The Same Thing... But Different

A little over a year ago we met a little boy that a friend - another foster mama - was caring for. At two months old he had suffered some sort of "injury" that resulted in brain and head trauma, which required him to have a shunt placed in his skull to alleviate fluid and pressure - his head was abnormally large and misshapen. His vision was also impaired and there was concern regarding overall development.

At nine months old this baby was barely able to sit upright due to the size of his head; he began to move himself by scooting across the floor in a sitting position because he couldn't get into a crawling position. Our friend (his foster mom) was taking him to various specialists' appointments and arranging for therapies all while taking fabulous care of him.

During this time, both birth parents were granted visits with this baby even though no one was forthcoming regarding the details of his "injury" and the agency was not able to piece together exactly what had happened. Both parents were given goals to complete in order to have the baby reunified with them. There was also a possibility that the baby would not be reunified, but rather could be adopted by his foster mother.

Eventually the placing agency became very difficult to work with - visits were not scheduled, were rescheduled, or one party or another was misinformed or late to the visit. The worker became critical of, and the birth parents were at times aggressive with, our friend. It also became more apparent that the placement would not end in adoption - which meant a continued and probably a long-term working relationship with the birth parents and the placing agency; a situation which became overwhelming for our friend.

At our foster parent support group meeting in February, we celebrated this little guy's first birthday with smiles and cheers. And then we cried and prayed together as we listened to our friend explain through tears that notice had been given that the little boy would need to be moved to another foster home.

In February we were caring for ten children ages 19, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 7, and 5. Two days later we called our agency and asked if we could be considered a placement option for this little boy. We knew him - his needs, his therapy schedule, about his doctor's appointments. We knew about his case - the goal of reunification, the frustration of miscommunication with the placing agency, the inconsistency of the visitation schedule. We knew that it was a long shot.

After a month of interviews and paperwork this little boy was placed in our home.

The therapies and doctor's appointments continued; as did the miscommunication and frustration of working with the placing agency. Visits continued to be inconsistent and the placement goal of reunification seemed far-off. In fact, several months ago the child advocate asked if we would consider being a pre-adoptive resource if reunification ceased to be an option.

In October a new case worker was assigned and the court got more involved - apparently it was clear to all parties that the mishandling of the case was working against the goal of reunification. Visits - the schedule and the specifics of who, where, and when - were court ordered; something we had never heard of. At that time we were told that on December 1 the case was going to be heard by a different judge - a judge who knew nothing about the case and was going to bring an unbiased perspective about the direction of the case. We were told that the outcome of this court hearing would result in no change with visitation or with the goals for the parents, but rather would give a point for moving forward.

Yesterday following that court hearing the case worker sent a message. The message was that visits were going to increase - drastically. Instead of dad having a visit during the day, visits would be for the entire weekend - two overnights. When I questioned the worker about how we would schedule (or reschedule) the visit over Christmas weekend, the response was that dad would have his son from Friday to Monday - for Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day; for three nights.

It felt like a sucker punch.

I knew that families were usually reunified after three or so weekend visits. I knew that the goal was reunification. I knew that this little boy was only mine for a short time. I knew that dad had been doing all that was required. I knew that this family was supposed to be together.

I also knew that I had witnessed a miracle in this little boy's development - in August he tested out of all his Early Intervention therapies. I was with him when he had surgery in June to correct his vision - surgery which resulted in the ophthalmologist's amazement over how well this little boy healed and recovered. I was there for his first steps and his first word, "ball."

I had been told that NOTHING was going to change on December 1. I had hung my hat on that. Nothing happens December 1, then three months until the next court date. Then maybe reunification. We would celebrate Christmas and his second birthday together.

That was what I was thinking.

You'd think that by now - seventeen years and forty-eight children later - I'd have caught on that just when I have my head wrapped around what is going to happen, what I expect to happen, THAT is when the unexpected happens. That by now I'd remember to save back just a tiny sliver of my heart for myself so that when each child leaves, my heart doesn't break. That by now my head would override my heart and I would realize that foster parenting is temporary, it's supposed to be temporary. That we had done our "job."

I try not to be selfish. I am truly happy for this little boy and his family; that the system worked the way it was supposed to, that he will grow up with his dad and that he is young enough to not remember being in foster care.

Every time I try not to be selfish and I think, "maybe this is the last time."

But it's not the last time.

It's just different.