking how our decision-making was going and did we have any questions. I guess they just didn't believe us. I assured the social worker that yes, we want to meet K as soon as we can.

And now, as I sit here today I recall my conversation with that same social worker last week. "How soon can you take her?" We are calling it quits. We want her out before it gets worse. I have to think that if our birth son was consistently and increasingly skipping most of his classes, not taking his medications prescribed by a psychiatrist, doing drugs and drinking, had stolen from us, disregarded house rules on a constant basis, and was being disrespectful toward us in the way that K has been for months, that we would have him out of our home and in rehab as fast as we could.

We've made the decision not to wait and see how things go any longer because we can see that they are not going well. In fact we have allowed this to drag out too long. We can continue to sit and wait or we can help her along to rock bottom by kicking her out. We can let her bring us down with her and ruin any desire for us to ever foster again or we can take a break for awhile, stand back up, brush ourselves off and think about the possibilities of trying to help other kids.

They've already asked us to hold on for another week until they can plan a meeting. Nope, we're done. Find a place that can take her and hopefully help her and come get her before she goes down big. And I just have a feeling that if we get to that point it will be a scary place. In the meantime we sit and wait and hope for the best. For the county, a foster home is cheaper than rehab and that is what K so desperately needs. We've learned a simple thing. We are not rehab. This was a big experiment gone wrong. We are a tragic love story with an unhappy ending. A loving family can obviously only get her so far. She cannot love herself if she is abusing drugs and alcohol. And if she does not love herself she certainly can't love us. Not matter how much love and care we try to give to her.

Sadly, I still have no answers on how to fix all that is broken; these kids, this system, and foster parents like us who have tried to help in the poorest of circumstances. Did we fail? I don't think so. We tried to show her what a normal, stable, loving home looks like. And in that sense I believe we succeeded.

A tragic love story -Part 2

We have been in the foster care system for several years now. Sometime soon I'll post the story of how we got into this business (we're crazy??!!) but for now I'll just explain that it's a long tedious process involving a home study where they put you under a microscope, ask about all your dirty little secrets and to also empty out all the skeletons in your closet (enough cliche's there?). It's not the most fun process and also involves re-certifications each year. They have to weed out all the freaks and serial killers. We passed their inspections and we waited. See, we wanted to adopt a little girl. There was sure to be a little girl out there, ages 4-8 who needed a home right? It proved to be much more complicated that we thought and so we decided to do an emergency placement for a 7 year old girl who was removed from her drug abusing mother. They called us desperate because although they knew we wanted a girl who was legally free, they had exhausted their emergency list and hoped we would cave which we did...We had her for 3 months before she was returned to her father. It was emotional roller coaster (notice a trend?) but we learned a lot (again that damn trend...) and decided to do something absolutely insane and foster a teenager. At the time it seemed like a good idea. I still stand by my stance that these kids are forgotten and they need help. We decided to give it a try.

So back to my tragic love story...
Around the same time that K was asking her social worker for a new placement, we had called social services letting them know that we were tired of waiting for a little girl who was legally free to adopt and we had interest in providing a home to a teenage girl. I had been reading about how disposable teens are in the system, especially older one's who age out at 18. (I really need to stay away from non-fiction. There are certain topics that get me too riled up.) Most of them end up on the street or in jail or back with their parents who abused and neglected them. We knew that there would be a large group of kids that we would not be able to take into our home. Because of our young son we had some parameters. She had to want to be in our home. We didn't want to create chaos from the beginning by taking in a habitual runaway. K had never attempted to run away from the group home. She ran away from her mother's home to avoid abuse. Since then she had mostly thrived and shown promise in a stable environment. She was sweet, caring, smart, funny and quite charming. Not to mention absolutely beautiful with a captivating smile. Besides wanting to be in our home, we were looking for a girl who wanted to be a good big sister to our son. K again fit this mold. She had left behind a younger brother around our son's age whom she had practically raised herself and dearly missed. We also said that we didn't want any active drug or alcohol use or abuse to take place in our home. Although K had recently had a slip with alcohol use, it was attributed to the fact that living in the group home was causing her to experience depression and act out in negative ways. When we got the call about K the week after letting them know about our change of status, they were excited to tell us about her. She fit our list of criteria. She had made some mistakes but just needed help. A stable home to take her in and give her what was lacking from the group home, and especially her birth family-- unconditional love. And what a match, because we had so much to give!

We started getting phone calls daily from the placement worker (social worker who assists in finding families for specific kids) ans she set up a meeting to involve K's team: the group home director, K's social worker, our resource worker (our family's personal social worker), K's GAL (attorney), K's probation officer, and K's therapist. We had been able to hear a relatively complete background on K from her social worker prior to that first meeting so we weren't really surprised by much of the negative things they had to say about her. In fact, we were surprised that they had many more positive things to say. Each person at the table was excited to tell us about what a great girl she was. And looking back I don't believe that anyone was trying to deceive us. They were open and honest about K's problems but were also optimistic that she just needed a loving family to lead her on her way to a life she deserved. Her GAL said the most touching words that day and we knew right then that everyone around the table just wanted to try and help this girl. "We have failed her and I am ashamed," he said. He didn't believe that K was a girl meant to live in a group home and her potential was being wasted there. He thanked us for our consideration and expressed his happiness for this possible opportunity for K.

Our big question for everyone at that meeting was if she is as great as everyone says, why is she in a group home and not already in a foster home? The answer was simply that most foster homes aren't willing to take in teens. At the time, I just could not understand this. These children are discarded by their parents who either aren't able or aren't willing to take care of them and our society shuns them, putting them in various institutions only to turn them out when they are considered legal adults at age 18. And for these kids, 18 isn't anywhere close to adulthood. They are sent out with little or no direction or help of any kind. This is not ok with me! This system is broken. We need to step up and help. These are children for god's sake. Children who had absolutely no say in who they are born to and no choices at all in who cares for them. The only choice they have is who to love and sadly by the time their parents are finished with them and they are forced into this broken system, most of these kids become incapable of giving or receiving love.

We found this out the hard way. I hate to ruin the end for you but our love story ends with broken hearts.

A tragic love story -Part 1

"I'm done." I called K's social worker and greeted her with those words. "You're done," she replied. Not a question in her voice but a statement. The relief of knowing that she instantly understood the exact meaning of my few words was huge, but even bigger was the sadness I felt after uttering those words. I started out with such a big heart in all this but as I look back on the past year I feel it's shrunk a little. Luckily it is not broken yet and a little time for healing will sure help. More posts to come soon but here's the first installment:

Ten months ago we met a girl named K. She was 16 years old and had been living in a group home for girls for the previous six months. She ended up there after running away from home to get away from the abusive man that her mother was dating. Her mom took that opportunity to move out of the state. K was just 15 years old then and went "on the run" with her drug-dealing teenage boyfriend. Months later they were pulled over by police, the car was searched, drugs were found and the boyfriend was carted off to jail. With no parent to claim her K was put in a detention center for underage criminals where she spent two weeks before her mother was located and gave permission for her to be transferred to the group home. K wasn't a criminal necessarily but she had struggled with drug and alcohol abuse issues most of her teenage life so by 16 she was in dire need of rehab, but rehab is expensive. She went to live with ten or so other girls with varying degrees of traumatic histories. Some girls had stories similar to K's but most were much worse. Most were from terminated adoptions meaning they were probably in the foster care system from an early age, eventually adopted and then abused or neglected again in their adoptive homes where they were then removed. It's a place for the unwanted. Girls here cut themselves, scream in their sleep if they sleep at all, physically, emotionally and verbally abuse themselves, the staff, and each other. It is not a fun place, often not a safe place and certainly not a place anyone would want to call home. These girls are broken and most are deemed unfix-able. They have experienced the worst abuses from the hands of those meant to care for them.

But sometimes a girl will surprise the staff. She'll surprise her social worker and her attorney and her teachers. K quickly exceeded expectations of the group home. They implement a "levels" system allowing the girls extra privileges and freedoms as they show competency with their assigned chores, completed school work, attitudes and interactions with others. She was doing everything they asked including making excellent grades. She had never done this before in her mother's care. This was a sweet kid who's mother had neglected her and then abandoned her and she was now thriving in a structured environment.

K had been in the group home for five months and was starting to stumble. She had found a job at a fast food restaurant up the road and was out of the house a lot working and still maintaining her good grades and keeping up with the house expectations and had earned certain freedoms. She came home drunk one night and the police were called. She was given a ticket for underage drinking resulting in a fine and community service. She was accused of stealing something from another girl in the house but nothing could be proved so she was eventually presumed innocent. She was caught trespassing with another girl on the property of a nearby business and was given a ticket for that as well. She became depressed and stopped caring about her exemplary standing in the house. She began to push away staff she was close to as well as friends she had made in the house. She called her social worker for help. It's possible she called her and used words similar to those I just used. "I'm done," was the gist of what she said as she pleaded for help. Her social worker, focused on the fact that K had been doing so well previously, suggested the possibility of a foster home placement. K said she would take whatever she could get. "Just get me out of here," was her sentiment.

Confession

The feedback I have received has been enormous, comforting, enlightening, and also surprising! Thanks for the emails, messages, phone calls, and posts. I truly wish I had started this blog months ago. I want to share why I didn't.

I haven't been very open about our home life with family and friends lately and I regret that. In the beginning I didn't share because I wanted to protect K's privacy and was worried she would be judged, we would be judged, and that people wouldn't support our efforts to continue to stick with her. She was sneaking out of the house at night, skipping classes, using drugs and alcohol, stealing, lying, struggling with the pain of her birth mom withholding visits from her little brother, and she had lots of anxiety and depression surrounding all those things. Then as time went by I simply felt we were failing miserably. I was scared the social workers were going to think us unfit and fire us. I was embarrassed. I was sad. I tend to withdraw when I'm sad and so I didn't talk to anyone except my husband about how hard things were or about how I felt.

He's an amazing husband and dad by the way. I truly feel that this experience has drawn us closer together. We are a unified front (most of the time ;) and are each other's parenting cheerleaders. He has been able to relate to K on so many different levels and has been able to show me a different perspective when I was feeling so frustrated, or hurt, or angry. I could never in a million years do this without him. He is my rock in all this.

I know to some it looked like we were hiding things and  I guess to an extent we were. All that did was alienate us from our friends and make us feel even more alone. I think what moved me to allow such a distance to grow was that I feared that question "How much will you be able to take before you give up on her?" I feared hearing it and above all I feared having to answer it. We are now facing some bottom lines and that is a scary place but also empowering and along with a sense of relief has come strength. I do think we can make this work, I do feel like we can be a family (maybe not the one we thought about starting out but a loving family still) and I know that we can't do it without the love and support of our friends and family. Thanks to all of you who have reached out with words as well as deeds. It means more to us that you know.

Push us away so you can't be hurt by our love

So I've never written in a blog before and I figured the easiest way to get started would be to copy some of my recent journal entries. I usually only journal when I'm upset and trying to figure things out so unfortunately I'm not starting out sharing at a very happy time. But it will give you a glimpse of my life and force me to be open about what I'm going through. And sharing your deepest darkest thoughts and feelings is therapeutic right??

I probably should give some background. K has been with us since December, so 9 months. She just turned 17 and oh, what where we thinking? We wanted to give a safe, loving home to someone who didn't have one. We've been dabbling in the foster/adoption scene and have seen and heard a lot. Teenagers in the system are neglected and forgotten, most of them sit in group homes till they are 18 and then turn to the streets. That is unacceptable to me. Why not try to save one? At least try. So here I go. Kind of starting backwards here at month 9 but I'll take some time in future posts to start from the beginning.

Whew, deep breath.....

     It's hard to love someone who considers herself unlovable. Damn near impossible really. How far can she push us away till it gets to the point where we can't take it anymore? Is it worth the trouble to get to that point? Won't she show us how completely ugly she can be until we can't even look her in the face anymore? I'm beginning to be unable to feel sympathy. I guess that's what she wants. To push us away so that she can't be hurt by our love. It's so hard not to take it personally though. I think that's my biggest problem. And then I obsess, lose sleep, don't eat. The social workers say: Set rules, uphold consequences and at the same time show that we love and care for her. WAY easier said than done. I feel like half the time I can barely breathe in her presence. What is it that I fear? Loss. I fear the loss of her will to fight. To get herself out of this mess, this hole she has dug. But the truth is we are living this fear. She is losing herself to the life that her birth mother cut out for her. She is fulfilling the prophecy of what her mother has wished upon her through her abandonment. I want to save her from this. And I expect her to want to save herself, but is she capable? I want to believe that she is but time and time again I am utterly disappointed. Lying, stealing, ditching school, and throwing away opportunity after opportunity. I'm just disgusted. She's no longer beautiful to me. I'm haunted by the girl she could become, by the girl I want her to be. But if she does not want to be that girl then what more can I do? I can emulate a caring, loving mother but if she is bent on the destruction of our relationship then who is the fool? The one who tries and fails (me!). Or more appropriately the one who didn't get the freaking hint (me!). Do I just love her through all her pain and ugliness? Yes! But how???

I want to think of her as mine but part of me doesn't want her the way she is. She's broken and prickly and painful. And when she walked in the door she wore a disguise. A smile and sweetness. I know, we should have been prepared. But stupidly, I feel cheated. Expectations create painful situations sometimes. And it's so easy to make mistakes. Have we done anything right? Doesn't feel like it. There are always so many more questions than answers.