Feel it turn

One thing I am always thankful for is that nothing lasts forever, and that the only constant is change.  Today was a day for reconnecting and bonding with my kid. 

Anakin had been complaining of ear pain, and thought he had an ear infection. I took him to the clinic, and after a thourough inspection, assured him they looked great.  She said it sounded, from the way he described it, that it sounded more like tooth pain.   So today, I took him to the dentist.  He had x-rays, and his teeth had no visible signs of cavities.  I was relieved.  And then the hygeniest said something to the effect of, "maybe its just growing pains or your wisdom teeth coming in."   It was a priceless panic:
"What are wisdom teeth? I already have all my adult teeth. What do you mean they take them out. I have enough space for them in my mouth.  How do they get them out. Does it hurt?  I dont like surgery. I dont have wisdom teeth.  If I had them I would know.  I have an ear infection.   I know this is an ear infection.  I know what ear infections feel like.  It doesn't hurt in my mouth it hurts in my ear. It doesn't hurt anymore!"
It was pretty cute. 

Nothing makes a better reward for a good check-up than a milkshake, right? And arcade games?  Yep.  That was our afternoon. 

I did some reaching out today, and the underlying theme was that I can only really count on myself.  I was reading some random persons Twitter Bio, and it said something like "Yes, life is different since I had kids, and sure, there are some days I wish I could sleep in, but its all worth it, the little things make it worthwhile."  And I realized that I still haven't developed that kind of relationship with my kid, or any kid.  I still feel like I am at work 24/7, and I would give anything to sleep in.  I am still getting used to his quirks.  Its still  a bumpy ride.  The shining moments are not as frequent as I had hoped. 
I realized that the shining moments were happening today at the dentist though, he did so well, and I could tell we were getting somewhere.  And then, the arcade was the happiest I've seen him in a while.  I think that our honeymoon period is ending, and I am going to have to put a concentrated effort into keeping him occupied and happy, and strengthening our connection.  I know that in my heart, I want to be the last foster home he has to live in.  He is too old to be tossed around any more, and I really do love him.  Watching his struggle over the past few years, and advocating for him and his brother, built a strong bond between us.  He is also starting to really connect with my family, so that is also a huge benefit. 
Theres ups and downs.  We'll get through it. I just like to vent a bit.  No matter how good it is, or how bad it is, the only constant is change, so nothing will last longer than I can bear.  I may scream though. 

Spring Break will never be the same....

The past few days have been rough. 
For the past two weeks, I have been taking care of business for a friend who is out of town.  She has an ecommerce store, and ships multiple orders, all over the world, every day, as well as local deliveries.  This, in addition to my impromptu parenthood, was a bit overwhelming. In the final days before spring break, I thought for sure something was going to hit the fan very soon.  The To-do list got longer every day, and every day there was still things to be done from the previous day.  As we were trying to get ready to leave, I had to seriously prioritize, and cut out what wasn't urgent.  Even after cutting the unnecessary, I still didn't have enough time for everything.  The phone wouldn't stop ringing.  It was one of those days.  And the worst part was, Anakin had a counselling appointment, half an hour away, for an hour.  I didn't have two hours.  I didn't have two minutes.
This is the isolation I will talk about later.  I was feeling the weight of wearing too many hats.  I realized that I was trying to do everything, and I needed help.  I arranged for Anakin's over-qualified respite worker to come and take him to the appointment.  When he arrived, it was like a weight had been lifted.  It was like there was a second set of hands carrying the load.  It gave me the relief to get through the rest of the day.   It was a clear example for myself of how important it is to ask for help, and how lucky I am to have amazing people around.
Spring Break started, and our daily routine went out the window.  Anakin was seriously over-stimulated and it manifested in every way imaginable.  And I was not much better.  It was a rough few days for both of us. 
We took the last day of school off, and escaped to my parents 'other' house, an escape on the coast.  My parents were already up there with their brood, and it was cramped quarters.  Factor in, that five of the kids have mental health diagnoses, and three have developmental disabilities. Eight unique routines jammed into 2000sqft.   Two dogs.  Three Bedrooms.  Nine people. 
Anakin was like I have never seen him before.  When I spoke to him, clearly, directly- it was like he didn't hear me.  His ability to process incoming information was crippled.  It took everything I had not to get frustrated with being totally ignored.  He would ask a question, I would answer, and I could see on his face that he hadn't heard any of it.  I would slowly repeat myself, and he he says "thank you" under his breath as he walked away.  He was constantly fidgeting with anything he could get his hands on.  When we packed up to leave, I found a hidden stim-stash of the 4-year-old's toys and small plastic things.  I can only imagine what he put in his mouth.  He has a habit of orally soothing himself by putting bits of plastic, paper, erasers, or anything he can find, into his mouth, chewing and swallowing them.  That's a whole other story.

One thing I never anticipated [in the two weeks] that I 'prepared' for parenting, was how isolating it would be.  I'd heard of it from other foster parents in all the trainings and interactions I'd had with them, but I never realized the extent of it.  It might not be so bad if I wasn't a single parent, or even if I had other kids, but with just the two of us, I feel alone a lot.  Prior to being a foster parent, I loved being alone.  The further I could get from people and civilization, the better.  But now, it is all a little bit different.  It is going to take some getting used to.
I often get caught up in the day-to-day routine.  I forget the importance of all of the things I have been taught.  In every class, training, conference or workshop I have ever been in, there has been a portion of the curriculum dedicated to self care.  I always just brushed it off. In the past, self care was my mission statement.  It was all about me.  Now though, I am realizing that I probably should have paid better attention.  I am feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, in a whole new way. 
I understand and accept that I have a challenging kid, and that as long as I provide him a loving, healthy home, I am doing my best.  Still, I constantly question myself.  I feel like I am not doing well enough, like I am doing more harm than good.  I don't have a second opinion, or someone to support me.  I don't have someone to tell me when I am screwing up.  I'm not crying loneliness, but I suddenly understand why the Creator made it take two people to make a child; it takes two (or more) to raise one. 
And it was with this realization that I came out of my anxieties.  If there isn't someone here, I need to seek out more mentors and supporters.  I know amazing people, many of whom are lifetime parents, who have been through all of this and more.  I will not find the answers in my head, but I will find them if I reach out to the people closest to me.  I am surrounded by elders and friends who are only a phone call or a door bell away.  All I need to do is ask.  To speak up and say, "I need guidance." Tomorrow, I will try harder to put myself in the presence of these people, and to incorporate that act into my routine, ongoing.  Tomorrow just happens to be a very good day for that, as it is Tuesday.  More about Tuesdays tomorrow. 

palma non sine pulvere

In the beginning....

For the first few days, he had a lot of questions.  Questions I didn't necassarily have answers to.   All of the 'getting ready' that I had done couldn't have prepared me to actually take on the day to day care of this kid. 

For safety's sake, lets call him Anakin.  Anakin is 15 years old, and is diagnosed as on the Autism Spectrum, ADHD, and FASD.  Outwardly, he looks quite average.  His cognitive level is somewhere around an 8 year old, although his social interactions are quite good.   In school, he almost performs at grade level, with support.  It is only at home that I truly see the broken little boy in that young mans body. 

Anakin has been in foster care since he was 4 years old.  Before that he lived with his parents, both addicts, and his younger brother.  His dad is also diagnosed with FASD, as well as a physical disability.  When Anakin was four years old, and his brother was only months old, their mother fatally overdosed, while their father was at work.  The boys were alone with their mothers body for hours before their father got home from work.  This was the point at which the children were removed the first time. 
After she passed away, the boys were placed together in a stable loving foster home. The foster parents stabilized the boys, and uncovered a past of sexual abuse and neglect.  The abuse was at the hands of a family friend.  Over the next 8 years, their father was very involved, but had come to realize that he was unable to raise them.  He agreed to have the boys placed for open adoption. 
At age 13, Anakin and his 9 year old brother were placed for adoption in the home of a newlywed couple.  She had 2 teenage children from her previous marriage, and he had none.  It was at this point, that I became involved in their lives.  The adoptive parents contacted me for support before the boys had even moved in.  I started working with the family very casually.  At first, we would share meals, play games, and talk about what was happening, and upcoming.  After spending an hour with the whole family, I would spend the next hour with the parents.  I would share my insights, listen to their fears and try to support them in any way I could.   
It was in the very first visit that I noticed there was a problem.  I don't recall the exact situation, but I recall the adoptive mother saying, "Of course I don't agree with it, but it is what the doctor told me to do.  I'm not the doctor,  I don't know anything!"  This was the first sign I picked up on that this woman was not prepared to advocate for these kids.  I remember almost yelling at her, that she needed to speak up for her boys. 
I could write for hours, about the long downward spiral that this placement took, but I will spare myself the misery of reliving it.  In summary, the adoptive parents turned out to be alcoholics, who would drink, not supervise the kids, put the kids in unsafe situations, neglect, emotionally abuse, and punish constantly.  They were even punishing them with food.  If they somehow wronged the family, they would not be allowd to eat meals with the family, and would only be allowed a peanut butter sandwich and water.  It made me sick.  I watched the collapse, as I waited for my multiple complaints to the social workers worked their way through the many stages of government, until finally, both boys were safely removed from the home. 
I suppose that while I was dealing with the paperwork, the boys dad was dealing with it in his own way.  He had been in touch with his sister, and convinced her to take the boys in.  In our region, when a family member steps forward, who is both financially and emotionally capable of providing a safe and loving home, they have to be given the chance.   So with that, both boys were shipped off to their aunty's house, 1000kms away.  
Because this placement was across a provincial border, no one here is entirely sure what happened over there.  But what we do know, is that within one month, both boys were no longer living with that aunt.  Anakin went 9 hours north to live with her sister, and the younger brother was removed and taken into foster care there. 
Four more months passed before I got the call.  Anakin had finally reached his social worker here, and told her, in no uncertain terms, that he wanted to come back home. 
In our area, the foster care system is so backed up, that every day children are left in dangerous situations because there are no open beds in the foster homes.  Because of past behaviours, Anakin not only needed a foster home, he needed a foster home where he was either the only child, or the smallest child.  At 5'11'', finding a home where he was the smallest was almost impossible.  So they had to find him a new home, and I suppose that was me. 
When I had spoken with the social worker in the past, I had always told her how my hear broke for these boys, and that I would do anything I could to help them.  I guess she took that to heart. 

The way life used to be...

I was born on the west-coast, a truly free-spirit, that went wherever the wind carried me.  I love camping, being outdoors, kayaking, hiking, and walking the best dog ever.  After high school, my year-off-before-university, became my 8-years-off-before-university.  In the first 4 years...I only remember about 3 days.  And I loved it. 

I had dead-end job, after dead-end job.  I worked in customer service call centres.   I was a 'Resolution Specialist,' meaning, I got to listen to angry customers complaints, and then tell them, as nicely as possible, that there was nothing anyone could do to help them.  The sickenning part, is that I was really, really good at it.   One caller stands out, from my time at a wireless customer service agency.  A man called, he was distraught.  He explained to me that less than two months ago, his daughter was diagnosed with luekemia.  The hospital was across the bridge from their home, and they had a $1500 bill for the roaming charges of calling home.  My heart broke for him, he cried and begged, and there was absolutely nothing I could do.  He was also American, and now had this cell phone bill on top of the mounting medical bills.  I spent hours on the phone with this man, while I tried and tried, to find any loophole in the system that would allow me to help him.  I was willing to put my self at risk of disciplinary action, if I could somehow credit this mans account.  I was helpless.  And after hours of searching, asking managers, even going to executives, I had to tell him, that there was nothing I could do.  I couldn't bring myself to tell him that if he did not remit payment soon, we would disconnect his service.  It was brutal.  I swore I would never be the helpless bearer of bad news for a multi-billion dollar corporation again.  I left. 

I found a Canadian company to do the same work for, but this time, the policy was -the customer is always right.  As soon as they expressed dissatisfaction, I could send them a cheque for their money back.  After the cheque was in the mail, we asked them for their suggestions to improve the product, and the customer service.  It was a whole different world.  Ahhh.....Canadians.

Customer service was not a life-long career, and after I had done my time, I moved on.  I spent a couple of years travelling and exploring what I might want to do with my life.

Throughout those years, I followed my passions- outdoors, activism, and advocacy.  I found a way to combine all three, when I discovered Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder.  My biological parents were foster parents, also an impromtu life change for them.  They cared for three little girls, ages 1, 3, and 4.  All three of the girls were affected by FASD.   My parents had experience with special needs kids, but this was unlike anything they had ever experienced.  There was no rhyme nor reason for the way FASD manifested in these kids.  Something that was easy yesterday, could be a battle to the death today.  It wasn't until we as a family, educated ourselves, that it all beame clear. 

Shortly thereafter, I was offered a job as a respite/relief provider for families raising kids affected by FASD.   The service helped bilogical parents, foster parents, family members raising kids- anyone who asked for it.  And the service was offered at no-cost to the family.   It was the best job I ever had.  I could take kids to the park, play, and explore, all while educating the parents.  It was amazing.  And then the funding ran out.  

FASD was still my passion, so I carried on providing bahvavioural consulting services to families.  It was still a lot of fun, and so rewarding to actually be able to give parents strategies that made their lives easier.  And this is how I met the boy that would one day become my Son.

What just happened?

Thirty-seven days ago, I was not a mom.   I did not have school meetings.  I did not make lunches the night before.  Thirty-seven days ago, I went where the wind carried me.  I set my own hours at work.  I travelled almost weekly.  I lived in a 200sq ft apartment.  Alone. 

And then, one Friday afternoon, it all changed.  In one phone call.  It was a social worker whom I had worked with in the past.  She told me that the case we had worked on together in the past, had been through major upset.  She told me that the children were in need of new housing as soon as possible.  She said she knew I had a connection with them, and that I had a good knowledge of their history.  And then she said that all the foster homes were full or over-capacity.  And then she said, "Do you think you would consider taking one or both of them?"

I am not entirely sure what happened in the three days that followed.  I think I told her I would think about it over the weekend.  The next thing I remember, I was in the Child services office, with the foster parent intake worker, sitting over a mountain of papers, discussing how quickly this could possibly happen. 

It took 15 days. 

I gave notice to my current landlord, and found a house that actually had rooms.  It was strange to go from having my kitchen and bed 8' apart, to having my bed, and the door to my bedroom 8' apart.  The kitchen was a mile away.  Everything is different.