Monthly Archive

We’re interviewing in our program.

Interviewing for case manager/ clinicians.

I want to ask questions of these people, but I don’t know how to put into words what I do every day. When they ask what a typical day looks like, how do I explain what it is I do all day? There’s the pat answer, of course. The “well, mornings are typically catching up on paperwork, answering phone calls/ e-mails, and meetings. the afternoons are for home visits. At night you pray you don’t have any crises so that you can stay afloat.” That’s the answer I give, minus the praying about crises at night part. We talk about doing case management and clinical work. Talk about parenting and managing kids with difficult behaviors. I inevitably ask about their knowledge about attachment and loss, and trauma, because there isn’t a kid in our program who hasn’t dealt on some level with all three of those issues. If they ask me what any of them are, well…

Now you know what to expect if you interview with me. Kind of.

Here’s what I really want to ask them about and tell them.

When I ask how they deal with stress, and tell them that this job can be emotionally draining, I want to tell them something else. I want to tell them to get ready to have their heart stomped on. I want to make sure they know to let go of their social work schooling on boundaries. I want to tell them that once you start working with kids in foster care, you have to let go of some- not all- of your boundaries. Not all- you have to keep some so you can still do your job, and do it well. And good luck finding the balance.

I want to ask if they know what it is like to look into a kid’s eyes while you are telling them that the world they’ve tried to build is going to crumble, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

I want to tell them to be ready to get drunk once in a while because you just don’t know how to handle all the emotions you just took in that day.

I want to ask them how they feel about sometimes sacrificing their personal lives if it means you might save a kid’s “placement” which really means family.

What do you do when the needs of two of the kids you’re working with are directly in conflict with each other?

How do you answer a sobbing fifteen year old who is crying that no one wants her- when it’s true???

What will you say to a foster parent when they tell you that they no longer feel they can parent the child they have parented for two years and told that they will never leave?

What will you say to the state agency when you feel that your kids are not getting something they need, but they’re the guardian of the child? How about when they cut you off from that child? When you’ve been the most consistent person in that child’s life?

I want them to tell me how they will heal a foster parent’s heart when it’s breaking because a kid’s heart is breaking. How will you heal the kids heart when it’s breaking because the system that’s supposed to save them is failing them again? And you’re part of that system?

I want to tell them that sometimes you can’t leave the kids at work, no matter how good you’ve been at it in the past. I want to tell them that sometimes you’ll find yourself thinking about how your kids are doing at the oddest times.

I really want to find out, when I ask how they handle frustration at work, what they will do when they are so angry with foster parents they could throw something. What will you say when a school tells a child he can’t go there, when he’s been planning it for 8 months, 4 days before school starts? How will you encourage that kid? How will you handle frustration then?

Social work teaches us all kinds of things: boundaries, taking care of yourself, big words- “vicarious traumatization”, case management, all different kinds of therapy. Social work school can’t teach you how to love your job. It can’t teach you how to have a passion for what you do. It can’t teach you how to connect- really and truly connect- to the people you work with, the kids, the families, the other social workers. There is so much about what school can’t teach you, that is crucial to doing this job.

No amount of schooling can teach you the real stuff about this job.

The heart of it.

I dreamt last night that I went to get a bikini wax. I have a girl who has been waxing my eyebrows for probably almost 5 years. She is the one who was going to do my bikini wax. In my dream she did the wax and it was relatively painless.

Then she pulled out the ultrasound wand. She started to do an ultrasound on my belly. She asked when I was due for my period, and told me she saw “a little sign of life” in my uterus. She said that she knew it would happen, and that she hadn’t been worried, but other people had told her to check to make sure. I kept asking her- what does that mean? Does that mean I’m pregnant? She told me that I had to wait  until I was due for my period to test and find out.

I dreamt this on the same night I dreamt about people from high school all meeting in the huge gym in my living room. It was all very realistic- remember, my doctor in this dream is the girl who waxes my eyebrows.

Every year we head to NYC for the NYC Buddy Walk. We go to support Caleb, my nephew.

Buddy Walk 04

Buddy Walk 05

Buddy Walk 06

Caleb has Down Syndrome. The Buddy Walk is set up to raise money to support the National Down Syndrome Society, which uses that money for advocacy and research.

It’s an amazing time. Our families come together to support Caleb, and we spend time in a community of people with Down Syndrome, from infants to adults, and their families and people who support them. It’s a beautiful thing.

If you want to support us, this is our team page.

Why we do this every year.

Of Rory, that is.

It’s on my husband’s site. Go see it.

I don’t want to say I’m burnt out. Because I’m not. But all last week, it felt like I was dangerously close.

And not just at work.

I got home at 9:30 east coast time, which was 6:30 am west coast time. (I live on the east coast.) Besides for a few hours sleep on the plane, I had been up since 9:30 east coast time- close to 24 hours. I came home, showered, rested, and went to work.

I never recovered, until Friday.

Work was a nightmare. As I described to my supervisor, after you have to hear people not want the kids you work with anymore, and convince them that they do want them, and spend hours keeping families together and hours putting kids together after the families fall apart… you start to feel like you’re carrying around a huge weight. The weight of all those little lives. I’m not the one who destroyed them, but I’m one of the grown-ups charged with trying to piece them back together.

I didn’t have the words for the week, nor the energy to write them. I didn’t have the time.

I took Friday off, and spent the weekend regrouping. Not talking to many people, totally and completely zoning out. There was an ANTM marathon on Friday, and a SYTYCD marathon the rest of the weekend. Khalil is very sick of models and dancers. My brain has appreciated the break, as have my emotions.

And so I totally bombed at Blog September.

But alas, I feel like myself again, rather than a very tired, fizzling out version of me. I’m hoping to start the week off on the right foot- either swimming or doing the Firm. Wish me luck!

I arrived, and we spent some time putting beautiful programs and favors together.

The bride and her niece.

The bachelorette was at the Melting Pot, which was soooooooooo yummy!

Pedis and Manis the day before the wedding.

Do you guys think that’s Jonathan Antin of BlowOut?? I could have sworn it was him, and pretended to take a picture of the mother of the bride so I didn’t blatantly take a picture of him, but it’s really hard to tell. We were at this little nail salon not in LA or Beverly Hills, but I still think maybe. If it is him I’m so going to kick myself for not saying something.

A bridal tea.

The day of the wedding, getting hair and makeup done!

The newly married couple- who knew a whole face could smile so big??

Isaiah.

Kira “hey! what’s up?”

Naomi, me, and Jenn.

Jessica and I.

********************************

It was a very good weekend. So nice to be part of my friend’s wedding, and so nice to see my friends. I miss them very much. As I said to Naomi before I left- it’s sometimes harder to come, because I remember how much I miss them.

Me: (in annoyed tone) Can you please help? Grab your soda cans, which you seem to leave all over the house, where they then multiply, I swear.

Him: At least someone is.

touche, hon. Touche.

(for the record, we laughed. It was a funny moment for us. We’re doing ok with things.)

A long time ago. I think about my mom moving to Ky.

Well, this time I’m leaving on a jet plane. It takes off in 10 short hours, and i need to sleep and drive there and yes… pack. I’m horrible about packing, I’m quite possible almost the world’s worst procrastinator when it comes to packing. The only person worse than me (who stays up late the night before doing it) is the person who does it in the morning while running late to catch the plane. I will find a million things to do before packing, much like a college student writing a paper. All of a sudden closets need to be organized, things need to be scrubbed with toothbrushes, new toothbrushes need to be bought, the checkbook needs to be balanced, the cat needs to be cuddled with because I’ll be leaving her for *sob* five days if you count Monday when I’ll be at work all day.

So I started the whole Blog September thing (why isn’t it a raging internet phenomenon already, guys?? wth?), and I’m hoping to keep it up. I’m proud of how I’ve done for the first 12 days, I have only resorted to using Google searches but have not resorted to memes of any kind. And only one picture post. Anyways, I’ll be gone in California for my friends wedding (yeah jess!) and I’m going to try to post every day but we shall see how that goes.

Remind me to tell you about my conversation with a foster parent about my fertility. that. was. so. fun.

If I don’t have time to post, will be back Monday for sure.

I got nothing today, so I’m going to respond to some folks who found my blog via random searches.

I’m still grieving:

I know. Me too. It’s hard. You put your smile on every day, and yet… it’s still there. It goes away a smidgen, like .01% every day. Then some days it comes back 110%. Those are the worst days, especially when they’re unexpected.

“my husband” “other lovers” occasional

you’re in the wrong place, honey.

training for foster parents on kids who

that’s it? Kids who what? What kind of training are you looking for? I can only imagine the various words that come after the word who in that sentence. The possibilities are endless. My guess? There’s not enough training.

I love her freckles

awww. That’s very, very sweet. Thank you.

join the gym buy new clothes

is this some kind of command from some other side? Does it mean buy new clothes to join the gym? Or join the gym and you’ll get to buy new, smaller clothes? With what money, after joining said gym?

fertility blog rochester, ny

I wrote about Rochester a long time ago, about a year, when my friend got married there. It was the first time I had a scary moment in regards to my fertility, because her supposedly psychic aunt told me it would take us 14 months to get pregnant (for anyone counting, that would be this November. We can’t do IVF ’til next year, so don’t place any bets on that one.) I wonder if that’s how infertility blog got paired with Rochester, NY.

horrible children foster adoption

uuuuuuuummmmmmmmm……………………

two months pregnant .Is it good to walk

HOW did someone get here this way??

can you still have ivf if you have hepat

there’s someone else? Possibly going through this? Why didn’t you e-mail me? I know that my blog didn’t answer your question, but still…

his daughter has not called me since his

if the last word in that search phrase is supposed to be death, there’s a reason. It’s too hard for her. It brings the fuzzy pain into such sharp focus when she’s around you or talking to you, that it’s too hard for her to call you. She feels horribly guilty, I promise. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to you, and it’s not that she doesn’t think about you. She’s having trouble calling her grandparents, as well.

***********************

Even though some of the search terms seem crazy (eating ranch while pregnant? what?), I love looking at them. A review of my search terms is fairly representative of what’s here: infertility, weight struggles, grief, foster care. I wish it were more uplifting and fun, but I am where I am.

On Saturday I had the privledge of meeting Jack:

(bottom right is big sister Molly kissing Jack’s toes).

Congratulations to Joe, Brett, and Molly. Jack, you’re one heartbreaker already.

I was having one of those days when I felt all woe is me. my life sucks. I don’t fit into any clothes, anywhere.

And so I was in a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad mood.

Despite the fact that the clothes not fitting is entirely my own fault. The chips I ate afterward to help myself feel better about the clothes not fitting (how’s that for a self-destructive cycle?) are entirely to blame. Who put them in my mouth? me.

The thing that I hate most about clothes shopping is that I don’t just get frustrated with the fact that I can’t find clothes that fit, that I like. I start to hate myself.

Literally. I tell myself I’m a bad person because I’m too fat for cute clothes.

Ugh.

So, I was working all day to fight those feelings and thoughts. I was trying to remind myself that I’m lovable, worthy, and good no matter my weight or what clothes fit or don’t fit. I have a husband that loves me, family that loves me, friends, I’m good at my job. Etc.

I got home, and Rory followed me around the house. When I sat down she cuddled in for a long winter’s nap, purring wildly. She was happy that I was home, as was I. She was happy to see me and she could care less if I am a size 16/18 or a size 2. She just loves me.

I could take a lesson or two from her.

Last night I was all kinds of “off” and just couldn’t figure out why. Was snippy, didn’t want to get off the couch. Wanted to lay around and pretend like that was all I ever did.

This morning I figured out why.

I was listening to my Nickelback CD, and this song came on. I listened to this song alot back in March. A. Lot. I would blast it in my car and belt it out. It made me feel alive, made me want to be alive. The phrase “Amen I, I’m Alive”- I would sing it over and over. It felt like everyone was dying, and I needed a way to stay connected to life.

The song came on in the car, and I realized.

It has been six months since you have been- not alive. The other day Khalil asked me to go grocery shopping with him. He rarely does this, but he did this time. I went, begrudgingly (I’ve never liked grocery shopping in general). But I got to the store and it hit me like a ton of bricks. This is what I used to do with you every other weekend. I still know your habits and could probably get the main things off your list. Veggies from the salad bar. Tomatoes on the vine. Milk in the purple jug. Aveeno. There was a reassurance to getting certain things every week, but also trying to find the new things that you saw commercials for that our grocery store never carried. The spray salad dressing. The pain stuff you wipe on your forehead.

You had fallen, and had black eyes. You didn’t really make a big deal out of it, but I was sad. These were some of the last pictures we took with all of you, and look at those black eyes.

Rory was still little here, and was smelling your hair. You were laughing hysterically, which was cracking us up. It was so funny, but especially because you just loved cats. You always asked about Rory, and always loved on her when you came. You indulged me my little stories about her and laughed at all the parts where other people just look at me like I’m crazy because I’m talking about my cat like she’s a person. How could I not? It’s in my blood.

You were really happy at your 80th. So surprised, and happy. I’m glad we did that for you. It was also your last birthday.

This is you with my other Grandma, dad’s mom. You guys were really cute together, sitting there holding hands.

Look at that. Four generations. That’s a nice picture. We’re lucky to have you.

That is the smile I remember best.

I love you and still miss you.

I googled famous roller coasters. The ones that stuck out to me the most were Nemesis, Cyclone, and the Boss.

See? Infertility really is a roller coaster.

Yesterday was a down for me in our little battle.

Let me give you a picture of our ride though.

Tickets to the Park: We started thinking seriously about “trying to conceive” (ttc) probably after about the first year of marriage, which would be June 05. We didn’t do anything then, decided we weren’t ready, were enjoying our alone time together, etc. By about January of 06, we started to get a little more serious in our thoughts about making babies, or expanding our family. We decided we’d start trying in about September of 06. This would plan things perfectly- if we got pregnant on the first try (of course we would!)

Standing in Line: We started our “ttc” journey in June 06. A little earlier than anticipated, but we figured if it happend sooner than September, we’d be excited! We were ready!

Stepping on the Ride: There’s that moment when you get on a roller coaster, right when you board, that you wonder if you’re making the right decision. What if this is the time the coaster actually goes off the track and you plummet to your death? If you don’t think that, something’s wrong with you. Then you shrug, give in to the thrills and buckle up. That was what June felt like. Wondering if we were doing the right thing, having fun, and giving in to the ride. Never having any idea what was ahead of us.

The slow climb up: It was fun until it wasn’t. After the first few months, we tried to be hopeful. We’d both be disappointed when it didn’t happen, but not devastated. Just vaguely disappointed. In my heart of hearts I started to wonder what was up. I had always thought it would just…. happen.

The first big drop: This one is so ridiculous I cringe to even write it. But there it is. I was at my friend’s wedding. Her aunt is supposedly psychic. No, really. She predicted that of my friend and her brothers, one would get pregnant before they got married and have a boy and a girl (her brother), one would have boy girl twins (her other brother) and numerous other predictions about babies, weddings, and life events that have come true. Normally I don’t really believe in psychics and predictions, but I wanted to know: would it be this month? The next? how soon? I couldn’t get the nerve up to ask her, so my friend did.

14 months.

Whaaaa? My friend tells me that she watched my face crumple after her aunt told me that. As much as I didn’t want to- and still kind of don’t- believe in psychics, this was devastating.

Some more lows: Eventually we started testing. We found some things wrong. We went further into testing. We heard that it would be fine, then maybe not.

The worst low: Positive for Hep B. Given the medical issues, need to move to IVF. After I talked to Khalil, I called my sister and bawled. I know exactly where I was sitting- I was at work, and I remember looking for a place that I could sit and not be bothered. I couldn’t believe that was what it was going to take.

Climbing back up: More tests and specialists. Letting myself believe that we might be able to do this without IVF. I let myself believe it and hope it. I reveled in letting a teeny, secret part of me hope that just Khalil and I could do this. Getting the likely-negative for Hep B result was part of that climb back up. I didn’t like the thought of waiting six months, but there that is.

The drop back down: Definitely moving to IVF. That’s the direction we’re going.

Part of me, to be honest, is relieved. Relieved to be out of limbo, relieved to have a plan. Wait six months, head back to the MDs, move forward. Excited at the thought of having real hope that IVF could work and soon I’ll be the one pregnant, we’ll be the ones scared to death at the prospect of parenthood. Looking forward to the time to regroup, the time to move towards some of our other goals, and then move forward.

Climbing on a roller coaster of a whole different kind.

It didn’t take long for me to run out of things to say. Huh.

 Random Posts I’ve started and erased, then deciding to put them all into one “big” post:

Last Comic Standing

anyone else bored with this show? Just give the title to Jerry Dee already, guys.

Burnout

In the field of social work, it’s very bad to start thinking “I don’t care”. That’s a clear sign you’re on your way to burn-out. It’s not that I actually don’t care, it’s that I’m overwhelmed and so it’s harder to care about each and every detail.

A numbers post

about how totally and completely weird and disorienting it feels to not have any idea what I weigh, how much I’ve gained or lost, etc. And also freeing.

That’s all I got, folks.

I used to live in Southern California. I didn’t miss the humidity of New England summers, or the snowstorms of New England winters. I did miss spring rains and the sounds of fall and the changing leaves. Despite that, I convinced myself that I didn’t miss the seasons. I had heard other New Englanders tell me that they couldn’t live anywhere there wasn’t seasons. I told them I didn’t miss the extremes. 

Either I was lying or I didn’t know myself well.

I love the seasons. I love measuring time by watching the weather turn. I love the end of each season, where you can anticipate the nest. I love the end of summer when you’re just dying to be able to wear long sleeves and sweaters. When fall comes there’s the smell of crisp leaves and fireplaces going, as well as the beauty in the landscape of trees in an array of colors. As fall progresses I love being ready for winter- anticipating that first snowfall and the first time you can see your breath in the air. I love the end of winter, when you’re not sure you can make it one more day. I love that first unofficial day of spring, when people come out in short sleeves and capris, even though it’s freezing, because they’re so sick of sweaters. I love watching the buds pop up through the snow, and watching the snow melt. I love looking at the green buds on the trees come out, and watching the trees fill out with air. I love waiting for summer to come- when you’re hoping for a day when you can feel comfortable in tank tops. When you can sit outside in the light until 8:30pm. When the air is sticky on your neck, and when you’re waiting for breezes. I love the smell of freshly cut grass. And then there’s the day towards the end of summer, when you’re waiting for fall.

I think that having the time in each season makes you appreciate the next even more. Just when you think that you can’t take any more of a certain kind of weather, or clothes, or nature, the next season is well on it’s way, just in time again. You thought it might never come, because it seems like this year it’s not going to, but there it goes and saves you again.

I think that’s true about life too. It’s so much easier to appreciate the joys when you’ve tasted some of the sorrows. Seasons in life are easier when you’ve had to wait for them, anticipate them. I can do that, and just keep reminding myself that like the seasons, our time for the things that we wait and hope and dream for will come. Just like each season.

Not of the Rachel and Ross variety, though.

Khalil and I are on a baby-making break. I had a bit of a Hepatitis B scare. It turns out to be 99.9% that I am not Hepatitis B positive. However, the doctor wants us to wait 6 months before trying to get pregnant again.

This feels like quite a switch in mentality. For well over a year now we have been trying each month. Charting when I’m ovulating, or when I’m due, etc. And trying. And being disappointed. This month is the first cycle in seventeen cycles that we have not been actively trying to get pregnant.

I feel a bit disoriented. I feel like I’ve been running towards a goal and all of a sudden I’ve stopped mid stride. Like the water at this point in the race just tastes so good, I think I’ll stop here and have a break, thankyouverymuch. When all I’ve been focused on has been getting to the end of the race. Not first, mind you. Just getting there.

So we’re on a break. In so many ways this could be very good. We can save, and I can work on getting to a healthy weight and a healthy mindset towards eating. We can figure out where we’re going other than to the end of the babymaking race. It feels sad, and hard, but also the tiniest bit freeing. Running is hard, my feet are tired, and part of me is ready for a break.

So we have a few joiners to BlogSeptember!

AlottaErrata tells me she’s up for the challenge- and no, you don’t have to sign up on a Master List. This is far, far smaller than Fussy’s NaBloPoMo.

Cecily didn’t necessarily say she was joining, but she’s interested. Cecily, I have no idea if NaBloPoMo is actually happening- I sure hope so!!

Annie is IN! No cheating, my friend.

My sister Shannon will cheer us along.

Today is September 2nd. Which means November, and NaBloPoMo, is right around the corner.

I’ve been meaning to practice for NaBloPoMo since…. January? something like that? But it hasn’t happened. (clearly).

I think today I’m going to start. We’ll pretend like September 1st didn’t happen, and that today is day one of BlogSeptember.

BlogSeptember, here I come! Anyone want to practice for NaBloPoMo with me?