Mother What?

The other day I left a comment on a post at Birth Mother /First Mother Form. In my comment I typed “natural mother” and immediately I thought maybe I should change it to birth mother or first mother or my new personal favorite “whatever mother” because apparently somebody will be inevitably offended by any one of those terms. My own natural mother just may be offended by all of them feeling that she needs no qualification of her role.

I have had a Birth, First, Natural mother. I had an older sister who was more a “mothering” figure to me when I was young than my natural mother ever was as mothering has never come naturally to my first mother. (My kids still despite all corrections and explanations continue to believe my sister is their grandmother.)

I have had nannies after my natural mother left. I have a step mother, who I am now affectionately referring to as my father’s wife, as “mothering” me is not something that come naturally to her either.

I have had foster mothers, a “Surrogate mother”, a “one on one”, and countless staff who filled the parenting role for me over the years.

I had my momma, the mother of a friend. Who fed, clothed, sheltered and loved me until the day she died. And she was the closest thing to a “real mother” I have ever had.

I have heard from adoptees that adoptive parents don’t like the term “natural mother” because it implies that adoption is an unnatural way to become a parent. Well, this is the part where I offend some people I care about and respect…adoption is not the natural way to become a parent. Adoption is the legal way to become a parent. That is not a slam it is just the cold hard truth.

I underwent in vitro fertilization, that is the scientific way to become a parent…the end results (in my case) would have ended up with my having a natural child, however the process was anything but.
There a lot of children right here in this country who conceived naturally borne into families whom will not or cannot raise them. That is a sad fact.

Whether you are a “natural”, “first”, “birth”, “surrogate”, “foster”, “adoptive” I am not sure that the descriptions/qualifiers used in conversation to avoid confusion in a highly complicated situation matter nearly as much as the “Real” relationships that those descriptions can never do justice.

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Plumbing

I am so tired of my plumbing…not that plumbing or that plumbing
This time it is the kitchen sink. Don’t fret I fixed it…for now.
Last time this happened I was catering a graduation party for 65 people without running water in my kitchen.
I had to wash my utensils in the shower (not those utensils) – joy.
I will never do that again.

Mad had two snow days which means I get to sleep in while she entertains her sisters.
That is a benefit to having kids 7 years apart.
Not for her, for me.
They had snow days Monday and Tuesday they were supposed to go today and have Thursday and Friday off.
Now she is sick.
I went out for “coffee” with friends.  (green tea actually I am off the junk)
I cheated. ..Not that cheated.
Monday night we had a staff meeting at the gym after work.
It was late.
I was tired.
I ran to 7/11 and got a big gulp.
I swear I only put a SHOT of regular Diet Coke in with my caffeine- free Diet Coke.
I was up ‘till 4 am.  That never happened when I drank the stuff like it was water.
Cheaters never win.

Last Tuesday Amélie broke out in some atrocious hives.
Then I got called into work, so I had to rush her into the doctors, rush to the pharmacy, and rush to the gym –Late
and with the kid in tow.
Today at exactly 5 O’clock she says, “My ear hurts.”
The crying commenced at exactly 5:10pm.
I hit it with both barrels, Motrin and Tylenol
Off to urgent care we go...
Unfortunately we were not alone.
Our secret somehow got out and while the flu is going around at that.
Good thing Amélie miraculously felt good enough to dance around the lobby.
3 hours later when the Dr. finely shows up I say
“She had better have an ear infection after we have been here this long”
“Oh, yeah that ear is infected all right!” she assures me.
I told Amélie the Dr. was probably just covering for her and that I should grab that scope and have a little look see for myself.
“Well mom, that thing is what doctors to use to do their job – not for gymnastics coaches”
Touché!

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Washington’s Real Birthday

“I was born on Washington’s actual birthday” is what my father always says.

 

Today was my dad’s birthday. If we were on speaking terms it would have totally slipped my mind and I would have completely forgotten it all together. But we are not and I didn’t. Instead I felt like I was supposed to do something all day.

 

I was done with the lies, jumping threw hoops, walking on eggshells and playing the game that was my decision. So, He said he was “done” with me(again). That was his decision.

I didn’t send a card, I didn’t text, and I didn’t call. We didn’t go out for dinner, I didn’t make or buy him the traditional strawberry rhubarb pie, just like his mother and grandmother used to make. Nothing… But I am used to that.

It is what it is.

“Done” or not, he will always be my dad and I hope he had a Happy Birthday.

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Much Ado About Nothing

• I am that person who gets her self stuck in a snow bank at the end of her own drive way. 
• (Have I ever mentioned that I am a single mother 5-6 days a week?) 
• I had to dig my self out boo-hoo. 
• I am woman hear me roar! 
• Another positive aspect of having my parents as parents and going to foster care,  I have a lot of practice digging myself of whatever shit I have gotten myself into.
• Thanks guys.
• Well and isn’t that what we want for our kids anyway – independence?
• Luckily chatty elderly neighbor pulled up to bask in the glory of my ineptness lend moral support.
• No pressure.

 

• Mad went to her high school orientation tonight. 
• She is highly disappointed that her school doesn’t have a debate team.
• I have no idea where she got her healthy love of spirited discourse.
• I was looking forward to a break, she has honed said arguing skills on guess who?
• And damn she IS good.
• She signed up for diving, gymnastics, soccer and softball...
• We’ll see.
• Amélie says, “I want a drink”. I say, “go get me your cup…”  “why can’t you just go get it for me?”  “because I am not here just here to serve you”  “well, I WISH you were”  “Ha, I bet you do!”
• Now that CoCo is potty trained she insists on dressing in the style of Porky Pig.
• Free at last, free at last…
• I’m not complaining.
• It has cut way down an the amount of laundry I have to do.
• 

Tha,Tha, that’s all folks!

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The Good Sleep

After I wrote and published Saturday’s post, I slept.  I slept all night, I slept all morning, I made brunch for Mr.Sunday and the kids and I slept until the half time show.  (maybe I thought I was having a neon nightmare.)  I watched the 11 O’clock news and went back to sleep and sleep all night.  I mean I slept a LOT.

I have lived these past 2 years in full out crisis mode. Not knowing, Not having answers.  The constant watching, taking mental inventory of each and every single little quirk (not to mention all of the other stresses in my life) plumb wore me out.

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From That Day Forward

After two rides in two big red trucks with bright flashing lights,  meeting the friendly staff of two trauma centers, and a 3 day nap, Ms. CoCo broke out with the classic Roseola rash much to our pediatrician’s relief.   (I had refused the spinal tap at the first ER and the resident at the second refused to order another one, he also didn’t believe it was necessary, our Ped went along with him but was a little nervous about it.)  They believe that what she had was a complex Febrile seizure.

In all fairness CoCo had been a quirky baby before that day, she had a strange kind of scoot instead of a crawl, and she had that thing where her lips would turn blue. 

Then that day.

When we brought her home she was still kind of sick, but she did not seem the same, not just the newly crossed eye, she previously had some language, she would imitate sounds, all of that just stopped.  No words and she made very few attempts to vocalize at all for a few months.  She was fisting her right hand most of the time, but she would/could use it, she fisted the left a lot, but not nearly as much as the right.  There were little things that didn’t seem right.

I trotted her back to the neurologist (the one I had taken her to about the blue lips), she assured me that CoCo just had a febrile seizure and some autonomic issues that weren’t a problem unless her brain forgot to tell her body to breathe, and that she would probably just be one of those kids who just pass out from time to time…No big deal.  She did send CoCo for a physical therapy evaluation and to a cardiologist because her heart rate was so high (above 245) in the ER. 

The cardiologist looked at her records, gave her an echo, and wasn’t very concerned about her heart rate during/after the seizure.

The physical therapy clinic her set up with Early Intervention through our school district, they took her on for her speech.  (Amusingly her speech really wasn’t on my radar; I was more concerned with the wonky legs and the fisting.)

It wasn’t until this past July when she got an appointment with the chief of neurology at Children’s Hospital that anyone thought to order her an MRI, and in October we learned the results, CoCo has Periventricular leukomalacia (Babies with PVL have a higher risk of developing cerebral palsy a group of disorders that prevent the child from controlling their muscles normally, and may have intellectual or learning difficulties).   Oddly she had none of the risk factors, she was full term, she weighed over 8 lbs., I had not had any infection that we know of, and I was told PVL typically happens around the 8^th month of gestation.

I personally, will never be sure which came first the seizure or the brain damage.  And in all honestly, I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. 

She walks, she talks, she is potty trained, she has even gone back and (kind of) learned to crawl at almost 3 years old.  When I look back on her birth and that day I know she is a very lucky girl.  She may have to work a little harder than some kids in life. She will have issues she will have to deal with.  We have no idea yet exactly what those are going to be.  But she works hard and we all work hard for her and she is a happy girl.     

I am still unsettled by the memory of seeing 248 on the heart monitor.  I am way more careful about illness and fevers with her than I ever was with my other two children.  Some people go groceries shopping before a big snow storm. I check my supply of Tylenol, Motrin and Diazepam, and the batteries in the thermometer.   

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It Was A Day Exactly Like Today

Two years ago, on this day, the first Saturday in February, my life, and my priorities were forever changed.

The night before CoCo wasn’t feeling well.  She had a fever and was extremely cranky.  My oldest daughter had a gymnastics meet the next day on the other side of the state.  We had decided that my husband would take her and I would stay home with the sick baby and 3 year old Amélie.  That was a huge deal in our family, as it has been said, we travel in a pack, and up until that day we did.

When I woke up at around 6am to do Mad’s ‘meet hair’ CoCo woke up and was in a great mood scooting around laughing and cooing.  Mr. Sunday and I talked about whether or not I should throw some clothes on the littlest ones and all go to the meet.  I even started getting them dressed and ready for the 3 hour drive.  We were expecting snow, and it is always worse on that side of the state, I finally decided that 6 hours in the car, 4 hours at the meet, an hour in a restaurant, might just be too much for a recovering baby.  We decided that I would stay home after all.  I was so torn, stuck between what was best for two different kids…it sucked.

Since it was going to snow, and I wouldn’t be going anywhere, unless it was an emergency, Mr. Sunday and Madeline took my van leaving me with his pick-up and two car seats sitting by the front door.

They took off and we played for a while.  Then the fever came back.  I gave her some Tylenol.  She got crankier.  Two hours later, she still had a fever, I gave her Motrin.  She seemed to be cooling down.  We sat in the recliner, her sitting in the crook of my arm and she dozed off.  Meanwhile the snow was accumulating.  I closed my eyes. 

I opened my eyes; she was still sitting in the crook of my arm but groaning.  Something was not right.  Her lips were blue, which had happened occasionally since she was born.  But they were really blue.  Then I noticed her hands were blue.  Her feet were blue.  I called her doctor’s cell, panicked.

She was very calm, she said it would be ok and I just need to go right to the hospital and she would call a head and let them know we were on our way.

Still in my pajamas!   Crap!  Carrying a blue baby on my hip I look at the car seats, the inches of snow and the pick-up I hate to drive in good weather.  And I think “FUCK ME!!!” 

I sit CoCo down and she flopped right over, Crap!  I pick her up and put her back on my hip, she is getting bluer, I pick up a car seat while trying to call a neighbor to come help me, and I trudge out to the truck to put the car seat in.  And she is bluer.

I call 911.

My baby is turning blue

Is she breathing?

Yes, but it is not right.

Is she choking? Does she have something in her mouth?

No.

Where are you?

I’m here, at home.  (Are you an idiot?)

You are on a cell phone, I need your address.

Ohh!  (I’m an idiot!)

Snow and all they were there in minutes (it felt like forever), I was holding a blue baby, trying to put on my pants, dress Amélie and generally freaking out.

The instant I opened the door for the paramedics the one grabbed CoCo out of my arms and ran to the truck.  Knowing I am prone to panic, and being pretty self aware, it hadn’t hit me until that moment that the situation was actually as bad as I thought it was.  A cop and another paramedic came in wrapped Amélie in a blanket and carried her out to the ambulance.  I stood in the living room totally blank.

Another cop came in and told me I had to go now, they need to go to the hospital NOW.  “Maybe they should just go with out me.  I’ll follow.”  No.  No, you can’t drive in this and you need to go with them!  He told me.  I went but I didn’t want to.  Can you imagine?  My baby is being rushed to the hospital and I don’t want to ride with her.  The truth is I didn’t want to have to watch her take her last breath.  I didn’t think I had it in me.

They didn’t want to risk taking her all the way to our bigger (pediatric) hospital, so they took her to the nearest trauma center, where I stood with a fully wired, probed and extremely tachycardic baby on my hip for several hours unable to move more than 2 feet in any direction.  My girlfriend came and picked up Amélie, who at 3 years old sat silently on the stool the paramedics had set her on as we came into the trauma room.

I debated what to tell my husband, being that he was 3 hours away in good weather; I did not want to panic him and then have him drive back across the state in a blizzard.  I didn’t want to ruin Maddie’s meet by having them her pull her off the floor after the first event. So I just told him that I had taken CoCo to the ER and that he should come straight home after the meet.  I didn’t want one of Mad’s young coach who was stuck coaching back at the gym to worry as she texted me asking for scores.

So there I stood, relaying texted scores,  going toe to toe with ER doctors, refusing a spinal tap until she was transferred to a pediatric trauma center (she had fluid in her lungs, I did not think that meningitis was likely) for hours,  then for hours at the next hospital by myself…Just me and CoCo.

For the next 3 days I sat in a chair and held her.  Tethered to monitors and IV, she only woke up to scream if I had the nerve to put her down or pass her to anyone else.  But we made it through, she and I, together.

But neither she nor I have been the same since.

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My "Whatever" "Mother" on BlogTalk Radio

You may want to take a moment to listen to Ms. E Heart’s BlogTalk Radio program regarding foster care disruptions and the impact of foster care in general. 

If you can manage to get through the beginning of the show with some disruptions and an echo (it only lasts a few minutes), you will hear my “real”, “natural” whatever – mother (Linda) talk about her own experiences in foster care.  Also Ms. E talks very passionately about her frustration with dealing with the system as a foster/adoptive parent and therapist.



Listen to internet radio with Ms E HeartLady on Blog Talk Radio

And yes in case you are wondering that is me she is referring to.  While she has profound insight into her own plight and challenges, she has a knack for saying all the right things. She is an experienced speaker and master story teller.  And she is a therapist after all.  But the jury is out in my mind about what she had to say about me and about her parenting.  On one hand that is close as I have ever heard her come to implying that she had not taken care of her responsibilities to us, but I am not sure if she really believes that or if that had more to do with that she knows that I know Ms. E and that Ms. E knows me and my story so her usual spin wasn’t gonging to get her very far?  Maybe it just worked for her in the context of that situation?

What ever the case, I am glad that she is attempting to be respectful and supportive of me and my right to tell my story, even though she may not be overly happy about it.   

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Kill The Bill

 

"As survivors, we have each had moments when we felt small & scared when memories resurfaced from experiences in our past. But we are not DEFINED by those moments. We remain uniquely ourselves: Powerful. Resilient. Steadfast. World-changing." ~ Lisa Dickson (Foser Care Alumni Association)

Foster care bill raises concerns

By Tracy Kennedy, Capital News Service 01/28/11

"A foster care bill caused confusion among lobbyists and legislators last week in the Senate Rehabilitation and Social Services Committee.


Senate Bill 1037, sponsored by Sen. George Barker, D-Alexandria, would eliminate independent living as a permanent goal for foster children over age 16.


“Right now, what you have is ... adolescents who are given a goal of independent living and you don’t have anyone trying to place them into families. Families are very important,” Barker said. “I’ve been a foster parent; my wife and I have had a number of foster children over the years.”


The Virginia Association of Children’s Homes testified against the bill on Friday, saying it would strip older foster children of a right to pursue independent living. Legislators then asked a myriad of questions in an attempt to better understand the issue."

You can read the rest here.

Now, I have to say I have no idea what state Sen. George Barker (Virginia) must be thinking with the introduction of this bill.  It makes no sense to me what so ever.  Any child, who has not found their “forever family” by the age of 10, is very unlikely to find one ever, let alone at 16.  And if I am not mistaken the goal of ALL childrearing is to equip them for the rigors of independent living.

I do not think anyone’s goal should be to not have independent living as a permanency goal.  Ok, I’m sorry I am back there…That is just idiotic.  There must be some super confusion that is making this bill appear at face value more ignorant than it realy is.  Since I have not read the text of the bill itself yet, I am hoping that to be the case.  Please GOD, let that be the case.

I was a state ward and living on my own, with 3 college roommates as a 17 year-old High School Senior.  Can you imagine that?   Living on your own, working and occasionally making it to a high school class or two at 17?  I am not the only person who has ever done that, I am sure I wasn’t the last.  And personally I don’t believe I was much more prepared for a totally independent life a year later when my foster care allowance stopped coming.

I assure you that a 17 year-old High School Senior in a college town was not always pretty,  I made plenty of mistakes, fortunately I was so drunk when I made them I don’t have  the burden of remembering many (first hand that is).

Anyhow, rather than focusing on finding “forever families”  (seriously, How dumb! ) for foster care kids over 16 we need to focus More on Independent Living Programs, raising the possible age of support of foster kids to at least 21 like they did in California, and not allow minors to live totally on their own unsupervised.   That is not asking for much.

Has anyone filled out their children’s college financial aid paper work lately?  How long do they count parental income?  Until your child is 24 years-old, correct me if I’m wrong.  Why does the government want to know what a child’s parent’s income until said child is 24?  Because the government has the expectation that parents will support their children at least that long.  That’s why. 

So tell me why the government thinks it is OK to turn their kids out on the streets high and dry the day they turn 18 when they expect you to support yours until they are 24?  Have you ever wondered about that one? 

We need more, better and longer term strategies to prepare foster kids for independent living not less.  Seriously, I cant stop shaking my head.

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Good Stuff From Around the Web

"Sometimes the strategies that help us survive our childhood can sabotage us as adults. But, when we know the risks - and recognize the roots of our behavior - we can respond by: a.) Holding onto the best parts of ourselves and b.) Trying to redirect the parts of our hearts, habits and behavior that might hurt or alienate others." ~ Lisa Dixon Foster Care Alumni

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes! ~ Once was Von

The Adoption Community Rejoices at the Hope of Oprah Giving Adoption a True Voice   ~Faux Claud

A Utah woman who tortured her 4-year-old adopted child by making her sit on a bar stool with her hands tied behind her back and drink so much water she died ~ OsoloMama

"In any given time period, I do more harm than good." ~ Socialwrkr247

Don't Mind Me, I'm Just a Birth Woman ~ Jenna

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