Timehop can be the best worst thing. Like opening the app this morning to find this picture from 2 years ago: We were about 3 months into placement with Mr.T and I was SO excited for his first day of kindergarten despite a horrendous fit about the black shoes you see in the picture. They aren't the ones he wanted, and he made it clear to everyone in the store to the point we had to "take a break" and go back to the store with reinforcement (mostly moral support for me) from Austin. We ended up buying the black ones, and two days later it was no big deal. I can still hearing him running from the front door to the back door (with Bear chasing him) breaking in his "super-duper-whoopie" fast shoes.
The first day went great and it was all downhill from there. My sweet, yet traumatized 5-year-old foster son was the first kindergarter I have ever known to be suspended 3 times in less than 4 weeks. It was so hard. Day in and day out fighting the morning routine, coaxing to get in the car, and then refusing to get out when we got to school, finally making it into the classroom, only to get a call a few hours later saying I had to come pick him up for behavior issues. I wanted the school to see his strengths and love him hard and fight for ways to keep him there, selfishly because I needed a break and was scared I was going to lose my job, but also because T was such a sweet and smart kid that needed new ways of doing things as he didn't fit the typical kindergarten mold. 2 years later and I have an empty porch on the first day of school. No back to school shoe shopping, no first day of second grade sign, no confetti underneath the pillow the night before school starts...and it feels really empty tonight. Here's why: An update and brutal honesty. Sometimes foster care can look and feel really good. Sometimes it's glamorized and viewed as heroic. And unfortunately this isn't that story. It's really an update no one wants to share but it's real. A month after transitioning to his aunt's house, they terminated placement and T was returned to the initial home he started foster care in. About a month before Jade was born I got a message from a foster mom who works with the same agency we did letting me know they decided to terminate placement too, again. The hurt and tears I felt after reading that message came quickly. My boy, now 7 has moved more times then he is years old. And you know what I did? I called the agency (before even telling Austin about the situation because I knew he would be thinking with much less emotion and more reality) and they didn't answer and I never called back. I called the first time because I desperately wanted an update on his life and also wanted him back with all my heart. And here's the dead honest part: we simply can't do it right now. We can't provide the type of home, love, care, or time Mr. T needs while providing love, care, time, and safety to Nick and Jade. I wish I could tell you we moved mountains to have him placed with us again, that we were adopting him, and that he finally has a forever home, but I can't. Maybe my porch didn't have to be empty this year. Maybe there could have been a second grader in my home. Maybe we should have tried. It seems so un-Christian to not even try. It's the weirdest thing continuing to grieve a person you know is living. I miss his smile, hearing about eyeballs all the time, watching him wrestle with Austin, bedtime snuggles, and so much more. Our current role in the foster care world is prayer and supporting friends who are on the front lines. Our marriage, family, and the literal size of our home can't say yes right now. It might be 3 more years it might be 10 or 20 but tonight I'm praying for, and missing a 7 year old who called me mom first and who has experienced more trauma and more moves then any child deserves. Mr.T, I wish we could have said yes and done it well, but we couldn't and this is the messy, "ugly" of foster care. I pray for the perfect family for you, and that you start second grade with confidence and joy that only Jesus can give. You buddy, are not a burden. You are so loved. I hope you always know.
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Maternity leave. I have 9 weeks left and after a full week at home with very few outings, I'm ready for some structure and sense of accomplishment. The past week has been the hazy, lazy, couch to bed, bed to couch, Netflix, newborn week. I've loved extra time with Austin and Nick, but today hit and my boys are back in the routine of work and daycare and I've spent a good amount of today thinking about what my routine and goals are for the next 9 weeks. Without some goals, I think the next 9 weeks could easily be spent scrolling my phone, because as of yesterday I've spent 22 hours nursing Jade since we got home. 22 hours people. Truth be told, a lot of those hours have been spent scrolling social media. It's mindless and distracting but has also left me feeling guilty. What else could I have learned in 22 hours? I could easily read the entire Bible, something I've never done before, over the next 9 weeks. I could write more, something I love to do but contemplate on how much to share about my life and how often. I could finish a few books I've started. Lots of options when you're sitting at home with a tiny human who sleeps a majority of the time.
So here's the official maternity leave bucket list: 1. Bake something new once a week 2. Finish the book, And She Laughs 3. 2 cards of encouragement per week 4. Spend the first 3 feedings of the day reading my Bible 5. New blog once a week The last goal is to love my family really, really well. My husband is my biggest blessing and I need to encourage him more. He's been so selfless since Jade has been born, spending lots of hours doing special projects with Nick while serving me by getting new cups of water, waking up for diaper changes, and preparing meals. I'm so thankful. Loving them well means being present, taking walks, packing lunches, and staying on top of house stuff so we can enjoy week day evenings as much as possible. I chose those goals because of a sermon I heard two weeks ago about praying big prayers. Austin and I have big prayers for our family that we talk about a lot, financial freedom, careers that fit our strengths and passions (I want to write on a more large-scale base and work on a book about joy and grief. There I said it out loud), making time for hobbies, and pursuing Jesus in ways that challenge us. I can't focus on those goals a whole lot when I'm distracted by my phone, or other things that take up too much of my time even before babies were involved. Maybe it's the hormones, but I feel oddly energized and excited for this leave. I know there will be days where the list goes to the wayside and I need to rest to be the mom and wife I want to be. That's okay too. I'm excited to see what God has in store for the next 9 weeks as we adjust to baby Jade and being a family of 4. We are nearing the end of this pregnancy and aren't nearly as prepared as we were for Nick in terms of the nursery. We threw up a shelf and rug last weekend, stocked the changing table with some diapers and are "ready enough" if baby decides to come early. There is one wall that is definitely my favorite. The doll picture was cross-stitched by my grandma and was in my room as a little girl. The figurine and little jewelry box were also parent/grandparent gifts. I have my first music box made by my Cookie Grandpa and my first "big girl jewelry box" on the dresser in her room too. Tonight I added this, because the nagging of grief never goes away. A little angel bear. It was given to me aafter my brother died. I kept every single stuffed animal, beanie baby, plaque, note, card...you name it. I remember arranging them in my stuffed animal net long after the typical "stuffed animal phase". I think I was oddly proud of all the gifts and liked to display them in the my room. Because sometimes when you wake up one day with a brother and the next day without, you cling to some material things. When we moved, they went into a box and stayed there until I started having kids.
You know what's really hard? Coming up with a name for your second baby, when your firstborn is named after your (what word to use here?) late? (dead sounds pretty blunt) brother and grandpa. I think I've made her room somewhat of a shrine because there are people I want my daughter to know and love but she will never meet them. Baby girl, we just don't know what to name you. Your room has lots of special stuff in it, because your mom is so sentimental and is having a hard time bringing you into the world without such special people. Joy and grief. I want you to know that although you won't be named after someone we miss, you will hear all about your uncle's and grandparent's legacy of big love and strong faith. I worry about a lot as a parent. One of the biggest things I think about is how will the way grief has shaped my life shape theirs? Is it healthy to have a Nicholas Henry for a name? What about all the little trinkets in their rooms, outfits that are worn for baptism, trips to the cemetery? Do people do this with more "normal" loss experiences? Is this going to turn into big fat therapy bills some day? Probably not, I hope not. There is a lot of u g l y because of grief. But, there is some beauty, and I hope those are the parts I can pass down as a parent. One of the biggest beauties is my kids get to experience my parents and their love, something I can't quite explain but watching my dad, kiss my Nick, takes me back every time. Or my mom playing upstairs letting my Nick, wear her Nick's Nike watch. A callous life would make a lot more sense to me. But it's just not what they choose. Baby girl, ready or not, you will be here soon. Big love is waiting because legacies of big love have been left. I hope you like your little angel bear and that someday it brings your tender heart comfort like it did for your mamma. |
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Hi! I'm Haley. Archives
May 2019
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