Adoption is both sad and happy but mostly just a lot of love!

Before we adopted Penny we talked a lot about what adoption means.  I've always told her adoption is sad and happy but mostly just a lot of love.  But I've found over the years that its not just sad for the birth family and their children, but it is sad and quite painful at times for the adoptive families as well.  There are so many wonderful things about adoption and I'm so happy that most of the time they over shadow the hard things.  I am reminded sometimes, how human I am, even though I try so hard to be a Super.  I want to have the so much confidence in my decision to have an open adoption and never doubt it.  I don't want to feel jealous or insecure.  I know how I want to feel, how I'm supposed to feel (unselfish), but sometimes it just doesn't work like that.  Like when you have all the birth family over for a 3 hour visit on a Saturday, and watch your 5 year old snuggle up as many times as she can to her birth mom that she has NO memories of before she came into foster care and was adopted.  She only knows her because you've helped create a few good memories.  Or when you are explaining to your 10 year old why some people have closed adoptions and others open and she says, "you don't have to worry about me loving them more than you, because I love you both the SAME."  

I hugged two *drug dealers this weekend.  Welcomed them into my home.  Let them hug and snuggle my babies.  But it was hard.  Even if it feels right, and you know its what is best for these particular children and this particular family, that thriving human inside of you struggles to the top and fights to be heard. 

"I can't believe I have drug dealers in my house, they might be the most respectful drug dealers ever, but they are still drug dealers.  I don't care if you are clean today.  You were forced to be clean because of your 30 days in jail.  Lets face it, tomorrow you could be using again and you won't care about us as much as you do today.  I don't want our kids to love us the SAME.  I want them to love me MORE.  I've done WAY more for them, and I obviously LOVE them MORE."

This weekend reminded me of a couple things.  One, It is absolutely amazing to me that two families, different in almost every way, can be together, love each other, be unselfish together.  I'm ordinary, but I know I'm doing an amazing thing.  And two--lets forget about number two right now and just focus on number one.  

The day after our visit birth mom posted (word for word) on her Facebook page:

"Ten years ago today I gave birth to the best little thing that ever happened to me I love you penny rose I know that one day you will come home to us and i can't Waite to make it all up to you have a happy happy birthday baby"

Why does she do this? She has written this kind of message before and she tags our Facebook account that we have set up for her so I can post pics of the kids for her. We also get together a few times a year. Recently she wrote a letter and tried to communicate to me through our daughter. "Mommy loves you so much, I want to get you a birthday present, ask your mom if that is ok." Luckily I intercepted the letter. She wrote it in rehab, and I'm pretty sure it was supposed to be an apology letter--but it wasn't. One day I will tell her that she cannot do this. That any letters she sends to my house need to be addressed to me. And if she wants to talk to me--to contact me. But since I have her two other kids in care right now...I don't really want to rock that boat.  Its just hard sometimes to be the nice one when I want to give her a dose of reality---you can never make this up to her!! She will not be coming home except for a polite visit one day. She will lead a beautiful drug free life and she already knows coming back to you isn't what she wants to do. She knows you are a drug dealer. That drugs are the reason why you have lost all FIVE children. She loves you, but my hope is that I will fill her up so much with love and understanding (and resources when that doesn't cut it) that she won't NEED you to make it up to her. 

What is she thinking tagging me in this????  The thing is she doesn't think.  She has no clue about how insane that post will sound to me.  Come home to you?  She IS home. AND you can NEVER make it all up to her.  EVER.  What you have done to these children may never be completely reparable, but I know for one thing, YOU won't be making anything up to them.  They will figure out how to repair themselves with the help of me--our family and with the help of their Heavenly Father who is the only One that can truly make it all up to them.  And He will.

Here are some honest truths I've told Penny:
Birth mom does drugs, deals drugs.
Birth mom goes to jail, goes to rehab.
Birth mom loves you.
Birth mom's brain stopped developing around 13.  
Birth mom doesn't have a good memory because of drug abuse.
Grandma did drugs, birth mom was in foster care.
Both aunts did drugs but are recovering addicts and doing really well.
You can make bad choices and still be a good person. 
Everyone is a Child of God and is very much loved, but not everyone can be trusted.
We can love people who make bad choices, and we can learn to not make those bad choices.
We will make our own bad choices.
Birth mom lies sometimes, because she thinks the truth will hurt you.
I will tell you the truth, and help you feel better when it hurts.
We have to live with other people's consequences.  It sucks.
Being adopted was Heavenly Father's plan for you all along.
You are loved by SO many people!

*drug dealers are more normal than you think...and these ones aren't dangerous, I assure you.  If you met them, you would actually love them like I do.  They have only been kind and loving and respectful towards me and our family.  I've heard lots of stories of how they act around other people, but I have never witnessed anything that would make me think they were dangerous or a threat in any way.  Plus they were clean.  And addicts that are clean, are WAY different than when they aren't.

I put on my happy face.  I was the bigger person that I wanted to be, that I should be.   I have been dealt a better hand in life than she was.  She never had a chance.  I had about a million.  And I really do love her.  And I don't think she realizes how much she has lost, but I know. Could you even imagine losing all of your children?

The days were LONG

Every mom knows what it feels like for the days to drag on. Some days are longer than others.  After playing for hours on the floor with your kiddos with the constant interruptions of snack times, diaper changes along with multiple calls to action to avoid possible small scale disasters, you realize it is only 10 am.  I knew what it was like with 2 young children--Ruby and Oliver were 4 and almost 3 when we added 2 more stay at home kids.  I enjoyed being a mom, taking Ruby and Oliver on field trips, playing games, and just the regular mom chores.  I got out with friends during the week because they had a couple small children too.  It was manageable, even fun!  Adding 2 more (stay at home kids and then a newborn 2 months later) was not manageable or fun most days.  I was drowning.  Kyle was great, and so were my close friends, but no one can help you all of the time--and it was ALL the time that I was drowning.  Millie was at the hardest busiest age and she made it count every single minute of every single day.  She climbed EVERYTHING.  There was no such thing as childproof.  Kyle always joked that if anyone wanted to see if their house had a weakness, we could hire Millie out and she would find it.  She was full of anxiety and fears too.  I was ill equipped to deal with a child like Millie, and I was too exhausted to even try, but I did my best.  One of my biggest regrets is how I handled my early days with Millie and I've been trying to make up for it still.  Max cried.  A lot.  He also would sit and hit his head against a wall or couch over and over again.  Not enough to hurt, but it was obviously an unsettling behavior. I held him anytime I could.  Oliver, Millie and Max constantly fought over my lap.  My jeans grew holes in the knees so quickly from being on the floor all day with the kids.  I rarely if ever found time to eat.  I was consumed with all of the roller coaster emotions that accompany foster parents--will the kids stay or will they go? Max and Millie had so much anxiety I couldn't leave the room without them having fits of panic and crying hysterically for me.  Almost immediately Oliver started to exhibit the same anxiety.  In the beginning I was full of guilt anytime I had to leave them.  After awhile, I was filled with resentment for the guilt they were causing.  And then I felt even more guilt, because of my feelings of resentment. 

The days were long.  The first night I cried because I was so exhausted and didn't think I could survive it.  Obviously I was clueless about how hard things would really be when I decided to follow that prompting.  My thoughts of doubt were constant. "Was Heavenly Father crazy?  I thought he knew me.  How in the world did he think I could do this?"   I cried almost every night that first month, and multiple times during the day.  I didn't want the days to begin the next morning, but I never gave in those thoughts.  I woke up, got out of bed, and pushed through every single day.  I remember my mom visiting and suggesting that I hire someone to help clean my house or help with the kids.  Just like most of the other times she had a great idea, I absolutely positively refused to acknowledge that it was.  I didn't need someone else to clean my house.  I could do that.  I was asked to do this hard thing, and so I would do it.  That lasted a couple of months and then I buckled.  Kyle and I decided we really did need help.  We got 30 dollars a day through foster care, why not use that money for help?  And so we did. Every single penny and then some.  After 2 months of doing everything and wondering how I was going to keep it up after baby came at the beginning of August, I had a plan. I would hire someone to help.

Nicole helped me interview.  Of course.  And we found our help we so desperately needed.  I hired 2 nannies (even though I despise that name) to help me during the day.  I hired them at the beginning of July. Kyle didn't ever want me to be alone so we had morning and afternoon hours for our nannies.  Marley and Megan were heaven sent.  I just didn't know how perfectly timed they came into our lives until July 10.  Simon was due sometime during the first week of August.  My mom had made plans to come help at the end of July.  But Simon wanted to come July 10, and so he did.  It was by far, my scariest delivery and the events leading up to his birth were quite exciting!    In short, I thought I wet the bed, I was embarrassed but didn't want to deal with it and was having cramps and couldn't sleep so I watched call the midwife instead--at 3 am.  Kyle finally heard me at 4 am and wondered what in the world I was doing!  I finally went back in our bedroom and discovered I hadn't wet the bed.  More like bled the bed.  It was a little scary to say the least.  Luckily we hadn't seen the blood before deciding it was time to go to the hospital to be safe because of my cramping.  Unfortunately (typed with sarcasm) Kyle was scheduled to go to scout camp that day--he was supposed to leave at 6 am, but we luckily found a sub. Thank you Wilsons!  Nicole was out of town--how dare she not anticipate this early unexpected labor!  My friend Michelle was happy to come and stay at the house until our nanny arrived---barely on the job and she would be handling everything on her own.  It was not how I had planned it--I wanted to help them get to know the kids, show them where everything was, help them get comfortable (before throwing them in to the pit of despair) but this was not to be. After we had the other 7 kids taken care of, we left for the hospital to see about number 8.  Long story short, they suspected the placenta had started to detach but the ultrasound was not conclusive.  They decided having the baby that day was the best course of action and I agreed.  I was worried about him almost being a month early, but all went well, and after taking one look at him, I KNEW he was not early.  He looked the same and weighed the same as all of my other babies--I suspected a wrong due date prediction.  

I didn't know then, but I had my first anxiety episode at the hospital with Simon.  I had amazing nurses but I never liked asking for help.  I felt light headed and got up and almost fainted but caught myself on the side of the bed.  I called the nurse for a sprite.  I started crying as soon as she walked in.  I sobbed and sobbed while sipping that sprite.  I had a hard time breathing.  But focused on sipping that sprite like my life depended on it.  Apologizing for all the unnecessary tears---I didn't know what had come over me, but I knew I did not want to go home.  I wanted to stay in that hospital bed forever.  I wanted those nurses to take care of me forever and drink unlimited sprite.  I couldn't tell her all of those thoughts without sounding insane, so I just cried and tried to breath and sat sipping my sprite in between my pitiful sobs.  That poor nurse.  I'm sure she had seen it all before though.  She was so kind and comforting.  But soon, I had to go home.  Kyle came to get me, and I said I would just like to stay an extra couple of days.  He laughed and and forced me in the car.  Just kidding.  I was a willing participant. I  said goodbye to that lovely nurse and climbed into the car.

There WERE happy times.  The pictures make it look like there were ALWAYS happy times.  I'm ok with that.

Vampire Max and big brother Ollie

 

Millie was so little!!

These sweet sisters didn't sleep.  They would have woke up at 5 am to play dress up if I would have let them.  They were always the first ones up.  During the first couple of weeks Penny wasn't in school so Millie and Penny would play (another frustration of fostering is getting kids enrolled in their new schools--sometimes it is a long drawn out process).

Visits were in Heber.  I would drive an hour, stay an hour, and drive an hour home once a week.  This was Millies b-day party at McDonalds with Birth family.  We had only had the kids a few weeks. It was awkward for me.  I brought my kids.  I remembering wishing I hadn't.  

Our Birthday celebrations with Millie before her party.

Time out buddies.  I just found it amusing that one is smiling and one is crying.  She just thought it was great to be on a high stool.

Millie and Oliver were double the trouble.  Here is after leaving them alone for a few seconds.  Everything piled in the crib.  The picture doesn't do justice.  The room was a hazard zone after they got done with it.  Fun times.  Goodbye clean house!

Crazy hair day for Penny!  Ruby wanted to participate too.  Why not?  Who doesn't want to take the time to braid a million braids in the morning??

I would braid a million braids for this smile.

 Millie participates in crazy hair every morning!

 We celebrated Fathers day!

Penny was a Saratoga Shark for 2 weeks before she graduated kindergarten!

Millie checking for weakness in the house.

Before Simon was born we got to visit the family cabin in Wildwood.  It was really hard to have so many littles so we didn't visit long.

 Ruby was in heaven having a best friend sister.

 Bookworms in the making

I celebrated my 31st birthday!

4th of July bbq with family

I've always loved dressing my kids up.  Kyle calls them my little dollies.  I did have lots of dolls as a child, so its only right for me to have lots of real life dollies.  Having more kids to doll up has NEVER been a burden.  I still love it!

I am the Mommy

My thoughts tonight after receiving a birthday card I thankfully intercepted.

"Here's the thing, you WERE her mommy.  You got demoted when you chose your boyfriend over your children.  Harsh, but true.  You gave them to me--all of their hopes, dreams, fears, trauma, disabilities, strengths, anxieties.  You don't get to write birthday letters and sign them "mommy".  She doesn't refer to you as mommy anymore.  She calls you by your first name.  We refer to you as birth mom, or your first name.  One day, she may choose to call you mommy again, but you don't get to choose when that is or write cards that say, "Mommy loves you so much and I want to get you a birthday present, if its ok with your MOM."  You got to be her mommy for 6 years, then you quit.  We all know you quit long before that but I love you, regardless of everything,  and I know you love our children.  And OUR children love you.  We share children, and I'm ok with that.  I embrace all of them, including their past, and including you.  But you don't get to refer to yourself as their mommy anymore.  I hug them in the morning, and tuck them in at night. I help them with their homework, do their hair, feed them, clothe them, comfort them when they are sick or scared. I am their mommy.

You didn't get a fair start in life, I understand that, and if I could be your mom, or help you through your difficult times, I would.  But that is not my job.  My job is to protect and care for our children.  Sometimes that means protection from the incorrect usage of the word "mommy."  You have already created so much confusion and trauma in their young lives.  Don't confuse them with endearing terms that for some of them, haven't even crossed their consciousness yet.  You may send cards.  You may profess your love for them.  And you may address yourself  using your first name.  Or even birth-mom.  But please, please, please understand--you were their mommy, but I am their mommy."

I needed to vent after thinking in circles for the past 3 hours. 

"Do I show her the letter?  Do I edit it? Do I save it?  Do I tell her about it?  Do I explain how it makes me feel or ask how she feels about it?" No idea really.  Adoption is both wonderful and hard.  Adopting older children from foster care is different than starting out with a newborn.  They have memories that you don't have.  They love people you don't know.  

Navigating these waters is rocky and unfamiliar to me.  Writing my thoughts down helps me make lines out of those circles.  This is where I am right now.   I may be somewhere completely different tomorrow.

 Penny losing her first tooth was an unforgettable memory for me. The last remnants of her baby years were her baby teeth. I was the mommy for the first lost tooth, and the second, and third, and I will be her mommy for the last one.   I own those memories with her.  I started loving her before we even met.  I was prepared from a very young age to be her mommy.  I hope she will always know how much I have loved her.

 Love that toothless grin and love my hair! (styled by Penny of course!)

She is my lucky Penny forever!  And WAY deep down, I know that her birth mom will always be her mommy too.  But I'm already sharing kids, I don't want to share titles too!!

Mother's Day (foster care journey part 5--mostly pictures)

Ironically the first holiday we celebrated together was Mother's Day.  It had only been about a week since we met but I already felt like the kids were looking healthier and happier. I always thought bonding between me and an older child would be hard, but it had happened so early on and so easily with Penny.  I thought she must be in the honeymoon phase of foster care.  She followed all the rules, was easy to please, was kind, loving, helpful...she seemed too good to be true.  The more I learned about her past the more I understood why she was so unlike the typical foster kids I had learned about in my classes.  She had spent a large portion of her life away from her birth parents.  Most of the time she had been with aunts and her grandmother.  Although they had their own struggles, they provided a loving and somewhat stable home life for Penny.  Millie and Max were not as lucky.  They were kept away from their maternal extended family by their birth mom's current boyfriend and Millie's birth father.  I wouldn't know until later, but all the kids, especially Millie and Max, had witnessed a horrific amount of domestic abuse.  It was also safe to assume major neglect had been a part of most of their young life. 

I was ill-equipped to deal with so much trauma.  Foster care licensing classes were tailored to fit a wide variety of possible situations and so any extensive training on a specific situation was impossible within those training classes.  If I had known how much help was available among fellow foster parents at that time, I would have reached out.  But as it was, I was left guessing, and reading whatever I could find that I thought might help me.  After 1 week of listening to constant crying and screaming from baby Max both Kyle and I were exhausted.  I was determined to solve his unhappiness and figure out why he was so sad all of the time.   Despite his constant fussiness, I had a pretty easy time bonding to him in the beginning, and I think that was because he was a baby.  We had so much attachment therapy together even though I didn't know that was what it was called at the time.  Every night when I would feed him a bottle and sing to him he stroked my hair with his fingers.  I rocked him and rocked him as much as I could.  Putting him to sleep was an easy escape from the usual  bedtime mayhem.  Kyle and would take turns fighting for bedtime with Max because it was relaxing and calm.  Unfortunately Kyle and I gave Millie the secret nick name "devil child"--referring to her sudden outbursts and tantrums that were completely foreign to us.  She was absolutely adorable and absolutely the most active, mischievous,  defiant toddler either of us had ever seen.  But we were trying and for the most part, she was a happy little girl, who we had to watch like a hawk.  

 It wasn't all mayhem and madness.  There were smiles and lots of cuddles during that first week together. All of these new relationships were exhausting but we also had moments of happiness.  Mothers day was definitely one of those moments.  It seemed to be the first time all week that we could breath, relax, AND take pictures!  

Placement (foster journey part 4)

The week before they came was long.  There was lots to do but also plenty of time to worry and get excited.  I had taken hours and hours of classes but nothing prepared me for placement day.  It was May 3, 2013 and I was on Luke's field trip at the Aviary.  I was anxious and nervous and looking at birds with my buddy Luke.  He was excited too.  Kyle picked me up early from the field trip so we would be home in time for the social worker.  I remember picking up a highchair from a neighbor and then waiting.  Our kids were all being taken care of by friends, so that we could welcome our new children without chaos.  It was quiet, really really quiet and I knew that might be the last quiet moment for a long time.  I was pacing by the front door when I saw the van pull up.  I wondered what the right move would be...should I wait for them to come to the door?  Should I meet them half-way? Kyle walked out the door and down the steps with me.

The van doors opened and almost immediately I reached for the baby boy and he smiled and settled into my arms.  First impressions--he was wearing clothes that were obviously too small, and he was quite a goofy looking little guy.  I had never seen a baby with ONLY canines for teeth.  I carried the cute baby vampire while Kyle led the way inside and down the stairs to where all the toys were.  The 6 year old, named Penny, had a big blond ratted pony tail on top of her head and she was beautiful.  She was shy and unsure of what was happening, but I had also caught a glimpse of her smile and it was love at first sight for me.  I knew she was beautiful inside and out.  Her baby sister, Millie, clung to her at every chance she got, obviously in distress and she dried her tears and comforted her like any mother would.  I kept my distance and let Penny be the mom for the little bit while the caseworker went over the home to home binders, which included a whole lot of nothing. Within minutes of their arrival I was changing baby Max's diaper, (which included another surprise) and Kyle was learning that Millie was deathly afraid of him.  I could tell he saw it as a challenge and was already slowing trying to gain her trust.  Before I knew it the social workers were standing to leave and just like that we had 3 new children.  Strangers forced to be family.

My kids came home and after a few shy introductions we all went outside to play.  Within minutes the older kids were jumping on the trampoline with Penny.  She was everyone's favorite instantly.  We even had fights over her those first few days.  Some were jealous they didn't get a foster brother or sister their age.  But all in all, the kids seemed to do okay with each other and playmates were made.

I don't have pictures of the first day.  I only have one picture of the 2nd day.  I had absolutely no time to think about pictures.  The first meal we had together was pure pandemonium.  The baby cried or screamed the entire time.  I never sat down.  There were so many tears and runny noses to wipe and diapers to change, and kids to keep track of.  And I also had a 6 month old basketball attached to my belly.  By the last diaper change of the evening I was struggling not to cry.  We had only been at it for a few hours and I was already starting to fall apart.  I couldn't imagine doing this for 6 months, day after day.  6 months was the minimum amount of time their mom had to get cleaned up.  Kyle assured me we could and we would.  The first night I spent extra time with my two new daughters. I read to them. I sang them our traditional "good day" song. I hugged and tucked and loved those stranger daughters as naturally as I could.

We learned the first night that baby Max did not sleep through the night.  He wanted to drink a bottle all night long.  He used the bottle as a pacifier and when it was empty he would cry.  I let him do his regular routine the first night, but I knew if we were going to survive, we had to teach him how to sleep through the night, without the bottle pacifier. The 2nd night was equally as long as I rocked him back to sleep every time he cried out for his bottle.  The days were long and the nights were longer and I could't imagine it ever getting any easier.  But one day, 48 hours after first meeting, Millie was letting Kyle push her in a swing and she wasn't crying.  And a few days later, Max slept through the night without his bottle.  Somethings were getting better.  And I had hope that things would keep getting better.  However, I didn't anticipate the roller coaster of emotions that would accompany the milestones.  Falling in love with these children was inevitable, and saying goodbye was inevitable too.

Only picture from 2nd day of placement, May 4th 

Nicole went out and bought supplies for me the first night.  The kids came with basically nothing.  

May 11, 2013

(May 10 was me and Kyle's 11 year anniversary)

 Penny age 6, Mia almost 2, Easton 9 months

tender mercy foot note:

Summer/fall 2012. I wanted to have another baby, but for the first time it had been difficult and had resulted in a miscarriage, and blood work.  I hesitate writing the details, because I don't want them to come out wrong, but I'm writing this as a journal--so I'm going to ignore you (readers).  I was ignoring promptings, and asking for blessings at the same time.  I really wanted to be pregnant.   But I kept having a little voice/thought come to me that said--"foster care, then baby"  I thought this was a funny little thought to keep popping into my head.  But I began to feel stronger feelings that moving forward with foster care was the right decision, and that blessings would come.  After all our paperwork, doctor appointments and home inspections were complete we started our first class.  I found out I was pregnant around class one or two.  I felt my first morning sickness symptoms during my last class of certification.  What a tender mercy it was to not be sick the entire time I was going to those night classes (night time was always the worst for me).  We think we know what is best for us--I wanted to be pregnant right NOW but my Heavenly Father really knew what was best...the perfect window for pregnancy and foster care classes was His plan all along.  I'm glad I listened. Those first few months we were licensed I wondered why we were told to hurry...when we didn't get a placement immediately, obviously it didn't matter that we hurried!  And then I remembered the morning sickness I didn't have during all those classes, and how nice it had been to enjoy my family during the best months of my pregnancy.  And then I knew why I was told to hurry.  And I was glad I listened.

Tender Mercies

When they happen, I never see them as tender mercies, always later, when I have time to look back and link the past with the present.  I think its important to record them.  I have never been great at journal writing, but always wanted to. I'm a hit and miss kind of girl.  But I think these experiences deserve a hit.

When we found out the gender of our 5th baby I was shocked by my response.  I was devastated.  I really thought it was a girl, a sister for Ruby.  However, I held it together for the sake of my kids during the ultrasound, which was made especially difficult when little miss sis hung her head and quietly cried.  Her older brothers, one on each side tried to comfort her.  "You will always be the princess, THE beautiful princess of our family!" She bravely tried to smile and be happy for a healthy baby.  I followed her example.  When we were in the parking lot I told Kyle to take all the kids in his car so I could drive alone because I knew the waterworks were coming.  I was embarrassed and ashamed at my response, I really felt like I couldn't control my feelings of disappointments.  I felt like this might be my last pregnancy, my last shot at giving Ruby a sister.

I cried. More like--hysterically bawled all the way home.  That night, after the kids were in bed, I asked Kyle to give me a priesthood blessing (in my religion it is a blessing of strength/comfort/healing given to people who ask in faith by those who hold the priesthood of God).  I wanted to stop mourning over the loss of a daughter I never had and celebrate over the news of a healthy baby boy who I knew I would never in a million years want to trade. The only words that stuck with me from the blessing were, "in time it will make sense why not now."  I didn't understand what that meant but I did feel comfort in those words but didn't really think about them again.  Until we said yes to that placement of 2 girls and 1 boy.  They were the first words I thought of when I hung up the phone.  Ruby would have sisters--even if they were just temporary.  And maybe one day she would have forever sisters. And my baby boy would have a best friend, just one year older than him.

I knew that hearing those words, and having them confirmed to me again after the call, was a tender mercy.

There have been countless tender mercies in the past few years.  Some stand out above the rest.

Like when my bestest friend Nicole, who lived right across the street from me, decided to move--a million miles away (in reality it was a block).  I didn't feel I could survive without her.  She was one of my only anchors to sanity during those first few months of fostering.  Acquaintances and strangers saw what I wanted them to see, a young mother of 8 cute kids. Period. If they asked how I was, I had had to lie, not because I wanted to, but because I knew the truth meant tears I wouldn't be able to stop.  Nicole knew the truth--I was struggling.  Struggling to find the strength to do what I was supposed to do day after day for my young brood.  It was unspeakably hard and she was always there to help--to help me smile, help me go to doctor appointments, change diapers, watch kids so I could still volunteer at the school, continue my free music class I did for the neighborhood.  She even helped me cry on her shoulder, quite literally, because of her unwanted but totally needed bear hugs. So why the heck was she allowed to move?  I was so confused.  I really thought she was my tender mercy, so why was she being taken away?  It may seem silly to some but having someone you can exchange baby monitors with, or run across the street barefoot to tell a funny story to, can be more beneficial to ones health than the air you breath.

I was upset.  And so after discussing it, Kyle and I decided to move too.  I knew we wouldn't be close to her, but what was the point in staying if she was leaving?  We were already having problems with foster care licensing because of our room sizes.  If we moved we could find a bigger house and solve that.  We started to look (kinda) but found nothing.  I thought long and hard and realized moving away was an irrational response to losing my friendly neighbor.  So I told my realtor to stop sending me listings.  But she didn't. I think I was on an auto mailing list and they kept coming for a few weeks.  I would sometimes look at them for fun, even though we were NOT moving. I had 4 requirements in order for me to even look at a house--6 bedrooms, 3 car garage, culdesac, and close to a school.  One morning I looked at a listing--the first one that had all those requirements.  I was actually considering calling my Realtor to ask where it was...it seemed close to my current neighborhood but the street was unfamiliar to me.  As if summoned, Nicole walked in my garage door (we had a walk in policy between the two of us).  I showed her the listing.  She got excited immediately, "THATS BY ME!"  she said.  I was shocked.  WHAT??? No, thats crazy and even if it was true, what were the odds that I would actually like the house enough to move into it?  We had already tried to talk one of her neighbors into selling his lot right across from her new house and he declined.  I didn't see how there could be another chance at being neighbors again. It seemed too good to be true.  But, being the true friend that she was, SHE called the realtor and SHE set up an appointment for use to see the house before Kyle even got home from work.  

The next couple weeks were absolutely a whirlwind of crazy.  The last time we bought a house we happened to be on vacation during some of the negotiating and we almost didn't get the house.  This time was no different! We had a vacation scheduled, and needed to sell and buy a house at the same time.  We hired our two babysitters to be our realtors slaves for the next week.  They packed up most everything in our house and made it market ready. When we got back from CA we didn't even recognize our home.  It looked awesome, empty and no way did 8 kids live there!  We were the first people to look at the house in Nicole's culdesac.  It was barely on the market that morning we called.  We put an offer on it almost immediately.  Our house was on the market for a couple days and after one showing, we had an offer on our house as well.  Some would call it fate.  I call it a tender mercy.

I could go on and on...and eventually I'm sure I will.  I think everyone needs these sweet mercies in their lives, especially when things are tough, and we feel alone.  I'm grateful for each and every one of them in my life, especially during the year of my holy heck (the first foster care year).

Nicole with 2 of my crazy critters

I wanted THEM (foster journey part 3)

Utah divides their foster care parents into regions.  I am in the Western region but it was the Eastern region calling--because they do not have enough foster homes in their area they have to ask other regions to take placements. Names, ages and gender.  A Thats pretty much all they could tell me.  And that the girls were absolutely beautiful.  The kids easily attached to people--craved love and attention.  Mom was a drug addict.  They did in-home services for 8 months before they found out she was lying about everything and so they had to remove the kids.  For the past week the 6 year old was in a shelter and the almost 2 year old girl and 9 month old boy were at another foster home that didn't have room for the 6 year old.  They wanted to move them as soon as possible so they could all be together.

It was an easy no.   “I can't take 3, I'm sorry.  I'm only licensed for 2."

She assured me it didn't matter because they were siblings, as long as I had room (I could put the baby in my room), I could take 3.  Pause....

"Does it matter that I'm 6 months pregnant?"

No it didn't matter.

Think Emily.  Think.  This is crazy.  You can't do 7...errr...8 kids in a few months.  Your oldest is 9.

Immediately I thought of the Hansens.  They were a couple we met in our foster care licensing classes.  They had 2 children but because of health concerns, had not been able to have more.  They were looking to grow their family.  I was currently growing our family.  They would be perfect.  This placement must be for them.  This was the answer, I was sure of it.

I told the caseworker I needed to think about it, call my husband.  They understood but said they didn't want to wait too much longer.  Kyle agreed.  3 was too many and the Hansens would be perfect.  I called the caseworker back and gave them the Hansens number and told them my thoughts. They agreed to call to call them.  I texted the Hansens to give them the heads up.  They were nervous and excited.  I was relieved.

Over the next few days there were phone calls back and forth, and obstacle after obstacle for the Hansens.  Their room wasn’t big enough for two children.  They could get a variance for that.  Their resource family consultant was out of town and the supervisor said she couldn’t allow a placement in a home that hadn’t been visited by their RFC yet. We thought since it seemed the obvious answer, the right answer, these obstacles would be overcome, but it didn’t happen that way.  DCFS had now asked us twice if we would take the kids, and twice we had answered with a possible solution instead of a no or yes. It was Sunday night, and we knew they would call in the morning and it would be the last time they would ask.

That night I thought of every possible reason why we should say no.  But in the end, none of those reasons mattered. In the early morning hours I found my answer that prevailed over all common sense.   I was overcome with emotion when I finally had the answer I knew Heavenly Father wanted me to have.  The right answer.  We would take the sibling group of 3.  Because I wanted them.  I wanted these specific kids that I had been thinking and praying about for the last few days.  My thoughts had been consumed with them.  All I knew were their names and ages but I wondered if they were the kids I was missing in the back of my car.  I worried that they were scared and confused.  I wondered what kind of abuse or neglect they had experienced   I wanted to hold them and kiss them and protect them.  I WANTED them. And I knew they were meant to be with us—whether it would be temporary or permanent I didn’t know.

That morning, before the kids woke up, Kyle and I discussed what this would mean for our family.  We talked about how hard it would be.  Probably the hardest thing we had ever done.  Kyle had agreed we should say yes.  He hadn’t had a strong impression or such a personal experience as I had, but he had definately thought about it. 

“We tried our best to say no," he said.  "It didn’t work.  We have said no to placements before, and they never called us back.  They keep coming back for a reason.  Maybe these kids are the reason why we were told to do foster care.”

I actually don’t remember if I waited for them to call, or if I was too anxious and excited to wait.  But either way, there was a phone call and it was decided that they would come.  Yes we would take the sibling group of 3.  

Sometime shortly after we broke the news to the kids (who were jumping up and down with excitement, quite literally). I was scrolling through my pictures on my camera.  When I came to a picture I had taken just days before that first phone call from DCFS.  It was a photo of a nest with eggs.  A mother bird had unfortunately made a nest in our BBQ.  There were three eggs.  I couldn’t help but see the symbolism in this picture.  We would be adding 3 new eggs to our nest soon, and I thought Heavenly Father was quite clever for his little coincidence.  

(Interesting bit of info--our RFC had never visited our home either, and although it is a rule that the RFC's like to follow, it isn't the norm.  The caseloads are too big and placements are made many times, before a RFC has a chance to visit a foster home.  And in some cases, foster parents rarely, if ever, meet with their RFC. They are supposed to be a source of support for foster families, but in reality, the main support comes from other foster parents.)