A few weeks ago the principal from the elementary school called to report an incident involving one of the kids. Another parent confronted my child as the buses were unloading, and a staff member saw and heard the interaction. This other mother was telling my child to stop bothering and "bullying" her little girls. The principal did not think that was my child's intention and handled the situation.
One of our children is not permitted to be out of our sight; this is for safety as well as for discipline (and by that I mean teaching, not punishing) purposes. It's not always convenient or fun to live life this way, but we have found it best - at least for this season.
Even though "other kids" get to go trick-or-treating, buy costumes, participate in the school parade and classroom parties, our kids do not. It's a family decision that was made before some of them were even on the scene, so no, it's not something with which they particularly agree. However, it has been a good springboard for some interesting discussions.
Several of our children struggle with boundaries, so we have guidelines in our home to provide support: only go into your own room, hands to yourself, certain children should not be next to each other while laying on the floor watching t.v.; if problems arise the perpetrators are quickly sent their bedrooms to be alone where there are less boundaries with which to contend. If we are not at home, these boundaries and consequences are enforced in sometimes creative and strange ways.
With anger can sometimes come a lack of self-control over actions and words. To help our kids understand that our words and actions ALWAYS matter - even in a fit of rage - we listen closely, encourage restraint, and follow through even when the result feels rather harsh.
We have been blessed with many, many supportive friends. Most of them (if they answered honestly!) would admit that they have noticed things - at one time or another, not necessarily all the time - regarding our family that raise questions: why are our limits so tight? why are the consequences so hard? why are our kids always on time-out? why am I in constant communication with teachers? why don't our kids have more freedom? And those are all very valid questions, because when I sit and look at us from the outside, those are questions I have; questions that make me question myself and our parenting choices.
To the general public, those who see us - or fractions of us - in the grocery store, at restaurants, at the park, the doctor's office, at school, yes, even at church... we appear as a true oddity at times. And then if we should happen to have some sort of behavior flare-up, well, we've turned our share of heads.
Sometimes I want to say to those who get to stand by and watch, "This is us. This is our life. Please don't try to give advice (not right now anyway, maybe later.) We are doing the best we can. And please don't feel the need to understand us. We just need you to love us the way we are."
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
Hello again
Hands down the hardest part of foster parenting is saying good-bye.
Some days it seems like it might be harder to deal with: a broken system, a case worker who doesn't follow through, attorneys who don't file paperwork, missed visits with birth parents - or visits that actually happen, but are filled with anger and resentment, frustration over finding health care providers who have not "filled their quota", jumping through all sorts of hoops with the school system to get a child sufficient services, or a distraught, sad, angry child who had no choice in any of this mess.
But saying good-bye is tough.
Even when a child is moving toward permanency, it's difficult. Whether a child has been in our home a few days, weeks, or many months a void is left behind when they move on. Even when a child (or the parents, or the situation, or the system) has been frustrating throughout the placement, it is sort of a let-down to think that our time of advocating and fighting for the best outcome, is over.
Some good-byes are harder than others.
The younger the child, the more dependent they are and so babies are hard to let go. Especially babies who have come from and may be returning to situations that are less than ideal.
The longer a child has been with us, the harder it is to see them move on. So many memories: birthday parties (some of our kids have never had one), holidays with extended family (it can be overwhelming to be loved by so many people), success in school, laughter and freedom to just be a kid.
The more challenging a child's behavior, the more investment we've made, the more time, love, and energy we pour into a child's life - the harder it is to think about them moving away from that consistency and stability that we've worked so hard to establish. There have been a few placements that I was just SURE I would be relieved to have end. And when they did I was completely caught off guard by how sad I was after they had gone.
Hello-agains are so sweet.
Last night we got a surprise phone call from our foster son who left eight months ago. His placement of eighteen months ended when he was placed with a pre-adoptive family. During his placement we worked diligently at teaching boundaries and respect, responsibility and honesty. All that work and discipline did not always equal warm fuzzy feelings and so it seemed that very little bonding had occurred; sad, but not unexpected. So to have this young man take the initiative to call meant quite a bit, and to have my kids want to talk to him also warmed my heart.
Other hello-agains have been just as sweet.
Three sisters, two of whom were with us for almost a year, were reunified with their mom - a situation that we were all rooting for. I shed so many tears just thinking about them leaving, and when the day came, oh how my heart was breaking. Thankfully, through the miracle of Facebook, we've been able to reconnect with them.
A baby girl was reunified with her daddy - a very happy ending - and he agreed to allow us to visit them after the reunification. We were able to keep in touch up until the family relocated several years later, but what a blessing to know that she was growing up to be happy and healthy.
In 2008 we were asked to care for twin babies for about a month. Through another miracle, we were able to see these children again three years later as we learned that a Bethany family was planning to adopt them. We now get to see these precious children - who are thriving in a wonderful, loving home - on a regular basis.
A few years ago we had a teen-age girl stay with us. She was very unhappy at being so far away from her family, friends, and school; and after a few months, she ran away. No good-bye, no call afterward to say she was okay. Thankfully another Bethany foster parent had connected with this young lady, formed a wonderful supportive relationship, and continues to help and guide her. About a year ago this foster mom brought the girl along to a meeting at our house and I was able to first say, "good-bye", and then "hello again."
And then there was Angel, whose story I told previously, who challenged and taxed our parenting capabilities while she was here, but who continued to reach out to us after she left - up until the week before she died.
The next time I see Angel, it will be one of the sweetest "Hello-agains."
Some days it seems like it might be harder to deal with: a broken system, a case worker who doesn't follow through, attorneys who don't file paperwork, missed visits with birth parents - or visits that actually happen, but are filled with anger and resentment, frustration over finding health care providers who have not "filled their quota", jumping through all sorts of hoops with the school system to get a child sufficient services, or a distraught, sad, angry child who had no choice in any of this mess.
But saying good-bye is tough.
Even when a child is moving toward permanency, it's difficult. Whether a child has been in our home a few days, weeks, or many months a void is left behind when they move on. Even when a child (or the parents, or the situation, or the system) has been frustrating throughout the placement, it is sort of a let-down to think that our time of advocating and fighting for the best outcome, is over.
Some good-byes are harder than others.
The younger the child, the more dependent they are and so babies are hard to let go. Especially babies who have come from and may be returning to situations that are less than ideal.
The longer a child has been with us, the harder it is to see them move on. So many memories: birthday parties (some of our kids have never had one), holidays with extended family (it can be overwhelming to be loved by so many people), success in school, laughter and freedom to just be a kid.
The more challenging a child's behavior, the more investment we've made, the more time, love, and energy we pour into a child's life - the harder it is to think about them moving away from that consistency and stability that we've worked so hard to establish. There have been a few placements that I was just SURE I would be relieved to have end. And when they did I was completely caught off guard by how sad I was after they had gone.
Hello-agains are so sweet.
Last night we got a surprise phone call from our foster son who left eight months ago. His placement of eighteen months ended when he was placed with a pre-adoptive family. During his placement we worked diligently at teaching boundaries and respect, responsibility and honesty. All that work and discipline did not always equal warm fuzzy feelings and so it seemed that very little bonding had occurred; sad, but not unexpected. So to have this young man take the initiative to call meant quite a bit, and to have my kids want to talk to him also warmed my heart.
Other hello-agains have been just as sweet.
Three sisters, two of whom were with us for almost a year, were reunified with their mom - a situation that we were all rooting for. I shed so many tears just thinking about them leaving, and when the day came, oh how my heart was breaking. Thankfully, through the miracle of Facebook, we've been able to reconnect with them.
A baby girl was reunified with her daddy - a very happy ending - and he agreed to allow us to visit them after the reunification. We were able to keep in touch up until the family relocated several years later, but what a blessing to know that she was growing up to be happy and healthy.
In 2008 we were asked to care for twin babies for about a month. Through another miracle, we were able to see these children again three years later as we learned that a Bethany family was planning to adopt them. We now get to see these precious children - who are thriving in a wonderful, loving home - on a regular basis.
A few years ago we had a teen-age girl stay with us. She was very unhappy at being so far away from her family, friends, and school; and after a few months, she ran away. No good-bye, no call afterward to say she was okay. Thankfully another Bethany foster parent had connected with this young lady, formed a wonderful supportive relationship, and continues to help and guide her. About a year ago this foster mom brought the girl along to a meeting at our house and I was able to first say, "good-bye", and then "hello again."
And then there was Angel, whose story I told previously, who challenged and taxed our parenting capabilities while she was here, but who continued to reach out to us after she left - up until the week before she died.
The next time I see Angel, it will be one of the sweetest "Hello-agains."
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Now Can I?
This is a question that we hear fairly frequently in our house, and it's good because our kids know that they need to ask permission for certain privileges. Lately it's been on my mind for a different reason and has brought to my thinking an advertising slogan that is no longer current: "Have it your way."
How is it that my kids and their peers, who were born after this jingle had played out of the marketing scene, have adopted this mindset? It is bothersome to me that pop culture encourages us to chase the American Dream, grab all we can, have the best of everything, and expect to always have what we think we have a right to.
As much as I would like to think that we have programmed and protected our kids, the truth is that no one is immune. We can do and teach and practice at home to better prepare them to battle against the lies of entitlement, but until they wrestle with and reconcile what they see and hear with what they know to be true, my children are still at the mercy of society and the media.
Recently one of the kids went through a season of selfishness regarding computer usage. Somewhere, somehow my sweetie fell under the false assumption that their perceived need to be at the computer trumped the needs of all other family members as well as the need to respect the screen-time time limits. When reminded of said limits this child compounded the issue by arguing.
The outcome of a week's worth of this situation was the development of a special record-keeping notebook. Where as previously this child would have one "free" hour of screen-time each day, the new protocol gives no "free" screen-time and any "earned" screen-time must be recorded: clock-in/clock-out. The number of minutes spent on an approved activity (instrument practice, exercise, extra chores, extra studying) equals the number of minutes of screen-time earned.
Entitlement has also been spotted in some other actions and attitudes that sometimes surface in our home. Entitlement says it's okay to: annoy my sibling, call my sibling a name if they are annoying me, tattle on a sibling who has called me a name, go into a brother's room because he has something I want to look at, boss my sibling around because they are there or because they are doing something that I think they shouldn't be doing.
To counteract unhelpful attitudes we have instituted a system of community service (for which idea I owe thanks to a fellow foster mom.) Should a child commit an act of entitlement that affects a sibling, a chore is completed to make restitution for the offense. Just last week a brother was cleaning the bathroom counter for his sister and the dining room got a long overdue dusting.
Back to the bigger picture, beyond our family and our home, to the world into which I am preparing to launch my children.
How does the American Dream coincide with the Kingdom of God? Does it at all? Does God's Kingdom ask us to have a nice car (or two, or three), a big enough house, the latest cell phone, a larger television, yearly vacations? God provides us with all we need and many wants out of His great love; He wants to give us good gifts. Perversion of these blessings turns into entitlement. Gradually we come to the conclusion that all those gifts are ours by rights, that we are being treated unfairly should we have less than our neighbor.
Am I truly grateful for what God has provided? Do I take the time to recognize those blessings? Am I teaching my children to be thankful? Not enough, not nearly enough. But to turn the question on it's head: Now I can.
How is it that my kids and their peers, who were born after this jingle had played out of the marketing scene, have adopted this mindset? It is bothersome to me that pop culture encourages us to chase the American Dream, grab all we can, have the best of everything, and expect to always have what we think we have a right to.
As much as I would like to think that we have programmed and protected our kids, the truth is that no one is immune. We can do and teach and practice at home to better prepare them to battle against the lies of entitlement, but until they wrestle with and reconcile what they see and hear with what they know to be true, my children are still at the mercy of society and the media.
Recently one of the kids went through a season of selfishness regarding computer usage. Somewhere, somehow my sweetie fell under the false assumption that their perceived need to be at the computer trumped the needs of all other family members as well as the need to respect the screen-time time limits. When reminded of said limits this child compounded the issue by arguing.
The outcome of a week's worth of this situation was the development of a special record-keeping notebook. Where as previously this child would have one "free" hour of screen-time each day, the new protocol gives no "free" screen-time and any "earned" screen-time must be recorded: clock-in/clock-out. The number of minutes spent on an approved activity (instrument practice, exercise, extra chores, extra studying) equals the number of minutes of screen-time earned.
Entitlement has also been spotted in some other actions and attitudes that sometimes surface in our home. Entitlement says it's okay to: annoy my sibling, call my sibling a name if they are annoying me, tattle on a sibling who has called me a name, go into a brother's room because he has something I want to look at, boss my sibling around because they are there or because they are doing something that I think they shouldn't be doing.
To counteract unhelpful attitudes we have instituted a system of community service (for which idea I owe thanks to a fellow foster mom.) Should a child commit an act of entitlement that affects a sibling, a chore is completed to make restitution for the offense. Just last week a brother was cleaning the bathroom counter for his sister and the dining room got a long overdue dusting.
Back to the bigger picture, beyond our family and our home, to the world into which I am preparing to launch my children.
How does the American Dream coincide with the Kingdom of God? Does it at all? Does God's Kingdom ask us to have a nice car (or two, or three), a big enough house, the latest cell phone, a larger television, yearly vacations? God provides us with all we need and many wants out of His great love; He wants to give us good gifts. Perversion of these blessings turns into entitlement. Gradually we come to the conclusion that all those gifts are ours by rights, that we are being treated unfairly should we have less than our neighbor.
Am I truly grateful for what God has provided? Do I take the time to recognize those blessings? Am I teaching my children to be thankful? Not enough, not nearly enough. But to turn the question on it's head: Now I can.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Are You Positive?
Five weeks into the school year and the phone call came. Sadly, it is no longer unexpected. "Hi, Mrs. Heisey did (insert child's name here) tell you I'd be calling this afternoon?" As the child was sitting right at the table with me I answered, "No, she didn't tell me." (So now you know it's one of my darling daughters.)
"She's not the only student in the class who is struggling..." THAT right there is one of my pet peeves. Should it matter to me if the whole class is struggling? My child is the only student in the class that concerns me. To be fair, I understand that statement (we probably hear it more than most which is why it's a touchy issue with me); the teacher didn't want it to appear that our little girl is way out of the range of typical and is within the limits of manageable classroom behavior, and for these things I truly am thankful.
The teacher went on to describe the problematic behaviors and what strategies she had put into place to address them. Apparently the behavior modification method was only somewhat effective with our girl, and so Mrs. D was calling for some parental input. And you know, I'm not shy at all about giving input - it's just nice when the teachers actually request it. This teacher is wonderful, she was the teacher for one of our other children and so we are somewhat familiar with the "feel" of her classroom, and know that she only asks for suggestions because she will listen attentively and implement carefully.
Unsure of how much history this teacher had, I caught her up on why I wasn't surprised to get her phone call. About this time each year, as our daughter has had sufficient time to "get comfortable" in her new surroundings and discern how far is too far in the realm of disruptive behaviors, teachers will be somewhat caught off guard as this sweet little thing becomes a defiant and disobedient not-so-sweet student.
Shortly after this unveiling of some of her true colors, a behavior modification program is put into place: sticker charts, smiley faces, little rewards for a job well done (keeping the pencil on the desk, feet on the floor, hands to herself.) We use those strategies at home, many parents do and find a measure of success.
Mrs. D explained the current program which included giving verbal and visual warnings, the opportunity to earn privileges, and the threat of a phone call home if the warnings go unheeded. She also used positive reinforcement by pointing out when one of the students (especially the struggling ones) made good behavior choices. She related that when she tried this with our sweet girl, the response was a sort of scowl and a regression back to not-so-good behavior choices.
This part of the conversation was also not new to me, but is still equally as confounding each time. Where students usually are motivated to make right choices by earning stickers and smileys, our daughter seems to abhor rewards. It has been this way for her since preschool when instead of earning a sticker for picking up the toys, she seemed to revel in throwing the toys, watching other kids get stickers, and then being sent to time-out. Much the same happens at home so that thanking her for being helpful could just as well errupt into a temper tantrum as in correcting her behavior. Being positive just doesn't elicit the positive results as expected.
What to do, then, in the classroom or at home? The only input I have to offer is to draw as little attention as possible - positive or negative. Quickly and quietly address the bad stuff and let the good stuff roll like it is normal (which it hopefully should be anyway.)
At the root of all this, and this is just my mom psychology take on things, is that our smart and sweet daughter does not like to feel manipulated. She is very bright and clearly understands right and wrong and the consequences that ensue from choices (right and wrong) that she makes. Being extremely strong-willed, she KNOWS without a doubt what she should do - and most of the time she WANTS to do right. So anyone who thinks they need to direct, tell, correct, or reward her for what she already knows is insulting her. And who wants to feel insulted?
It is interesting, and yes challenging, to figure out the best way to guide, help, and love this child as she grows; it is also a wonderful honor to think that God thinks we are worthy of this challenge. Of this I am positive.
"She's not the only student in the class who is struggling..." THAT right there is one of my pet peeves. Should it matter to me if the whole class is struggling? My child is the only student in the class that concerns me. To be fair, I understand that statement (we probably hear it more than most which is why it's a touchy issue with me); the teacher didn't want it to appear that our little girl is way out of the range of typical and is within the limits of manageable classroom behavior, and for these things I truly am thankful.
The teacher went on to describe the problematic behaviors and what strategies she had put into place to address them. Apparently the behavior modification method was only somewhat effective with our girl, and so Mrs. D was calling for some parental input. And you know, I'm not shy at all about giving input - it's just nice when the teachers actually request it. This teacher is wonderful, she was the teacher for one of our other children and so we are somewhat familiar with the "feel" of her classroom, and know that she only asks for suggestions because she will listen attentively and implement carefully.
Unsure of how much history this teacher had, I caught her up on why I wasn't surprised to get her phone call. About this time each year, as our daughter has had sufficient time to "get comfortable" in her new surroundings and discern how far is too far in the realm of disruptive behaviors, teachers will be somewhat caught off guard as this sweet little thing becomes a defiant and disobedient not-so-sweet student.
Shortly after this unveiling of some of her true colors, a behavior modification program is put into place: sticker charts, smiley faces, little rewards for a job well done (keeping the pencil on the desk, feet on the floor, hands to herself.) We use those strategies at home, many parents do and find a measure of success.
Mrs. D explained the current program which included giving verbal and visual warnings, the opportunity to earn privileges, and the threat of a phone call home if the warnings go unheeded. She also used positive reinforcement by pointing out when one of the students (especially the struggling ones) made good behavior choices. She related that when she tried this with our sweet girl, the response was a sort of scowl and a regression back to not-so-good behavior choices.
This part of the conversation was also not new to me, but is still equally as confounding each time. Where students usually are motivated to make right choices by earning stickers and smileys, our daughter seems to abhor rewards. It has been this way for her since preschool when instead of earning a sticker for picking up the toys, she seemed to revel in throwing the toys, watching other kids get stickers, and then being sent to time-out. Much the same happens at home so that thanking her for being helpful could just as well errupt into a temper tantrum as in correcting her behavior. Being positive just doesn't elicit the positive results as expected.
What to do, then, in the classroom or at home? The only input I have to offer is to draw as little attention as possible - positive or negative. Quickly and quietly address the bad stuff and let the good stuff roll like it is normal (which it hopefully should be anyway.)
At the root of all this, and this is just my mom psychology take on things, is that our smart and sweet daughter does not like to feel manipulated. She is very bright and clearly understands right and wrong and the consequences that ensue from choices (right and wrong) that she makes. Being extremely strong-willed, she KNOWS without a doubt what she should do - and most of the time she WANTS to do right. So anyone who thinks they need to direct, tell, correct, or reward her for what she already knows is insulting her. And who wants to feel insulted?
It is interesting, and yes challenging, to figure out the best way to guide, help, and love this child as she grows; it is also a wonderful honor to think that God thinks we are worthy of this challenge. Of this I am positive.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
A Letter
Dear Birth Mom,
While I have every intention of writing this letter as a means of encouragement, there is every possibility that my own raw emotions will be obvious and so the affect may be less encouraging than I hope.
The fact of this matter is that we are on the same team, the same side, advocating for the welfare of the same little one. Why is it then that you feel it necessary to fight against the very individuals who are trying to untangle this complicated, messy story?
Look, I'm a mom, too. And if my children were removed from my care, I can only think that I would jump through every single hoop put in front of me. I'd probably be begging for the next hoop, preparing to jump, getting my act together.
It is difficult to understand your priorities. You say that you care for this child, that you want this child returned to you, yet you refuse to work with those who have the power to make it happen. Phone calls are not returned, questions are left unanswered, threats are made, complaints are lobbied, meetings go unattended. Besides showing up for scheduled visits, what have you done that has been required of you?
And beyond the things left undone, time is instead spent creating issues and drama where there really is none. Accusing me of not caring for your baby is an uncalled-for insult. By remarking that your baby's head is flat in back because "they probably never pick him up" or that the dry skin on his face (which the pediatrician has confirmed is dry skin on his face) "looks like he's been burned", you are essentially assuming that we care little for this child. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Despite your estimation of this white momma - who has cared for and even raised a non-white baby or two - your baby's hair and skin are being well-cared for with the proper lotions and conditioners. Not too many baths, regular fingernail and toenail trimming, hair care and combing are all part of the routine.
Have you ever commented about how he hasn't come to a visit with any broken bones? Seriously, you are concerned about a skin rash when he has sustained head trauma? When does the nonsense end?
Apparently not yet because now, even though you have done nothing toward meeting the goals set out for you by the case workers, visitation is increased. And somehow you are entitled to that. Somehow doing nothing is rewarded. Somehow you have the power to call the shots. And even when schedules are changed and twisted to accomodate this court-ordered demand, you have the audacity to complain and threaten (yet again) to involve your attorneys - not one, but two attorneys (why two? you need extra defense? defense from what? from the truth? would an innocent person need so much defense?)
Meanwhile, in case you haven't noticed, your baby continues to grow and develop into an amazing little person. Do you notice, or are you so busy fighting - fighting for what? fighting against who? - that you've missed it? Well, I'm not missing it; I am soaking in every smile and babble, enjoying every laugh and song, in awe at the incredible healing that God has done in his body.
Babies belong with their parents. I believe that - even in this case, I believe that. But I also believe that God calls parents to a very high standard - at the very least to keep their babies safe. And since we've lived through the horror of losing a child (who was old enough to speak for herself) who was entrusted into the care and safety of her birth mom, this issue strikes a deep chord in my heart.
So until the time comes for you to be charged with that privilege, I am very pleased to be the stand-in mommy for your little one and I promise to do my very best to care for him the way you would care for him yourself.
Even though the tone of this letter may not give the impression of support, please know that my support is here for you, if only you would allow us to be on the same team.
Sincerely,
Foster Mom
While I have every intention of writing this letter as a means of encouragement, there is every possibility that my own raw emotions will be obvious and so the affect may be less encouraging than I hope.
The fact of this matter is that we are on the same team, the same side, advocating for the welfare of the same little one. Why is it then that you feel it necessary to fight against the very individuals who are trying to untangle this complicated, messy story?
Look, I'm a mom, too. And if my children were removed from my care, I can only think that I would jump through every single hoop put in front of me. I'd probably be begging for the next hoop, preparing to jump, getting my act together.
It is difficult to understand your priorities. You say that you care for this child, that you want this child returned to you, yet you refuse to work with those who have the power to make it happen. Phone calls are not returned, questions are left unanswered, threats are made, complaints are lobbied, meetings go unattended. Besides showing up for scheduled visits, what have you done that has been required of you?
And beyond the things left undone, time is instead spent creating issues and drama where there really is none. Accusing me of not caring for your baby is an uncalled-for insult. By remarking that your baby's head is flat in back because "they probably never pick him up" or that the dry skin on his face (which the pediatrician has confirmed is dry skin on his face) "looks like he's been burned", you are essentially assuming that we care little for this child. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Despite your estimation of this white momma - who has cared for and even raised a non-white baby or two - your baby's hair and skin are being well-cared for with the proper lotions and conditioners. Not too many baths, regular fingernail and toenail trimming, hair care and combing are all part of the routine.
Have you ever commented about how he hasn't come to a visit with any broken bones? Seriously, you are concerned about a skin rash when he has sustained head trauma? When does the nonsense end?
Apparently not yet because now, even though you have done nothing toward meeting the goals set out for you by the case workers, visitation is increased. And somehow you are entitled to that. Somehow doing nothing is rewarded. Somehow you have the power to call the shots. And even when schedules are changed and twisted to accomodate this court-ordered demand, you have the audacity to complain and threaten (yet again) to involve your attorneys - not one, but two attorneys (why two? you need extra defense? defense from what? from the truth? would an innocent person need so much defense?)
Meanwhile, in case you haven't noticed, your baby continues to grow and develop into an amazing little person. Do you notice, or are you so busy fighting - fighting for what? fighting against who? - that you've missed it? Well, I'm not missing it; I am soaking in every smile and babble, enjoying every laugh and song, in awe at the incredible healing that God has done in his body.
Babies belong with their parents. I believe that - even in this case, I believe that. But I also believe that God calls parents to a very high standard - at the very least to keep their babies safe. And since we've lived through the horror of losing a child (who was old enough to speak for herself) who was entrusted into the care and safety of her birth mom, this issue strikes a deep chord in my heart.
So until the time comes for you to be charged with that privilege, I am very pleased to be the stand-in mommy for your little one and I promise to do my very best to care for him the way you would care for him yourself.
Even though the tone of this letter may not give the impression of support, please know that my support is here for you, if only you would allow us to be on the same team.
Sincerely,
Foster Mom
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