Over Our Heads...

I have a friend at work who has six biological children between the ages of 3 and 9.  I've already spoken about my friends that I met in foster class who have a sibling set of five (the oldest is 6).  All I can say is GOD BLESS THOSE COUPLES.

I do not know how they do it.  I just don't.  

After three days of having three under three, I thought I was going to die.  I was so physically and mentally tired, I could have fallen asleep standing up.  I'm not saying they were bad kids; they weren't.  Individually, they would have been a dream.  Together, they were just a lot.  

None of them were bad.  How could you say a 9 month old was bad (and that's how old Baby O and Bram both were)?  W wasn't bad, either.  We saw none of the behaviors that had gotten him removed from his previous placement.  

He was, however, extremely needy.  He wanted all of my attention all the time.  I could not hold or care for either Bram or Baby O because W constantly wanted me.  He wanted me to hold him, sit with him and watch him while he ate, read to him constantly, talk to him... the concept of sharing or waiting his turn was not an option in his little mind.  

After a day with us, he announced loudly, "You my mama!"  I told him he could call me mama if he wanted to.  He repeated it, almost like an order, a demand, 10-20 times a day.

Tiernen did her best to help me, but the caring of W became almost entirely my responsibility.  Darryl worked nights and slept during the day.  Only on weekends did he have any interaction with the boys.  Even though Bram was home during the weekends, Darryl didn't really help.  You could tell he did not feel connected at all to the boys.  This made me really sad because there was a time when he loved Baby O.  Now he acted like they weren't even there.

Because I was with W all the time, Tiernen had her hands full, too full, with both babies during the day.  It just wasn't possible.  

We came to the very, very hard decision that although we loved Bram and loved having him there, we simply could not have him at our house while the boys were there.  I had to admit it to myself:  I could not handle three kids under three.

Both Bram and Baby W were easy, easy babies.  W was very needy.  But can you blame the kid?  He had been in more foster homes in six months than years he was alive.  Of course he was needy.  He was looking for permanence.  

But I was exhausted.

Exhausted wasn't even the word.  I was completely spent.  

I called Erin and told her.  She understood.  She was ready to have Bram home.  He was ready to be home.

Except I wasn't ready for him to be home.  I would collapse in bed at 7 after the boys went to bed and I would cry because I missed Bram.

Darryl, the king of sensitivity, said, "well, you're the one who made the decision to send Bram home."  I wanted to kill him.

The fact that I didn't, well, let's just say I was too exhausted.  Had I been rested, he would have been a dead man.