This week there are two big events that I've been dreading for weeks.
And I am ridiculously stressed--a level of grumpiness and depression that is so bad I barely recognize myself. I can't remember ever having such a strong reaction to any major life event before. I am just plain exhausted. And that's just due to the anticipation. Nothing has actually happened.
Tomorrow, Thursday, is the trial to determine if parental rights will be terminated for both bio mom and dad. CPS has filed to have dad's rights to all his children terminated, not just the two girls we have. (He has six kids by three women; not married to any of them. The kids are about ages 10 to 2. Our two are the youngest.) The rationale for removing mom's rights is that while she wasn't a direct actor she also did not protect them from harm that she was either directly aware of or had cause to believe could happen. She has an older son, 12, by another man, whom she lost rights to many years ago, before the girls were born. Do the courts take into account a previous custody loss? It seems like they would.
I will be in the courtroom. I don't want to. But, at the same time it's like the scene of an accident and I can't look away. I tell myself that I need to hear the charges so that someday I can be informed when the girls ask. And while the trial is public information during the event I can't request documents outside of the trial. The social worker cannot tell me what the charges were (though she's hinted around enough I'm pretty sure I know it all). This rationale is beyond me. How is something public during the event but then private afterwards? How is a foster, potentially adoptive, parent not automatically given this information?
I don't know but the result is that I have to be there during the trial if I want to have accurate information for when the girls ask someday.
I am dreading the emotions of it all. It will be only painful. The petty, self-preservation part of me just wants to run away and hide. Why do I have to be involved in these screwed up people's screwed up lives?
Can't I just be handed two kids and allowed to pretend they have no past? Well, no. This is foster care. But understanding what and why does not mean I have to like it one bit.
I feel entitled to hate all of tomorrow. After all, everyone else will be, too.
And then, two days later, Kate turns 2. We have a big birthday party planned with family and friends the girls have not been able to see since coming to us 4 months ago. This seemed like a good idea at the time. What better event than a birthday to get people together? I'd like to meet and take pictures of people whom the girls lived with previously.
We may not stay in contact with all of them. Sorry, but grandma's ex boyfriend will not be on the list of people we make an effort to continue a relationship with. (And quite frankly, why does he still want contact? His interest kinda creeps me out.) So, the party will also be a good-bye for some people, though they might not necessarily know that.
It seemed like a nice idea to let those kinds of people see that the girls are in a good home and well cared for and then everyone can move on. It seemed like a good idea. On paper.
The reality of yet more emotional greetings and final good-byes just two days after parental rights are terminated seems so exhausting I cannot even cope.
Because on top of the anticipation of painful emotions is the uncertainty. What if rights aren't terminated? What if there's one of those shocking surprises the horror stories are made of and the girls get jerked out of our home with no preparation?
In that case, am I doing everything I need to for their final days? (I don't even know what that list of thing possibly could be but it seems like I should've thought of something and done it, right?)
The fatalistic, if-I-prepare-for-the-bad-thing-it'll-never-happen part of me wants to have them all packed up, suitcases by the door. That would be horrifically cruel to them, though. Obviously I never would do it.
But, emotionally? I can feel the detachment. Emotionally I have them packed up and sitting by the door far, far outside my heart. They're just two kids I'm babysitting for the next few days. That's all.
I've read that in the old days when a family was preparing to adopt a kid the child was moved to another home while the paperwork was in process. That seemed horrid to me. As if the child could be parked somewhere in limbo without any emotional consequence. For the first time in my life I have an inkling as to why people dreamed that up. I'd really like them to go far, far away for the next week so that I didn't have the reality of their loss and lifelong grief, and my utter inability to cope to any degree I think I should be able to, staring me in the face asking for snacks and butt wipes and bandaids all day long.
Can't these pesky kids just go away so I can cry in the corner about something that isn't even happening directly to me? What's the label for this? Secondary trauma?
I just call it: I'm embarrassed I'm such a shitty, self-centered person. Welcome to the family, girls. Aren't you lucky.
One last thing. It's Theo's birthday tomorrow. So every year celebrating his and Kate's birthdays will be irrevocably connected to the day the girls lost their parents. God, this sucks.
And I am ridiculously stressed--a level of grumpiness and depression that is so bad I barely recognize myself. I can't remember ever having such a strong reaction to any major life event before. I am just plain exhausted. And that's just due to the anticipation. Nothing has actually happened.
Tomorrow, Thursday, is the trial to determine if parental rights will be terminated for both bio mom and dad. CPS has filed to have dad's rights to all his children terminated, not just the two girls we have. (He has six kids by three women; not married to any of them. The kids are about ages 10 to 2. Our two are the youngest.) The rationale for removing mom's rights is that while she wasn't a direct actor she also did not protect them from harm that she was either directly aware of or had cause to believe could happen. She has an older son, 12, by another man, whom she lost rights to many years ago, before the girls were born. Do the courts take into account a previous custody loss? It seems like they would.
I will be in the courtroom. I don't want to. But, at the same time it's like the scene of an accident and I can't look away. I tell myself that I need to hear the charges so that someday I can be informed when the girls ask. And while the trial is public information during the event I can't request documents outside of the trial. The social worker cannot tell me what the charges were (though she's hinted around enough I'm pretty sure I know it all). This rationale is beyond me. How is something public during the event but then private afterwards? How is a foster, potentially adoptive, parent not automatically given this information?
I don't know but the result is that I have to be there during the trial if I want to have accurate information for when the girls ask someday.
I am dreading the emotions of it all. It will be only painful. The petty, self-preservation part of me just wants to run away and hide. Why do I have to be involved in these screwed up people's screwed up lives?
Can't I just be handed two kids and allowed to pretend they have no past? Well, no. This is foster care. But understanding what and why does not mean I have to like it one bit.
I feel entitled to hate all of tomorrow. After all, everyone else will be, too.
And then, two days later, Kate turns 2. We have a big birthday party planned with family and friends the girls have not been able to see since coming to us 4 months ago. This seemed like a good idea at the time. What better event than a birthday to get people together? I'd like to meet and take pictures of people whom the girls lived with previously.
We may not stay in contact with all of them. Sorry, but grandma's ex boyfriend will not be on the list of people we make an effort to continue a relationship with. (And quite frankly, why does he still want contact? His interest kinda creeps me out.) So, the party will also be a good-bye for some people, though they might not necessarily know that.
It seemed like a nice idea to let those kinds of people see that the girls are in a good home and well cared for and then everyone can move on. It seemed like a good idea. On paper.
The reality of yet more emotional greetings and final good-byes just two days after parental rights are terminated seems so exhausting I cannot even cope.
Because on top of the anticipation of painful emotions is the uncertainty. What if rights aren't terminated? What if there's one of those shocking surprises the horror stories are made of and the girls get jerked out of our home with no preparation?
In that case, am I doing everything I need to for their final days? (I don't even know what that list of thing possibly could be but it seems like I should've thought of something and done it, right?)
The fatalistic, if-I-prepare-for-the-bad-thing-it'll-never-happen part of me wants to have them all packed up, suitcases by the door. That would be horrifically cruel to them, though. Obviously I never would do it.
But, emotionally? I can feel the detachment. Emotionally I have them packed up and sitting by the door far, far outside my heart. They're just two kids I'm babysitting for the next few days. That's all.
I've read that in the old days when a family was preparing to adopt a kid the child was moved to another home while the paperwork was in process. That seemed horrid to me. As if the child could be parked somewhere in limbo without any emotional consequence. For the first time in my life I have an inkling as to why people dreamed that up. I'd really like them to go far, far away for the next week so that I didn't have the reality of their loss and lifelong grief, and my utter inability to cope to any degree I think I should be able to, staring me in the face asking for snacks and butt wipes and bandaids all day long.
Can't these pesky kids just go away so I can cry in the corner about something that isn't even happening directly to me? What's the label for this? Secondary trauma?
I just call it: I'm embarrassed I'm such a shitty, self-centered person. Welcome to the family, girls. Aren't you lucky.
One last thing. It's Theo's birthday tomorrow. So every year celebrating his and Kate's birthdays will be irrevocably connected to the day the girls lost their parents. God, this sucks.
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