Today is Evan's birthday. It's my nature to be reflective - not to analyze, if only, then there might be a purpose in it - to remember and ruminate, and sometimes to learn. So on the kids' birthdays, and adoption days I think back...
Before Evan was born, when I was five months pregnant, Eli was eighteen months old, and Fred was four we were called to take an emergency placement for two brothers: T was 10, and C was 7. An emergency placement means that the kids were removed from their home without warning or preparation, that the county did not know the whole story, our agency knew even less, and we were told next to nothing. We knew that the older child had some sort of disability, that court would be scheduled for the next week, and that both boys needed to be enrolled in school.
A county case worker brought the boys to our house, and when she saw Eli and Fred seemed surprised and remarked that she hadn't been told that we had children. That comment should have raised some concern, but it got lost in the shuffle of welcoming the boys into the house and the exchange of some information about the upcoming court hearing. We were assured that the placement would be very short-term, but that we should go ahead and enroll at least the younger brother in school. Since T, the big brother, had Down Syndrome, we were told not to worry about getting him into school as it would take longer to have the necessary documents transferred.
The first day or two went okay, we were able to set a routine and some boundaries. But we did not have much experience in caring for a child like T; he was almost non-verbal (most of the words he used were foul anyway, so it might have been a blessing), was easily frustrated, and became aggressive. Once he became comfortable, he was resistant to bed-time, refusing to go to and stay in his bedroom with his brother. He was also a large child, and so it was difficult to 'make' him stay anywhere he didn't want to.
We found that coloring with crayons seemed to be a calming activity, until he began to throw the crayons. It was on Saturday, so Stan was home. I took the crayons away and put them on top of the refrigerator; this frustrated T even more and he picked up a cup and threw it at me. At that point I took Fred and Eli and we went to our bedroom while I left Stan with T and C to call the agency on-call worker. The worker arrived, and having no information about the boys or the placement, and seeing that T had calmed down, and since it was a weekend, the worker left an hour later leaving us to think that this was an isolated incident - and if not, we could handle whatever might happen until Monday.
The next morning was Sunday, we got up and ready for church. I don't remember what, but something didn't suit T so he began a tantrum that included cursing, yelling, and throwing things. We decided that I would take the other boys to church and Stan would stay home with T and call the agency again. When we arrived home after church, the worker was there and this time T was still visibly agitated. Again the case worker talked about how we could handle these situations and told us to call the office the next morning. I and the boys were in the livingroom as he walked out with Stan. That was enough time for T to see me, get his hands on my neck and push me onto the sofa. I yelled for Stan and he and the case worker came back in time to see what was happening. Apparently this was enough for the worker to decide that T could not stay in our home. Phone calls were made and T left with the case worker for placement in a residential program where his needs would be better met.
When the county case worker followed up with us on Monday, she said she wasn't surprised that T had needed to be moved, that she was surprised that our agency would have placed him with us since, due to his violent history, it was unsafe for him to be in the house with small children and a pregnant mother. When we questioned our agency, they knew nothing about this child's violent tendencies. So not only were we a bit traumatized, but a child who had been removed from his family without being able to understand why, and had now been moved again.
Thankfully, both boys were eventually reunified with their family. At court the next week, we were able to meet their mother who thanked us for caring for her boys. C was able to go home that day and T followed soon after.
When I think about this experience, I'm not sure what I've learned. Sure, we've learned some behavior management techniques, but I might still do things the same way. Those boys would be welcome in our home, we would do our best to keep all the kids safe, the agency would get phone calls until we got help. If I had stopped to think about bringing our baby into this kind of life... well, I guess God knew what kind of baby would add joy to this kind of life, so He provided us with Evan.
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