Skip to main content

Playing "Foster Baby"

Well, it happened. Social workers endlessly drilling the word 'foster' into their minds finally sunk in and Jane began using the word.

It's not necessarily bad or a secret. I just don't like them learning a label for themselves if it makes them feel different or bad about themselves. I'd just as soon they transition from daughter in one family to daughter in another family. Not saying that'll be easier, per se...but I do think it's more accurate when describing their life journey.

So, today the girls are playing and I realize Jane has decided one of her stuffed animals is "Foster Baby". The baby has to be quickly removed from one place (the couch) and put in a safe place (a box). Over and over again.

She seems like she wants to act this out but is kinda stuck on what to do next so I decide to engage with her so I can help give language to whatever she's processing. Together she and I move the foster baby through a series of harrowing events: being lost, being hungry, sneaking food, being naughty by breaking things and then getting hit. Each of these events is repeated many, many times. I suggested the first one (being lost) but then she suggested all the others.

It was incredibly difficult for me to watch both girls avidly acting out the getting hit part as they were physically striking the stuffed bear with all their force. I finally transitioned them to a different task (comforting baby) because I felt they were stuck there and couldn't move on.

When the play began winding down she placed the baby in my arms and instructed me to hold it. Then she brought me, one by one and after much thought, all the things the baby needed to feel better: blanket, pillow, medicine, bandaids, and finally, a sticker to feel happy.

This whole play event took at least 20 minutes. I was emotionally exhausted by the end. The girls, though, clearly felt better. They beamed up at me while I cuddled the swaddled bear and held its assortment of pretend bandaids and medicine.

I can only describe their look as: approval. So I guess Foster Baby is safe and sound. Phew.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Lied.

For the very first time I lied to a birth family member. I've been brutally honest even when it caused an uproar. I've been honest because I was personally committed to always telling the truth. Until now. Because this lie may actually be the best way to preserve Jane's relationship with her birth family. At our last video call with Grandma Jane seemed uninterested, unengaged, not showing any real emotion. I struggled to find things to prompt her to talk about. Over the next two weeks I waited and she never asked for another call. In the third week I casually brought up the topic and she did not really respond, certainly didn't ask for another call. Finally, yesterday I point blank asked if she wanted to do a video call and she said the word yes but her whole body language said no. It was clear that she was saying yes because she thought she was supposed to, not because she wanted to. So, I took her body language rather than her words and made the decision that we...

Flash Fiction - Guilt Free

And this one I wrote for the fun of it. It was delicious to wallow in such a world of self-indulgence I'll never know. This is flash fiction (less than 1,000 words). Guilt Free It was fudge sauce, thick and cold from the back of the fridge, dipped in gourmet raspberry jam—the kind from France with the understated label—straight onto a spoon and then suckled in my mouth, a frosty mug of milk tremoring faintly in my left hand, to be gulped in indelicate swaths allowing a dribble or two down my front, the first time I hit her. Not really hit. Shoved. A forceful push. A push that began with contact. The contact of my hand wedging so neatly between her small sharp shoulder blades, wedging in so that I almost could not retract myself from the catapulting force launching her into the tub. Not a hit—there was no smacking, cracking, sharp stinging rebound. No bruise. She’d laughed. She’d thought it was a game. Like when I clapped my hands together as she went up the stairs, cla...

So What About Mother's Day?

I was looking ahead on the calendar to our next visit and suddenly realized it fell during Mother's Day weekend. A flood of mixed emotions hit me immediately. Mother's Day is not a deeply important holiday to me. It's nice and all but I've never had super big emotions about it.  The girls can't know what it is yet and won't have any big feelings this year. But...years from now...will this be a uniquely difficult holiday?  So if no one cares right now can I just kinda slide this one under the rug and avoid all the drama? Please, please, please someone confirm this is a real option!?! Ugh, but what about the birth family. Is this a big deal for them? Are there major traditions? Will this be a minefield of potential hurt feelings? Is there a tactful way to call them up and say, so, on a scale of 1 to 10 how invested are you into making this a big rigamarole? While thinking this through I did some googling and found that the local zoo does a special Mother...