And there’s the moment you can’t turn back and have so many regrets but would not make any other decision. Probably.
- T-Minus Two Weeks (previously described in part!)
It’s our last weekend with X3 before she moves in FOREVER. This is the worst doggone possible time in life. I could not be more under the gun at work, and the weather is crappy, and we are out of town next weekend, and it’s all just happening. X3 comes Friday afternoon, and we give her her new tablet for starting school! She is excited. I take her to the park for a quick run it out before dinner. It’s wet and she falls in puddles and her boots get wet, but no biggie, she’s a kid! Time to leave – she refuses to buckle in her seat. I can’t find the child locks, so I can’t even keep the door shut. I can’t FORCE her to stay buckled in her car seat and I can’t drive without her buckled. We are in the parking lot for 45 fucking minutes while she throws every item she can find out the door onto the ground screaming “PICK IT UP” at me over and over. I do. We can’t litter. A car full of teenagers pulls up in the (mostly empty) parking lot and weed billows out the windows at us. I regret my life choices. During bathtime she escalates and breaks the soap dish out of the wall while yelling about beatings, guns, and police while playing with toys. We reassure her she is safe and exchange stressed out texts.
Saturday morning we are up at 5. Obviously. We play, and hang out, and play tablet. She wants to go outside. Her boots are wet from the park last night, and we don’t have any other shoes for her – no one sent any shoes for her. And every time I’ve thought of this issue before, and texted to ask her shoe size, no one got back to me, so I have never bought her shoes. I am furious that I have failed to anticipate this situation and have shoes and now we have a hyper kid that can’t go outside and OMG we are going to die if this kid cannot go run it out. I decide to go to Target to get more shoes. X3 doesn’t want to come, she want’s to stay home. I take the baby and go to Target to get shoes, and new stretchy gloves because she is ruining hers, and her bio-mom gave them, and we would want to save them for her to have those last things in the future. Target doesn’t have ANY shoes in her size. FUCKING NONE, and I look forever. I find one pair on clearance – they are AWESOME. There is snow on the ground, but there are no gloves of any kind – only swimsuits, obvi. I rush home, texting my brother for back-up. They are going to a pancake breakfast. The shoes I bought are too small, even though they are the size of the fucking boots. X3 assures me she can shove he feet into them, she LOVES THESE SHOES THAT DO NOT FIT, and now I am breaking this kids heart with these new shoes that have rainbows on them and she wants them so badly and they do not fit and I cannot even live through this feeling of failure and I literally lie on the floor and consider if I can possibly not cry. Now WE are also going to a pancake breakfast, because fucking hell, we are NOT GOING TO MAKE IT. At breakfast my brother and sister laugh because we look so exhausted; my sister hands me a five hour energy. I’ve never touched one and they creep me out. I drink it immediately.
The rest of the day is aces.
Sunday is remarkably not hard, all things considered, and getting her back to foster-home is the easiest it has ever been – because we have promised this is the very last time. She has heard, and repeats, this is the very last time, after this I will live with you FOREVER. Yes. We have said those words.
WEEK 1
IT’S TIME! And I can’t go with to pick up my new kid for her official transfer to our household because I am in court all day. Which is my job but like…seriously?! WHY?! I make it home and we go to Perkins for a celebration dinner, because she loves Perkins. She now has to be a baby – the therapist has told us to lean in to those desires when we can, because she probably never got a chance to be a baby and needs that attention and development. So I am at Perkins with an almost five year old with a pacifier in her mouth yelling “GAH GAH” and squeaking the baby’s toy AS LOUDLY AS POSSIBLE NON-STOP. We are totally those people. I have a work emergency to deal with that escalates me off the charts and stresses out my partner. She won’t eat HER food, only my food. She fucking LOVES her food, WTF? My partner is losing his mind between my stress and the noise. We leave. CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES, COME ON!
Saturday my partner has scheduled a brief meeting with some friends. We go to the park with my sister and niece and nephew. X3’s leggings are too warm, so we take them off. Her underwear are too big and keep sliding down without the leggings, so we take those off. We try to leave, and she takes off running into the street, holding her dress above her head, screaming. I explain that she cannot show her vagina in public, but more importantly, has to hold my hand for safety when crossing the street. She won’t buckle and screams for 20 minutes straight. She finally stops and we go play at my sisters with the kids. She is great the whole time.
We get home and she just. won’t. stop. fucking. with. me. I have never before thought that a child could BE unlovable and unlikeable. Her laugh is maniacal and like nails on a chalk board. I cannot think of one thing I have enjoyed with her. I cannot believe that I have made this decision and told this child this is forever. I could never take something like that back, but I really, truly, want to. I go and cry and cry and cry.
My partner is both supportive and frustrated that I am such a complete disaster. I am not certain I have ever in my life said “I cannot do this” to anything, ever. I am absolutely, positively, certain that I cannot do this – that NO ONE COULD DO THIS. I have never been this miserable and hopeless, and full of self-doubt that I am even a person who should ever have a kid because who can feel these awful things about a traumatized kid?
Sunday we go to the May Day Parade. We give her her medications as described on the bottle. It’s ungodly hot. She is a weird flat-faced basket case. She cannot deal with people. She whines and says the same things over and over. (the baby is great and easy and charming) Then she says she wants to go home. My partner and I are totally irritated by the entire experience. We get back to the car and she immediately passes out. We realize that she doesn’t usually take her medication during the day, and we have accidentally knocked her out by giving them as prescribed. The rest of the day is a nightmare, she cries and whines non-stop, and we know it’s the medication but HONESTLY.
The week is a blur. Thank goodness for her day treatment program. I cry every time any person asks me anything about her, or me, or the baby, or life. I feel like I will never again have a day I don’t cry. On top of everything, we are needing to finish our annual hours for foster-care licensing training, so I have to do that too, meaning my partner is alone with the kids at night. It’s way way way too much for everything. The social worker and guardian ad litem come visit and she gives a complete and full range of behavior, so they really get the whole picture! They are very encouraging. Both comment on how easy and charming the baby is…
The baby X2. I have barely seen the baby. I work, the baby is in bed right when I get home or before, and X3 demands every. single. waking. second. of me that I am home. I can’t hold or play with the baby, because X3 needs me always. always. always.
WEEK 2
The weekend dawns intense, with a horrible Saturday morning, meltdowns, and constant constant pushing. I have to work a couple hours in the morning, and have arranged for back-up so my partner can take a couple hours away from the house. My partner misunderstands timing, my back-up is later than expected, and my partner is gone 10 minutes when kidlet melts the fuck down, and I spend the next hour being kicked, hit, spit on, slammed by a door, whipped with a cable, and other joyful activities. I am so angry at every person in my entire life who is not here at this moment to help me not traumatize this kid more and also not kill either her or myself. I am a calm-faced internal rage-monster. Back-up and my partner arrive and diffuse for the rest of the day, but the stress and exhaustion is already there. It is noted by everyone that I look awful – just tired and exhausted in a completely unexplainable way; it’s an accurate reflection of my status.
Sunday is mother’s day. We have multiple melt-downs. We do manage to capture a picture where the kids and I look great – it is a false picture, and I will always treasure it. We are going to grill. We get a text invite from my brother and immediately throw all food in bags and walk over so the kids can play together. My brother is not a hugger. He looks at me and hugs me. I cry, obvi,
The week passes in another blur of pure chaos. There is not a single thing at which I am succeeding and each new task is just another moment to fail to fulfill expectations. I get a lovely review and a raise. I celebrate by working until midnight. We have a babysitter one night because I have an evening work event and my partner needs to get HIS foster care hours; our babysitters come as a duo, and that’s for the best!
In fact, we try never to be alone with the kids. Our family and friends come every evening while I’m working, so my partner doesn’t have to deal with babyX2 (normal) and babyX3 (approximately 7 small tornadoes) alone. She is much better with him than with me, but “better” is so much more than any human can understand.
WEEK 3
The weekend arrives with the expectation of chaos but a semi-plan to get through it…my partner will be gone all day each day, but returning at night. My sister comes first thing Saturday as a brief backup, planning to leave for a few hours, and then we are all going to my dad’s for a gathering. EVENTS ARE GOOD! X3 melts the fuck down all the way, swearing, hitting, self-harm. I am, amazingly, able to stay entirely, ridiculously, calm. It goes on so long, my sister leaves and takes the baby with her, because there is no way I can care for her while keeping X3 from destroying everything and hurting herself. We get out the other side and I am just. so. sad. I have not held my baby for 5 days. I have worked and worked and given every single ounce of energy to X3 and this is all I see forever. And this is the only baby I am ever going to have, and I have made this choice, but I am so so sad that I am missing this time. It’s not fair to her or to me. No one in this house is wearing their oxygen masks, all we are doing is holding them up for X3 to use.
At my dad’s, the gathering is full of the very best of the people that I could be spending this time with, warm, loving, understanding, socially aware, and well-educated people. I cry every time anyone tries to talk to me. They take it VERY WELL. I am selfish and hold my baby (instead of sharing her) while X3 plays with other people. It is the best afternoon that could happen. I am still exhausted and miserable, but at least I am supported, and I cannot overstate how lucky I am in my family support.
Sunday morning my bonus-mom is at the house for backup. We have another meltdown, but I stay entirely calm again, and it is much shorter. Still lucky to have family there to take care of the baby all morning. In the afternoon, kidlets go to their first comic-convention. It’s pretty great! But I was woefully unprepared and we stay a very very short time.
We survive the next week, mostly I am not there, and there is backup for my partner at each moment. But in some ways, she and I seem to be turning a corner. She is still constant, intense, angry, difficult. But she is also being very responsive to the constant love and attention I am giving her and we have no complete meltdowns. On the other hand, now she is starting to fight my partner at every transition. And he transports her three times per day.
WEEK 4
It’s her birthday! Birthday party is just fine – presumably, about the intensity level of most 5 yr old birthdays. It’s small and that’s good – in fact, she disinvited some people and they listened, so less presents for her! I do too much and not enough – why do we torture ourselves with this pinterest crap? But also, she wanted a giant cucpake all her own and I DELIVERED!
Saturday we head out of town to in-law cabin. We were worried about packing up the car because of her history, but she is UP FOR IT and shows no signs of trauma or stress response to a weekend away. She actually does a great job, both getting ready and then travelling a loooooong distance for a little kid. The cabin was…fine. X3 took her first speed boat ride, resulting in her first ever look of PURE JOY. She bravely jumped (stepped a little) into the water from the boat (wearing a lifejacket, into my arms in the water). I taught her to roll down hills. This kid has never been a kid.
But, Baby was so sick, sickest she’s ever been, and I was so nervous. Partner was also so sick. X3 kept the tantrums to a minimum, coming across as just sort of a poorly-behaved kid. Which is a mixed blessing. Less tantrums is great! First tantrum without self-harm, yasss! But the judgment of people who simply do not understand her history and what psychology teaches about how to heal and address trauma make it really hard to parent – we literally CANNOT just threaten to hit her (we wouldn’t anyway, but legally CANNOT) but even if we could IT WOULD NOT DO ANY GOOD. And without first learning it, and then living it, people just DO NOT GET that this kid is nothing like any other kid…her trauma-brain is 100% in control. The best we can do is steer until she begins to heal. In addition to being sick, partner throws his back out. It’s all not his fault, but I’m so freaking ANNOYED. Bonus-sis is amazing, and so so so helpful with the kids. But even with her, I am exhausted by the time we get back from “vacation” and back to…work!
AND NOW.
X3 and I are actually doing” pretty well” at this point, where “pretty well” is still a lot of wondering “is anything ever going to be ok again?” and plenty of tantrums, horrible moments not described here, and just general emotional pain by both of us. She is so much, and I get so mad, or frustrated, or sad. The tension of never being able to parent X2 is a constant underlying sadness. But overall, we are pretty much doing it.
Meanwhile, she and my partner are NOT doing it. It’s really hard to judge if you are making progress when she screams at him “Momma is keeping me safe but you don’t even like me”. Like…YASSS WE GOT A MESSAGE ACROSS! But…shoooooot, there are some other issues now developing! Because he is the SAH, he is the one that needs the most functionality. She has never picked at him like at me, but now she screams, hits, and kicks in every car ride. Which is three every single day. That’s a lot!
We have no minutes to figure anything out, like what the hell to do now that school is ending and no one will call me back and having her home all day all summer really might kill him. Or how do we get swimming lessons, and dance class, and therapy, and life all fit in (and paid for! holy schmoly kids are ‘spensive!)? Or like, when will I EVER be a human being again and see another adult for like, adult conversation? (Expectation: never.) I truly do not know what I think about the decisions we have made. I do not see a different decision I could live with at any turning point. It’s honestly hard to imagine how we will make it 6 months, a year, through life generally. But it’s also hard to think about how much easier this weekend has been than weekends 1, 2, & 3. I am so exhausted, and I’m bored with being home with neeeeeeedy kids, and I want to go out for drinks after work like everyone else, and I want to make plans with friends, and I want to read a book I haven’t read, and I want to sleep in bed with my partner (one of us sleeps with X3 every night – otherwise she has night-terrors). But I’m also…ok. Today was ok.