It Was A Very Hard Winter For Me.

I know that seems to be a common thing, seasonal effective disorder and all. And I know that when I stop working out, things are really bad. See winter of 2016-2017 and the extra 7-10 pounds that I seem to be carrying around.

After we got home from Bali, I tried my hardest to keep going with my normal routine, but after becoming quite accustomed to not working, my normal routine wasn't my normal routine anymore. I had to create a new routine off of a job that I didn't want. And then winter hits. Which is basically the ruiner of life.

I'm happy to announce that I came out on the other side, and even though it snowed today...in May (those poor brides though) spring has sprung and the sun has come out. And I can feel it. Feel it deep in my bones. I told Mike the other day that for me, that was probably the hardest winter I've ever had. He quickly reminded me of the two winters that I had as a foster mom...true, babe. It was the hardest winter I've ever had, in non-foster mom status.

So a few things that we've been up to.

In February, we took a quick weekend trip down to Moab. I hadn't ever been before, and the weather was slightly cooperating and hotels in Moab are cheeeaaapp in the winter. So why not?!

We borrowed a drum set from Mike's brother, and we've been having jam sessions almost nightly since. Initially, I was the one that wanted to learn to play, but Mike has been the one really getting into it! I have better rhythm than him, however he has a more spontaneous nature and is much better at fills (yes, I did have to Google the term).

My sweet sister lost her baby girl at 34 weeks. We've had the opportunity over the last month and a half to celebrate the joy that Felicity Grace brought us even though we never had the chance to meet her. My sister and her family have handled this sadness with such grace and strength, I'm amazed every day at the faith that she has.

Over the course of the last ten months of me working, we have paid nearly $50,000 in student loans! If there has been anything that has brought me pure joy over the past 10 months of working, it is that we will be out of student loan debt by the end of the year! I have already planned to quit my job in July, even though they don't know that yet. And yes, I will be returning to my very favorite job, which is a stay at home wife. I feel like I have never looked forward to anything this much!

Many of you know that we entered a contest to win a free IVF treatment back in December. We obviously didn't win the contest. I have been very private about our infertility struggles as frankly, it's none of anyone's business, and I am choosing to keep it that way. Foster care changed my entire perspective on becoming a mother, and I truly think that it was God's way of making me accept my infertility. I'm grateful for the infertility struggles that I went through. I'm grateful for the foster care struggles that I went through. And I'm grateful for the current freedom that I feel from knowing that parenting is freaking hard and that my infertility is currently a blessing. Talk to me about it again in 5 years.😉 Except don't, because I probably won't tell you anyway.

Cinderella

This post has been weighing on my mind for weeks now. That's when I know its something that I need to write down. And you know, Mother's Day is a week away, so why not talk about it!

Being a parent taught me a lot. It taught me some really great things. It brought to light the really bad things. But mostly it taught me that I'm a great mom, but a terrible mother.

To me, mother is a very endearing term. Mother is a person that loves. Mother is a person that cares. Mother is a person that feels and nurtures.

Mom is different. Mom is the person that keeps the house running. Mom is organized. Mom teaches. Mom keeps the schedule.

(And before my mom gets offended....yes, I call you mom, but you are also my dear, sweet mother.)

Both of the opportunities I had to be a mom, I was exactly that, and nothing more. I was so organized. I kept that schedule like it was a part of the ten commandments. I helped with countless homework assignments. I taught numbers. I taught body parts. I taught colors. And I was very good at it. In the five months we had our dream baby, he learned so much. And it was so rewarding. That moment when our five year old finally counted to 10 all by herself, I was so proud. And so happy. But those moments were fleeting. I couldn't find lasting joy as a mom. There were small moments of love, but most were resentment. I didn't care enough. I didn't feel enough. I didn't nurture enough and I didn't want to.

Cinderella says "Have Courage & Be Kind".

I didn't & I wasn't.

When our dream baby was still with us, I mentioned to a friend that this must be what post-partum depression feels like but I didn't start actually looking into it until after dream baby was already gone. Turns out that even though at a glance it may not make sense, adoptive/foster moms can experience post-partum depression just like birth mothers can, in fact, 65% of them do. I can't explain my relief when I found that there is an entire slew of women that have experienced this. These two paragraphs written by Elizabeth Elias are everything:

Yes, she had a lot to learn and overcome, but the fault did not lie with her. So that left me. It must have been my fault. I carried that heavy cross of blame with me every day, everywhere. Charlie and my husband bonded with Rose right away. But the development of my mother-daughter relationship with her was much less smooth. I felt no bond with her and I was overwhelmed by her needs. I wanted to love her, desperately and immediately. But bonds are not always instant and need to be nurtured. I grew overwhelmed. My guilt over not having instant love for her was huge. She called my name with every breath she took: Momma, momma, momma, momma. I couldn’t find my footing. I craved my own space. I knew she needed and deserved for me to step up. This poor child had never had a mother to love her. I wanted to be that person but I failed. I failed daily for a year.

My guilt turned to anger. Rage. Because of her I was proving to be a bad mother. I felt very much alone. I loathed my existence. The guilt was everything I breathed, thought and did. I regretted the adoption. I felt trapped.

Source

So where am I?

Even after finding such relief in knowing that I'm not completely crazy, I'm still completely terrified to be a parent. I turn 30 this year. 30!

"You're not getting any younger!"
"You're biological clock is ticking!"
"No one is ever ready to be a parent!"

Well luckily, being 30 also makes me quite the adult, which means I get to make all my own decisions. Maybe one day we'll have kids. Maybe we won't and we'll just love on our nieces and nephews and then send them home when they get whiny. The good news is if we ever do decide to become parents, I can be highly medicated to make me a good mom and a good mother...

Two Weeks...

...ago today, our sweet baby boy left us. After what seemed like the longest 5 months (second longest, that first placement was a doozy), we dropped him off with another foster family. Mike and I cried the entire way there, while baby boy dozed off in the backseat. It was definitely one of the more emotional things we have experienced together in our marriage. The moment I took him out of his car seat in their driveway, I knew it might be the last snuggle I would get because once he was in their house, with new toys, and kids to play with, we were no longer on his radar. And let me be frank, it was awful. My heart still hurts thinking about the moment we tried to get our last hugs from him as he fought us and pushed us away because *new toy*!

And now is when you ask, well why did you let him go? Well the long story is that his uncle and aunt are supposed to be getting him. They are waiting on background checks that are taking forever because of some out of state history. But once those come back, assuming all is well, which we were told all is well with the uncle and aunt, then he should be moving to their home. Well then why didn't you keep him until then? Because our license expired at the end of February, and we weren't going to be renewing it. Hence, the in-between foster home.

The short story is because he never felt like ours.

I think about him every day. And in the morning I lay in bed so grateful to not have a 20 month old crying in his crib in the other room. And during the day, I miss not having my little annoying side kick to cry and whine at me. I try my hardest not to look at pictures of him but I can't help myself. Because he really was the cutest. It hurts. It really does. But there are no regrets. I know in my heart that this is how it was supposed to be. And eventually the heartache will wear off and he'll just be a memory.

Now a video. Because you gotta see this kid in action.

And now Abby and Mike are signed off forever as foster parents. Who knows what crazy adventure we'll come up with next.

On All Things

My newest goal is to be a bit more attentive to my blog and write about all things in my life and not just foster care.

However, lets start with foster care. We are now back down to just one family member wanting him. Their background checks have to go to a review board because there is a bit of a background on one of the family members, but nothing that should stop them from getting him. It just makes the process take longer, but what's new? Everything makes the process take longer. He'll be gone by the end of February though, because our license expires at the end of February. And yes, we are letting it expire.

Unfortunately, we've learned that foster care just isn't for us. I wish it could have turned out differently, but we can't change how we feel. We're putting becoming parents on hold indefinitely. We just don't really love parenting. A far cry from so badly wanting to be a mom three months after I was married! We feel no rush in needing to become parents and when and if we ever do feel like we'd like to jump on that Mormon bandwagon, we will. If being the key word at this point.

Mike is making a job change. He's currently been working at a small law firm about 20 minutes from home. That firm has been a blessing to us and to him as working as an actual attorney, only having been graduated from law school for a few years, in this market, is very rare. He'll be moving on to the bigger and better as he's accepted an offer for a firm downtown. He'll still be practicing the same type of law. Which is something no one understands or has ever heard of.

I'm still living the dream as I spend my time at the gym, at home and with family and friends. I count my blessings each and every day. And I'm headed to the sunshine in less than a month as my mom and I are going to visit my sister in Phoenix for her birthday. I see poolside lounging in my future.

Well Truth Be Told, I'm Still Just Not Loving It.

How strange to think this beautiful little 16 month old boy continues to melt the hearts of everyone around him except for mine. I told my mother-in-law that I must have no heart. She tells me I'm being too hard on myself but I'm not so sure. Our last placement just burned me. Three school aged kids. Two boys that fought non-stop. And I just wasn't ready to be a mom of three. Flash forward, and this placement should be a breeze. An adorable 16 month old that can be whiny at times, but other than that is such a good little boy. Today I held him before laying him down for a nap, and I looked into his dark eyes and gave him a big kiss and apologized to him for not wanting to keep him forever. As I lay him in his crib, he gave me a smile. So tired and so happy to finally be in his bed. And I walked away and thought, there is seriously something wrong with me. How can I not love him? How can I not be wrapped around his little finger?

We got word that he may be leaving us this week. There is an uncle that has come forward that wants him. I'm ashamed to say that I cheered a bit when I found out. Not that my opinion matters when it comes to kinship, but he's better off there. I've done a bit of my own investigating on Facebook and he seems like a great option for this little boy. If he can't be with his mom right now, then his uncle is the next best thing.

But of course, communication is always so terrible when it comes to the GAL and DCFS and the foster parents, so I'm not quite sure when and how things will actually come to an end.

But Mike and I have officially decided that this is it for us and foster care. Our license is up in February and we plan to let it expire. It's hard knowing that something that you were so excited for and did so much work for is now coming to an end. And I truly wish it was a happier ending for us. But I guess it just wasn't part of the plan.

But on a much more adorable note, I'll leave you with a photo of our little Charlie Brown.

Today I Just Don't Want To Do.

Today I have to say goodbye.
Because tomorrow is the day that my family has dreaded for the past 4 months. But truly, probably for the past 18 years.
For the next 2 years, my family is becoming a little incomplete, in hopes that my brother has an experience that will help him feel a little bit more complete.
Tomorrow he leaves to serve a church mission in Armenia.
For 2 very long years. Skyping only on Mother's Day and Christmas Day.
I'm so proud of him. So glad he has made this choice to serve.
Baby of the family. First and last missionary of the family. We've never done this before.
I'm not one to wish the days away, but in this instance, if I could completely skip the next two years, I would.
If it meant that he would be home.
And who knew how absolutely difficult this experience would be.
However, after all the tears are shed and the swollen eyes are covered in layers of makeup, how exciting for him to be able to spend the next 2 years having an experience that will help shape the rest of his life.
I can't wait to hear about the people and food and sights of Armenia.
I can't wait to hear about his first baptism or about the incredible members.
But mostly, I just can't wait for July 2017, when he comes home.
Love you and miss you, Bridge.

A Baby Brother and a Mission Call

On March 12th, my baby brother, the only brother I have, the youngest of six children, the only one of us to choose to go on a mission.....received his mission call.
Because these days, boys are now receiving their mission calls while still in high school, the opening of mission calls has turned into quite the party.
Amongst all the family members, my brother invited 30 or so of his closest friends and neighbors.
An hour before, my mom and I raided the shelves at Costco and returned with all kinds of treats for everyone to snack on while they socialized.
My sister took the party to the next level by bringing her large maps of the United States and the World and had everyone put a post-it on the location they think he would be serving.
The winner would receive a gift card!

I guessed he would go to Holland. Mike guessed Ghana.

In fact, out of the many people that were there, not a single person guessed correctly.

Bridger was called to the Armenia Yerevan Mission. Armenian speaking.

I was assigned the task of skyping with my younger sister who lives in Arizona.
The beauty of technology so we can all feel together without actually all being together.
And of course, a picture of the baby, because babies are the cutest.


We are so excited that Bridger has made the decision to serve a mission.
I start tearing up every time I talk about it out loud.
I am so excited for him to go.
But I am way more excited for him to come home.
Two years can't go by quick enough.

It's Now Been A Week...

...since the kids have been gone.
At this point it almost feels like they were never here. I knew that would happen.

Saturday was weird.
The new foster family did not come pick them up until 3:00 that afternoon.
The night before, the boys slept over at a friends.
We spent the morning packing up.
And then some lunch at McDonald's.
And some goodbye's to some of our family members.

3:00 came and the new foster family pulled up.
We loaded up the cars with all their stuff.
It was so surreal.
The kids hopped in the cars before we got the chance to say a proper goodbye.

So here's the thing.
I may sound insensitive when I talk about not being attached to the kids.
But those kids, they were not at all attached to us either.
I had to get them out of the cars to even give them a hug.
I did notice perhaps that the 5 year old got a bit emotional once she realized what was actually happening.
But she's not a crier.
And there wasn't a tear shed. By any of us.
When they pulled away, and Mike and I walked into our empty house, my first words were,
"I'm so confused."

You see, even though I knew and expected everything that happened, I didn't know how to feel.
I did feel like I was holding back some tears.
Yet, I felt completely relieved.

Every day, at the end of the day, I do a self-evaluation.
I guess you could call it getting in touch with my feelings.
Do I miss kids?
Not just those kids, but do I miss having kids?
So far, I'm 7 out of 7 days of no.
I don't miss kids.

So our foster care license is active.
But we are on hold.
We have no idea how long we'll keep ourselves on hold. Or if we'll ever go off.
But for now, we are happy. And we are free.

The Answer

Then heavens opened, and our prayers were answered.
And angels were definitely singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

Dreadfully long story short, Grandma and Grandpa broke the cardinal rule.
Therefore making it so that the kids can no longer go live with them.
We all kind of expected things to end up this way, so we're glad they did so quickly before the kids were moved.
Luckily, the back up plan was ready to jump into full swing.
And so it did.
Within days of finding out that the kids could no longer live with their grandparents, they were meeting their foster-to-adopt family.
At first it took some convincing of the kids.
But after that first overnight visit, the kids were sold on the new family.
And they are moving tomorrow.

I asked them yesterday if they like the new family more than they like Mike and I.
There response was so childlike. "Kind of".
But if you could have seen their faces when they said it, you would know they actually meant to say YES!
Which is totally okay.
Really, I'm glad they like the new family more than Mike and I because that's where they are headed.
The 5 year old has mentioned a few times that she is going to miss us.
But I think she'll make the transition easily.
And the boys? Oh, they'll be fine. They'll miss their friends more than Mike and I.
And they are so social, they'll have new friends within 2 weeks, I'm sure.

My reply to their "Kind of" response was "That's great. But we were okay right? We taught you some good things, right?"
"Tell me one thing that you learned from us."
And without missing a beat, the 11 year old replied back, "Priorities. Homework before friends."
It was music to my ears, you guys.
Then the 9 year old chimed in, "Oh and to be nice. And wash your hands for 20 seconds after you come home from school."
I think we won.
Because really, that's all I cared about.

We got each of the kids a gift to give to them tomorrow before they go.
We got them each a book.
Just a book to read. A novel for each of the boys.
A book with pictures of Christ for the 5 year old (to honor that recent obsession because might as well, right?)
Because reading is important. And books and school and trying. It's important.
And they learned that from me!
Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssss!

Today We Sent An Email.

The email that I thought I would never send. The email that makes me like a failure.
The email that also makes me happier than I've felt in a long time.
The email that says they have until March 7th to move the children.

Here's the thing. It's not just about us.
I could go on and on about how this match of us and the kids is just not working,
and how I'm exhausted being a mother of three kids that aren't mine,
or I could reference you back to all the blog posts from May 2014 until now.

But the kids. Oh the kids. They are starting to lose it.
The meltdowns have increased.
The tears wept seem to be soaking t-shirts and pillows all over the house.
My 11 year old tells me he just wants to be with family.
And I hugged him. And guys, he hugged me back.
Laid his head on my shoulder and hugged me back.
I know, buddy, but you just can't be with family right now. It was heartbreaking.

We have another court date in just over a week,
where the caseworker is supposed to show up with a plan.
A laid out plan, a timeline if you will,
for the kids to be placed in a permanent home.
But we all know, she's not going to have a plan.
So for the sake of the children, and our own sanity,
Mike and I will be forcing her into a plan. Which must be executed by March 7th.

Our hope is that she will jump into action and get these kids a home so that they won't have to be moved multiple times.
It is not our intention to have the kids move from foster home to foster home.
According to the information provided to Mike and I,
which may or may not be accurate,
she has several families that seem to want the children and it's just a matter of presenting them to committee so that a family can be chosen.
Then a few visits later, the kids should be making a permanent move.
We hope that we've lit a fire under them.
Because these kids need to be where they are going to be forever, as soon as possible.
They can't handle the uncertainty much longer.

I've been told several times that their behavior is "normal".
The meltdowns are all in reference to the fear that the children have about their future mixed with the anxiety of their past.
I understand that. I took classes on that.
What I want to know is why they aren't doing anything about it.
Just because it's normal behavior, does not mean that we should continue to let the children suffer. Let's fix it.
The caseworker may not be here each and every day to see the trauma that the kids are going through, but I am.
I get to hear that they hate being here.
I get to hear that they just want to be with mom and dad.
I get to deal with the fighting, and the screaming, and the crying.
So I guess it's only natural for me to want to force the caseworkers hand all in an effort to get her to see the enormity of the situation.

Barbie Cars and Early Bed Times

I hate that this has turned into a foster care blog. I love all of you that come and read my pathetic tales of fostering, but this blog, which has been going since 2007, was obviously not intended for just foster care stories. I guess it was intended to be about me. And my life. Which is narcissistic to the extreme. But more for my family to keep up with my happenings and more for me to keep track of my happenings. Posterity and all that. If we get to that point, anyway.

Today was hard. We didn't get visitation this weekend. Not that we tried to. The kids relatives are really just not good people and we figure the kids are better off not seeing them all the time. And it really is about the kids, even if I love my weekends without them. Things really did start off fine, but the amount of whining and complaining and crying in this day just kind of rubbed me the wrong way, and apparently by Saturday night, I lack in sympathy. And patience. So my five year old got to go to bed an hour early. And got a Barbie car taken away. It's just how it goes.

There is a cluster Facebook page that I am a member of for the foster families in my area. For months it seemed like people would post these stories and moments that made me wonder what I was doing wrong. All this love seemed to be flowing between foster parents and their foster children and I'm over here just counting to ten all day long. But finally, some justification came my way when for the past few weeks, story after story of frustration and lack of attachment posted on the cluster page. I'm sure the chaos that the holidays can cause in foster children played a huge part in the things that people were posting. But it was such a breath of fresh air. I have such a hard time reading about foster care success stories. Because my first one, not a success. These kids just aren't mine. And it's like the universe reminds me that every single day. They belong to another family. And I'm sure that the family that adopts them will love them to pieces. And I'm glad. Because they totally deserve it. And oh how I wish things would have been different. I wish that I was adopting my first placement. How sad to take in kids and then send them away. But it's just how it is. And that must be how God intended it. Because I gave this my all. And it didn't work out.

Team meeting on Monday. If the caseworker did her job (hah), then we should be finding out the details of the move.

The Last Days

Today was that kind of day. The kind where everything seemed to be blowing up around me, all while in the comfort of my own home. I even stayed in my pajamas the entire day in an effort to make the day just that much more comfortable. Joke is on me.

 

The kids are off track, and what is it with the blasted Pokémon cards anyway? I have never hated a toy more. And it's not really even a toy. I did the most fair thing I could do to settle the battle between the two boys yet I still get slammed by the emotions of the middle child. He is my crier. And boy did he cry today.

But really, that's not what put me over the edge.

I know they try their best, but those state workers....

As foster parents, all we really are hoping for is a bit of communication. When something happens in the case, we feel like we should be at the top of the list for people to call. Our caseworker is really good at completely forgetting we are on the call list at all.

We had court this week. From the court hearing, we expected that the kids could be moved anytime from mid-January to the end of February. The CASA worker called today and asked me if I had anymore information about the kids being moved ASAP, because that is what she had been told was happening.

News to me.

The caseworker is back at it. Sharing information with everyone else but me. Apparently, she had spoken too soon, so the kids will not be moved "ASAP". But to me, that's not the point. I had to hear through the grapevine that the kids were going to be moved.

But that's almost not the point either. That long moment between the voicemail from the CASA worker and the text reply from the caseworker, my anxiety was through the roof! Was the moment finally here? The moment of preparing the kids to go to a new home? And suddenly I didn't know if I was to laugh or to cry. Because heaven knows, the kids have tested my limits and with the lack of attachment, we've been nearly excited to have them move on. But then realizing that my little five year old buddy, who the other day asked me if Jesus sleeps, will no longer be following me around, asking me questions just to hear the sound of her own voice; that's going to be hard to get used to.

Yes, we know that these kids will be leaving soon. Very soon. Some days, days like today, not soon enough. But it's weird when suddenly your timetable is thrown off.

What an overly emotional life we foster parents lead.

Being a Disappointment

A few days ago we hit our six month mark of being foster parents. Half a year has been spent sharing our home with three children that sometimes make me crazy. And sometimes make me cry. And sometimes make me smile. And sometimes make me laugh. My gut from the beginning of this placement was that we would have these kids until the fall. I was sure they'd be gone before Thanksgiving. Especially with the news of them being moved. But from day to day, things change, and we came across a huge hold-up in the case, making it look as if they'll be here at least through the new year. So here we sit with a shift of thinking and a few children Christmas lists.

 

But after a solid six months, and quite possibly another six more, I reflect on what has been said, and what has been written and how we feel about where we are.

 

You see, one of the more difficult parts, for me, of being a foster parent is telling people that I am a foster parent. Many people give praise. Many people seem to think that it takes a completely awesome person to be a foster parent. But I've never thought of it that way. To be honest, before we made the decision to become foster parents, I don't know if I'd ever thought about them at all. But now that I am one of them, being thought of as this selfless, amazing person just doesn't seem to fit. I don't feel like that. Because I am not one. How can someone say to your face that they think 'it's just awesome what you are doing', when all you can think about is when it will be over. I'm so uncomfortable with people thinking I'm 'neat' when I feel completely selfish and naïve.

 

I've never really hidden my feelings on this situation. Obviously. Friends and family always ask how things are going, and I never sugarcoat it. They hear the good and the bad. {Yes, there is good...and if I'd write more often, you'd probably hear more about it.} What I've come to realize is that when you are blatantly honest with people, they begin to see the person you really are. The person you didn't even realize that you were. As I explained, I'm highly uncomfortable being thought of as a saint. Yet, being thought of as a disappointment is a hard pill to swallow.

 

When we announced to close friends and family that we were taking the leap into foster care, they were all quite supportive and seemed to think that we would make great foster parents and that any child that came into our home would be 'lucky'. While I am so grateful for their support, I am so disappointed that I've disappointed them.

 

Our thoughts on parenthood in general have changed. We've really put our future family on hold. Do we have a timeline? No. But this is the part that is most disappointing. I've always wanted to be mom. And Mike, a dad. And we've talked, and dreamed and planned our lives around it. And now, we just really don't want to. Truly the only thing in my life that keeps my hope alive is how much in love I am with my five month old niece. That sweet babe makes me want to be pregnant nine months ago! But then....reality...and my face turns all sour and it makes me want to pop 10 birth control pills.

 

I know we've disappointed people with our current thoughts on parenthood. But truly, I think we've disappointed ourselves the most. Which is the biggest disappointment of all.

Bad Moods and Court Dates

I wish I could explain away my bad moods. Some reason for being so internally frustrated all the time. All she is doing is watching 'Frozen' while I sit here wasting time on the Internet when I should be planning my lesson for Sunday (which ironically enough is on how to develop Christlike love...).

No reason for me to be in a bad mood based on the context. Yet, I have a constant feeling of irritation. Yes, we know that I have no attachment to these kids, which explains my lack of love for them. But I can't justify my frustration. They want a snack, I'm bugged. I have to sign something for school, I'm bugged. They wake up in the morning, I'm bugged.

Obviously, I'm the worst foster parent. Ever. And immature.

The dumbest part about it is when I can actually get out of myself and enjoy them, we really do have a good time. But it is such a struggle to do that. Everyone that meets them, loves them. I have a sister that tells me all the time that she wants all three of them. I wish I did. I wish it had been different. I just can't force it. I need therapy.

We had court yesterday. The kids were required to be there, which means I also attended. Long story (that I'm not really allowed to talk about) short, the caseworker will begin looking for another home for the children. (This makes it sound like we sent the kids away, which is so not the case. I may not be attached but I would never kick out kids.) Which is what we were assuming would happen. We go on vacation in November, and they are trying to have the kids moved before then to avoid multiple disruptions. I doubt that is realistic, but it absolutely could happen. Weird.

So now we wait. We try to enjoy what time we have left. If we can teach ourselves how to enjoy them. All while secretly gathering their things together in one place so that we don't forget to pack it all up. I say secretly because the kids aren't aware of the details. They don't know that in a short month they could be gone. Foster care really is heartbreaking. (Coming from someone that sometimes wonders if she has a heart.)

Something Happened Today.

I got a phone call from the caseworker that put all things into perspective. Obviously, without divulging any facts of the case, these kids may be leaving a heck of a lot sooner than was expected. And it kind of made me sad.

Believe me, I was just as shocked as you.

But first let me put my feelings into words. It comes as no surprise to anyone familiar with this blog that I wouldn't mind these kids leaving. My first sadness is for the kids. I am sad that they may just be shipped off somewhere else. That they may be doing this all over again. That it may just be another foster home to add to the list. Because they don't deserve this. No child deserves this kind of crap.

And I'm sad that they have a sucky family.

My third sadness is for myself. I went from being busy with work, to being really busy with work and kids, to being busy with kids. And now it seems I'm headed for nothingness. Which is awkward, and lazy, and wasteful. And I'm not quite sure how I'm going to handle going from wanting to rip my hair out from all the noise, to wanting to rip my hair out from all the quiet.

Another sadness is that I feel like I've put in so much effort in teaching values and morals and goals, just to see it might go to waste. Save for college, save for college! What if wherever they go next, their new role model doesn't much care about saving for college? Or doing homework. Or being home on time. Or washing your hands. I feel like I need to be in on the interview process or something.

Simply put, I didn't realize until today that I generally care for the welfare of these children. Yes, I may not feel like I can make them a part of my family permanently, but I've got my fingers crossed for their future. They are good kids. And they really can do great things, I'm sure of it. I just pray that they can find the support that they need to succeed.

Finale

After turning in my notice 10 weeks ago, I walked out of the office for the last time. And I was sad. I've never been one for work. You can see past posts here and here and here about how I really feel about a career life. But as I walked out of the best job that I have ever had, I wondered to myself, is this really what I wanted?

I quit my job to be a stay-at-home foster mom. Well if you've been keep up on your reading, then you'll know that this foster mom thing isn't necessarily a dream come true. So quitting my nearly perfect job to become full time at a not so perfect job is, well, much less than perfect. But I didn't really have a choice when working full time just wasn't working for me. (Props to all you moms who work at all, I have no idea how you do it and still take care of a home and kids.)

But I can't help feeling the pressure suddenly lifted. I've been spending so much of my home time working that when I'm at home and not working, I feel guilty. The curse of working from home. But it's impossible to be a full time employee when you can't really go into the office because you have three kids in school (one of which is in half-day Kindergarten) and simply, when your heart just isn't into it.

My biggest fear is what is it that my heart is into these days? Besides my super hot husband of course. I don't want to be at work, yet I seem to not want to be a mother. So I'm not quite sure where my heart is. Or my head for that matter. By the way, it's super fun to be 28 years old and still have no clue what you are doing with your life. *sarcasm*

Youth

My 28th birthday was celebrated a few weeks ago. And there were no candles on my cake. Which, I declare, is the first time I can remember not blowing out candles and not making a wish that doesn't come true. I guess I've reached the age of maturity. But what I find most interesting is that I really didn't have the desire. Blowing out candles is one of my favorite birthday traditions. But it seems to me that my youthfulness went, along with my 27th year. Sometimes the child inside will come out, but it's rare, and it seems that it takes a lot more effort to sustain her. 

I do wonder if my youthful self went when the children came. Did they steal my her? Is it because there is so much child running around this house that my youthful self went into hiding? Maybe she is gone for good. I don't really like myself as a parent. Did I ever tell you that? I am not the person that I thought I would be. You never really know until you try. And I tried. And I continue to try. You know how *they* say that by the time you become empty nested you kind of have to learn how to just be a couple again? Because you have kids for so long, that you kind of forget how to be yourself? I hate that. I don't want to lose myself. That girl that I was before the children came, I kind of liked her. She was a whole heck of a lot less stressed. And a whole lot more easy going. 

I've talked before about the weekend visitations that our foster kids get with their relatives. So for four days of the week, I am a mom, and the other three days of the week I'm me. I'm beyond grateful for the break, but maybe perhaps my mind is confused. Who am I? Am I a mom? Sometimes. I've noticed that this schedule can also create confusion with the children. How we behave and act at my house is completely different than how they are allowed to behave when staying with relatives. So every couple of days, these three children are also forced to change behaviors. 

I think what frightens me most is that the only reason I feel like I am able to handle the four days with the kids is because I've had three days without them. Which is a luxury. As I've said before, most foster situations are not like ours. Not mentioning when you have your own, it's a forever gig.  

I just thought it would get easier. And it's not. Praise the heavens above that summer break is over in a week. 

Visitations

Most of the time, I am thinking to myself what in the heck was I thinking? It's hard. Very hard. My 10 and 9 year old boys make me want to walk out on the entire experience. When they aren't fighting with each other, they are pushing Mike and I to our very limits. The 5 year old is great when she's alone, but when her brothers get home from school she suddenly takes on their personalities and I sometimes feel like I'm in a constant war between the hours of 3:25pm and 9:00pm. 

My saving grace?

Weekend visitations. 

We are lucky enough to have the kids do overnights with their extended family on the weekends. And this weekend they got Friday and Saturday night! Nearly three full days of being on our own agenda. I know that many foster families don't get the opportunity to have overnight visitation as much as we do, and I definitely know that the Lord was looking out for me on this one, because he knew that to keep a small portion of my sanity, I would need those weekend visitations. (The behaviors when they return from visitations is a different story for a different day.)

This weekend we fished, we shopped, we attended the temple, we ate all you can eat pizza, we watched Gravity, we went to church and we spent time with family. Hopefully regenerating us for another week. 

Becoming First Time Foster Parents

On Thursday, April 24, I woke up with a feeling we'd get a phone call. I think when you are waiting to become a foster parent, everyday you think you will get a phone call, but I really did think that we would. My mom says I must be in tune, because that afternoon, we got a phone call to do respite care for the weekend. Respite care is basically overnight babysitting for another foster family. We were expecting a 6, 5 and 3 year old to come and stay with us from Friday to Sunday while the foster parents went out of town. My heart pounded. I decided to take the next day off. We were definitely not prepared to bring three kids into our home, even if it was only for the weekend.

I woke up early Friday so I could get everything done and be ready to receive the kids around 2:00 that afternoon. Around 9 AM that morning, Mike called me from work.

"You'll never guess who just called me", he said.

And that was the moment my life changed forever. On the day that we were supposed to be receiving three children just for a few days, we got a phone call for our first placement. Three children. They said that if we chose to accept the placement we would be receiving them that very afternoon, and they would take care of finding someone else to do the respite care for the other foster family. Shock wouldn't even begin to describe how I felt. How is it possible that in less than 24 hours, all that had happened? Mike told me about the kids and we discussed how we felt. I began what later became almost an entire week of tears. We decided that we would take the kids. Mike made the necessary phone calls and I immediately fell to my knees in tears. How was I going to actually take care of three kids? Was I really ready for my life to change? I prayed and prayed for strength and then, of course, I called my mother. Because who else knows better than my mother? She listened to me cry. Offered her advice and assistance. And she immediately became a huge source of knowledge that I never knew I needed. She sympathized, but also questioned my emotions. "Abby, you've had 6 months to prepare for this, why are you so upset?" And what I realized was I was never ready. Nothing can ever prepare you to be a foster parent. Nothing can prepare you for the immediate 180 degree shift in your life. Nothing can prepare you to take care of children that have experienced such chaos in their life. And I was terrified.

When I got off the phone with my mom, I went into robot mode. The kids that were being place in our home were 10, 9 and 5, which is a whole lot different than the 6, 5 and 3 year old that I had originally been preparing for. We were expecting them to come around 4 in the afternoon, so I had plenty of time to get everything in order. Mike came home from work early and we put the final touches on the bedrooms. And around 4 PM, we got a phone call telling us that there had been a change in court that afternoon and now we would not be receiving the children until Monday afternoon. And since they had already made the switch for respite care, we would not be having any kids in our house over the weekend.

Most would be disappointed, but I was so relieved. Most foster parents don't get the opportunity to have the weekend to prepare, whether its mentally or emotionally or physically. I was able to have a few days to spend preparing myself and spending childless time with Mike because come Monday, I would be a full time mom.

On Monday afternoon, two caseworkers, and two boys and their sister knocked on our door. I feel like things after that moment are a blur. We went to Wal-Mart to pick up a few necessary items for the children and I made tacos for dinner. I do recall the children going to bed fairly easily, which was a surprise. But that next morning, as Mike was leaving for work, I became an emotional mess. I hugged and cried and begged him not to go. What was I going to do without him? I don't know how to be a mom. And my dear sweet husband started crying along with me and I realized that I'm not in this alone. Take it a day at a time. It was the longest week and one day of my life before we could get the two boys enrolled in school. Which just reminds me that my school district is year round, which means 3 weeks off every 9 weeks. Crap.

Every night and every morning that week I cried. The longer I am a foster mom to these children, the more I realize what those emotions are about. Which is a post entirely on its own.

The difficult part about having a blog is that I am usually brutally honest with myself and everyone who reads. As I have said before, many things in the foster care system may not be shared, and the things that I do share, unfortunately, I think most people may not like. My opinions are all my own (and my husbands, of course) and even though my journey is not conventional, I'm discovering things about myself that I never would have known otherwise. As I continue to express my feelings in the future, please be sensitive to the fact that I am a person, and that if I cannot be honest in this space, I see no reason to even continue to write.

If You Follow Me On Instagram....

....you would know, that last Monday, we had our very first placement. I wish that I had had time to write about it in the moment. When all the emotions were so prevalent. But now I sit here, on a Saturday night, with a 10 year old on my couch, a 9 year old on the floor, and a 5 year old running around flipping the light switches. This has absolutely been one of the most difficult weeks of my life. Becoming a mother as quickly as I did, I did not know how to prepare. What I have learned is that there is no preparing. When you don't know the ages, genders, or personalities of the children coming into your home, you just have to hold your breath and hope that you're ready. And I'm learning. 

I'm learning how to be a mom. I'm learning how to take deep breaths and count to 10. I'm learning that my relationship with my husband is absolutely one of the most important things in my life. I'm learning that it's a whole lot harder to keep my diet on track when there are three kids around (and it's not even overeating, I just don't eat when I'm so busy taking care of their needs....pathetic). I'm learning that sometimes, you just have to do things yourself. Never rely on the system. 

I'm just learning. 

When I get another moment, I will write about the placement and all the emotions that went along with that day. But for now, it's off to bath time, and story time, and probably a song or two, and then the sweet moment when the house is quiet, and I'm able to lay my head down next to Mike and maybe shed a tear or share a laugh at the reflection of another crazy day of being a foster parent.