the here + now

As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" "Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life." As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I ma the light of the world." Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with saliva and put it on the man's eyes. "Go," he told him, "wash in the the Pool of Siloam." So the man went and washed and came home seeing. Sometimes we look at Jesus as just this sweet man who took the task of going to the cross for us, but it's so much more. Here Jesus is not acting as a peace-keeper, but a peace-maker. He was making peace in this man's life and showing His disciples that we don't walk around carrying our sin

“ Write hard and clear about what hurts ” -Ernest Hemingway Lack of control. That’s what hurts. When we choose to make hard decisions. Those decisions that no matter the decision, it somehow still feels all sorts of wrong. And then people will react to your hard decision like you grew ten heads that was going to attack them. That’s what hurts. Lack of control. That’s what hurts. When a child gets removed from your home. Placed in kinship. And then heads back into foster care and you are not the first option. That’s what hurts. Lack of control. That’s what hurts. When life just keeps happening. People don’t talk about “life happening” in a joyous way But in an I’m tired and feel just over it kind of way The kind where every day feels heavy. That’s what hurts Lack of control That’s what hurts When I can’t form my children into what I want Because fear gets to me And being able to see farther is not a human concept That’s what

Today is your third birthday. My heart feels heavy. In your short three years of life you have been in three different homes and will be headed to a fourth. Four different ways of life. Four different sets of people. I had so much hope that by today we would be celebrating you in our new home.  That they would have placed you with us. Because why wouldn't they? We bonded with you and you bonded with us. We stayed in contact with you after you were removed from our home. You still call us mommy and daddy. But what makes sense to us isn't how children services feels is what is best. Because we had to make the incredibly hard decision to not say yes to your brother, we are not chosen for your forever. Instead you will move (that's how it's looking right now) to another new family in the hometown I grew up in. Literally of all the cities and towns in Ohio, it has to be this one. I will never stop looking for you when I go And my heart will break e

Eventually the adoption worker saw she would not be able to place all four siblings together. So the plan became the two older would go back to their previous foster home and we were given an ultimatum. We could adopt Z if we would also adopt her brother. I will not go into details but we had to make a really hard decision. We knew before even talking about it that we could not say yes to him just to get her back. That is not fair to us, to him, to our children and to our family. We would not be ultimatum-ed into doing something if we could not give a full yes. We read his referral. And spoke to his therapist. And had a visit. We went into this knowing this could very likely be the last time we see our precious baby.      (people get real up in words -- when I say our baby, yes I know she's not technically in any       form "ours" but in our hearts she has always been ours) The weekend was a weekend full of allllll the things, feelings wise. I felt in turmoi

We had three people who really helped us during this time. My father in law. Mother in law. And Doug's grandma/Nini. We were getting what usually takes six months done in 3 1/2 weeks. We ended up sharing our story several times with newbie foster parents. Gosh, there's something so pure.  Nope. It's not pure ---- it's naive about newbie foster parents. We were there once too. Sat in those classes ready to save the world. Not only were we trying to get these classes done but we are in the middle of a home renovation.  To say life was hectic feels very much like an understatement.  Earlier in the year, after Z left Douglas felt our word was endure. It wasn't just about living after she left, we also were driving Alex to a private school that was quite far from our previous house. Once we moved into our new house I thought our season of enduring was over But, I was obviously wrong thinking that. It seemed like it was somehow a

On August 29th my best friend, Cassie, came to give Addison doughnuts before school and then we headed to Ikea. There is nothing better than being with your best friend in Ikea on a Tuesday. It's a known thing, that if I go with you to Ikea on a weekend that I really truly love you. But a Tuesday is the best. I had a great time with Cassie and her kids. I was feeling so light and full from our time together. And then I got a text that would flip my current plans and expectations. Her aunt let me know that she would not be adopting Z and the three other siblings living with her. As soon as I read that text I lost it. Like ugly cry lost it. I felt so confused. And immediately ready to do whatever we had to do to get our precious Z baby back into our home. Our foster care license had closed in July so what were we to do. We tried to request kinship. Nope. Not doing that. Then we decided to do the crazy thing. Be super crazy and start pre service classes again. See when you

Communication started back up. And I was invited to their home. I was terrified. I was honest, how am I supposed to not be mom but be like an aunt. How could I do that. We started meeting up with all the kids. I kept encouraging. Mothers Day just about killed me. I put on all the brave face I could. I kept reminding myself how lucky I was with the three kids that I birthed, but she was missing. She wasn't with me. I sent her aunt a mother's day text because no matter how much I hurt, she was the one caring for Z, she was the one loving her. She was the one dealing with her added trauma. Every time after a visit my heart fell apart. Everything hurt. Everything felt wrong. And I cried a lot. This girl, the loss of her was so heavy, but I had to face that this was how life was now. That the time she had with us was special but it was over. Or was it?

Part six is where I tell you I got over it quickly and life became sunshine and unicorns. Except I'd be lying if I told you that. Days that I didn't cry felt like I accomplished something truly hard. The little things would bring tears. Like the space in the room she once slept in. Her and Addison shared a room. Some days I couldn't even walk in there. It felt so empty, so bare. It hurt. But what truly made it hard was Addison. She struggled sleeping. Her aunt didn't want to kick us out of the picture so her and Z and then Doug, Addison and me met up for lunch. Z just wanted me to hold her and sobbed when it was time to go. Her aunt and I kept communicating and it hurt with every fiber of my being, but I tried my best to encourage her. And then silence. One day the communication ended. I sent her a text letting her know that if it was too hard for Z to see us I understood if she wanted to end us seeing her but to just let me know. Nothing. On Christmas day

We packed up the caseworkers car. We gave her some of her favorite things. We said good bye and we all cried. And then we jumped in our car and drove to my mom's in Pennsylvania. Breathing felt heavy and wrong. The world was still spinning while my life had just been torn apart. The moment she left I had decided if I can't be her mom, I will support her aunt the best way I can. That though felt like a knife slowly pushing through my chest. I'm supposed to be her mom. I could still hear her voice saying mama and feel the way she would lay on my shoulder. I could still smell her breathe and feel the texture of her hair. My life as I knew it was shattered. How do you come back from shattered? Here's what I know. You don't come back. The old you is gone. Once your heart breaks from loss, no matter that loss it changes you. No matter your heartbreak it's ok to know the old you is gone and now there's a new you. I felt like a shell of myself. On

Visits with the aunt were starting. The very fist visit was at the Children Services building. Z baby cried when she had to leave me And I cried the whole way home. We asked for updates and nothing. No calls, no emails, no texts and no more monthly visits. We last time we saw our worker was in August just before the TPR meeting and that would be the last time she visited Z in our home. I eventually was told the case was going to kinship, but not from a caseworker, or the GAL or literally anyone else on the effing team that makes decisions, but another foster parent. We didn't know what to do, we were losing our baby and we did what any parent losing their baby would do, we lost our shit. And we lost it hard. And email was typed up and sent. That email, where we put everything out there. With the main idea of "how will Z be protected?" That email caused us to be the bad guys. Another fun foster care fact. You are supposed to advocate for the child in your car

Part three sucks. It's the wrecking ball. In July we were told TPR would be happening. This isn't a fun thing if you are a bio parent. This is when they have decided they need to bring it all to the table and it's time to terminate rights. Just before this time, we were asked about the idea of adopting her brother, that is just a little older than her. We decided we would have him over. We did one weekend and then the next. It quickly stopped. Our agency was told we were being pushy. We were confused, we got approval for these visits and were asked to consider adopting him. We stopped immediately and no longer tried to facilitate anymore visits. We were confused beyond belief. This confusion was just the beginning of the mayhem that would be happening. Before the TPR meeting our caseworker came to our house to let us know about the meeting that would be happening. She also told us she had to reach out to an aunt one last time. This aunt had known about the

Eventually that caseworker did come. She came and I thought I would love her forever. Instead I ended up hating her and wishing that God would never ever allow me to see her face. She came. She was sweet. And right off the bat she told us we had to go through the process but that permanency would happen for her. Just in case you don't know, T H A T is a caseworker no-no. The goal is ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS reunification. Always. Until it is not. Until it's not doesn't happen easily. And does not happen until after parental rights are revoked, which is a process. Visits started which started some un fun behaviors for Z baby. Which included throwing up after visits and biting. Trauma ain't no joke sista friend. It's fierce and nasty. It will be triggered at the littlest or biggest things.      {Tiny PSA, if you are a foster parent, thinking about it, work with people in any capacity---        you NEED the book The Body Keeps The Score.} She adjusted

On December 19th, 2015 sweet baby Z came to us. She came late, just before midnight. We were told her name, which was pronounced wrong and that she was a boy. Also we were told 13 months so I assumed a little stumbling around boy. Instead a woman walked in with a pumpkin seat covered with a pink and black fleece blanket. First definitely not a boy and second why is she so tiny. I was so anxious, like dying inside excited, to hold her. After signing paperwork that felt like F O R E V E R. The paperwork that's all like "yes I'll keep her safe and get to that 72 hour appointment...." And then she took her out of that aged pumpkin seat and placed her in my arms and the world stopped. Stopped hard. I was no longer myself. I was this new version of who I formally was. I had to force myself back to earth. I couldn't dare love her so fiercely, that's like foster care parent death. And that's exactly what happened. The old me died. The new me took her