Why, Indeed?

This morning I walked out of my door into freezing cold. I almost walked into him or her. It was a little bird, on the sidewalk in front of our apartment. He was just sitting, and I almost walked into him. There’s no way something wasn’t wrong, because he didn’t fly away. I thought something was wrong and he was probably dying. I looked at him as I walked away, and as I drove away. I couldn’t think of anything to do. It is the circle of life that sometimes birds die, but I also felt like I should do something. I wanted to save the bird. I couldn’t bring it inside, because – well, her name is Rory. Bring the bird to the vet? I don’t think so. So I drove away.

And I cried. I cried. I thought- I don’t know what to do. I want to save you, or be there with you, but I don’t know what to do.

When I told co-workers I was leaving, I tried not to show how happy I was. I was so ready to be done. So tired. So burnt out. So, so, so tired.

Then I started telling my kids. One after one- I have something I need to tell you.

One after one, the next question was always the same.

Why?

It’s one thing to explain it to coworkers and foster parents. They may be sad, but they can understand. They understand burnt out. They get emotionally drained. They tell me you need to do what you need to do. I would nod my head and agree. It was time. I told myself you need to go before one of your kids or families pays the price for you being burnt out. My foster parents had a range of reactions- tears, lots and lots of questions, disbelief at my next move (insurance?!?!?), and understanding, compassion, and support.

It’s one thing to tell them.

It’s a whole other thing to answer why from my kids.

How do you tell them? How do you explain to a six year old that you can’t walk around carrying his pain anymore? The pain that he deals with personally every day- how do you explain that?

How do you tell a fourteen year old you can’t fight for him anymore? That you’re running out of energy and can’t fight his battles for him? How do you explain that you are scared that you won’t be able to fight the way you have for the last two years and that he will end up paying the price for that?

How do you explain to a thirteen year old that you are leaving, again, and that she’s going to have to have a new worker, again. How do you respond when she tells you how much she hates changing workers, and tells you that she tells you everything, and won’t have anyone else to do that with?

How do you help an eleven year old understand that you can’t finish the work you’ve started with her, because it’s time for you to go? What do you say when she asks why? I just don’t know.

I don’t know what to tell them. I don’t know how to explain that I can’t carry their pain and fight their battles anymore. I don’t know how to reconcile the fact that I can’t be there for them,  yet I ask them to live with their histories and their pain every day of their lives. I don’t know how to explain the personal toll that my attachment to them, my passion for helping them, changing their lives, has had. I don’t know how to help them understand that the toll has become too great, at least for a time.

I’ve always wanted to be a social worker. There’s never been anything else for me, besides mom. I knew I wouldn’t fit anywhere else. I just knew. There’s always been a passion inside me to fight for those who are helpless. The bird, the children. I’ve always wanted to rescue them. As I became a little more experienced, a little less naive, I realized that I couldn’t rescue them. But I could show them someone who cared, I could be someone who was willing to fight for them, I could advocate for them. If I changed their lives in some small way, if I saved one of them in one way, it would be worth it.

I feel like I’m not only leaving a job, but that I’m cutting off a limb. I feel like I’m walking away from a part of me that has always been there. People joke that I am going to the “dark side” and I don’t know what to say. I feel like I’m walking away from such a huge part of who I am, in order to save the rest of who I am. This is something I still don’t completely understand. I know on several levels that it’s time to go, that I personally need a break and a change. I know that I need to focus on other parts of my life right now, and that while I am still pouring my heart and soul into these kids I cannot focus on the things that I need to elsewhere. I know, but I don’t understand.

I know. It’s a lot of emotion for someone changing jobs. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I’m overestimating the impact that me leaving is going to have. But I see the look in their eyes as they asked why. I hear the frustration they feel at finally finding someone they trust, only to lose yet another social worker. I feel the pain of having to say goodbye to someone yet again.

I feel guilty for causing any of them any kind of pain. It’s one thing to be the bearer of bad news, it’s another to be the cause. I know, I know I need to do what I need to do.

I want to save you, but I don’t know how anymore and I’ve run out of energy trying.

Why, indeed?

Rory, Day Thirty

You know how there are just pictures you love? And they’re not the best, or the cutest, but you just love them anyways? This is one of those. I even saved it for the last day of daily Rory photos for that reason. I just love this picture. I think it’s because it’s got my family in it. On our beat up couch. I don’t know. I love it though.

Year Two, Day Thirty

Adios, NaBloPoMo. I can only hope I get a prize. If not, well I guess I got the satisfaction of knowing I bored people posted every day for thirty days.

I actually already have a post typed and saved for tomorrow. It’s more than five sentences/ fractions, too.

Rory, Day Twenty-Nine

Year Two, Day Twenty-Nine

Almost done!! woohoo!

I have a friend who’s in labor. She’s been in the hospital for about 48 hours now getting induced. The baby’s still not here. I’ve heard from her husband, so I know all is ok, but man. I’m this anxious and it’s not even my kid- I can’t imagine being them!

Keep them in your thoughts. That’s all I’ve got for tonight, sorry.

Rory, Day Twenty-Eight

Year Two, Day Twenty-Eight

Bittersweet Blog is holding a contest for a FANTASTIC photo printer. I want to win! I’m using a series that I posted a few weeks ago of Rory.

Rory under the blanket

You should go check it out! Some of the other entries are great as well!

Rory, Day Twenty-Seven

You have to look closely, I know, but she’s in there. There’s a plate of shrimp that she’s eyeing. Shannon, rest assured: after this picture she got banished to the locked bedroom.

Year Two, Day Twenty-Seven

Questions Again!

Meredith asks: I’m here. Here’s a question, and maybe it is too personal. Knowing what you know about the social services system, would you ever personally adopt a “waiting child” to be part of your family? Adoption is on my mind a lot these days.

We would absolutely adopt, and will absolutely adopt. I feel very strongly, for us, that it is important to adopt from foster care and from the US. I do not mean that is the best choice for everyone. There are a few reasons I feel strongly about that. The first one is in regards to private adoption. I feel that there are couples waiting in line to adopt privately. If you go on any private adoption website, there are hundreds of couples with “letters to the birth mom”  up on the site. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for a child. Waiting to be matched. Waiting to be chosen. Don’t get me wrong- there is always some kind of wait involved in adoption. However, these couples are knee deep. I think it’s great on so many levels. It gives moms who feel that adoption is the best choice for them the opportunity to carefully choose the couple that she feels fits best. I don’t think it’s right for us. As far as international adoption- clearly there are more babies, toddlers, and children then there are families waiting, although you wouldn’t think that given, again, the wait times. But there are clearly children in the world that need families and homes. I am somewhat uncomfortable with two aspects of international adoption. The first is that if we went through with international adoption, we would be taking a child out of their own culture and history. Now, I don’t think this in and of itself is inherently evil. Again, those children need families and homes. I just wish all the money we spent on international adoption could go towards fortifying those countries to adopt their own children. Which brings me to my second point, and probably the most potent of all my reasons to adopt through the US foster care system. I do not feel comfortable adopting a child from another country when I know there are children here, in my own backyard, that desperately need loving homes. There are babies, toddlers, children and teens here. They all need homes and families that love them. I feel some kind of responsibility to extend our home and family to one or more of those children, when we are able.

However. We are young, and have never parented. We will likely not start with teenagers. Both of us would like to parent an infant. If we do not have our own biological children, or decide to adopt before doing IVF, we will get approved as pre-adoptive foster parents and wait until an infant who is legally freed is available. This is of course a wait. But those babies still need loving homes. (as do they all.)

After that? Who knows. Like I said, we are young and have never parented. I hope that we will continue on that path and foster and adopt more children, perhaps not all infants. But we need to take that step by step, and it’s obviously not all my decision, either. We need to see how things go and what life throws at us. We need to evaluate, each step of the way, where we are in life and as potential parents to children with special needs.

You asked about the social services system. It is so clearly broken it’s not even funny. I’ve had intimate encounters with just how broken our child welfare system is. I watch TV about children in abusive homes and the heroes wanting to put them in foster homes- and I cringe, thinking- what if the foster homes are no better? It’s a crap shoot at best. We try our best to make it better, and to provide children in foster care with loving, safe homes. But the truth is the system is broken and needs alot of work. And we are placing children with complex and unique needs into homes that often do not have enough support, and those folks are human too. The needs of the child welfare system, and it’s brokenness, are not going to determine whether or not we foster and adopt. Regardless of the system, those kids still need homes.

That said, there is a big caveat. I work in what we call “therapeutic” of “specialized” foster care. The kids in my program come with a history of many placements, dangerous behaviors, difficult behaviors, mental health histories, psychiatric medications, etc. They come with a variety of letters attached to their names: RAD, PTSD, ODD, ADHD. There is no telling what any child will grow up to be, and any child Khalil and I take into our home we will be committed to. At this point in our life, we aren’t ready to parent a child with those kinds of needs. Again- in ten or twenty years? Who knows. But now? We’re not there. So we probably wouldn’t parent through the specialized foster care programs.

There that is. My long and possibly very disjointed answer. The one thing I want to make clear: This is where Khalil and I are now, always subject to change, and our choices are not everyone’s choices. I very clearly feel that each person/ couple/ family tries the very best to make the choices that are right for them, whether it’s foster to adopt, private adoption, international adoption, or nothing of the sort. These choices are personal and private, and I would never dare to criticize another person’s choice.

Rory, Day Twenty-Six

would you mind? I’m trying to sit here.