The beginning of the end

A post from both of us...

Two Thursdays ago, we found out that LL's grandparents were officially approved to do kinship foster care.

Let's back up a little bit...about 4 months ago, we were told that this would be a possibility, but we weren't given any guarantees, so we went on with life and waited for the call that would confirm it.

Tomorrow afternoon, our beautiful seven-year-old will sit around the kitchen table with us, her CPS caseworker, and her therapist to find out that, in a very short time frame, she will be leaving us forever to live with her grandparents. So, unbeknownst to her, today was the last "normal" day with her that we will have. We brainstormed ideas she could be for Halloween, ironically knowing she would not be with us. She read her Bible story with us in peace and relative comfort/certainty for the last time. Starting tomorrow, everything changes.

Questions will trickle in at first, but then it will become a deluge of trepidations about her new school, what date she will move, what her new room will look like at her grandparents' house, if she'll find friends at her fifth school in two years, what rules she'll have at her grandparents', if she'll be able to see Lucy again...all of which we can't answer.  Since she has only met her grandparents 2-3 times in her life, we have a lot of those same questions, frankly.  The only difference is that foster parents don't have the right to ask them.  We don't even have the right to maintain contact with her.  In most cases, foster parents never have the opportunity to see or talk to their foster child ever again.  And this is the heartbreaking reality that slapped us in the face two Thursdays ago as I sat in my closet and cried.  

We wanted to tell everyone so we could share how unfair it felt to know that a stranger (related by blood) had more of a right to spend forever with LL than us, who have spent 1/2 a year and have proven how much we adore her.  But we couldn't risk a well-meaning friend talking to LL about the move before she found out from CPS, so we didn't.  We didn't even let Julie's family know ahead of time when we went to New Braunfels last weekend to spend time with family.  Because we didn't want her to pick up on any extra sadness when we said goodbyes, we had to make the tough decision to not even let Julie's extended family know that it would be the last time they saw her.  We wanted to tell everyone, but at the same time, we didn't want to tell anyone. Letting others know about CPS' decision seemed to validate the truth that I didn't want to accept, and in general, it makes people feel awkward and terrible around us. Even after a week and a half to grieve, process, and pray, we are still no closer to peace.  

We still don't know the exact date that she will be moving to the Houston area to live with her grandparents, but the original estimate when we found out the news of her impending departure was set for this week.  So, we're not sure if she's leaving us for forever on Tuesday...or Friday...or if it will be delayed a week, or more.  Of course, this uncertainty makes everything much more difficult.  That's why you may have noticed that we've been trying to cram as much LL time in as possible, by doing things like Sea World, going to the park extra often, Julie going on girls party outings to go shopping or get a haircut, camping in the living room with s'mores, and spending a little extra time reading in bed before bedtime.  If you have kids, and you're reading this, spend a second and think about how much you would be on your iPhone or Facebook or Instagram if you knew that this would be the last week you could ever see or speak to your child before they left you forever.  Are you treating every second like it's precious?  I wish we didn't have to, and it makes it much more difficult to reconcile the high-stress jobs that Julie and I have right now. But, at the same time, it is making it much easier to prioritize family vs. work since we know what is coming.

Starting tomorrow night, I anticipate a lot of triggers and behavior flare-ups with our Little Lady.  It will not necessarily be her fault, but instead a product of her incredibly confusing, frustrating, and unacceptable life truth: her parents have made choices that prioritize themselves instead of their only child.  

Each time she has a consequence, she will either think or say, "I only have another week or so of these dang time-ins.  What's the big deal?" or, "I spent all this time getting close to saying 'I love you', but I haven't said it because I don't want to get too close in case I get hurt.  Oh wait, I'm leaving...what's the point now?"  Or, she might think or say, "I can't show my feelings or talk about them, and I would rather show anger than sadness (which is really weakness).  I would rather spend the last few days making them angry at me so I can be angry back, which would be a lot easier than realizing how sad I am."

Tonight was our last night of normalcy, as far as that can exist for a foster family.  Starting tomorrow, Pandora's Box will open up.  She'll leave us to pick up the pieces of our shattered family, and she'll join her grandparents, who will have an incredibly difficult job of helping her adjust to yet another home.  She is a precious girl that is so strong, and her incredible strength is what makes her fragile on the inside.  My prayer is that she experiences true love from her grandparents and can display true love back to her grandparents.  If we have done nothing else, Julie and my prayer is that she walks away from our house with two truths about God: 1. There is NOTHING she can do, no mess-up that is too big, that would make God or Julie and me stop loving her like the princess of God that she is, and 2. God's love is big enough to fix any broken pain and hurt that is inside her heart.  No matter what.

Many of you are probably wondering, "What can we do?"  First of all, just being there for Julie and me in the aftermath is going to be really important. Saying things like, "I am really sorry that this happened to you guys.  I pray that LL adjusts well and that you guys will heal from this when the time is right."  And because it's come up in a few conversations in the last few weeks, please remember that the incorrect thing to say is, "Remember, you knew this would be a possibility, right?"  That may be the case, but it's a lot uglier and painful when it actually does happen than the day a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed seven-year-old gets dropped off at your house with nothing but the clothes on her back.

Another huge thing you can do for us is to pray that we would be able to maintain some sort of contact (via phone or mail) when she goes to live with her grandparents.  Again, this usually does not happen, and the thought of never again seeing her smile or hearing her giggle is really painful for us to imagine.  If, however, there is at least a chance that we could talk to her on the phone, send her birthday cards and care packages, and send her pictures of Lucy, it would mean more than you will ever know.  At this time, LL's CPS case worker and CASA advocate are strongly in favor of us maintaining contact, at least for the beginning portion of the transition (which is huge...this usually doesn't get pushed from CPS' end).  This means one of the two big hurdles has been cleared...if the grandparents agree to some form of continued contact, then that's the last obstacle we would need to get past.

If we still have a chance to talk to her, we may be able to heal. If we can't, it will be devastating beyond words.

Another thing you can do to help is make sure you're not mentioning her permanent transition to LL unless she brings it up.  We want her to feel permission to feel happy about going to live in her hometown again and also give her the space to feel sad about leaving us (especially her best friend, Lucy).  But, because it will likely bring up such incredibly complex emotions that a seven-year-old should never have to experience, please don't bring it up with her or with us in her presence.

Finally, the last way that you could help is to to avoid bringing up this transition to Julie and me in a casual context.  In other words, please avoid this as a discussion for small talk or in passing in the hallway.  Don't get me wrong: we need and want to discuss this with you all because it will be a crucially important part of our healing process, but we'd ask that you wait until it's a more private setting that can afford a lengthy conversation and privacy for us to remove the shield we have had around our hearts for the last couple weeks months.  Every day since we found out two Thursdays ago, Julie and I have cried multiple times per day (separate and together), and passing in the hallway at church isn't the best way for me to give you an update on our incredible grief.

So, thank you all for being such an incredible support to LL, Julie, and me through this incredibly challenging journey of showing LL what unconditional love looks like, and my hope is that it sticks.  When she feels that her identify is challenged in middle school, I pray that she picks up a Bible instead of a darker shade of lipstick.  If she feels abandoned and unloved in high school, I pray that she makes a midnight call to a mentor instead of her best friend to sneak out.  When she's (hopefully) in college and dating men, I pray that she chooses the godly man she knows will love her instead of the one that reminds her of the father that she misses.  

This is going to be incredibly painful for Julie and me, and I have no doubt that Lucy will also go through separation anxiety and grieve for the loss of LL as well.  Julie and I are not convinced that we will continue being foster parents, but we know that we wouldn't open up our home for a future foster child for at least several months.  It's not that being a foster parent is too tough, but the separation is more than we can bear.  Who knows; things may change in a few months, but at this very moment that I am writing this blog, I don't know how I can see neon colors, monkey bars, Bahama Bucks, her elementary school, her bedroom door, our dog, or my wife without an immense feeling of grief.

'Tis better to have love and lost than never to have loved at all?

I'm not sure sure about that anymore.

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LL's quotes:
- "Why is everything manmade? What if a woman wanted to make something?"
- Bry: "If you could visit anywhere in the world for one day, where would you go?" LL: "I'd go to ---- to ride horses with my family." Well, little one, your wish may come true sooner than you think. (The place she mentioned is the same city she may be moving to in a matter of days.)

My mini-photog. Teaching her about focal points, aperture, lighting and editing.

After teaching LL a little bit about photography, she took this pic of Lucy and me. Pretty gross, but awesome, shot!

As Bry mentioned above, today was our last "normal" day with LL before she knows about the transition. Bry and LL were in the backyard, so I took the opportunity to take a few photos of her room, nothing too special or fancy, but it's just our real life. With her decorative taste. I wanted to remember exactly where everything was laid. Every paper, every bobblehead, every Bahama Bucks umbrella. Every piece that represents a special memory that the three of us will share forever. These are the pieces that no one can take from us. The moments that will weave together and create a story in her mind someday. Oh yeah, I remember this sticker, this clay pot, this book. Mr. Brian and Ms. Julie gave that, made that, saved that for me.

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Bry was at home with a fever today, so LL and I went to church, then Pie Five and Gigi's Cupcakes for lunch. I hate that we have to have a "foster bucket list," but alas, these were two things on the list.

She put herself in here. I PROMISE.

After lunch and photography 101, we went to the park. Basketball with a soccer ball, our favorite pastime.

This shot is blurry, but I still love that hair.

Always on the move.

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About Us: 

We began our foster journey in mid-August 2013. We finished our classes in October, had our home study in early January, and we were licensed on February 7, 2014. After seven calls from CPS, we received our first placement, a 7-year-old girl (our Little Lady, or LL for short) on April 3, 2014. Thank you so much for taking the time to read about our journey through the craziness that is foster care. Most importantly, thanks for your prayers, love, and support. We hope to encourage fellow foster/adoptive parents as we document our ups and downs each day. 

Key Posts:

We are Facebook-Official!

Saying goodbye to someone I've never met

Will you get a white one?

Yup, it's gonna hurt.

Day 1 with our Little Lady

Oasis (post from Brian)

What we tried to build

Why I don't usually write (post from Brian)

Another night in the closet

LL...if you just stumbled upon this blog and you're freaking out because you see pictures of yourself, please START HERE.