Tag Archives: Post-Placement Life

The Blue Stress Cake

I make a small cake for myself almost weekly.  Really, it’s kind of my stress recovery cake, made on or around what I like to call “Turnaround Wednesday,” Hope’s behaviors begin to improve after a rough start to the week.  I’ve been doing reasonably well about not stressing eating since Hope got here.  I’ve even dropped a few pounds.  I don’t get to the gym as I’d like, but the cake is my salvo.

Hope has no interest in my cake.  The first week I made it, I covered my guilt about stress baking by decorating it to celebrate our first week together.  She wasn’t impressed and has never wanted a piece.

This week I made the cake on Sunday morning.  #saywhatnow?

I also had the gall to root around in my pantry to find food coloring.  I plucked out blueBlueBlue.  And I started adding drops.

Stressed much?

Now I’m looking at this stupid blue cake, thinking…I’m guessing there’s something to the fact that I made it blue.  Sigh..Blue sure is how I’m feeling.

Today is our first home visit.  I’ve tidied the house as much as I could, kicking myself that I agreed to do it before the housekeeper comes on Tuesday.  I have no idea how it’s going to go.  I’m not scared; I’m just feeling overwhelmed.  I need to do my progress report this week–we’ll celebrate a month together.

Is it wrong that aspects of it don’t feel like a celebration?  I’m miserable with flashes of happiness, which are appearing more like stunning moments of surprise.  Those moments are so fleeting right now.

I will likely cover my blue cake with chocolate frosting.  Yeah, I’m sure my therapist would have a lot to say about that “frosting as a covering” bit…but I do have blue sprinkles.  I found them in the pantry too.

Sigh…

Maybe I’ll offer the social worker some cake later.


Three Weeks Post-Placement

It’s Friday and things are better.  Today is the second snow day this week and I’m wondering will the kids get any summer break around these parts.

Hope was delighted by the snow day; she’s a hard core nester/homebody.  She never got dressed, never bathed (I let it go for yesterday), and just was happy as a clam.

I was still sick with a racking cough.  I still have the racking cough, actually; I imagine it will be with me for a week or so.  I was kind of miserable.  I gave her lots of tablet time, made her practice her sax (Hey, it actually sounds like music now!) and lay in bed.  I fretted bit about how the house felt filthy to me, how I just wanted to sleep unencumbered and how I needed to go dig the car out so that it wasn’t so bad when the second storm hit later in the day.

I started to think about what I’m learning during this process.  I have been blogging more about my emotions in the moment and straying from the learning part.  It’s just been so overwhelming. So here goes my current list of observations and learned gems.

  • I know we’re improving even if it feels like walking across hot coals in hell.  She comes to me, she wants to be with me, and she gets frustrated when I say no but she is increasingly less likely to push me on things.  She’s never again asked to be taken back to WA.
  • There is a difference in when she decides to be straight up oppositional and when she is just being a typical annoying teen.  My dissertation research is, in part, about how personal values shape viewpoints on a particular issue.  There is a personal value called “face” that really is much like the desire to protect and preserve our public identities.  Anything that threatens what Hope perceives to be as personal identity space she digs in and digs in hard.  So teacher notes invade a space in which she is constructing her public persona.  School incidents are particularly threatening to how she sees herself and she will go down swinging to preserve her “face.”

Typical annoying teen stuff, she’s more likely to come to me later and tell me that her feelings were hurt by something I said or did—like when I told her “Fine, don’t wear your coat in 22 degree weather when you have a sinus infection.  Catch pneumonia <shrug>.”  Later she politely told me that hurt her feelings because she could die from pneumonia and surely I didn’t want her to die.  (I reminded her, no I didn’t want her to die, which is why I insisted on the damn coat #girlbye!)  Glad this dissertation is worth something more to me.

  • There so many things, like boundaries, that she wasn’t taught and must learn.  My biggest peeve is her traipsing into my room.  Yesterday she got into my bed.  Yeah, yeah, snuggling and all that, whatever.  I am desperate for some sanctuary and personal space, and my bedroom is IT.  I still tiptoe into my parents’ room back home.  Bedrooms are sacred space for me.  And despite several polite conversations, she just traipses in whenever she gets ready.  She’s walked in on me in my bathroom, getting dressed, you name it.  Drives me nuts and when I say something it’s all, “You don’t want me in your room,” with lots of attitude.  Yeah, you’re right, I don’t.  There I admit it.  It’s the only safe space I have.

While doing a puzzle in the living room yesterday during the storm, I also realized that she didn’t really know how to work on a puzzle with someone else.  She sucks up the table space by leaning all the way over such that her hands hang over my side of the table and will actually pick up pieces I am working on.  I had to take several breaks because it was almost invasive in a way that ruined the experience for me.  Yesterday was not the day to teach more about personal space, but clearly that’s something I need to work on with her.

  • There is a kindness of spirit in her.  She has made me tea every day that I’ve been sick.  She knows her skills of caring for me are limited so she focuses on what she can do.  At her core, she is such a sweetie.
  • A trip to the veterinarian determined that The Furry One is in the very early stages of kidney failure.  At 14 and 3 months, it is a normal sign of old age.  Given his overall health though, the vet confirmed that yeah, the rug pee fiasco of last week was indeed an declaration of war.  He’s actually engaging Hope more appropriately this week.  Had he been sicker I would’ve asked the vet to duct tape and paperclip this dog together, I’m way to unstable to lose The Furry One right now.  That would send me right on over the edge.
  • The weather is effing up my best efforts to get us on a consistent schedule.  I mean really, I can’t win for losing!  Two days off this week.  No band practice.  I’m increasingly behind at work.  It’s all a mess, I tell you.  And I know that the scheduling thing is going to be the way to glory for us.  I really need to have a talk with Mother Nature.
  • Prayer works.  Hope and I pray together twice a day.  She is responsible for one of the prayers.  I notice how her prayers have changed over the weeks.  The things she prays about are changing, she prays for our family.  She prays for The Furry One even though he peed on her rug.  She prays that she’ll have a better day at school.  I can’t honestly say that I’m deep in meditation when she’s praying because I’m trying to tune into what she’s saying and maybe not saying.  But her prayers are changing and I’m encouraged by that.
  • Hope is finally getting the concept of salvation.  She told me early on that she had been saved twice but it didn’t work; it didn’t “take” because she is so bad.  Lots of distilled theological conversations up in Casa de ABM.   She’s now talking about baptism and salvation and such.  She had a mini-meltdown this week when contemplating a lost family member and whether they were in heaven or hell; she didn’t know if they were saved.  It was a heartbreaking moment, but it revealed a few things to me:  She’s thinking about our talks, she’s applying those discussions, and she’s still grappling with grief.  I was sad for her, but I was also happy to know that I’m getting through that tough candy shell of hers.
  • She enjoys a little decadence, like we all do.  She gets excited to try new things, do things with me that foster families had previously promised but didn’t do and is thoughtful about each experience as it bonds us.  I’m the one who’s following through, who’s showing her something more.  She appreciates that.  One night a week is pizza night; during previous weeks we got take out.  This week I needed a fabric napkin experience as a Maslow’s Hierarchy element in my life (I loathe fast food) so I decided we would go out to eat.  She was almost overwhelmed by the local restaurant; she relished having a small appetizer and dessert.  She was tickled by the whole experience.  I was getting terribly ill during the dinner but I found such pleasure in watching her take it all in.
  • I had no idea 12 year old asked so many why questions.  Oh. My. God.  Why?  Why?  Why?  Why to random stuff that I’ve never heard about that happened when she was 8?  Why to random stuff that happened last week?  Why to something that happened on a random show she watched but I didn’t?  I thought in going with an older kid, I would bypass a lot of the “why” stuff.  No, not really.  I can see how stunted in some areas she maybe.  She wasn’t in environments when she could ask why; she is now.  I can see that I’ve created a safe space for her to do that.  I’m increasingly comfortable with say, “Sweetie, I don’t know.  Can we Google it?”  By the 18th time I try to recite that without sounding annoyed and exasperated.

So, it’s Friday, one of the days when I can be a bit more reflective.  Hope is still snoozing and I’ve tidied the house, taken out the trash, opened a window and let some cool air in to air out the sickie germs, and written this here post.  If I hurry, I probably can get to the grocery store to pick up a few things and GASP—get some Starbucks and some Valentine’s chocolates that I don’t have to share!!!  OMG, OMG so exciting!!

OMG—Hallelujah!  Peace out!


Shoe Drop – The Sequel

Well, we managed to make it one whole week in school before I started getting the emails about behavioral problems.  Five notes in two days.

Yeah, the last few days have been tough.  Wednesdays are usually our turn around day; things improve so I’m optimistic about today.  By Friday we’re great and then it starts all over again on Mondays.  It’s an awful cycle.  And even though I can tell it’s a cycle, it’s just relentless and the severity is always surprising and I’m getting so freaked out about Monday’s that there’s a cloud over the weekend for me.

The teachers asked me how they can help Hope.

I gave what I believe to be what I would do—try to be gracious but consistent and please be patient with us.

Yeah, the truth of the matter is I have no effing idea what they should do.  I’m barely holding it together around here.

I sat her down and gently talked to her.  She was shocked that teachers would just email me.  Naw girl, no one is checking for your little “note sent home but never really gets here” game.  No boo, teachers just email the parents now.   Her defensive shields went up slowly, but when they were up, they were really up.  You see, Hope never does anything wrong.  She is always the victim.  How dare they send me emails full of lies about her!

This oppositional defiance thing is so dang serious.  And it’s so exhausting, especially when the denials and lies fly in the face of obvious fact and reason.  There’s nothing reasonable about oppositional defiance.

This week I had to start doing some consequences; she seems stunned.  I actually am stunned.  I’m always feeling stunned.

<whisper> I kinda hate my life right now.

<whispers even more softly> I feel awful and guilty that I hate my life right now.

Amongst the rudeness, the belligerence, the lies and the shutdowns, the clinginess and everything else I can’t be bothered to list here, I’m really feeling like a failure. I know I’m not, but it sure feels sucky. I never imagined that I would fly in with a cape and save Hope; I thought I had realistic expectations, but it’s just really hard.  I cannot remember the last time when I felt so emotionally stretched.  I feel awful that I can’t muster the umph to comfort her for every little thing.  I wonder when she pushed a boundary by showing me a “funny” video laced with F-bombs, was my reaction ok? Does she think I’m mad and frustrated all the time?  I’m usually frustrated and I try not to show it, but more than mad, I’m usually aghast by just how crazy this life is at the moment.

I’m really sick with a sinus infection this morning.  So she started complaining about her ailments to see if she can one up me and if I would let her stay home with me.  She didn’t have a fever, but I did this morning.  So her little narrow butt was dispatched to the bus stop, but not before we had to have another head butt about the need for her to wear a real coat in 22 degree weather with snow storm expected to start later today.  #icant

Nothing about any of this even feels rational.  I just feel like I’m riding the same roller coaster day after day, walking on egg shells, trying to keep things moving.  Cooking, cleaning, laundry…I loathe too much clutter when I’m sick.  I like things tidy when I’m sick.  I needed her to go to school so I could have time to wipe down things with my Clorox wipes, change my sheets, make some chili and homemade bread and nurse myself and my mind.  I’m praying that the storm is delayed so that she stays after for her band practice so that I can relish two additional hours of peacefulness.  The storm means all kinds of bonding time tomorrow…Sigh.  I’m planning to run and get a couple of puzzles.

I’m hoping this Wednesday turnaround gives me the emotional break I need through the end of the week.


Testimony

ETA: Oy–so tired can’t even spell my titles right…

Last week was tough.  It was tough in so many ways.

My heart broke when Hope described her angst about going to school.  I was frustrated because I still hadn’t finished the conclusion of the chapter I was writing.  I was really scared by some of the things we discussed in the initial consultation with the absurdly attractive therapist (Side note: My GOD he’s is so handsome it hurts, and it might be a problem since I can barely look directly at him without thinking I’m going to burst into flames.).  I wasn’t very productive at work because I was consumed with home life and I have no idea when some semblance of balance will be discovered.  I was frustrated by all the paperwork I needed to complete, the scheduling that needed to happen, the permission slips that needed to be signed and the school fees that needed to be paid (I’m convinced school fees are the new hustle).  Oh and I registered Hope for a few camps for the summer that cost a grip.

Then I had to get us ready for our first road trip.  The road trip that involved a weekend with the Grands and a wedding to go to and Hope meeting her godparents—who happened to be the couple tying the knot.

Oh and how could I forget the Friday night post- travel, middle of the night, ER visit? We started our health care adventure at a local Patient First, where I enjoyed some same-race adoption privilege in which despite my fumbling efforts to pull out my care authorization everyone assumed she was my kid.  On the one hand the ease of it was cool, but then the nurse kept looking at me like I was stupid because I knew so little about Hope’s medical history.  When we got to the hospital later and I needed a bathroom break, Hope cut through all the BS while I was in the loo and just told everyone that I was her new mom via adoption—everyone was so nice, gave good advice and relieved my terror when, essentially, Hope was not really all that sick.

Got all that?  Heavy sigh!

I am astounded by how much I accomplished last week, and how much must be accomplished to keep my house running.  There is always something.  And the some things almost keep me from thinking about anything meaningful outside of the Hope universe.   I’m still sad about the things, the critical things that keep my individual life running that I simply can’t get to.  I still struggle with feeling incredibly selfish at times about my own sadness and angst.

I’m tired and weary, but looking back, I’m not broken.   Bruised, yes, but not broken.   Taking time to reflect on the week in its entirety gives me solace that I made it, and hopefully I can do it again next week.

And I’ll survive next week.  And the week after.

But it does come at a cost.  It’s worth it for moments like the one in the car this morning returning to the DC area; I insisted on playing gospel for the ride since we were missing church.  She broke out singing Marvin Sapp’s He Saw the Best in Me.

For her, she was just singing it; but for me, I know the song to be true for all of us and especially for her.  She’s been struggling to keep her badass persona and it’s crumbling, little by little each day.  So moments of testimony that she doesn’t yet realize are such, bring me exceeding joy and comfort in knowing that she’s doing ok.

Now I have to just to make sure I keep grinding, so I can also be ok and so we can thrive.

Special thanks to those who reached out to me concerning post-placement depression.  I wish my agency had some info on it during the process.  But I’m glad to have discovered this issue and I am deeply appreciative that my experience was validated.  I thought I was going nuts. Thank you.


Post-Placement Blues

The daily cycle of anxiety and relief, meltdowns and recoveries is really just…a lot.  My birthday was actually meltdown free, but as someone commented on that blogpost, the angst about whether it would be meltdown free really kind of ruined it.  It wasn’t that anything bad happened at all.  In fact, Hope fixed my breakfast (brought me my yogurt and a spoon and poured my juice); got ready for church without incident (other than being glacially slow, but I’ve come to be happy with the fact that she’s starting to enjoy going); did not throw a tantrum when I chose a place for lunch where she got to try some bison ribs, and she read to me (more Silverstein–ick, but it was a lovely gesture).

Actually it was a nice day.   But I was/am still blue.

As usual, I’m just a grab bag of emotions.  It’s like the worst PMS I’ve ever experienced.  I’m happy about going back to work and embracing that part of my identity, but I’m sad because there was something cozy about being with Hope during the day.

I love that she calls me mom all the time now; and when she calls me mom in exasperated tween-speak it annoys the ish out of me.  I am also amused that apparently adoptive mom’s, like our bio-colleagues, instantly gain superpowers like hearing through walls and making things like laundry appear like magic.  She has called me no less than 9 times from her bedroom in the span of drafting these couple of paragraphs.  I also seem to be suffering from some odd, likely fatigue induced, brain fog.  Just can’t seem to get my brain to crystalize much of anything right now.

The Furry One has broken family ranks and gone wolf-rogue.  I still maintain he would never bite, he’s much to passive aggressive for that.  No.  Yesterday, The Furry One waited until I and Hope were in her room working on homework, entered, stood in the middle of her new pink fluffy area rug, lifted his leg and let ‘er rip.

Stunned and shocked, I removed the dog, got the rug, put it in the shower to hose it down (acrylic, Ikea rug), baking soda it and then put it out on the balcony to air out and dry.  Meanwhile, Hope finally had evidence to back up her righteous wailing about how The Furry One doesn’t like her.

Turns out, she’s right.  He doesn’t.  But I still don’t believe he tried to bite her.  This passive aggressive BS is way more his speed.

Sigh.

This was followed by a series of math homework meltdowns for her, a bridesmaid’s dress meltdown for me (fitting did not go well), a herd of social workers, former fosters, former therapists, the new social security caseworker and Hope’s new band teacher all calling/emailing/texting in a 3 minute window.  It was like being in an electronic sold out hockey game of rowdiness—just too much stimulation.  So after homework was done and the dress meltdown was shelved until today for resolution and Hope was in bed, I spent the better part of an hour, updating everyone on the going ons in my and Hope’s life.  I had to, right?  Because well all these people get to sign all those papers that say I get to keep my kid. Well, a bunch of them do anyway.

Then I spent 20 minutes in tears thinking of all the stupid things I’d done/tried/effed up at while attempting to parent over the last few days.  Yeah, several moments of, “Well, how’d that workout for you?  Not so good right?”  Fortunately, Hope is more resilient than me. When I consciously eff up, I apologize, which shocks her.  I tell her how I will do better next time, and then she lets it go, and I continue to silently punish myself until I do something worthy of even greater self-loathing.  I feel like the preacher who secretly beats himself in the Scarlet Letter.  But, wait, wasn’t he beating himself because he got it on with Hester Prynne?  Sigh, I’m not even getting any and am still engaging in this kind of self-loathing.  Awesome.  I don’t even seen an opportunity for that kinda happy sinning on the horizon–despite Hope’s prediction that I’ll marry by the time she’s 16.  Yeah.

Sigh.

So, then I broke out the red solo cup, only to realize that I was down to the last swallow of Baileys.  It wasn’t even a full shot.

Double sigh.  Really?

This morning, Hope brought up the fact that we’re both going through the blues.  Is this a post-placement thing?  It’s on my list of questions to ask around about.  I asked her what we should do about these blues, you know, besides getting drugs.

She said, “Ice cream.”

Is there a Bailey’s ice cream?  Because if there is, she might be right.


Birthday Wishes

Today is my birthday.  I thought I would be happy, but I’ve awakened to a bit of the blues today.  They started sometime yesterday and have just gotten worse every few hours.  I’m struggling with me issues today.  I’m sure it’s all normal, and I’m hoping we blow through today so I can get on with it.

I don’t feel like I’m going to get to do what I want to do for my birthday and it doesn’t feel very good having to nurture the new center of my universe today.  I hate that that sounds so selfish and narcissistic.  I hate that it sounds like I don’t really want to share the day with my daughter.  I hate that I have anxiety about how this day will turn out because things feel so ridiculously unpredictable.  I wish I didn’t feel this way, and I’m terribly sad that I do.  #kickingmyselfwhileimdown

And I got email spam from a faux funeral home this morning.  Yeah, no kidding #41isthenew21

Hope has already given me two drama free days.   That’s right—no meltdowns since the epic, “No, The Furry One is not Kujo” confrontation.  There’s been no back talk.  There’s been no foot dragging on chores.  There’s been compliance.  There’s been giggling.   There’s been sweetness and goodness, and on a trip to the library where we sat for an hour while we read magazines, I looked over at her and thought, “This is so nice.”  Later she read me two books by Shel Silverstein.  I hate Shel Silvertein, by the way, but I loved that she wanted to bond by reading aloud to me.  We were happy.

And as much as I lived in the moments of the last two days; I can’t help feeling like I know I’m just borrowing time from six months from now.  Tomorrow school for Hope starts in earnest.  We’ve got in-take with the new therapist on Wednesday.  Thursday a school orientation program and Friday we head south for one of my best friends’ wedding.   It’s a bit closer to what a “real” week might look like for us in terms of scheduling.  And I’m anxious scared.

And I’m scared that things will fall apart today.  All I want is to go to church, go to a nice brunch, maybe sneak off to the gym for an hour and cook for a few hours with my girl.  But after years of seeing mom’s slug through birthdays, Mother’s Day, and other holidays as the low priority, I know that my expectations of being seen and heard today by Hope are pretty low.  Hope is not yet able to devote capacity to other things besides surviving and adjusting, and I can see how much energy that’s taking.  And I really don’t expect anything more from her right now.  She’s struggling; several friends back home have stopped taking her calls, and one has apparently blocked our phone number.  Although she didn’t meltdown, I can tell she’s having a very hard time with how her friends back in WA are handling her move.

So, I’m scared that the pins and needles reprieve that I’ve enjoyed for the last two days will end today.  I’m fearful of the feelings of isolation that come with a meltdown; those feelings are the worst.  It’s bad enough that you are dealing in the moment with something rotten, then it’s almost like you feel shame for the whole mess and you can’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t couldn’t dare breathe a word about how really rotten it all is to anyone.  I’m sad because the anxiety about the inevitable reminds me of the pieces of my identity that I’ve had to set down, while I’ll build my family and try to shore it up into something strong and amazing.  I’ve seen glimpses of that reality, but it also feels a bit like a mirage at the moment.

So today we will go to church and a nice brunch might turn into strawberry poptarts.  I will go workout, because I absolutely emotionally and physically need to, and we will cook.  But I won’t expect another smooth day.  I’ll let the universe surprise me.  I’ll try not to cry both happy and sad tears because they upset Hope so; she hates it when I cry.  I typically start crying the moment we walk into church because the emotional release is so great.   I’ll probably need to take something to keep that from happening today.

So this is my version of adoptive motherhood on my 41st birthday, my first birthday with Hope.  Wishing, hoping, praying for a drama-free day with absolutely no effing expectation that it’s going to happen.  Just trying to be thankful for the two early birthday freebies I’ve enjoyed, and secretly praying it’s the beginning of a pattern.


Facebook Make Up Sessions

“…my life ruined right about now i wish i would have just stayed in washington i hate it here right now.”

Oy.

I didn’t even have to go into her Facebook account to sniff around like I normally do; she posted this as a comment on a photo, in a confab she was having with a FB friend.  I’ve set up our accounts that her posts always show up in my feed.

I was so sad to read that she was sad.  That said I also know when she posted it we had just locked horns badly because she threatened the Furry One.

Hope’s been on a quest to use The Furry One as a test of my loyalty to her.  She’s insisted that he is trying to bite her and that he doesn’t like her.  It makes her sad that he doesn’t want to sleep with her and that if given a choice, The Furry One is content right under one of my butt cheeks.  I’ve had him since he was 8 weeks old and he’s been my constant companion for 14 years. Of course he wants me.  He’s my first furry born.

They are both demanding of my time and both very jealous of the other, but Buddha does show affection towards Hope and the dog doesn’t bite.  He never has.  And now that he’s the equivalent of 98 in people years, he’s really just not about that vicious life.

We had a confrontation about her lying about Buddha, so then she threatened him.

And I went off.

Animal abuse and cruelty was at the top of my non-negotiable list, so when she threatened him I did not react well at all.   It doesn’t help that my resistance is low later in the day because I’m tired.  Make that utterly exhausted.

So I took a timeout—these are becoming routine in our home now.  I’m usually the one in timeout and I explain why, usually because I know that I’m too upset to have a productive interaction or I realize that I’m feeding into the ODD behaviors.  I just have to step away.

She eventually sought me out and we spent our time together before bed.  We’re cool.

Then I saw her FB post that was made while I was in timeout.

So, I inboxed my kid after she went to bed.

“Saw a post that you felt like your life was ruined here and that you hate it here right now. I know you wrote that after I was so angry about you accusing [The Furry One] of trying to bite you when we both agree now that he didn’t.  I’m sorry.  I am learning how to be a mom, and it’s harder than I thought. I am trying really hard, though. Sometimes I will do better than other times. Please know that even when I’m mad, I love you so very much. More than you’ll ever know. I think in time we will be just fine.”

“ps: [The Furry One] loves you and so do i.

“pps: I’m glad you like your school”

I didn’t say anything about it when she got up this morning.  I knew she would see it when she finally logged on.   Her response?

“Really mom?”

Along with this “sticker:”

eyeroll

Yeah, we’re cool again.   For now.


K E Garland

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