6 Things To Know About Foster-Adoption

I've got a new piece up today on The Huffington Post. Here's a snippet of the article:

...There seems to be an overall lack of knowledge in the general public regarding foster care and foster-adopt. This can cause misunderstandings that may seem insignificant to those outside the world of foster-adopt, but to those living in this world, these misunderstandings can be isolating.
I’ve heard many foster-adopt parents begin sentences with, “If people only knew…” 

In an attempt to educate, I asked foster-adoptive parents from one of my state’s local support groups what they wish others knew about foster-adopt. Here are six themes that emerged: 

1. Adopted children were first loved and wanted by another family; their biological family were simply not in a position to raise and parent their kids. Our adopted children were not “given up” the way one discards a sweater that has become stretched and faded. Our children were placed with us to become their forever family, and we said yes even though we were scared and unsure and may have had little information.

Click here to read the full-text of the article!

Parenting Should-Haves: Mamas, Give Yourself Some Grace

I've got a new post up on Her View From Home this week encouraging mamas to give themselves grace. Here's a teaser:

"Mom, J was saying mean things about you and dad yesterday on the bus. He told people you say the F-word and that you don't feed him for five days. He's lying. He lied."  

I can always count on my daughter to be honest. But, for the love, we were six blocks form the kids' school, running late, and my coffee was cold. At that moment, I didn't have the emotional capacity to process something so significant.  

Immediately, from the back seat, J piped up, "Someone ELSE said that about their parents. Not me."  

I tried to remain calm while also, politely, call BS on my son who frequently takes creative liberties with the truth. A few seconds later, when he realized I wasn't going to believe his lie, he caved.  

"Well...I said it, but it was about my BIRTH  parents." 

Click here to read more! 

Adoption is Not Second Best

I'm a little late in posting this, but last week I had a new piece go live on Her View From Home where I dispel the myth that adoption is second best. Like many posts, I've thought about writing this for at least six months now, but after a conversation during a long run with my best friend (also an adoptive momma!), I finally reached enough clarity to actually write the piece. Here's a teaser of the article; click here to read the full text. 

Those kids is how many people refer to my kids. The phrase rings with an air of pity and a twinge of thankfulness that someone else was willing to step in and adopt those kids. It’s a phrase often used with no harm intended, but the connotations are heavy. My kids aren’t those kids; no kids are those kids…kids in foster care or available for adoption are simply, kids.

To read the full text of this article, click here. If you're feeling generous, feel free to share the article on your favorite social media outlets!

I Don't Have a Birth Story To Tell You

Note: This piece originally appeared on Scary Mommy. It was a difficult piece to write, but as with all of my writing--it's one that I hope reaches those who need it. Here's a teaser:

I don't have a birth story. There are no sweet post-birth photos or memories of my husband gazing at me in admiration, in awe of the incredible act of childbirth. Perhaps our children's adoption days will be that moment for my husband, but those moments feel so ordinary and less monumental than the physical birth of a child. 

I worry that when the chaos of life bites down on us, during those times when I lose my shit--when I'm folding mountains of laundry, bra-less, in my pajamas at 6 PM--I worry my husband will look at me see just a woman, bra-less, in pajamas, folding laundry, not one who  braved searing pain to give him the greatest gift outside of grace. I fear he won't have a defining moment to look back on to revive his sense of love for me when I'm at my worst... Click here to read more! 

My Little Black Dress: A Story of Adoption and Heartbreak

Note: I've been busy lately submitting work for publication. One of my posts that originally appeared on this blog was published a few weeks ago on Sammiches & Psych Meds. While it's not getting the views that some of my other pieces are getting, this is one post I'm most proud of mostly because it articulates a moment that I didn't let break me. Here's a teaser of the post:

My husband always wanted to be a dad, and I wanted to be the person who would give him that desire. But after years of trying to conceive and then an eventual medical diagnosis of infertility--one that loomed like an ironic scarlet letter--we decided to pursue infant adoption. We waited for a year before we got the call--the one that every potential adoptive parent hopes for each time his/her phone rings. There was a birth mom. She picked us. Baby boy was due in three months. There were three potential fathers. Legal risk. Could she meet us? We were hesitant and thrilled at the same time; of course we didn't say no to meeting her....Click here to read more. 

Speaking back to the stereotypes of foster parents

I came across this video on the interwebs made by What Would You Do?, one of those hidden camera shows that stages scenarios in order to see what kind of reaction they receive from onlookers. This particular staged situation portrays foster parents as greedy people only in foster care for the money who treat their foster kids as second-class children. The video is a little over eight minutes long, but it took me about 20 minutes to watch; I had to walk away a few times because it made me so mad. Here are three reasons why I take issue with the video:

My little black dress

My husband had always wanted to be a dad, and I wanted to be the person who would give him that desire. But after years of trying to conceive and then an eventual medical diagnosis of infertility--one that loomed like an ironic scarlet letter--we decided to pursue infant adoption. We waited for a year before we got the call--the one that every potential adoptive parent hopes for each time his/her phone rings. There was a birth mom. She picked us. Baby boy was due in three months. There were three potential fathers. Legal risk. Could she meet us? We were hesitant and thrilled at the same time; of course we didn't say no to meeting her.

Over the course of the next three months, we spent time with this birth mom building a relationship. We took her out for meals, answered every text message and email she ever sent, ignored every quirk, honored her seemingly bizarre requests (like what we would wear to the hospital to see the baby for the first time), prayed like crazy that this would work out, and even began building relationships with her grandparents and her aunt (who all raised her). My husband and I and the birth mom picked the baby's name--Micah Aaron. We got a call sometime during the week of Father's Day letting us know that the Micah was born and a father was identified. During the month we had to wait for the birth father's rights to be terminated, Micah was placed in temporary foster care. One week after he was born, we met him for the first time.

I don't normally wear dresses, but I bought a dress specifically for the occasion. It was a plain black dress.

Not me...not my dress; but it's a nice pic, eh?

Image source

A sleeveless cotton number with a cinch around the waist and pockets--a practical dress for a new mom. Dressy enough to wear to a nice dinner but casual enough to wear to all the farmer's markets I'd obviously be taking my new baby to. Remaining guarded, my husband snapped a single photo of me in my plain black dress holding Micah for the first and only time.

Off her medication for too long, our birth mom ended up in jail. She retaliated by refusing to sign the relinquishment papers. The caseworkers tried to reason with her, her family tried to to talk with her--but nothing changed her mind. She stayed in jail, Micah stayed in foster care, and we were left with nothing but grief, broken dreams, and a stupid, black sleeveless cotton dress.

I don't want to get into how numb I felt for a good year, how it took me two years before I felt strong enough to hold another baby, how many times in that first month I cried myself to vomiting (5), or how many Google searches I have done (4) since then to try and track down our birth mom or her son. Slowly and painfully, we picked ourselves up. It took me about a month to delete the picture I had of him with me. Strangely, though, deleting the picture wasn't as difficult as getting rid of my dress. I couldn't give it up. The dress was appropriately colored and became a symbol of mourning for me. I wore it several times in the months following our failed adoption, and each time I put it on, I cried and prayed that God would protect little Micah.

Nine months after I wore it for the first time and held the baby who was almost ours, the dress had become so faded that I had to give it up. It was the last remaining connection I had to Micah, but one night, determined to move on, I dropped off the plain and black sleeveless cotton dress at a Goodwill. I expected to cry but was surprised at my sudden display of strength as I dropped my dress in the donation bin. I walked away empty handed--a feeling I knew well. Only this time...this time I was empty handed on my own terms.

Saying no to more children...for now

We discovered the Nebraska Heart Gallery (a website featuring pictures and bios of kids available for adoption in Nebraska) while we were working on our foster parenting license three years ago. Halfway through our licensure, we inquired about a sibling strip of three, but since they were spoken for, we were informed of a little boy about to go on the Heart Gallery--this little boy would eventually become our son. After we adopted him, it was only a few weeks before I started creeping on the Heart Gallery reading bios and thinking about giving Jon a sibling. We made a few inquiries, and when nothing panned out--we decided this was a clear sign we needed to wait. But I looked at that website every day...sometimes multiple times a day, and my heart ached for these kids. Their pictures burned in my mind. Six months after we adopted Jon, because of an inquiry with the Heart Gallery, we were matched with our now daughter. It's been 15 months since she moved in and seven months since we adopted her. Just a month ago my husband and I had that conversation...the more kids conversation. We laughed, I chugged a beer, and while our kids each cried in their rooms, we quickly agreed that we had reached our limits with kids.

......then I looked at the Heart Gallery's website last week......and I saw two little boys with whom my son went to daycare and a handful of kids whose bios have been up on the website for three years. Then I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to be done adopting kids....

My heart aches for these kids who haven't been able to find homes. Every kid deserves a home, and I desperately want to give all of these kids a forever family--to allow them this experience. But the truth is....my husband and I are tired EXHAUSTED. And we are already stretched to our limits emotionally and physically. We could not fit more therapy appointments in our schedule unless I quit working altogether. And it turns out that I enjoy the break of working--even part-time. I could not do the difficult full-time stay at home mom gig that adopting another child would require.

But you guys....these kids who are waiting...I keep thinking about Jeffrey--whose sister has already been adopted---who went to daycare with my son. I think about Dom, Naomi, and Chire--a sibling strip of three who we prayed about for a year asking God for direction about pursuing these three who are now eligible to be adopted individually--whose pictures show how they've grown up while waiting for their forever family.

I don't cry when I box up my kids' tiny clothes like some moms who know they are done with kids. But I do get misty knowing that I cannot offer Jeffrey, Dom, Naomi, or Chire a forever home right now. In five years or even in ten years we may be in a different place and be able to welcome more kids, but for now we just can't. However-----if you've ever considered more kids or adoption, would you check out the Nebraska Heart Gallery? Would you consider saying yes to these kids? Adopting older kids is incredibly difficult, but.....these kids have often experienced more difficult things. If you want to chat about adopting older children, I'd be happy to talk with you; just hit me up on email or Facebook or leave me a comment below!

My son, show and tell, and adoption

This is my son’s teddy bear; he got it from my parents on his adoption day. The bear’s sweatshirt has Jon’s adoption date printed on one of the sleeves. It is, by far, my son’s favorite stuffed animal--one he sleeps with each night. Today for show and tell, he chose to bring this bear.

Initially I thought it was a sweet thing to choose, but after Jon had tucked it safely away in his backpack last night before bed, I started to worry about his show and tell choice. I wondered if I should’ve steered him towards his new spy kit or his Ford F-250 pickup and trailer...I feared that the kids in his class would make fun of him for bringing a stuffed animal….and for being adopted. I pictured him standing in front of his class, proudly showing off his bear pointing out his adoption date, March 6, 2014, now partially rubbed off from so much use. I imagined the boys in his class snickering at the bear making comments about how it’s a baby toy. I heard the questions some girls might ask---Why are you adopted? Did your parents not want you? And then I pictured him screaming at the class--a reaction he has when he’s frustrated--before he runs out of the room crying, giving the more malicious kids in his class fuel.

You see, Jon has not been one to want to talk about being adopted. He had some project in Kindergarten that required him to draw or write about something that made him unique. I suggested he share that he was adopted, that his mommy and daddy picked him to love forever. Instead of embracing the idea, he peered up at me, a grave expression on his face and said, “I don’t want to talk about being adopted.” Of course, I couldn’t let it go. I pried and asked why, and quietly he mumbled, “because my friends will probably make fun of me.” 

Even at age five he felt this difference, and it wasn’t a special feeling, it was a difference rooted in fear...and maybe even shame. It broke my heart. I thought it would take a few years for him to feel this fear and shame, to realize the difference between him and most of his classmates. I acknowledged his fear, reminded him that we loved him more than he could even imagine, and then I didn’t really bring it up after that. Of course, in our house we talk about how we picked both Jon and Ky to be our kids. We remind them that lots of parents don’t pick their kids, and we try to explain why it’s so special to be picked. We relate it to God picking us to be his children. We try to surround them with other kids who are adopted so they don’t feel so alone. We seek out classes for them to help them explain adoption to their friends. We make adoption a positive thing in our home. But I know that even in our modern society, many still don’t understand adoption--especially kids. No matter how beautiful adoption is, it’s rooted in loss.

During show and tell time today, I prayed that God would protect my baby from any naive or malicious comments today. I prayed that God would help Jon (and Ky) to grow to see their adoption as a source of pride. I prayed that God would give Nate and me wisdom as we continue helping our kids embrace their differences, and I prayed that God would continue to give us opportunities to educate others on adoption--especially foster to adopt.

If you have kids, I encourage you to start talking to your kids early about how each family is different. Click here for a list of 11 books to use to start talking to your kids about families (two books that aren’t on this list are: The Family Book by Todd Parr and All Kinds of Families by Mary Ann Hoberman) . Consider checking your public libraries for these or even purchase a few at your local bookstores.

Sharing in the joy

So I just have to share some excitement today: My dear friend Kristin and her husband Jim have been pursuing infant adoption through a national adoption agency for just about a year. They got word last week that their profile was selected by a birth mother who wanted to meet them. After a video conference, they learned that this birth mother had selected them to parent her baby boy due in February! This has been a long awaited answer to prayers.

Mother's Day

Ah, it's been a while since I blogged. This motherhood business has obviously forced me to adjust my priorities a bit. Hence, not a lot of writing going on here. I'm actually doing some writing, but much of it is processing through our recent adoption and the losses our little guy has experienced through the process. I've actually been writing about it, but that writing is just too much for a space so public. Something I've been meaning to write about, though, is Mother's Day.

Today I joined J-man at school for "Muffins with Mom." The kids served us muffins while we sat awkwardly on tiny chairs, read us a poem, sang us some songs, presented us with some handmade gifts, and then the moms got to pick out a book to read to our little people. It really was a great morning, and I held back tears much of the morning as I was overwhelmed with love for my little boy. But I also couldn't help but wonder about J's birth mom...our contact with her has really fallen off. We've written letters and sent pictures to get no response. I never know if I should keep sending the updates or if I should back off. I've contemplated sending her a card for Mother's Day, but I just don't know if that would be too much like rubbing salt in a wound. Sometimes I think of what I would want, and then I realize that what she wants and what I want are likely two different scenarios.

I'm so thankful God gave us J, but it's heartbreaking to know that J was removed from his biological parents' care...for various reasons, we don't talk much about his birth parents. And really, he doesn't either. Once every three or four months, he'll say something about one of them. When J gave me the book he made about all the things he loves to do with me (his mom), I couldn't help but wonder if, when he was making it, he thought first or at all about his birth mom. It would be fine with me if he did, I don't feel like a second-place mom or anything, but I just wonder what goes through his mind on holidays like Mother's and Father's Day. I wonder if he thinks about them more than he lets us know.

I don't know what J's birth mom is up to. I'm not sure where she's at physically, mentally, or emotionally. I don't know how she'll spend her Mother's Day. I do hope she thinks of Jonathan, and I hope she knows he is loved.

Our upcoming big day

On Thursday morning we make J's adoption final! We have family joining us for the event and are planning on making an entire day of it celebrating his official christening as a Helzer.

I cannot believe 7 months have passed since he first moved in with us. The transition was no walk in the park. Nate and I had no experience parenting, and J had not had two consistent parents for quite some time. I think the struggle, though, taught us all about unconditional love.

Like a five year old is wont to do, J has flip-flopped back and forth between being excited about his adoption and saying he doesn't want to be adopted. He can't ever articulate why he is or is not excited; I'm not sure he fully understands his emotions. But I think he is scared this adoption thing is not going to happen. He is old enough to have memories with his birth mom and birth dad, his removal from the home, his time in foster care, etc. He's old enough to remember his trauma even if he can't put words to it. So tonight when we read a book about adoption, it did not break my heart when he said he didn't want to be adopted and change his name to Helzer. Imagine being old enough to experience all he has, to be told that you'd be going back "home" only to end up in a stranger's home who tells you they're going to be your new mom and dad. No matter how much we eased him into this, he's bound to feel troubled by it, to feel allegiance to his first family even though it was traumatizing.

While he isn't as excited about the adoption as we are, I do hope it's a day that is joyful for him, one that he'll remember fondly. I hope someday he will understand all of this and that he'll feel special because we chose him to be our son and love forever despite any scars and wounds. I hope he comes to know that we love him unconditionally for the rest of our lives.

Parental compromising

It's 6 AM on a Saturday; I've been up for one hour. Nate has been up for three. J woke up at 3:00 asking if he could get up and play. When I conceded to the fact I wouldn't be sleeping any later, I stumbled into the kitchen to make my morning coffee nearly tripping on the dog who looked up at me as if to say, Remember when we slept until 8 on Saturdays?

Like any new parent, I catch myself mid-J's super tantrums reminiscing about the way things were BK (before kids). Sometimes, I'm sure other adoptive parents can relate, I slip up and think, This would be easier if it were my biological child...I know easier isn't the correct term; I know different would be a more applicable word. It's just hard to think this way when J does things that are completely antithetical to our own tendencies. Because I'm parenting a child who doesn't have my incredible genetic makeup (she says with sarcasm dripping from her lips) I find myself in compromising positions at times: things I never thought I'd do as a parent, I'm doing now as a parent.

Allow me to articulate.

J's been experiencing some difficulties at school. He is hyperactive and defiant. A lethal combination for any classroom. I've worked with kids long enough to know that sometimes kids don't choose to by hyperactive and defiant...sometimes it's a part of their make-up---whether biological or by the environment they're caretakers have created. Of course, kids need to be taught how to control their defiance and exercise it appropriately (there is a time and place for defiance!) as well as how to manage their hyperactivity--but teaching this to a five year old who has just warmed up to the idea of us being his forever-parents, is no easy task. Per his therapist's recommendation, I issue him clear rewards/consequences each day on the way to school. We discuss ways to deal with stressful situations and we each pray asking God to give us strength to make the right choices and to be a good friend. After a while, a reward and consequence ends up losing its impact forcing a parent to think of new ways to enforce good behavior in his/her brood. This particular morning, I was tired beyond belief and frustrated from one of J's super fun morning tantrums where he screams and cries and throws things for no apparent reason at 6:00 in the morning before I've had my morning coffee. At a loss for a new reward or consequence, "Buddy," I blurted, "if you have a good day today, we can have donuts tomorrow morning." I may as well have said, "Hey kid--have a good day, and I 'll hand you some sugar cubes to suck on." Fortunately (or unfortunately?), J did not earn the donuts that day.

Believing J's struggles are primarily biological, a psychiatrist has recommended we put little J on meds to help balance out this hyperactivity and defiance. Both Nate and I worry about meds. I've seen kids on meds turn into zombies with no personality. I've also seen meds take what seems like an unbearable kid and turn him into a pleasant child who is able to focus. I know some people need medications. I just don't want to jump to meds too soon. While we do research on different meds, we're conducting the Mountain Dew experiment with J. Doctors suggested this to my own parents who were exasperated at my hyperactivity as a child. Give a hyperactive child a high concentration of caffeine, and it will slow the kid down enough so they can focus more clearly. I'm not convinced this is a scientific experiment, and I cringe at the idea of giving a five year old soda (I don't even drink soda), but I will be pouring him a glass this morning and again in the afternoon.

I can see this compromising in two ways: I'm a failure parent who has given into pure bribery to reach her child, or I'm doing the best I can at meeting this kid where he's at. Frankly, it takes a lot of work to believe the second view. Being a foster-adoptive parent feels incredibly isolating. When J is around our friends and family, he is an absolute charmer. Of our support system, we are the only people who see him in his true form. Each day is a struggle to do what's right and fight the deprecating thoughts that lurk in the cobwebs...a battle every parent can relate to.

Adoption and the issues that come with it

Well the Medicaid debacle has been resolved! After resubmitting paperwork three different times, little guy was finally approved for Medicaid. Praise God...this is such a huge burden lifted from our shoulders. Because this was remedied, we were able to set an adoption date. J officially becomes a Helzer on March 6th. We've taken the whole day off and have invited our immediately family to join us in the courtroom as we make this thing official. We cannot wait to make that day special for J--one he will remember for the rest of his life.

As we prepare to make the adoption official, there have been some interesting things to think about come up. First, our adoption date was scheduled for the day of parent-teacher conferences. When I first talked with our immediate supervisor about it, I was told to "come when we could" to conferences. We politely explained that we would not be at conferences because it is J's special day, and family, of course, is our first priority. Our supervisors were okay with this, but they expected us to "make up" conferences some way. Initially, we were more than willing to "make up" conferences by meeting with parents that next day (a half work day for us). But the more I think about it, the more I realize how crazy this is. I realize that growing a family through adoption is not the same as growing a family "naturally," so maybe my comparisons are off base--but if I were to squeeze out a baby the day of conferences, I'm sure Nate and I wouldn't be required to make up the time to meet with parents. I'm almost certain we'd be told to take care of our family. Instead, we're expected to return the next day and do our jobs as if nothing has changed in our lives. A colleague asked if I would take maternity leave after our adoption. "Uh...probably not. J's in school; what would I even do?" I responded. I hadn't even thought of taking maternity leave until she asked me. I did some research this weekend and realized that we are allowed up to 30 days of leave for the adoption under FMLA. I thought about how nice it would be to take even two weeks off wrap up a few things--to make a scrapbook for J; to read about ADHD, parenting traumatized children, etc; to go through his stuff; to begin to clear our second bedroom to make way for another foster child or to have available to provide emergency respite; and honestly...to just let this sudden growth in our family sink in. J moved in with us three days before school started. We didn't have a nine month period to acclimate to the idea of having a child. Part of me feels silly for wanting to take this leave--part of me is afraid I'll have to justify this to people who will think it's ridiculous that I take the leave, to people who will probably never understand the difficulties of becoming a parent to a child who has been traumatized and is old enough to remember this trauma. There's also the reality that if I use more than my allotted leave time (10 sick days a year), I could be transferred to a new school. Because of my vocal chord problems, I've already used 5 sick days this year (more than I've had to use in my 5 1/2 years of teaching!). I only have 5 sick days left. I don't know what the likelihood is of the aforementioned transfer, but I'd hate for this to happen. For the first time in a few years, I enjoy where I'm at and the classes I'm teaching.

All this because we chose to adopt a child...I'm thrilled to be making J's adoption final, but I'm not thrilled to have these other issues clouding the joy.

Secret thoughts of a new mother

Preface: Yesterday we had our annual winter board meeting for the Nebraska Writing Project. We meet in the morning, have lunch, and then venture out on a writing marathon for the afternoon. For four years I've attended this writing marathon and have cherished this time in Lincoln writing with some of Nebraska's finest teachers. Yesterday, however, feeling overwhelmed, I skipped out after lunch and went on my own writing marathon.  Here's what came from it: 

For seven years I dreamed of being a mom. And now, here I am: six months a mother and today I find myself escaping the role. I could be at home--I could've been home two hours ago, but I'm still in Lincoln, hiding out at a little coffee shop that is literally underground. I want to stay and wander the streets of Lincoln--spend money on frivolous things like Billy Collins poetry books, handmade earrings in the shapes of birds, and notebooks touting Whitman quotes on the front cover. I want to crawl into a tavern, drink a black and tan and eat all carbs and no vegetables. I want to strike up conversations with adults, conversations that don't include mention of bodily functions or superheroes.

I don't know how to deal with this sudden 24/7 responsibility that has given me a new identity. No longer am I Danielle--the teacher, writer, and aspiring intellectual. Now I am Danielle--J's mom--laundry folder, kid-wrangler. In some social situations I don't even know who to flock to anymore. Normally I gravitate towards readers, writers, thinkers, and society-shakers, but I feel like all I have to talk about is my new role as a mother since that's really all I've had time for lately. It seems natural then to lean towards mothers--especially new mothers. However, I don't feel like a "real" mom. I don't have labor and delivery stories, diaper-changing memories, or breast-feeding tips. So I'm an outcast--a haggard outcast who had read nothing more substantial than the newspaper or a fly-by article in The Atlantic once a month.

Deep down I think I am still a writer and aspiring intellectual, but this identity is buried beneath layers of insecurities from my new identity as a mom. Perhaps this is why I'm stuck in this underground coffee shop an hour away from my home spilling my heart on paper. I have a feeling there's a way to merge the two--who I once was with who I now am, but I haven't figured it out yet. Right now I just feel guilty for this confusion. Before we were blessed with little man, I hated hearing moms lament about their kids or their loss of freedom, but now that I'm here, I get it. Of course I appreciate my son, and I wouldn't change my life for anything. It's just difficult to transition rather suddenly into this new role. I didn't have a baby stewing inside of me for nine months forming that natural attachment; my baby came as a four year-old--broken and reluctant to accept me as his mom. I know this confusion is natural, but I can't help feeling like Douglas county's worst mother for feeling a need to escape.

I hope someday I'll feel like my same old self again. But...maybe feeling like my old self isn't the point at all. Maybe the point of all of this is to figure out who I'm intended to be....

Glitch in the adoption process

Of course, things can never be smooth for us. We are complication magnets.

The week before Christmas we had a family team meeting with all of the caseworkers involved in our fostering/adoption of little man. We had been preparing our subsidy and paperwork to send off to the Department of Health and Human Services for his adoption. The subsidy and continued Medicaid would help us to continue providing therapy for little man, would cover any meds he might need in the future, and would financially cover any future trips to psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists, etc. He has experienced quite a lot in his five years that will take professional help to address. He has also developed some extreme behavior tendencies that often prevent him from achieving success and could possibly interfere with academics later on in his life if help is not provided early. Because he's still a foster kid, all of his current treatments are covered by Medicaid. While we filled out our paperwork for the subsidy and Medicaid, we were assured there would be no problems; he would receive both a subsidy and Medicaid. So at this family team meeting, we found out that DHHS denied him for Medicaid. DENIED. Paperwork was re-submitted, phone calls were made, emails sent, and still he was denied.

Tonight we met with a representative from an agency who is handling little man's permanency plan who was able to explain this denial more fully. Apparently this agency, which deals with all of the foster and foster to adopt cases in eastern Nebraska, was notified the day before a new policy change with Medicaid that would essentially deny kids Medicaid on certain grounds that are incredibly gray rather than black and white. It sounds like little man's paperwork was the first to be processed with this new law. Currently we have two options: accept only the subsidy (a monthly stipend) and move on with the adoption process or take DHHS to court and drag out the adoption an undefined amount of time (but I can only imagine this would take months). There is a local advocacy agency who has agreed to provide us legal representation because this new policy change happened so quickly and doesn't appear to have followed the standard protocol for changing policy (essentially this is a revision to a law, so it's filled with heavy legal stuff that I don't even pretend to understand); ultimately this agency is suspicious of this recent policy change. What none of us can figure out is how our little man can be eligible to receive Medicaid now to cover treatment for his extreme behavior issues, but when he is adopted, he will no longer be eligible for help with no explanation as to why he will not receive help. It's as if these people think his adoption would magically cure him of any issue he would ever have...despite being diagnosed with psychiatric disorders from licensed medical professionals. The documentation we've provided in support of little man receiving Medicaid is undeniable: he needs help and will continue to need help. With our teaching salaries, there is no way we could afford to provide him the help he needs without assistance from Medicaid. If this new Medicaid policy goes left unchallenged, it could mean scores of Nebraska foster-adopt kids won't get assistance they need; it could mean that wards of the state would wait longer for adoptive families because there may not be assistance for these families.

Part of me wants to just accept the subsidy and scrape by eating rice and beans simply so we can make little man official--so he can be a Helzer. It would just be that finalization that I think he needs right now. Selfishly, I don't wait to take DHHS to court because I want to move on with our family. But....another huge part of me feels a huge responsibility to see how this plays out in court for the sake of other kids. I've always been one to fight for injustice; if I can intervene, why shouldn't I? Gah. There's just too much to think about.

So, in the next week we'll be contacting an attorney from the previously mentioned agency to see what we can do, crunching numbers with our anticipated subsidy figures and the cost of mental health professionals---and praying we make the right decision (all while parenting and teaching). If you're the praying type, please pray we would have wisdom and peace throughout this process.

What do you do when you feel like the world's worst parent?

On Sunday afternoon, we asked little man to clean his room. He had spent most of the day dumping out all of his toys playing. We gave him about 15-20 minutes to clean; a perfectly acceptable time frame in our eyes. About every five minutes, we went into his room to remind him to keep cleaning and that all of his toys that weren't put away would take a time out. Each time I walked in, he was deep in play. Cleaning was clearly the furthest thing from his little mind. I wanted so badly to toss the toys into his bins; a task that would've taken me all of two minutes. I knew that after the 20 minutes, there would still be toys on the floor. We'd take them, and then he'd throw a fit. I wanted to avoid that, but I knew I needed to let this learning opportunity unfold. I resisted. And then all hell broke loose.

We explained (again) that his toys would take a time out for the rest of the night since he did not follow instructions. He screamed. We asked him to please stand up and take a deep breath. He threw his body on the ground. We asked again.  He kicked and hit his fists on the ground and yelled. We asked him again to stand up and take a breath, and if he did not, we would continue to take toys out of his room. The screaming continued. And pretty soon, his room was empty. Literally...empty. The bunk bed and dresser remained. He even lost his sheets and blankets because he ripped them off the bed during his tantrum (it's been our policy at home that if he cannot treat things nicely, he will lose them for a while). All of his room went into the next door office despite his pleading, sobbing, and trying to pull toys from our hands. When the room was clear, we asked him to stand up and take a deep breath or we'd start to take his birthday and Christmas presents too. The tantrum got worse. We took his presents. We made him sit in his bare room until he was done and calm down. An hour later, he was ready to talk and we were exhausted.

We made him put all of his stuff from the office back into his room by himself and explained the presents would have to be earned back by not receiving safety rooms at school (these are isolated time outs away from the other kids that really take a lot to get). We know he can go without safety rooms because he's done it many, many times. We know that he can snap out of his tantrums and we're trying to teach him how to do this, but I feel like nothing we try is working. It's two days until his birthday, and he has only earned one of three birthday presents back and has earned no Christmas presents.

My fear is his birthday will come and we'll have to return presents because he did not earn them back. Part of me wants to stick to my guns and take the presents back to show him we will follow through (though I really don't think he questions our follow through. We are not wafflers!). The other part of me thinks this would be a great lesson to demonstrate God's grace and explain how God gave us the free gift of salvation and eternal life even though we make bad choices. How do we know which is the right decision? I'm exhausted thinking about it. Today I feel like the world's worst...and meanest...parent.

Adoption

I guess I realized this week that this is the only space I haven't made our upcoming adoption public, so this is me making it public. The end of this month will mark four months with our little man. It's been a trying four months, but last week we were reviewing some of his files and doing paperwork for our adoption finalization, and we were reminded how much he's grown in a year. He's an incredible little boy whose traveled a rough road, and unfortunately his memory is impeccable. We are not rock star parents, but we are stable for him. And stability does a whole lot of good for kids.

After he's with us for 6 month, he can officially become ours. He has begun calling us mom and dad more consistently, and a few times he's said his last name was Helzer. He also claims Sampson is his brother, so I'd say he's fairly warm to the idea of us adopting him. 

While the road to parenthood has not been easy for us, I wouldn't trade it for anything. This little guy has captured our hearts and made us feel a love we've never known before.

This is me attempting to write

A busy four year old, student papers, work commitments, and my own laziness have kept me away from writing far too long. Nevertheless, I'm back. I hope to be back writing more substantial posts on a more regular basis. Here's what's happened while I was away: 

• Little man has begun calling us mom and dad intermittently. His understanding of family is becoming more "normal." I think he finally realizes that we are not leaving and we're not giving up on him. It's been a rough three months, and while we still have work to do, when I look back and see how much this little guy has grown, my heart swells. It's hard to contain my emotion on this topic.
• I'm hitting a teaching stride at my new school. I finally feel comfortable in the classroom again. Last year I second-guessed every decision, no matter how insignificant the decision was. A change of venue has been good for me.  My students are challenging, but I like challenging. My goal is to engage them in a way that is natural and thoughtful without all the bells and whistles and entertainment. Currently we're wrapping up the play Our Town, a play that many students find boring and irrelevant. And while I'm sure many of students feel this way about the play, for the past few days while we've read and discussed it, 97% of my students stayed awake. This is no small accomplishment, so I danced out of school that day in celebration. 
• My voice is still raspy and exhausted. I just finished a round of voice therapy and will visit the ENT again (I'm pretty sure I've paid her mortgage this month) to be told, I'm sure, that I just need to talk less and wait it out. For three months I've been unable to sing; this seems silly, but it's bringing me down hard core. 
• I've cut my mileage down to focus more on being a mom...and guess what: I've come to enjoy running more without the pressures of training weighing down on me. Hopefully this elation carries through the cold winter months. 
• I'm reading again...I've vowed to leave pedagogy alone for now. I'm currently reading Catching Fire and after that am hoping to pick up a copy of The Fault in our Stars. I just need to escape more often so I don't fold under the stresses of parenting and teaching and run away to Portland to become a barista. 

The rest of what I could write most would find dreadfully boring...not that this post is riveting, but it does launch me back into a habit of writing. Stay tuned. 

Headaches and hair loss

Today I think I truly realized that our little dude is way different from us. It's not a bad thing, it's just when I got married, I assumed we'd have kids naturally who would then share some of the same qualities as us: charming, hilarious, smart (stroking the ole ego here)...stubborn, fiery, sassy, clumsy...Even if the kid displays the non-desirable qualities, it seems like they might be easier to deal with since they are at least familiar. However, parenting another person's kid who is nothing like either one of us is proving confusing (that's putting it mildly). Obviously I knew little man is not equal parts me and Nate (the curly hair is a dead give away), but watching him play soccer today really reaffirmed it. I am a competitive person, and I think I was pretty high energy as a kid--as was Nate--so watching our little man stand on the soccer field with his hands in his mouth while most of the other kids herded around the soccer ball on the opposite side of the field was a frustrating experience for both of us. I still can't talk, so I could only text things to Nate to say to encourage little guy to participate---but nothing we said worked. He continued to mosey along the field like nobody else was there. I don't know why it frustrated us so much, but by the end of the hour long ordeal--Nate and I were just frazzled. It seems like this is a common feeling for us lately....

We're two months into this parenting gig, and of course, we are doing the best we can for our little man, but I often feel like we come up short. What works one time with him, doesn't work the second time; I'm all out of creative ideas. Pinterest isn't helping either; those tips may work for super moms but apparently I am not a super mom because having little guy hold his tongue for a time after he says bad words just makes him scream louder, or directing him to stomp on the driveway instead of tantruming again just makes him scream louder and makes us seem like the neighborhood crazies. And the book our therapist gave us on the Boys Town model of parenting: CRAP. None of it worked.

We try our hardest to be consistent with our expectations and consequences, but still, it seems like we do little good. I know it will take time for him to adjust to our home--probably way more time than we originally thought. But my head is pounding, and Nate is losing more hair (if that's even possible)...So what's a parent to do when all hope seems gone?