Last week I had to drop off some paperwork at the foster care agency's local office. We haven't been there since last February, when the girls had their last family visit in that office. If my memory serves, they were in that building exactly four times: twice to visit birth mother in December, twice to visit aunt and grandma in February. There were no visits in January. (After those initial visits I suggested we begin meeting off-site every two weeks with grandma and aunt and that's what we've done ever since.)
The office is in a bland office park and the reception area literally has almost nothing in it but three chairs and one table.
We walked in and Jane instantly said, "I've been here before!"
There were two doors out of the room. She pointed to the correct one and said, "That's where Mama Leah is! There's a kitchen in there! Can we go play with it?"
I was utterly astounded. That girls' memory is bizarrely accurate sometimes.
She was so excited. I was so unprepared. Her excitement was spreading to Kate who began asking, "Mama Leah? Here?"
Oh. My. Dear. God. 11 months after the last time they saw their mother, when Jane was 3 yrs, 3 months old and Kate was 21 months old, they remember seeing her and are looking for her behind the closed door.
Of course in that moment a social worker comes in, we're talking about paperwork, I'm annoyed because their agency made a mistake, and there is not a chance in hell I'm going to stand there and talk about it because I've suddenly got an emotional crisis brewing in the two little people standing next to me. So, we left.
As we're climbing in the car and I'm getting all three buckled in, Jane begins to cry. She is so sad. She is saying, "I miss Mama Leah. I want to see her. I want to go to her house."
She has done this before and I've welcomed it. I've held her and comforted her and assured her that of course she misses her mom and she can always talk openly about her sadness. But it's been a long time since she's done this and with the adoption so close to being finalized her grief just hit me hard. I was so hurt.
I'm human. The holidays are coming up and though they were with us last Christmas it in no way felt like a family so this really feels like the first Thanksgiving and Christmas where our family is complete. I'm getting excited about buying their special Christmas stockings and beginning their personalized ornament collections. We'll be traveling and I'm excited about introducing them to extended family and taking family pictures.
I'm thinking of them as my daughters. Jane knows I am not her mother. I understand. It's understandable. But, when I have let my guard down for awhile, it hurts.
And, then, as I'm driving fighting my own tears as she whimpers in the seat behind me, I hear her whisper this to herself. "I want to go to Mama Leah's house where I'm always a good girl."
I nearly drove the car off the road. I knew exactly what she meant and yet I have no idea how to explain to her why she's so wrong.
A few days ago she said something about never getting into trouble at Leah's house. a) that's untrue because I've been told lots of anecdotes of Leah being angry at Jane. b) on the other hand, Jane was like a wild, untamed child when she came to us with no manners. I'm told she constantly played outside or by herself so I'm sure she did get away with whatever she wanted to do while her mom was passed out or just didn't care to supervise.
I said something bland when she made this claim about the fact that she isn't always in trouble at our house but that it's my job to watch and teach her how to behave. That I correct her because I love her and want her to learn the right way to do things. It was a stopgap response that clearly isn't getting to her deeper issues.
Here's what I'm struggling with now:
The office is in a bland office park and the reception area literally has almost nothing in it but three chairs and one table.
We walked in and Jane instantly said, "I've been here before!"
There were two doors out of the room. She pointed to the correct one and said, "That's where Mama Leah is! There's a kitchen in there! Can we go play with it?"
I was utterly astounded. That girls' memory is bizarrely accurate sometimes.
She was so excited. I was so unprepared. Her excitement was spreading to Kate who began asking, "Mama Leah? Here?"
Oh. My. Dear. God. 11 months after the last time they saw their mother, when Jane was 3 yrs, 3 months old and Kate was 21 months old, they remember seeing her and are looking for her behind the closed door.
Of course in that moment a social worker comes in, we're talking about paperwork, I'm annoyed because their agency made a mistake, and there is not a chance in hell I'm going to stand there and talk about it because I've suddenly got an emotional crisis brewing in the two little people standing next to me. So, we left.
As we're climbing in the car and I'm getting all three buckled in, Jane begins to cry. She is so sad. She is saying, "I miss Mama Leah. I want to see her. I want to go to her house."
She has done this before and I've welcomed it. I've held her and comforted her and assured her that of course she misses her mom and she can always talk openly about her sadness. But it's been a long time since she's done this and with the adoption so close to being finalized her grief just hit me hard. I was so hurt.
I'm human. The holidays are coming up and though they were with us last Christmas it in no way felt like a family so this really feels like the first Thanksgiving and Christmas where our family is complete. I'm getting excited about buying their special Christmas stockings and beginning their personalized ornament collections. We'll be traveling and I'm excited about introducing them to extended family and taking family pictures.
I'm thinking of them as my daughters. Jane knows I am not her mother. I understand. It's understandable. But, when I have let my guard down for awhile, it hurts.
And, then, as I'm driving fighting my own tears as she whimpers in the seat behind me, I hear her whisper this to herself. "I want to go to Mama Leah's house where I'm always a good girl."
I nearly drove the car off the road. I knew exactly what she meant and yet I have no idea how to explain to her why she's so wrong.
A few days ago she said something about never getting into trouble at Leah's house. a) that's untrue because I've been told lots of anecdotes of Leah being angry at Jane. b) on the other hand, Jane was like a wild, untamed child when she came to us with no manners. I'm told she constantly played outside or by herself so I'm sure she did get away with whatever she wanted to do while her mom was passed out or just didn't care to supervise.
I said something bland when she made this claim about the fact that she isn't always in trouble at our house but that it's my job to watch and teach her how to behave. That I correct her because I love her and want her to learn the right way to do things. It was a stopgap response that clearly isn't getting to her deeper issues.
Here's what I'm struggling with now:
- I've always spoken positively of Leah. Is it time to talk about drugs and introduce some age-appropriate words about her lack of supervision?
- I don't want Jane to idealize life with Leah over life with us. I don't want to let her settle into a narrative where Leah loved her and had fun with her while we don't. It's not true. But...isn't it also natural for a kid to fantasize about that other life? Is it even possible to undo that fantasy? Will I shut down dialogue if I focus too much on correcting her and telling her she's wrong?
- Everything I say to Jane she will tell to Kate later when they're alone. What do I want Kate to think?
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