Foster Further

 Wow, what a day. I write happily about a sweet moment with my 3 yr old daughter singing a song about adoption and then, two hours later, I'm fielding a call from the other daughter's Kindergarten teacher asking what's gone wrong with her. First, I've said almost nothing to the school about the girls' adoption. I gave the basic facts as a little extra security to make sure if anyone from the birth family ever tried to pick them up then someone would be a bit more suspicious. But, overall I wanted to protect her privacy so I've said little about her struggles.  The Kindergarten teacher is not a very organized, communicative teacher. She looks flustered most of the time. She's not my favorite person. I don't tell her much beyond the basics.  This week she stopped me in the hallway and asked if we could talk. She called me today and was worried about Jane's report card (some skills had regressed). The first thing she asked was: did Jane see any birth fa

 Today the youngest child, Kate, age 3, got a new stuffed animal toy. She'd been waiting for it for ages (well, two days, but you know, that's ages and ages) and was deeply delighted when it came. She hugged it to her face and walked around the house talking to it.  I was working so only listening to her with half an ear until I realized what she was doing. She was singing it her own little made up song. The phrases I caught were: when I was a tiny baby...waiting for someone to come get me...then you took me to your home...I was waiting and waiting... I realized that she was singing a song about adoption. My bio kids, when her age doing that same kind of play, would've said: when I was a tiny baby in mommy's tummy.... She did not. It really struck me. It was a happy, tender moment for her. The look on her face was sweet and loving.  But, it surprised me, all the same. After awhile I finished up what I was working on and went to sit beside her on the couch. I asked her t

 It's been two weeks of nonstop turmoil and major decisions on a national scale and within our own home. I'm still mentally adjusting to the new no-contact policy we'll have towards birth family. So much to say--none of which  have the energy to recapture here.  Instead, I have a completely rude observation to make that will only be detrimental to my future parenting and which I should excise from my thoughts immediately.  You know that annoying sitcom TV character sidekick whose only function is to cheer on the lead character? You know how in tween shows (Full House, Saved By the Bell--from back in my era) that person was completely annoying? They wore a vapid look and made overly-enthusiastic comments once per minute in a squeaky voice? Think Kimmy or Screech.  That's Jane.  Imagine you're putting out a snack which you do every single day and it's the same old snack they've had, literally, hundreds of times before, e.g. grapes, apple slices, pretzels. Imag

 I spoke with a therapist today about everything that happened over the last two days. Her responses were deeply insightful.  Some key take-aways.  In an open adoption with healthy adults involved we can expect the child to display some signs of grief after a family visit. They may be whiny or tired or irritable. This is to be expected and can be supported and the child can work through their grief over time.  The physical disassociation from her body that Jane experienced after the call with birth grandma goes beyond grief. She had a trauma response. It would not be healthy to repeatedly re-traumatize her with more visits.  Grandma is not a positive person, nor is she trust-worthy. The therapist was extremely disturbed the breaches of trust in the past (trying to sneak the grandkids into contact with her son, against court orders; sharing private pictures I was only sending to her with people not allowed to see them). Every time Grandma expressed fears that I'd cut her off, or sto

 Today the girls had a 20 minute Zoom call with their birth grandma. They last saw her in late October. Within minutes of the call ending, Jane's stutter resumed and continued for the rest of the day. With the stutter comes a blank look on her face, like the light going out of her eyes. Within about an hour of the call ending Jane pooped her pants and then wallowed in the poop without changing herself for another hour or so. She played solo on another floor of the house and the issue was only detected when she came down to dinner. Just sitting there in her own feces without any awareness.  As soon as she was near me I smelled her, then saw the look on her face, and silently began cursing this grandma and her incessant, selfish, oblivious needs.  As I helped Jane clean herself up I silently fumed about all the birth parent blogs that complain about being cut off without explanation one day. This! Is! Why!  Little kids cannot handle repeated reminders of their traumatic past. They ca