Resilience

When I think of the word resilience, I think of Angie.  I also think of many of my foster children who have experienced profound grief and loss and have rose above their circumstances to show strength and courage beyond their years.

This as been an eventful Christmas break for us.  Angie has been sick for over 10 days now and she is still not completely well.  Even so, she has embraced the magic of Christmas this year, and has also been aware of the true reason we are celebrating.  She insisted that we make cookies for Santa, so we did:

Angie has brought the joy of the season to our family with her enthusiasm and her wonder at the meaning of this time of year.  Despite not feeling well, she has laughed her way through each and every day and she has loved the fact that I can be home with her every day for now.

Our holiday season has been filled with ups and downs and through it all Angie's resilience has been apparent.  This girl rolls with the punches like no other.  In fact, we could all take some lessons from her.  And then, this happened:

Acupuncture.  A friend told me about her son's success with acupuncture so I scheduled a session for Angie.  The acupuncturist told me that she felt she could help with Angie's sleep issues and help her regain some mobility on her right side.  My friend talked about her son having needles placed in his back so I was surprised when I learned that Angie's would be in her head.  No worries, though.  She didn't even flinch and she left the needles in for almost 30 minutes without complaint.  Resilience, I tell you.

I actually believe most children possess a certain amount of resilience, but many are never tested to have it exposed.  For my children, it seems, there have been numerous challenges and they have amazed me with their responses.  I am encouraged that this innate strength exists for children, and hopefully for adults too.  Life is hard and uncertain and we need all the help we can get.

Blindsided

Today was so jam-packed with events that I feel like I have aged a year in a day. This morning, Little Princess left our home to be placed with a family member.  We are feeling her loss and we will continue to do so.  Little Princess was with us for 8 months and she was firmly rooted in our family.  We were her people.  She is thrilled to be where she is, and yet it is obvious that she is also torn.  Poor little one.  The foster care system is brutal to the innocent children it serves.  We look forward to staying in contact with her relatives and having her come back to visit often.  We can imagine the loss her family has felt in her absence, too, and we are happy for them to have her with them for the holidays.  So many emotions.

Next, I took Angie to Portland for a follow-up appointment from her recent botox injections.  "Dr. Steve" spent a long time examining Angie's shoulder-much longer than usual. When he finished, he said, "How do you feel about a referral to a surgeon?".  Uh-oh.  More surgery?  Dr. Steve told me that the botox injections have not done as he had hoped and increased the mobility in Angie's shoulder.  He believes tendon release surgery may be needed to help her regain some range of motion in her arm.  UGH!  This news was completely unexpected.  I am having flashbacks of Angie's brain surgery, even though I know that this one will be a piece of cake in comparison.  Still.

The end of today was my favorite.  It almost made all of the rest worth it.  Tonight, we attended the wedding of our special friend, Pam, and her now-husband, Larry.  Pam was one of our first friends when we moved to Clatskanie and she has been one of our closest friends throughout the years.  Today, Pam and Larry celebrated a new beginning after each of them lost a spouse 10 years ago. The wedding was the most emotional, meaningful wedding I have ever attended.  Life is so precious and uncertain and to see these two experience a new beginning together meant so much to me.  Our girls were with us and they were equally touched, having grown up making christmas cookies in Pam's kitchen and having Pam's daughter, Sara, as their first and most loved babysitter.

Congratulations, Pam and Larry!  You inspire me and remind me that anything is possible.  God's plan for us can be hard to understand sometimes but it is always perfect.  If you are still breathing, there is hope.  I look to the next chapter for my family with some trepidation but I have courage knowing that God is in control, and I am not.  We are together, and that is what matters most.

Has it only been a week?

It is funny how life cruises along following a predictable routine, and then you are hit unexpectedly with a crazy, "who knew this was coming?" kind of a week. That was our week.

Last weekend, we accepted a young boy for an emergency foster placement. His story broke our hearts.  I will not go into detail to protect his privacy, but I will say that the abuse and neglect this child suffered in his short life is nothing short of criminal.  His needs are overwhelming and I have thought of him often since he left on Monday.  I pray that he will get the help he needs, and I wonder again why the penalties for child abuse are milder than those for animal neglect?

Two days later, Little Princess ended up in the hospital after a severe asthma attack.  The experience felt like deja vu back to the days when Angie and I were regular visitors at the hospital.  Little Princess felt better almost immediately but she was admitted overnight to be monitored. Our "slumber party" was like a vacation for her and she was treated like a queen with toys and gifts arriving throughout the evening.  I am thankful that her condition was easily treated and not life-threatening as has been our past experience at the hospital.  We came home with a treatment plan and she is doing great.  As I sat at the hospital, Toby, Jeff, and Heather teamed up to take care of business at home.  The support system our family has in place means so much to me.  I am grateful that we are not in this alone.

Our week ended with a very important, probably life-changing appointment for Levi.  The search for the supports and services that will help him reach his potential feels somewhat like a trip to a foreign country where we do not speak the language.  Unfortunately, we live in a rural county where services for children with special needs are almost nonexistent and has become clear that he may need to get his services elsewhere.  The decisions we face are heart wrenching and I now understand the saying, "Sometimes the right decisions hurt the most".  We will continue on our quest to help our child and to love him through these tough times.  It is a hard road and the realization that his disability was 100% preventable adds to our frustration.  Again, the support we have is our lifeline.

Oh, I almost forgot.  This happened this week, too:

Angie sang in her school Christmas Program-and I mean she was SINGING!  This is the first time she has truly participated in a program and it was the perfect ending to a trying week.  My eyes were filled with tears, emotion plus exhaustion, I guess.

A new week begins tomorrow and I hope it will bring the return of the predictable, routine days we enjoy.  Toby and I are weary but we are also encouraged by our ability to get through such a week together.  Who knew that a couple of high school sweethearts would end up with a life like this almost 30 years later?

These Kids Don't Belong to Us

Kids don't belong to us.  Or to anyone.  Right?  This has been on my mind a lot lately.  Of course, we call them "our kids" to identify the relationship, but they are not objects to be possessed, they are precious individuals who need adults to love and protect them.

In my opinion, it is a parent's job to raise little individuals until they have learned the skills they need to be independent.  For some of my kids, this has happened at age 18, for others, sadly, it may not happen at all.  Either way, I am constantly aware of the need to teach them, build their character, and protect them from harm.

Some parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends of the family-who sometimes call themselves aunts and uncles-see it differently.  They will argue until they are out of breath about the right to "have my kid" or "see my kid".  And their lawyers are just as bad.  I have seen families torn apart over their rights to a child and sadly the child's needs are completely ignored in the fight to the finish.

Recently, I have attended proceedings involving the child welfare system that have left me sick to my stomach.  Listening to adults argue about their right to a child as if he or she were the last doughnut on the plate.  Everyone wants to "win" and it makes me ill.  This is not a game.  You do not get to break the law, skip visits, ignore court orders for treatment, turn your back for months or years, and then make demands about what YOU want.  Or to complain about what church your child's foster family attends or call the child's pediatrician to claim the child is being starved in the foster home.

Yes, I am feeling a little bitter.  Now you all know the truth about me.  I will fight for "my" kids' needs and safety until the day I die.  The kids do not have a voice in the child welfare system if I do not speak it for them.  These are not our kids and it is a privilege to care for them, not a right,  We must earn our way into their hearts and lives and when we do the rewards are overwhelming.

The Bittersweet End

Endings are hard for me.  You too?  I know.  I have seen lots of encouraging boards on Pinterest talking about endings being the new beginnings.  A window closes so a door can be opened and all that.  But still.  This week I have come to terms with an ending that is approaching for our family-the end of our foster care career.

This decision has been a long time coming.  In fact, we have actually made the decision before but it did not last.  The phone rang and I begged my husband to take just one more child.  This time is different, though.  We are in a new reality as a family and foster care just does not fit where we are headed.  Earlier this week, Toby and I attended a court hearing for our precious little foster daughter.  I was questioned and accused in front of the court on repeated counts by a family member of the child and the decision became clear in my mind-I am done.  Make no mistake, in the past 14 years I have questioned and belittled by biological family members on a regular basis.  This was not the first time, but it will be the last.  We will see this case through and then we will be done.

Our family needs to be a family.  We need to rely on each other's strength and undivided attention to get through the challenges that come with raising children with significant, although very different, special needs.  Toby and I are faced with difficult decisions about how we can best keep our family safe and healthy and it is HARD.  Our hearts and minds are overwhelmed.

I love the mission of the foster care system-to keep kids safe and help then heal from past trauma until they can be with their parents again.  However, the mechanics and the barriers that exist in the foster care system have taken their toll.  It is hard work and a little piece of my heart has gone along with each child I have cared for.  The system as a whole does not work in the best interest of the child often enough.  It is broken, and unfortunately so are many of the children.

To my devoted foster parent friends, I applaud you for continuing down this grueling path.  You amaze me every day.  I will continue to be your biggest fan and supporter.  Of course, we will maintain our foster license because of Angie's situation and I will remain an advocate for children in and out of foster care.  And who knows what door will open next?

What Inclusion Really Means

This morning, I posted this picture on Facebook:

As my Facebook friends commented on the picture, I was touched by their kindness.  I considered how people, young and old, view Angie.  I can't say for sure but I think she is accepted as just as valuable and deserving as anyone else.  In the past, this thought made me grateful and I am not ungrateful now, but I see it differently.  I used to think I should thank people for accepting Angie, but why would I?  She deserves it.

My amazing friend, Sally Bartlett, is a huge advocate for inclusion for children with special needs.  Her idea of inclusion is that children (and adults) with special needs should be included and valued in the same way as other children (and adults)-EVERYWHERE in the community.  Sally came to Progress Center to talk to the staff this week and she inspired me to consider what inclusion means for Angie.  I have tried to adopt an objective point of view about where we are on the road to inclusion for Angie.  And then, the above picture was sent to me by Angie's wonderful assistant.

Inclusion is a lifelong journey for individuals with special needs.  I believe that our community has provided a unique model of truly getting it.  I know, I am saying it again.  I would not trade this little town for anything! It is not just the kids. Kindergarteners tend to be pretty accepting anyway.  But, as children get older, they model what they see adults doing.  It is all of us, working together to make our community inclusive and accepting for people with all types of limitations.

On Halloween, Angie was invited by two special ladies to ride at the front of the Halloween parade. Angie waved like a princess and truly behaved as if she had won the lottery.  She is still talking about her experience and I think it will be one of those memories that will return for years to come. Once again, she was made to feel important, not "special".  My heart was so happy as I watched my girl have her moment.

I am going to continue making inclusion a goal for our community. Instead of thinking Angie cannot participate in activities because of one or another of her limitations, I will ask myself-Why not?  I know that is what Sally would do.

Whole 30 Challenge

Toby and I completed a "Whole 30" challenge today.  If you haven't heard of the Whole 30, it is a very limited eating plan designed to help people eliminate processed foods from their diet and to "clean up" their eating.  It is a rigid version of the Paleo diet.  When we told friends and family about our decision, we were asked why we chose to do it, and I answered with the textbook answer, " To change the way we eat."  This is true, but to be honest my diet was pretty healthy by most standards already.  I had already eliminated sugar and wheat about two months before.

Tonight, I realized what was driving us (I believe this is true for Toby too) was to take on a challenge that we could control.  Let me explain.  The environment in the Harris home is controlled by our two children with special needs.  It has to be.  At any given moment, one or both could present with an immediate need and we would have to respond quickly.  Challenging, yes.  Out of our control, yes.  The behaviors we deal with daily are unpredictable and probably would shock the outside observer. I won't elaborate, but please take my word for it.  We often burn the calories of a marathon runner before 7:30 AM just preparing the kids for the day.  All of our important decisions are made with regard for our children's current needs, rather than our own desires.

Don't get me wrong, we chose this life.  We have loved these two since they were newborns, both joining us straight from the hospital.  We knew about each child's potential needs before we made the commitment to parent them, but that doesn't mean that we don't struggle on a daily basis.  We do.  We are challenged to keep our sense of humor as we raise these particularly difficult children.  The saving grace is our exceptional relationship and ability to work together.

So, we took on the Whole 30 and looking back I realize we were thumbing our nose at difficult circumstances.  "Look at me", our dedication said, "I am in charge of this!".   Each of us struggled with different aspects of the plan. For Toby, the absence of bread and Big Macs.  For me, a glass of wine at the end of a long day.  But we did it.  I think our confidence in ourselves has been renewed at a critical, perfect time in our lives.  As our kids have grown, the early medical concerns have been replaced with even more difficult behavioral and educational issues.  We struggle to stay positive and often feel helpless to help our children. Or ourselves.  Recently, the task has been especially daunting.

I do not plan to go back to my old habits tomorrow.  I will adopt a version of the Whole 30 to maintain the benefits I am enjoying.  I appreciate the weight loss and added energy I am experiencing.  I am especially grateful, though, for the renewed confidence in my ability to tackle a challenge.  Good bye, Whole 30.  Hello, girl who knows she can take something on and come out on top:)

Letting go

Did you ever have something that you had to let go of, but you REALLY, REALLY didn't want to?  Knew you should ask for help but couldn't bring yourself to?  It can be like an out-of-body experience, watching from the outside but not knowing how to do what is necessary. Hanging on with all of your might, afraid of.....what?

I had to let go of my tight-fisted control of Angie's medical care today.  I had to admit that I cannot do it all and I must accept help.  But I didn't want to.  This morning, Angie was scheduled to have botox injections on her shoulder and I knew that I could not be away from work to take her.  The injections are an important and crucial treatment that keeps her comfortable and mobile. I didn't want to cancel. My amazing husband offered to take her, and I (with my tight fist) gratefully accepted.  He is truly my best friend and greatest supporter.  I knew she would be in good hands, and yet I instantly felt guilty for not being the one there with her.  Why do we do this to ourselves?  Why the guilt?

There is freedom in letting go, though.  Knowing that others are there to help carry the load is a relief and a gift, once you accept it.  It is healthy and it is good.  Guilt not included.

The two of them did not need me after all.  They had a great day together and called me on the way home to tell me about it.  As I sat at work, I got a little teary hearing Angie tell me about her visit to "Dr. Steve".  Before getting off the phone, she asked, "Mom, am I still the bravest girl you know?", Yes, Angie, absolutely. And today, I am feeling a little braver myself:)

We made it!

WE MADE IT!

We made it. This is where we are today. Looking back on the endless trips to Portland for therapy, the frequent medical appointments (sometimes 3 in one week), and the IEP meetings. The meltdowns, the late dinners, the insurance mixups, the time away from the rest of the family, the list goes on-and it was absolutely worth it!

The child we have today is a successful kindergarten student.  She is learning letters and sounds with the rest of her class.  Our child is potty trained.  She enjoys sleepovers and trips to the pumpkin patch with her adult sisters.  This child chooses hot or cold lunch and sits at the table with her friends to eat it.  She picks out a book from the school library each week and brings it home for us to read together.  Recently, this girl requested to ride to school in a car seat instead of a wheelchair-and now she is.  Our girl is participating in every moment of her life with anticipation of what comes next. She is free.

Gone is the child who refused to complete her work at school, had frequent meltdowns, and could not focus long on a lesson or activity.  Gone is the girl who rode in a wheelchair throughout the day and to and from school.  We do not miss the girl who needed constant supervision in case she had a seizure.  Or the child who needed to be watched for choking because she forgot to swallow her food.  That girl was before.

What we have now is the culmination of hours and hours of hard work and dedication by the huge team of people who make up Angie's team, past and present. Often, I asked myself, "Will all of this therapy and intervention really make a difference?". Today, I realize the answer is a resounding "YES!".  Either way, I would not regret the time spent on those appointments, but what a wonderful blessing to observe the resulting growth in this amazing child.

I have said it before, but I will say it until the day I die, because I do not forget for one moment that we have received a precious gift -"Thank you".  "Thank you" to all of the people responsible for giving Angie (and me) the encouragement to persevere and the knowledge that she is perfect just the way she is and always has been.  I could not ask for more.  You know who you are.  Thank you.

The Power of Prayer

On Sunday, our family went to church, as we almost always do.  As we walked in, the nice man and wife at the door handed us our church bulletins and I stepped forward to look for somewhere to sit.  As I moved, the man said, "Wait, I have to tell you something.  My wife and I have been praying for you."  I was touched.  "Thank you," I said, "Our family has a lot going on."  "No" he said, "We are praying for YOU."  Oh, wow.  I didn't know what to say. There was more.  "Your job is hard.  Your husband works long hours and volunteers in the community.  You have children with special needs and you manage to work too.  We know how hard it all must be and so we have been praying for you."

OH MY GOODNESS!  I have never felt so humbled and grateful in my entire life.  This couple, who I knew only from seeing them at church, was taking time out of their day to talk to God on my behalf.  I am overwhelmed.  I feel so special, and he could have told every person that came through the door that day the same thing and it wouldn't matter.  Why?  Because he took the time to encourage ME.  I was singled out.

It's not just that I believe in the power of prayer.  I do.  I firmly believe that prayer changes lives and that God hears our prayers, every single one.  I treasure their prayers on my behalf.  The bigger message from my new friend was, "We care for you".  Such a simple message and it took about 20 seconds to deliver.  As I think about our short conversation, I want to get behind this in a big way.  I had forgotten about the power our words have. Every single word we say affects those around us.  If we can bring a change by using our words to affect others positively we all win.  There are enough negative words floating around already.

I am going to make a commitment:  I will say something encouraging to one person per day.   Will you do it too?  You have 20 seconds, right?  I already know what will happen.  The person sending the message will be just as blessed as the recipient.  You watch, I am right.  You will be smiling for the rest of the day.  And who knows how you might change the day for the other person?

My friend at church was right, my job is hard.  So is yours.  And those of the people you and I come into contact with each day.

This is going to be awesome, I just know it.  I can't wait to hear your stories:)

A Life in Pictures

This post might seem like it is just a bunch of pictures.  Or, maybe, it is much more.  You can decide.  Last week, we met my oldest daughter, Kaeley at Lake Sacajawea in Longview so she could take some pictures.  It was a perfect day, with just enough sunshine and light combined with the beginning twinges of Fall.  The pictures Kaeley took captured something special. Something I knew about, but sometimes I forget.  I needed to see it, I guess.  My child is a miracle.

Have you ever seen such unreserved joy in your life?  Every single picture depicts a child who has no regrets or reservations.  She is not wondering what other people think, if they like her, or if her hair looks okay.  She doesn't care.

She looks like she is watching something funny, but she's not.  This is her reaction to life itself.  Every. Single. Day.

Angie loves everyone.  Accepts everyone.  Helps them if they need it.  And she finds instant friendship with all that she meets.

If you have been reading the blog, or my Caringbridge page before that, you know the story.  Angie's prognosis was grim before the surgery that saved her life.  We had to fight hard to keep the doctors from giving up on her.  For most, that is old news.  But for me, it is my daily dose of hope.  My child is a walking, talking miracle.  She had half of her brain removed and she is thriving, living beyond our expectations.

Have you had a bad day recently?  You know the one.  The day when it is 9:00 AM and you already feel like crawling back into bed? The day when your alarm didn't go off, the kids were late for school, there is nothing to make for dinner, the school calls about a discipline issue, etc.  You can fill in the blanks, you know what I am talking about.  I have those days, too, but look at this:

How can I possibly stay down when I have a child who cannot contain her joy about simply being alive?  She has no clue that she has cheated death and it doesn't matter.  She must perform most tasks one-handed and she couldn't care less.  Most daily tasks are a struggle.  But she is beside her self with happiness.  Not just in pictures, in real life too.

She is my hero.  My reminder not to take myself too seriously, and to take time to live in the moment.  She is beautiful, inside and out.

I am thankful for the pictures.  Of course, who doesn't love pictures of their kids?  It is more than that, though.  Seeing them all together, I realize that this is really what her life is all about.  Living every moment fully.  She does not pose for the pictures, she is living.  I would never have written this 3 years ago and it feels so good to be watching this precious child shine.

Yesterday was one of those days.  You know the kind.  It was a fighting, naughty children, put-their-pajamas-on-at-6 kind of day.  A countdown-to-bedtime kind of day.  Angie was coming down with a cold and she had no tolerance for any of the rest of us.  Little Princess was determined to push all of Angie's buttons and a few of mine too. I had a new pressure canner and 50 pounds of apples to make into applesauce, so I was impatient with my lovely children and I forgot that colds and bad moods do not put themselves on hold to respect my agenda.

Despite the trying day yesterday, the weekend was filled with special moments and it is one of my favorite weekends in a long time.  On Friday, I met Kaeley at Lake Sacajewea in Longview and she took some spectacular pictures of the girls.  A little preview:

She captured Angie's spunk and energy perfectly.  I have a few others but have to keep them to myself to protect Little Princess' privacy.  We had such a nice evening and we shared dinner with friends afterwards.

On Saturday, Toby and I took the kids to a u-pick farm to pick apples and pears.  It was a rare day with all four of the younger kids together and we had so much fun.  I wish we had done this sooner.  We got a little carried away-thus the 50 pounds of apples.  That was kind of spontaneous and a little ambitious.

 

Angie was not able to walk for long and Josh was kind enough to drive her around the orchard in the wagon with our fruit.  She was happy to shout orders at us from her throne and she didn't seem to mind not being able to pick the fruit as long she had apples to hold on to.

When we were done picking, we drove down the road to the Cooper Mountain Vineyard.  Toby and I had a glass of wine and the kids played, picked grapes, and chased the chickens around the grounds.  It was a beautiful day and I loved that we did not have to hurry to go anywhere.

Many families have days like this often.  For us, though, it was precious and rare.  We do not take the time to simply spend unscheduled time together.  We should, we just don't. It was perfect.  As Rose Kennedy said, "Life is not a matter of milestones, but
of moments."

Back to School

Our kids went back to school this week.  For parents, the return to school causes anxiety for a variety of reasons.  For parents of children with special needs, the anxiety is multiplied and worries about services, behavioral issues, stamina, and teasing by other children are added to the mix. This is not any less true for me. I had so many fears about this week.  The good news is that most of them were not realized and my children and their teachers had no need for them.

Angie is in a full-day Kindergarten program this year.  Last year, as I think I mentioned, she struggled with frustration and behavioral issues throughout the day.  As soon as her teacher and assistant would find a strategy that worked, she would change things up on them.  By the end of the year, I was overwhelmed and wondered, honestly, if she could ever be successful in school.  I could not imagine her enduring an entire day of school when she was struggling to stay in class for 3 hours.

I am not sure where that child went, but she has been replaced by a new, mature, ready-for-school Angie.  Over the summer, Angie grew in so many ways and it was obvious that she had many new skills that would serve her well in school.  Still, I worried.  We planned for Angie to attend every day of school this week, while the other kids had a staggered start schedule.  Our girl knocked it out of the park!  She has not had one time-out all week and she comes home with reports of her day and her new friends.  She amazes me, really.  I have so much hope for this school year-my eyes actually are tearing as I write this.

 

Levi is also repeating the grade he was in last year.  This was not a decision we made lightly.  There were multiple meetings with school staff and all options were considered for him. We do not regret the decision, but as parents it is hard to see your child disappointed and worried.  This summer, we talked with Levi about the benefits of repeating 6th grade and eventually he accepted that it was the best plan for him.  But still.  He was a trooper and on the first day of school he saw that many of his friends were in his class and he likes his new teacher a lot.  I am not going to lie-we have had a really difficult summer with Levi and did not know what to expect because transitions of any kind are hard for him.  The week had some bright spots, though.  Levi has a new Personal Support Worker through Developmental Disability Services and this individual has proven to be an absolute Godsend.  He and Levi have really connected and I think that he will play a key role in Levi's success at school. More about that later.

Josh is a freshman in high school this year.  He has never played football in his life, and yet he decided that he would play this year.  This decision was made one hour before practice started on the first day.  That's my boy:)  Mr. Last-Minute.  If you tell him to be ready to go somewhere at 9AM, he will get out of bed at 8:59.  Really, though, Josh is the kindest, gentlest young man I know and I cannot imagine him slamming his body into someone on purpose.  And besides that, this momma is scared.  He came home last night and reported that the varsity team had 3 injured players during the game last night.  YIKES!!

It is good to be back in a routine.  My kids need that and I can see them relax and thrive when they can predict what will happen next.  Despite the anxiety of the first few days of school-and really the whole summer-I am feeling really hopeful about the year ahead of us.  I have said it before, but it bears repeating: Our schools have an amazing, compassionate, skilled staff and I would not live anywhere else.  We are grateful every day that our children are so well cared-for when we are away from us.

I hope you have all had a great back-to-school experience and are enjoying the sunny weekend.

We are home.  Maybe you didn't know we were gone, but our family has been at the Harris family retreat in Idaho for the past 10 days.  Our time at the cabin was busy and full of people and we have many treasured memories from our time together.  We swam, skied, went wakeboarding (is that a word?)played with babies, ate, drank, sat by the campfire, and laid in the sun.  Most importantly, we did not consult our calendar or attend any appointments.

Angie surprised us by wanting to be in the water every single minute.  After a couple of days I realized why-she was completely free when she was in the water.  Balance and strength ceased to be important and she could move about easily.  Angie "swam", wearing a life jacket, using both arms and she giggled and smiled the entire time.  She repeatedly went under the water and came up smiling and laughing.  I smiled until my face hurt just watching her.  She rode behind the boat on an intertube with the older boys and she squealed with delight.  She was FREE.

We spent our days doing nothing but playing and I could not help thinking how much our lives will change in the next few days-back to school and work and each of us bound by our own schedule.  In a way I am glad that I am able to recognize the importance of our yearly tradition.  I need to remember what a gift these days have been to our family.

Now we are back and we will spend the weekend preparing for the next chapter.  One child is entering high school and playing football for the first time ever.  Another child is seeking answers to ongoing health concerns.  One child is happier than she has ever been and is basking in the reality of what it really means to be content.  And two children, with unique and varying needs, will be repeating the grade level they were in last year.  We do not regret our decisions for either one, and yet there is a grieving process for all of us that comes along with the reality of it.  

I feel that we are ready as we can be to face what is ahead.  Our family has been so blessed to have a huge support system in place.  God has placed people in our lives who love our children and are committed to helping them to succeed.  We do not take them for granted or assume they will be here with us tomorrow.  We are just grateful.  You know who you are.  If you have prayed for us, or said a kind word, you are included.  For today, I have the memories of our yearly retreat to Idaho and the hope that this year will be one of the best ever.

Crossing over

CROSSING OVER

Angie crossed over today from a weekly routine with therapy as its main focus to a routine that will focus on education.  Today, Angie had her last therapy session with her occupational therapist, Laura, whom she has seen weekly for over 3 years.  Angie has been in weekly therapy at Emanuel Hospital for 6 years-since she was 2 months old, so the decision to discontinue her therapy now was not easy.  Ultimately, we decided that a full day of kindergarten plus the trip to Portland and an hour or two of therapy was just going to be too much for her.

Giving this up wasn't easy for me for a few different reasons.  Number One-I am a creature of habit and my week has included a Tuesday trip to Portland for so long I can't remember what I did on Tuesdays before Angie came.  I will especially miss our lunch and shopping trip to New Seasons every week.  Number Two-I feel that if I discontinue Angie's therapy, I may not be doing all that I can to support her development and help her reach her potential.  Otherwise known as Mommy Guilt.  You know it well, I'll bet, if you are a mom.  Number Three-I now have to trust school-based service providers to identify Angie's needs and share them with me.  I have to give up control and that is not easy.

What to do?  The decision is made and now we will move on.  I have spent most of the summer questioning my decisions-this one and the decision to have Angie repeat another year of kindergarten.  I will never know what the outcome of either decision would have been had Toby and I chosen differently, but I do know this:

Angie is going to ROCK kindergarten this year.  Our girl is so ready!  She can spell and write her name (with a tiny bit of help), identify letters and letter sounds, identify all colors correctly, and she is learning every single day.  Her development is not that far off from that of other children entering kindergarten and I cannot wait to see her blossom this year.  She will have the tireless Ms. Stafford cheering her on and new friends by her side.  I cannot wait.

Angie will miss Laura, and her speech therapist, Chris, who left for an awesome new job last week.  She will return to the hospital next summer for a burst of therapy and I am already anxious for her to show Laura what she has learned.  Change is good, I know that.  We are heading to Idaho soon.  It is my quiet place, where I can reset the tapes playing in my head and prepare for the year to come.  It will be perfect and then, LOOK OUT KINDERGARTEN, HERE SHE COMES!

Memories

The other day, as I was driving to Portland, I pulled out a long-forgotten CD from my console as I was looking for some new music.  The CD was labeled "Momma's Mix" and Kirsten made it for me during one of my lowest times since Angie came to us.  I am still touched by the compassion of my then-18 year-old daughter.  Each song on the CD has a message of hope and perseverance through trials and as I listened to it now, I was transported back in time.  The memories of that time came to me all day long as I went about my business.  Actually, I have been thinking about it ever since.

When Angie was 18 months old, her doctor determined that Angie needed surgery to remove her tonsils and adenoids to treat sleep apnea.  She had begun having seizures 4 months earlier, so we expected the procedure to be comparatively unconcerning.  She would stay one night because of her age and we would take her home the next morning. We had no idea.....

During the surgery, Angie had begun having respiratory problems that required doctors to perform rescue measures.  She struggled to keep her oxygen levels up even with the supplemental oxygen.  As I sat in the waiting room, the 45 minutes that I was told the surgery would last stretched to over 2 hours.  Finally the nurse came to let me know what had happened.  By then, Angie was stable and we were taken to her room.

The next morning, Angie was still unable to be weaned from the oxygen and she had developed a nasty cough.  At noon, Toby went downstairs to get some lunch for us.  Five minutes later, Angie turned blue and her oxygen levels plummeted, sending the monitors into an uproar.  Nurses turned up the oxygen and her levels continued to fall.  At this point, I was asked to step back and a Rapid Response Team was called.  She was crashing.  I can't remember exactly what happened next, but we ended up in the Pediatric ICU unit (PICU) where Angie would stay for 26 days.  She had somehow aspirated fluid into her lungs during the surgery and she had severe pneumonia in both lungs.

Each day in the PICU, doctors visited and updated us on Angie's condition and the plan for the day.  They tried new medications and oxygen settings. Angie was in a world far away where we could not reach her, not regaining consciousness for over 2 weeks.  Each night, I slept in a common sleeping room with other worried parents like myself as I waited for good news.  And I prayed.

One day in particular stands out to me, about 10 days after Angie became sick.  Jordan was playing high school basketball that year and she had a game at Catlin Gable in Beaverton.  We talked to the nurse that day and she encouraged us to go to the game and promised to call if anything changed.  We were stuck in traffic on our way back to the hospital when she called.  She told us that Angie's reserves were getting low (she had little fight left) and that we must come quickly.  The doctors had decided to intubate Angie and place her on a ventilator and they wanted us to be there.  There is no positive spin here.  They were unsure she would make it.  On this day, Toby mistakenly sent me a text message meant for a friend that said, "It is really looking bad and I don't think Kara knows".  But I knew.

I have to keep these memories and bring them out sometimes, as difficult as they are.  They are the thoughts that bring me hope when I am discouraged.  The memories of this time remind me how truly strong our family is.  The memories tell me that God can and does perform miraculous healing-even more than once per person:). The memories keep me fighting to find new and better treatments for my children, and for other people's children.  The memories tell our family story.

Angie came home 26 days after surgery to remove her tonsils and adenoids.  During that time, her surgeon visited every day, even his day off, and apologized to us kindly every day even though he was not at fault.  Joshua celebrated his 9th birthday with a party in the hospital atrium.  Toby and I took turns sleeping at the hospital and caring for the kids at home.  Angie recovered from pneumonia, only to then develop a blood infection from her central line. She became physically dependent on the narcotics that controlled her pain and had to complete a medically managed withdrawal process before she could be discharged.

On that 26th day, I could not wait for our family to be together again.  Not one of us was unchanged by Angie's illness and the kids still talk about it occasionally.  I am sorry that Angie was sick, but I am not sorry for what I have learned.  My faith was strengthened and my compassion for parents with sick kids is heightened.  I have kept my CD in the player for now, but I am ready to put the memories away until I need them again.

HOME!!!

Hope for the future

Yesterday, I went to the nail salon for a pedicure.  Not big news, unless you have seen my feet in sandals lately.  I am truly sorry if they have offended you-my last pedicure was over 4 months ago.  So, yesterday I finally went to take care of my ugly feet.

I like to watch people while I am getting my nails done. Admit it, you do too.  You can learn a lot from what you see and hear in a nail salon. Tragedies and dramas galore!  If you do not know this personally, I definitely recommend the experience.  It's not spying because you can't help hearing the stories, right?  What I learned yesterday blew my mind away.  It was a perfectly-timed infusion of hope for my soul.  Here is what happened:

As I sat in the massage chair, holding on tight so I would not be thrown out by the sheer force of the massage-really-I watched three girls in their late teen/early twenties come in and begin to choose their nail polish.  One of them was seated in the massage chair next to mine and soon I heard her calling out to the others, "I want my toes sparkly!", "Please tell him, I don't think he understands!" ,"I am sorry, I don't mean to bother you, but I am worried.", "I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry."  Her slow, halting speech and her mannerisms told me that this sweet girl was developmentally disabled.  The other two young women were her caregivers.  They may or may not have been related to the girl, but they were clearly in charge of her care.

Each time the sweet girl called out, the caregivers patiently answered her and reassured her that her nails would be as beautiful as she imagined. Several times they got up from their manicures and came over to comfort her to make sure she was understood by the nail technician.  They showed no impatience or frustration whatsoever. The caregivers clearly loved this precious girl.  Then, a pretty young employee from the salon came over and told the girl how she loved the polish that she had chosen.  The teen sat on a stool beside the girl and visited with her for over 5 minutes.  Several other employees followed her lead and came over to reassure the anxious girl that her nails would be perfect.  The girl beamed and clearly felt special and, finally, understood.

I am pretty sure that I had a goofy smile on my face as I watched.  My heart was so full.  Seeing the love and acceptance offered to this young girl gave me a new hope for my children's future.  There are people in this world who see past the limitations and differences to the true goodness inside.  I wish I could could tell the girl's mom what I saw, how I watched people loving her daughter.  I think her heart would be full too.

If we all extended this type of love and acceptance, what a different world we would have.  It is hard.  Mental illness, homelessness, drug abuse, hurting people.  Children and adults with disabilities.  They are all someone's child.  Their mothers rocked them, loved them, and had hope for their future that was dashed away somehow.  Extending ourselves and trying to understand is much easier when people are just like us.  What I saw yesterday truly hit me hard.  I believe I was in that place at that time for a reason and I am grateful.

My Supporter

When Toby and I began the journey to becoming foster parents, and eventually adding to our family through adoption, we were required to participate in a "home study" to determine if our family was equipped for the job.  The process was long and involved and the questions delved into our own upbringings and our marriage.  During one of the certifier's visits, he asked us, "Which one of you is the Driver?".  He clarified his statement by saying that in every couple he has certified, one spouse was the Driver and the other was a Supporter.  Ok, no question, I was the Driver.  Foster care was my idea.

I was never one of those teenagers who loved kids and who babysat every weekend.  Not at all.  I knew I wanted children, but I did not dream of a large family.  I surprised myself after our first two daughters were born by very much wanting a third.  And then, about 5 years after Jordan was born, God starting to whisper in my ear that we were not done.  What?  How, not done?  Toby and I were not able to have more biological children.  What was God thinking?  Then, it came-foster care.  When I shared my thoughts with Toby, he agreed to complete the classes and home study required for us to become certified as foster parents.  Foster care cannot work unless both parents are committed and we were, just on different levels.

Fast forward a few months and Toby is stating that he cannot imagine the baby boy who has been in our home for one week ever leaving us.  He was hooked, completely in love with a skinny, slobbery, sweet little boy.  I don't know what would have happened if the story had ended poorly and that baby boy's future did not include us.  Would we still be foster parents?  I am not sure.  But Joshua is 14 now and he has blessed our lives beyond description.  I firmly believe he and his brother, Levi, who came two years later, were meant to be our children from the very beginning

We have been foster parents for almost 15 years now and it is the hardest thing I have ever done.  Toby and I have asked ourselves often, "Who would choose this?".  Who signs up for disappointment, sleepless nights, property damage, hateful words from broken children, and the heartbreak of watching the impact of abuse and neglect on the innocent?  Who wants to work with a system that does not always keep kids from harm?  I am not sure if we chose this, or it chose us?  Still, we continue.  I continue to be the Driver and main advocate and caregiver for the children, but Toby is more involved that I ever expected and he has had my back through long, frustrating, heartbreaking days and nights.

This week, Toby has made two 500-mile (each way)trips. The first, to take a child to stay with Grandma for two weeks on a beautiful lake where there are no chores or siblings to share attention with. The second, this weekend, to pick the same child up again when his anxiety prevents him from being away from home any longer.  Both trips were made with no complaint or resentment.  My husband, the Supporter, has embraced the children in our home with all of his heart.  He has such a huge capacity for love and his actions speak to me of how much he loves me to continue this work when we could and should be empty nesters like many of our friends. He has made such a sacrifice, for the children of course, but also for me so that I can live my dream.

Our experiences with the foster care system could fill a book, but who has time for that?  I am too busy wondering what is next for us and trying to stay one step ahead of our exceptional children and their needs.  Whatever is next, I will have my Supporter by my side and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Enjoy your weekend:)

Parenting

I have been flooded with thoughts about parents and parenting lately.  I think of all of the different types of parents I know-parents of adult children, parents of children with special needs, adoptive parents, foster parents, birth parents, stepparents, new parents, and parents of children who were taken too soon.  Every one of these groups have something in common regardless of the path each is traveling.  They handed their hearts over to their children on the day they met them and will never be the same.

Parenting is so hard.  I don't care who you are, if you are a parent you have struggled at one time or another.  Or every single day.  We all talk about how rewarding it is to have children and how much joy they bring into our lives.  That fact is public knowledge, but we often don't admit how HARD the job is.  Remember when you first had your children and you thought the job of raising them was an 18-year term? Right. Me too.

We could not have realized back then that once we hand over our hearts we will never call them our own again.  Adult children harvest as much worry as little ones do, it just has different roots.  We are just as helpless to heal their pain as we were were they were an infant with a fever or a teenager with a broken heart.  Knowing this has given me a whole new brand of respect for my own parents who chose to adopt me as an infant and have parented me for 46 years so far.  And for my birth mother who gave an unimaginable and painful gift to her newborn child and the family waiting for her. That is HARD.

I don't know what your particular struggles are, but I want you to know that I care.  When I see or hear of a parent going through a challenging period, I want to tell them, "It is not your fault".  Why do we always blame ourselves and each other?  It is what we do, I guess.  There is no room for judgment here, though.  Who can know another's parenting experience?  I firmly believe that almost every parent is doing the best they can with what they know.  When we know better, we do better.

We are in this together.  Parenting is honestly the most life-changing, rewarding, surprising experience I have ever had. I truly feel it is my calling.  I just want us all to agree that it is HARD and to reach out a hand to each other when one is in need.  I wish we had a universal sign we could use to support one another through the tough times.  For now, though, if you see me around town, just know that I know.

The story is not over

When I wrote the post about Angie getting her special bed (http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/angiegrover/journal/view/id/51c159796ca00470291a453d) I knew that we had been allowed to participate in something very special.  But, really, I had no idea how big this experience would get.  How could I?

Even last week, when I wrote about the delivery of the bed to another special child and his mom, I had no idea.  I thought the story was over.  If you are tired of this story, please feel free to switch back to cruising Facebook or Pinterest now.  It is ok.  I will never know.  But there is a truly incredible ending to this story (or is it another beginning?) and I have to share it to give it the honor that is due.

The day after Toby and the boys delivered the bed, he told me that he had felt to compelled to pray with the child and parent that had received the bed before leaving their apartment.  He and the boys gathered around them and they prayed.  To be honest, I do not know what was prayed, but it doesn't matter because I know that God heard and that the words were perfect for the moment.

Today, I received an email from my friend Kristy and this is what it said, "Hello Kara & Toby,  I wanted to write you and share some exciting news! I called ------  to check in & talk with her about the bed & the parts that are on order. I asked how the bed is working for -------& she was thrilled!

She said that Toby & your boys are just wonderful & that they prayed for her. She said it was so needed and wonderful. At that point I saw a beautiful opening to talk about Jesus and I asked her if she had accepted Him as her Lord & Savior. She said she hadn't & that she had gone as a child w/her Grandma to Jehovah Witness church & that she was married to a 'Jack' Mormon, she said that she didn't believe neither of those beliefs and so they never stuck. 

At that point I asked her if she wanted to receive Christ as her Lord & Savior & she said YES! I lead her in prayer & she received her salvation. HOW AWESOME! Thank you Kara for your prayers & for you Toby for leading the way & your and your boys prayer for her & her son. What you all have done is so wonderful & I just wanted to share how the Lord used us to lead her to Him. "

I cried.  Even reading it now, I want to cry.  To know that my boys were present at a time when this family most needed to know someone cared is priceless.  To learn that my husband prayed with this stranger for her child warms my heart.  And to hear that this woman has a new hope for her future is the best news of all.  At the end of the day, it is the people of the story that really matter.

All of this brings me back to Angie and her endless gifts to us.  If not for Angie, we would have not experienced this awesome, full-circle, life-changing miracle.  To see lives changed is to truly experience life and I am so grateful for the privilege of having my family touched by this miracle.  We have been given an awesome gift in this precious child, a changed perspective on life and an awareness of what is really important.  Please pray for this precious mom and her child.  They are fighting a difficult battle and they are now held close in our hearts.

Milestones

Angie achieved another important milestone this week.  She is now sleeping in a "big girl bed".  Most children achieve this milestone around age 2 or 3, so she is not terribly late, but the fact that she is able to do this at all is AMAZING.  At age 6, Angie has never slept without walls around her.  She has never been safe that way.

When Angie was 4, we received the enormous gift of a safe bed for her.  The bed was beautiful; custom-made in a furniture store in Portland.  When I say it was a gift, I mean it.  At age 4, Angie was sleeping in a crib because she needed to be safe at night.  If she were to get out of bed, her limited vision and decreased motor abilities put her at risk for injury.  We could not imagine moving her to a bed and we didn't know what to do.  We were GIVEN the bed at the perfect time in a selfless act of giving from a group called Bella Beds.  Angie slept soundly in the bed for two years.

Recently, we started talking about transitioning Angie to a traditional bed.  Our philosophy has always been to give her as little support as we can and to challenge her when we are able.  We have been leaving the doors open on the bed for a couple of months to prepare Angie for the change.  She has not been sleeping through the night as often as we would like, but we have decided to go ahead with the transition.

I contacted my friend, Kristy from Bella Beds and she had a match for us.  I knew she would:)  She connected us with a single parent with a 5 year-old boy who desperately needed a good night's sleep.  Mom was literally sleeping with one eye open out of fear for her son's safety.  This weekend, Toby and Josh dismantled the bed and delivered and set it up in the family's home.  They were overwhelmed by the experience of providing such a simple, yet crucial gift of a good night's sleep. It was really touching, even for a couple of guys who pretend it wasn't.  The family, clearly of very limited means, wrote a heartwarming note which I think I will keep forever.  Because I know.

I know that God always delivers exactly what we need when we need it.  Even when it feels too late, His timing is perfect.  I know that my child will continue to bring me through miraculous experiences and will bring people into our lives who will make me grateful despite our challenges.  I know that we will have easy times and hard times ahead and I do not want to forget the blessings that have been bestowed on my family.  I want to remember.  Every broken, frustrating, exhausting, surprising, eye-opening minute of this wonderful adventure.

Angie is still adjusting and she is not able to sleep all night yet, but she loves her new bed, and especially loves that Josh gave it to her.  His just-under-six-foot body no longer fit his twin bed:)

 Today, Angie and I attended a yearly court hearing with the judge that has presided over her case since birth.  Angie proudly came forward to the head table and listened politely while the professionals and I gave updates on the past year.  At the end, the judge told Angie that she could have the last word and asked if there was anything she wanted to tell him.  "Yes," she said, "I love my mom".  I never get tired of hearing that.

The end of the beginning....

Angie completed kindergarten yesterday.  The milestone is a little bittersweet for me but mostly I am just so proud of her progress.  It was the end of the beginning-the beginning of a new love for learning.  So much has happened for our girl this year, and she has finished strong.

I waited to share some exciting news and now I am ready.  About 4 months ago, I became interested in doTerra essential oils and how they can be used to heal my family in place of medicine.  I still believe in the power of medicine, but since starting to use essential oils, I have been able to treat fevers, earaches, back pain, tummy aches, sore throats, pink eye, headaches, insomnia, anxiety and allergies without medication.  The most valuable results, though, are the impact that essential oils have had on Angie's ability to self-calm, focus, and regulate her impulsivity. We have used blends of essential oils at home and at school with some pretty indisputable results.  And it gets even better.......

Last month, I added a blend called DDR Prime to Angie's protocol.  DDR Prime is reported to facilitate the regeneration of cells and has been used to help children and adults with ADHD, autism, brain injuries, and developmental delays, among other things.  I love to read the stories of other families' results but Angie's story is my favorite.  Since using the blend each morning and evening, Angie has increased the use of her right, previously unused, arm to help with daily tasks.  She has increased her recognition of letters, shapes, and letter sounds by approximately 30-50%.   Most importantly, she recognized two high-frequency words for the first time ever last week.  Our girl is going to read!  Her language skills have improved and her use of language has become much more complex over the past month.  You have to admit this is pretty spectacular.

If you know little or nothing about essential oils, or if you do not believe in their healing power, that is okay.  I still want you to know about Angie's amazing progress this year.  The other major factor in her progress is Ms. Stafford, her teacher, and Mrs. Villines, her educational assistant.  These two women learned Angie and they continued to change approaches to help her succeed.  They were patient and unfailingly kind and gentle, even when Angie challenged them.  We are so blessed to have them and there really are no words to describe our gratitude.  As a team, we have decided that Angie will benefit from another year of kindergarten and we pray that both of these important people will be able to continue what they have begun.

Yesterday was a school-wide field day and this year the kindergarten class was invited to participate.  Both Ms. Stafford and I had reservations about having Angie participate but it in the end I did not want her to miss an opportunity to celebrate the end of the year with her class.  Jordan went along to help and they had a blast!  Angie was able to participate in the sack race with one adult holding the sack and another helping her jump as her classmates cheered her on.  I am sorry I missed it, but I suspect I would have been in tears watching.  It was the perfect end to a challenging, yet ultimately rewarding year.

If you interacted with Angie this year, thank you.  You know who you are: friends, family, teachers, assistants, community members, classified staff.  You are all partially responsible for Angie's successes and we look forward to sharing more of this unending miracle with you.  It is the end of the beginning.

Living the dream

I am living my dream right now.  Before you get too carried away thinking I have been whisked away across the country again or have won the lottery, or given a new car, boat, ring, whatever.  No.  I have a houseful of amazing, sweet, loud, needy, broken children.  I love my life.

I wrote before about Little Guy and his transition to our home and its rules.  He is doing so well.  He has learned that boundaries are formed to protect him and he does not need to be in control of every detail of his life because we are able to protect and care for him.  And he GETS it.  He is able to be a child and he is a busy, exuberant, happy boy.  I love my life.

There is more, though.  Little Miss returned to our home after 6 weeks in a placement that did not work out.  We could not say no.  We have been here before.  Kids returning for a repeat stay in our home are not the same as when they left.  They have experienced loss twice over since we said good-bye and it has left an imprint on their heart.  No less true for Little Miss.  But, still.  She has captured our hearts once again and we are thrilled that she is back.  I love my life.

Yesterday, Little Miss suddenly started having serious breathing problems.  My first thought was that she had a history of asthma that I didn't know about.  My second thought was that this child needed help, no matter what her history was.  We took her to the hospital and she improved quickly after receiving breathing treatments and medication.  The poor baby has pneumonia.  It came on so fast and unexpectedly.  Kind of like her placement with us.  She is feeling much better today and is soaking up the extra love and attention.  The boys' friends just came in to ask how she is feeling and that made me smile. The love and compassion my children have for foster children spills over and is contagious.  I love my life.

I have had a rough couple of weeks, personally.  Hard decisions and unexpected changes.  Conflict and difficult conversations.  Even so, nothing takes away from the feeling of having a home full of children who have overcome challenges that most of us, thankfully, will never experience.  They are superheros and are much stronger than most adults.  I am so blessed by these children.  I love my life.