Permission

Even though I became a mother at what seems the ridiculously young age of 23, I didn't become an aunt until I was 42.  It wasn't that I had much younger siblings either.  My brother Kenny is only four years younger and was married in his late twenties.  For various reasons, many of them health-related with his then-wife, kids weren't in the equation.  That meant that in our family, there were no babies sine 1996 when my daughter was born.

Tiny Miles and tiny me 

When my nephew Miles was born in March 2015, the whole family was obviously enamored beyond belief.  I drove the four hours to their house so often on weekends, I went over my lease mileage within a year.  

By the time I started the foster classes, I couldn't go nearly as often because no one else was home to take care of the dogs.  Still, I would pay for a kennel service once a month so I could still get there to see my darling boy.  I didn't want this to change once I actually had a baby in my house.

Now remember, foster parent = glorified babysitter. You can't get the kid a much-needed haircut let alone bring them out of state for the weekend.  But I didn't want being a foster mother to keep me from seeing my nephew.

Baby O was with us for such a short time, it never was an issue.  I didn't have to ask anyone to go anywhere with him because I didn't go anywhere with him except local places.

But with Bram, it was different.  After a few weeks, I wanted to see Miles (especially since by this point my then sister-in-law was out of the picture and staying there was even more pleasant).  I wanted to show off Bram too.  He was such a gorgeous boy!

Before I called his case planner, I called Erin and asked for permission.  She was so cool about everything.  "Of course. I trust you guys."  It was, and still is, such a great relationship between the two of us.  

I called the case planner and filled out the paperwork.  One of the questions asks what the "occasion" for the visit was.  Um?  Because I love my nephew and want to see him?  Wasn't that enough?  I wrote down "family visit" and hoped that was good enough.  

I let the case planner know that we would have to do this AT LEAST every six weeks.  Her face dropped.  Bram was probably one of her many, many cases.  In addition to meeting with me once a month, she had to meet with Erin, with Ibro, and with both Erin's other children once a month for an hour,  In addition, there were meetings with the case planning team (social workers, DSS workers, etc.)  And that was just for THIS case.  She probably had 20+ kids she was responsible for.  

"Let me see what I can do," she said, and later came back with a blanket permission form from here supervisor that Erin signed saying that I could go see Miles whenever I wanted for up to four days at a time.  Cool.

So that's what I did.

The first time, Tiernen came with me because I didn't know how well Bram would do in the car.  We left close to his nap time and Tiernen sat in the back with him so he wouldn't be lonely.  Overall, it was a pleasant drive down.

Photo evidence that this was the case

At first, almost-three-year-old Miles was quite loving to Bram.  

But then Kenny put Bram into Miles's old walker.  Sometimes pictures tell the story better than words, so below is the pictorial journey of how that went...

The exact quote from the little guy was, "Um, A'zi, can you get this baby out of here?"

* * * 

We visited many times, sometimes with Darryl and Tiernen, sometimes just me and Bram.  Everyone met and loved my little Bramio , including my long-time bestie Chris.

Ken started referring to Bram as Miles's "foster cousin."

Once, when we were leaving and Ken was on speakerphone with his soon-to-be-ex-wife, I heard her ask, "so is she adopting him or what?"

Et tu, Brute?

Real Modern Family

During foster class, they told us that often, the birth family becomes like your extended family.  Foster parents invited parents to their homes for holidays and birthday celebrations; they would carpool to school events.  This just seemed weird to me.  I mean, sure, it seemed like a good idea on paper, but was it really feasible?  Did you really want strangers in your home?

The answer:  it really depends.

Since I didn't know Baby O's family, the answer is no there.  But I had Erin and Ibro over all the time when they came to see Bram.  I would hang out during his visits to their house too, not to supervise, but to shoot the shit with Erin's mom or to play with her other sons.  

(On one such occasion, her seven year old son and I spent and hour just sending emojis to Tiernen.  The weirder the emoji, the better!)

I really did feel a connection to her boys, and I started to invite them to family-friendly events at the high school where I teach.  We saw a few plays and musicals and attended science demonstrations.  Sometimes we would bring Bram, but more often than not, he would visit with his mom during that time.  Admittedly, it was initially a bit odd to have to explain:  these are my foster sons brothers...  no, they aren't in foster care

Just as I became a part of their extended family, they became a part of mine. 

We used to joke that this whole foster gig had evolved into co-parenting, that we were like a lesbian couple who had broken up, married men, but stayed friends to raise the kids.

Talk about your modern family...

Foster Poster Girl

Do you tell strangers that your baby is your foster child?

I'm on a number of different foster parenting support Facebook pages, and there is definitely a difference of opinion on this one.

Some people believe it is breaking confidentiality big time to disclose the "foster" status of a child.  I see this very differently.

If someone just compliments the baby offhandedly, like, "what a beautiful baby!" I will simply respond with, "thank you!" and smile.

Sometimes, these interactions with strangers are longer, say a couple next to you in a restaurant or a woman behind you on a long grocery line.  Because Bram has light hair and eyes, and I do not, I will often get, "where'd he get his blue eyes from?"  If Darryl isn't there too, they might follow up with, "from daddy?"  The truth is, yes, Bram DID get his blue eyes from his dad... just not from someone I was married to.

I see this as a prime opportunity to do a little educatin' (after all, I am a teacher).  If the conversation lasts more than a simple exchange, I will say, "actually, he's my foster son."

The responses vary, but they are always along the lines of:

"Oh, good for you."

"God bless you!"

"You are doing such a service."

Ah, if they only knew about my anti-altruistic self!  :)

Sometimes the questions get a little more personal:

"Will you be able to adopt him?"

"How long do you get to 'keep' him?"

"Do you get paid?"

And, like the saint that I am, I answer them patiently and honestly:  no, he's not up for adoption; the court decides how long he is in care on a month-to-month basis; there is a stipend that covers the baby's clothes and food and toys and diapers, but it isn't pay.

And then comes the wallop of the question that 9 out of 10 people always say:  

"Oh, I could never do it.  I'd get too attached and wouldn't want to give them back!"

And here is where I mostly keep quiet.  What I want to say is that therein lies the problem:  it isn't about "you."  It really isn't about any of the adults in the picture (my empty nest joke notwithstanding).  It is about these kids who were taken from the only home they have known and placed with a stranger.  It is about loving them as much as you can for as long as you can.  

Yup, you get attached, attached in a big, big way.  But that's good.  Something would be wrong with you if you didn't get attached.  You wouldn't be a good candidate for foster care if you didn't form a connection with a little person who lived in your home for a day, a week, a month, a year.

And when they leave, man, it sucks big time.  There are no words to describe it, even when they do go home, which of course is the goal.  It still hurts like someone stabbed you in the heart.  But you do it anyway when the next phone call comes for the next placement. 

Because really, what's the alternative?  These kids cannot stay in their current situation for whatever reason.  They don't have family members that are willing or able (or both) to care for them.  What's the alternative?  Romanian orphange-type situations?  I would rather have my heart broken a million times than think of Bram or Baby O or any other child in that type of situation.

So, I tell my foster story to the strangers I meet who comment on the beautiful baby boy I happen to have in my arms at the moment.  Maybe I'll inspire someone to who was on the fence to become a foster parent.  

Just call me the foster parent poster child.

Happy Easter

Easter was coming.  It would be our first "holiday" with a foster since Baby O spent New Year's Eve with us.  I was excited.  Even though Tiernen is an adult, I still make her an Easter basket every year.  It is the same one she's had since birth, the one my Gram gave her.  Now that's she's an adult, instead of candy, she gets earphones, clothes, and plastic eggs with cash.  Every year we dye eggs in one form or another too.  This year, I found black chalkboard eggs that you could decorate with chalkboard markers.  

Oh, where have you been all my life???

I was excited to make Bram's Easter basket too!

We brought him to the mall and had his picture taken with the Easter Bunny.  He was in the height of his drool phase with teething, so his face was perpetually red, like a little alcoholic!   

He was at the age where he didn't mind sitting with the Easter Bunny.  I know that Tiernen hated the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus.  The only pic I have of her with any holiday character was the year when Mrs. Claus was a friend of mine! Other than that, she avoided them like the plague.  True confession:  Darryl is still afraid of the Easter Bunny!  We made sure we got a huge photo package to share with Erin, Ibro, and Bram's grandmother.  

Easter is pretty mellow at the Nix residence:  we eat a big breakfast together, Tiernen goes through her basket stash, and later we go out to dinner somewhere.  When  your closest family member is states away and you aren't particularly religious, Easter is:  meh.

This year we would have a baby though!  Yay!

I had so much fun getting this for Bram's Easter basket!  He was too little to eat candy, so I filled it with new sippy cups, stuffed animals, books, and bath toys.  Of course he wouldn't understand what was going on, but that was okay.  We would have a fun photo opportunity.

A week before Easter, Bram's case planner called me and told me that parents were allowed to have their children at their homes for holidays.  By this time, Erin had been granted unsupervised visits, and Bram would spend a few hours on Saturday and sometimes Sunday at his Erin's house with his family so he could see his brothers and grandmother.  Erin and Ibro still came over often to see him at our house during the week too, but this was an chance for the boys to see him.

On Easter, we were told, he would be there for 12 hours, approximately 9 am - 9 pm.  That was the longest at that point that he had ever been away from us.  Still, I understood that Erin wanted him with her family for the holiday.

After he woke up and opened his basket, I gave him a bath and dressed him in the Easter outfit that Erin had bought for him.  He looked like a little man!  

We drove him over and his family were all  SO excited to see him.  You forget that having a child in foster care really affects others in the family, not just the parents.  His brothers and parents kissed and hugged him repeatedly.  It was extremely touching!

I went home and took advantage of my baby-free time and took a nap, showered, got dressed, and then we went out to an early dinner.  It felt odd to leave the house without a diaper bag, odd not to have Bram with us.

When we got home, it was only 3 PM.  What now?

I could not figure out what to do with myself.  The three of us just looked at each other.  Without Bram in the house, the house seemed incomplete and sad.  "This must be what it feels like at Erin's house," I thought.  Damn, what a sucky feeling.

How could this baby who had only been with us since January be such a big part of our lives?  We had lived years and  years in this house without him, without any baby, and got by just fine.  Now it seemed unbearable.  We all watched the clock, waiting for 9 PM when we could go pick him up.

Other Families' Values

The Family Bed

When I was in college in Maine, an older woman from the community was cleaning out her personal library and donated hundreds of books to our dorm.  They were stacked in the lobby and had that awesome "old book" smell that I loved (and still love) so very much.

I couldn't resist, and so I picked up a few.  One that caught my eye was a book for expecting and new moms.  I was neither expecting nor a new mom, but since I've always loved babies (I read Dr. Spock cover-to-cover in seventh grade), I picked it up.

Thumbing through it, I picked up these little morsels of advice for the "modern" 1950's mom-to-be:

Smoke up to ten cigarettes a day to calm yourself and your baby... 

Have a cocktail or two every night with your husband to assure a good night's sleep...

Modern science knows what is best for your new baby...

We might be horrified by this now, but back then, this was the belief.  So many other "set in stone" beliefs have evolved over the years.  Once upon a time, the best way to put your baby to sleep was on his belly and the safest place for her to be in the car was in her mother's arms.  Times change, advice changes, and the "right" way to raise your baby changes.

Since I have not been a new mother for a very long time, I was unaware of the new mandate:  The ABCs of safe sleep.  

Call me a big hippy, but Tiernen slept in my bed from birth until the day before she started kindergarten.  I read the book The Family Bed while I was pregnant and thought it was amazing. I never had a bassinet or a Pack n Play or a crib for her, not ever.    As a breastfeeding mom, it was just so much easier to just roll over and nurse her than to have to get up in the night and feed her.

Except when you are a foster parent, it isn't about your values or your convenience.  Obviously you can't breastfeed a foster baby (even if you were lactating, and I haven't been for many, many years).  Co-sleeping, which is what it is called now, is a big no-no.  

Except here's the deal:  Bram was used to co-sleeping with his mom.  He spent the first four months of his life co-sleeping with her and the thought of sleeping in a crib or Pack n Play, even in our room, was not doing it for him.

The Agency did not allow co-sleeping, so we spent many, many, many a sleepless night trying to get him used to sleeping alone.  It was hell.  

I felt so badly for the little guy.  We would rock him to sleep and the second his head hit the mattress:  wide awake and screaming.  Then we'd start the process all over again.

I know that we've all heard horror stories about babies dying from co-sleeping.  It's horrible, and my heart goes out to those poor parents.  

But here are some other stats that might interest you:

 https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2018/05/21/601289695/is-sleeping-with-your-baby-as-dangerous-as-doctors-say

The "right" way to raise your baby is changing all the time.  Who knows if in 50 years, new parents will be horrified that we put babies in cribs.  But until then, I'll just be following The Agency's rules...