In Which a Sagittarius Struggles with Optimism

Hi, there.

Let's not talk about how long it's been.

Let's not talk about all the things you've missed because I haven't been here to talk about them.  Maybe I'll back-track at some point.  Maybe I won't.  But my counselor sent me here, so here I am.

My counselor sent me here because I'm angry.  I'm angry and I need to figure out how to fucking cope.  

Anger is not my default state.  I very rarely visit this state, even.  So it's weird to be stuck here in limbo and not know what to do about it, or how long I have to be here.  I just want to go home.

We have a darling daughter (DD).  She's 14 -- almost 15 -- and bright, funny, complicated, talented, weird, beautiful, sarcastic, and kind.  She's a good fit for our family.  She's been home a little more than 5 months at this point, and we're all still figuring each other out.

And to be clear, I am not angry at her.

I really enjoy her and I enjoy being her parent.

In the process of her joining our family, we have worked with two different agencies, which I will not name here because we aren't done working with them, and I suppose they could still turn their boats around and finally do right by our daughter.  But that all remains to be seen.

These two agencies, I believe, are trying to do right by her and do right by their governing bodies.  But red tape gets bound up in red tape, and it's not the agencies that suffer the consequences.  It's our daughter that suffers.  Here is a kiddo who has been stuck in the foster system for XX number of years, who has had XX number of placements, and who has had XX number of disruptions, and hasn't she been put through the ringer enough?  Can't we just let her settle into a family and be a normal kid for once in her life?

As I'm heading to bed tonight, the answer is still no.  We (her parents) are working tirelessly to smooth this out for her.  Her CASAs are working tirelessly to smooth this out for her.  Pardon my French, but everyone else can suck a bag of dicks.

In trying to make a long story, uh, less long, let's say that there was a committee decision to NOT let us adopt her six months ago.  But, sure, we could foster her, they said, but it would have to be permanent, but we couldn't tell her it would be permanent, cos then it would sound too much like adoption, which the committee decided was not allowed.  Ugh.

So we agree to foster, but at a high level of care because we aren't sure what to expect, and our adoption supports (that we paid for) are now no longer available, because we can't adopt her.  With a higher level of care (read: extra supervision & therapy), we can get extra supports.  Also, we were promised, we could exit into a lower level of care on a timeline of our choosing.

Which, as soon as we are locked into a contract, we are told, no-no-no-no-no, she has to graduate out of this higher level of care.  But they won't give us the criteria for graduation. Or a timeline. Or a rulebook.  But you can bet that when we somehow break a mystery rule, they are all over it with stern words and consequences.  Ugh.

<<Enter five months of more of the same nonesense.  Miscommunication, lies, backstabbing, and general ball-dropping.>>

And after fighting with two agencies, two caseworkers, two case managers, two supervisors, two attornies, a facilitator, and a partridge in a pear tree, for, I don't know, maybe four months? we finally get folks on board with hey maybe she doesn't need a higher level of care because she's doing fucking great. And suddenly things start moving.

A caseworker said she was going to push for our daughter to be out of a higher level of care by the end of the year.  We had hoped sooner, but we're playing the long game, so whatever.

Then the right person talked to the right State Senator who talked to the right person at the right agency and suddenly the adopted decision from May was reversed.  Wait, what?  Really?  We didn't expect that, we had no idea how this would affect anything, so we hung on waiting for more information.

Then last week, the judge ruled that there has been enough fuckery and she needs to be in a lower level of care by Friday.  We turned in all our paperwork within three days.  If this is going to get held up, it will not be on us.
 
So this gets us to my counselling session today.  I told my counselor that I didn't believe it.  He said it's great news, though.  And it is, but there has been so much asshattery around this whole situation from the two agencies we are working with that I just don't believe it.  I'm angry at the situation, I'm frustrated with all the hoop-jumping, and I'm tense just waiting for the other shoe to fall.

I am usually a silver-lining sort of person.  I get teased all the time for being my optimistic self.  Some say I'm naive, and I guess that could be true, but I think I'm more realistic than that.  I just know, from my forty years of lived experience, that things have a way of working themselves out.

But my heart has been broken so many times in the past six months by this process that I just don't trust it anymore.  I'm having trouble keeping my head up.  I'm having trouble staying positive even around things that have nothing to do with the foster system (like my job).  I'm having trouble taking the smaller joys in life (like DD has an A in Math!  and our dog looks really cute in his Christmas sweater!  and I have a new car!  and I get to go to brunch with my friends!) and letting those good feelings wash over me and buoy me through the tough times.  It's not working.  I'm not buoyed.  I'm still sinking.

Man, if I were outside of myself, I would totally look at this list and be like, THAT'S TOTALLY ENOUGH GOOD STUFF TO BUILD ON!  So I get it on an intellectual level.  And if I weren't still sinking, I would totally see my point.  So this is really hard and I've been hurt really deeply.  I feel broken.

And it really doesn't help that later today, after counselling where my counselor told me to give it a chance that things might work out and go according to plan, we got an email that the adoption decision wasn't actually reversed, silly!  Who told you that?  And in trying to follow up with stepping down to a lower level of care, it appears as though the right people are not talking to the other right people because there are still some important people who do not know what's going on or that the judge really wanted it to happen by Friday.  Ugh.

I didn't want to be right this time.

Sure, I have every right to my feelings of anger.  Every right.  I'm just really tired of being in this angry state.  I'm really looking forward to moving back to my regular brain, which I'm hoping still exists somewhere.

Send good thoughts our way if you're so inclined.  Complements and chocolate are also appreciated.

Peace -- Mama

60 Days...

60 days are up and there still isn't a plan in place for where Eleventh Kid goes next.  He's super nervous about it, and he gets agitated about it when he thinks about it.  But I need to remind him, that it is partially due to the choices HE ALONE made.  There was an opening in another program and he was offered a screening and he refused to go.  Now he wants into that same program and is having trouble getting a screening.  I feel bad, but, man, you made your own bed on that one.

He continues to eat like a champ.  He says he's put on 40 pounds (I don't quite believe that), but he's also gained some inches since being here.  Nothing like nutrition to support a growth spurt!  He never quite got around to helping me in the kitchen, preferring to otherwise occupy himself with episodes of "Saved by the Bell" and "Gossip Girl."

He also never quite got around to playing video games.  We have rules about how much reading you have to do make up your time playing video games.  Somehow, even though he's a reader, he is never quite up to doing it.  Huh.

He is super-helpful around the house, or at least has been for the past couple of weeks.  He's good about checking his chore chart for things to do and ways to earn allowance.  It's really great when he's on it.  Yesterday we got a ton of work done around the yard in about an hour-and-a-half, just because we had so many hands working.  Backyard is finally all cleaned up from the wedding in July!  Ha!

I guess we are a little nervous about his next placement, also.  DW is still in her first year of teaching, and doesn't get any breaks or sick days or anything.  She's been sick three different times in the past seven weeks and she's running on empty.  Reserves are all tapped out.  So I'm doing a lot of solo-parenting, which is mostly fine, but I really like it (and he really likes it) when we can all do things together.

When Eleventh Kid moves on, I'm taking DW out of town somewhere where nobody can find us and we can just chill out for a few days and not worry about a damned thing.  Can't wait.

Anyway, blessings and love for the Holidays!

Rough Week, Nice Weekend

So we had a rough week here at Big Dyke Mama's house.  Eleventh Kid is having a rough time at school and with the program he's in.  It hasn't really translated over into to home life, but there have been some concerned emails between us and his case manager.  Also a visit from a police officer.  Ugh.

I've heard this from other foster parents, and I'm sure there are plenty of bio parents who could say the same thing.  The way they are at home is not indicative of the way they are at school.  At home we have thoughtful discussions, he uses his manners, he asks for help when he needs it, he is eager to help with chores and tasks.  I hear at school he is argumentative, disruptive, and will refuse to participate in class.  This is not the sweetheart that I know.

I do think, however, that some progress got made.  We'll see how that pans out next week.  I think he's starting to grasp that bad behavior and acting out are not the way that he should go about trying to get things to change.  People are more likely to listen to your requests if you are trying your hardest rather protesting your hardest.  (I get that that isn't always true, so just trust me that in this particular situation it IS true.)

Even after a rough week, we still had a nice weekend.  Lots of laundry and cooking got done, lots of TV-watching got done, lots of reading got done, lots of planning got done, lots of shopping got done.  He likes patterns the way I like patterns: Taco Tuesday, Sausage Thursday, Patsy's Pizza and El Tapatio alternate Fridays.  This makes meal planning WAY easier.  :)  One pop per day, one Pop-Tart per day, one Clif Bar per day.  All the junk food wears away at my soul a little bit, but I can't change someone's eating habits overnight.  Slowly slowly we are working toward maybe a bit more whole fruit and maybe some nuts for a snack and maybe you can just have a glass of water instead of the pre-packaged snacks.  The food bill is insanely high this month, and it's all in pre-packaged snacks!

Everyone is well-fed, though; Eleventh Kid said he's put on almost one pound since arriving.  (Good, cos he's skinny.)  He's enjoying my cooking and wants to start learning some more cooking skills from me.  He even trusts me enough at this point to start meal-planning without his input!  Ha!  Little does he know that will mean more veggies and less meat!  Ha!

So here's hoping that next week goes more smoothly than the last.  I really really love this kid and I really really want good things to happen for him.

Fourth Kid and a Wedding

Good Evening!  Let's get this done just under the wire, okay?  (Kind of like last year!)

Today is Mombian's 10th Annual Blogging for LGBTQ Families Day!  Here's what we've been working on the past couple of weeks at Big Dyke Mama's house:

In between Kid 3 and Kid 4, we took a little weekend break.  We needed a respite from Respite Foster Care, but we were ready to greet parenthood again this week, with renewed enthusiasm.

Fourth kid?  Rad.  This guy was all of twelve, but he's built like a linebacker, so he looked more like a 14-15 year old.  Imagine a 230 lb. kid coming at you and then asking if we could sew or bake or plant flowers.  Um, yes and yes and yes.  And I love you for being yourself.  Keep being rad.

DM and I have also been working on writing our wedding.  A long-time good friend of mine will be officiating, but we wanted to have most of the script and structure in place for him.  Control freak?  Probably.

Being in a lesbian relationship has a lot of perks, obvs, but one of the things I'm currently enjoying is that our queer wedding is already rather non-traditional, so we are less hung up on traditions.

Who proposed?  Neither one of us.  We have made all other decisions together through negotiation and compromise (moving in together, what's for dinner, who's name is on the water bill), so why would this be any different?

Matching rings?  Nope.  We bought our own rings.  That we will put on our OWN fingers, thankyouverymuch.

Wedding party?  Nope.  My 5-year-old niece will hold those mis-matched rings, though.

Wedding dress?  Red.

But you're hiding it from DM, right?  Nope.  She helped me pick it out, and has helped me accessorize.

Wedding suit?  Whatever DM finds at the Goodwill (or other merchant of her choosing).

Caterers?  Nope.  Cake and punch.

Special fancy cake?  Nope.  Trader Joe's Cheesecake.  Defrosted the night before.

Special fancy cake topper?  Nope.  Less than $1 at Michael's.  And some paint.

Special fancy honeymoon?  Nope.  3200 miles in the station wagon.

A cake and punch backyard wedding is exactly what I wanted.  I don't want to feed anybody dinner; that's just silly to me.  I wanted to be sure in the ceremony that there was no wordage about giving yourself up, or making forever promises, because that's just asking for trouble; life is so much more complicated than that.  I also wanted to be sure that we weren't acquiring any more stuff, but that we'd work toward shared experiences.

And I'm still sure I'm marrying the right person, because DM feels the same.  YAY!

#LGBTQfamilies

Hey!  It's been a couple of months since I posted -- oops -- but today is Mombian's 9th Annual Blogging for LGBTQ Families Day!  So let's talk about what's been happening in Big Dyke Mama's Family!

In April, DM and I submitted our application to adopt out of the foster care system.  While they like us (and who wouldn't?  We're adorable), because we hadn't yet been together for a full year, they recommended waiting at least six more months before submitting for the Homestudy. The reason being that when the Homestudy is written, they will state how long we've been together, not the date we got together.  So even if our Homestudy is submitted to a caseworker in 2016, it will still say that we've been together for a year, NOT that we've been together since May of 2013.  Eeek!  So, waiting a bit improves our chances of not having our Homestudy dismissed out of hand.

In the meantime, we are going to work toward being respite care providers for foster kids.  It will require mandatory monthly meetings with the agency, but that's no problem.

In May, DM and I celebrated our one-year anniversary by re-creating our first date.  My co-worker thought that was so romantic she cried when I told her.

Also in May, Marriage Equality came to Oregon!  That's big news!  Will DM and Big Dyke Mama be tying the knot?

It'll make the paperwork easier...

It'll make taxes easier...

And, you know, love and all that mushy stuff...

But no proposals or decisions have been made, so stay tuned.

That's enough excitement for tonight!  Be blessed --Big Dyke Mama

Call if Anything Changes

After getting back from Kauai, I was spotting pink and brown for a few days.  I felt fine, I went to work, Dr. T had advised me that light spotting was okay so long as it didn't get heavy like a real period.

On the fourth day of spotting, it got a little heavier, but still not heavy-heavy.  I called the doctor anyway, and talked with the medical assistant, L.  L reassured me that it was normal, and to monitor it until our next appointment.  But, of course, to call if anything changed.

That night (Tuesday), it turned to fresh, red blood.  I called a few friends asking for prayers, knowing that I could make it through the night and call the doctor in the morning, because it still wasn't heavy.

Wednesday morning, it was back to brown, a safer color, and much lighter.   I called the doctor's office once it opened, and told L about the red blood.  She said, "you know, it's probably nothing, but let's bring you in anyway, and see if we can pinpoint where it's coming from.  How about 11:20?"

So, I advise my work team that they're bringing me in last-minute, but I'll probably come back after the appointment.  I let them know that I'll call my boss if anything changes.

Right before the appointment, it turns back to red blood.  "At least they'll know I'm not faking it," I think to myself.

It's an external ultrasound they have set up for me, and we haven't done one of these yet.  So it's pretty exciting.  Dr. T has trouble getting a picture because, "it's too deep in the pelvis."  So they switch to internal.  I think this is weird, because Homer should not be as deep in the pelvis by now.  I'm wearing pants with the stretch panel, for pity's sake.

Internal wand -- hello! -- and the picture comes up of a tiny Homer.  Too tiny.  Way too tiny.  And no fists of fury, and no fluttery heartbeat.  "Well, it's not good," says Dr. T.  

But I can see that.

So a small and fierce Homer passed fairly soon after our last ultrasound, and my body was just starting to figure out how to deal with it.

I re-dressed and was given some options of what to do next.  I could let the fetus pass on it's own, which comes with risks of hemorrhaging, or having it not pass all the way (esp. because I was further along), and also comes with an unpredictable timeline.  I could take the medical option (pills), which again comes with risks of it not passing all the way or hemorrhaging.  Lastly, I could use the surgical option, a D & C.

I told them I'd likely pick the the D & C, but I wanted to go over it with a few people before I scheduled it.  I told them I'd call back after lunch.

I came home and finally cried.  I called my Godmother on the other side of the pond, and talked to her and her wife, who had miscarried a few times, so knew what I was up against.  They agreed with me that the surgical option was better because I could control the timeline and the results a little better; it was far less likely to be traumatic.  I don't need traumatic memories of this time.

I called Thuper Thpermth, I called my Dad & Mom, I called the Syringe-Wielding Goddess, I called my boss.  I texted and emailed a few more people, building up my support team as I knew I was going to need them soon, and in a big way.

After lunch (a little after 1pm), I called the Doctor's office.  Dr. T had been pulled out on rounds, so wasn't there to schedule my surgery, so they said they'd call me back in a bit.  That's fine.  I'm not going anywhere.

In the meantime, I have a snack (waffles and peanut butter), check my Facebook, send emails, watch a movie, rest in my cozy bed.  I'm starting to get crampy and uncomfortable, so I'm pretty sure my body is even more clued in as to what it needs to do with this fetus.  The blood isn't heavy, but I'm not feeling so great, and I take my temperature.  99.5° -- not super fevery, but not normal, either.  I rest, and hope they can schedule for Thursday instead of Friday.

Around 3pm, the Doctor's office calls me back.  They apologize for the delay, but how about 7:30am Friday morning?  I said, "that's fine, but I'm worried about the next 24 hours.  Cramps are picking up and I've got a smidge of a fever."  Then things get exciting.  "Let me call you back."

Within minutes, things are getting rescheduled.  They know they have to pick this up.  Dr. T is calling the hospital, things are getting shuffled around.  And it's L who calls me back.  "Yeah, so, can you come into the hospital right now?"

"Right now, right now?  I need to get a friend to come with me, so that could take an hour or so to round them up?"

"No, come without a friend and have them meet you here.  Stop eating or drinking as of now.  Right now.  Do you live close?"

"I live about a mile away."

"Good.  Come on over."

So I actually wait.  I call up Zi and Thuper Thpermth, and they can both join me.  Thuper Thpermth cancels plans and picks me up and drives me over; Zi meets us there after blowing off work and stopping at the grocery store for some treats.

It didn't really matter that I waited, because we waited for a long time.  It was about 4pm when we arrived, and I didn't get taken back till around 5:30pm, and didn't have surgery till around 7:30pm.  While waiting, Zi and TT play cards with me and we laugh and joke as much as we can.  Humor is totally my coping mechanism, but I'm also still slightly in shock.

The nurses are awesome.  The anesthesiologist is awesome.  And, of course, my OB is awesome.

The surgery is fast, like 15-20 minutes.  I'm in recovery for a little while; the nurses talk with me and remind me that I'm going to be a very good mom when kids finally do end up in my lap.  They bring me a little something to drink since I'm not nauseous, and I sip slowly.  When they wheel me back to my room, they ask if I'd like to eat something.

"Chicken noodle soup, and if cheese & crackers showed up, I wouldn't be upset."

Zi and TT were there with me in my room, and we talked some more, and they ate dinner while I had my snack (and some Morphine).  At one point, the nurses helped me up so I could walk to the bathroom to change my gown (which I had bled through) and the pad.  Zi helped me with my bathroom duties.  It has to be some defining moment of true friendship when you are together in a hospital restroom and your friend is gently wiping down your bloody thighs with wet washcloths.

After checking that my pain was controlled with Morphine, Percocet, and Ibuprofen, that I wasn't bleeding too heavily, that I could walk, that I could pee, that I could eat & drink... the nurses set me up to be discharged about 9 or 9:30pm.  TT drove me home and set me up in bed with a movie while Zi was on pharmacy duty to go pick up my meds.  When Zi returned, TT was off-duty, and Zi spent the night with me.

I've built myself a little nest on my sofa, and have been living here most of the time, watching whatever looks interesting on Netflix.  I've had a few visitors each day, and a little bit of alone time, to process and cry.  I've taken a few phone calls, but not many, although I am feeling the love of my support network.  I even went on a little outing yesterday to brunch and then the Chinese Garden.  But that was more than enough, really, and I napped through the afternoon.  I still can't drive due to the painkillers, but my visitors have been lovely about bringing me casseroles, bread, chocolate, drinks and fresh fruit.

This is not the outcome that I wanted for this pregnancy, obviously, but here is what I am grateful for:  I am grateful for every single one of my communities, the support that I have received from everyone has been perfectly amazing and exactly what I need, when I need it.  I am grateful that I have a great job, with a great boss, and great health insurance, that I can get these things taken care of swiftly, safely, and without trauma or worry.  Most of all, I am so grateful for my beautiful body.  My body, despite a number of obstacles, was able to get pregnant, support that pregnancy for weeks and weeks, and when that pregnancy was no longer viable, she gave me clues to handle the loss.  Body, you are wonderful.  I have never felt so beautiful, I have never felt more strong and capable, I have never felt more loved. 

I don't know what I'm going to do next, but until then, peace and God bless.  XOXO

Way to Grow!

This week a tiny Homer and an increasingly-round Mama are in the tropical paradise of Kauai on a family vacation.  Oma and Opa will be celebrating their 40th anniversary around the time that Homer is due, so we are all (along with sister, brother-in-law, and 2-1/2 year-old niece) together a little earlier in the year when it's easier for everyone to get away.

I have been quite angry at pants these days, I may have told you already.  I bought my first pair of maternity jeans right before Christmas and I LOVE THEM.  They made me feel so good that I decided to divert some of my grocery budget over to getting a few more staples of maternity-wear.  If I feel good, then I feel good.  Just the way it goes.

So, yes, my waist is getting thicker.  It depends on who you talk to as to whether I'm "showing" or not, because I had a nice, round belly to begin with.  I hadn't gained any weight by the time I left for Kauai on 12/28, but we'll see what things look like once I return.  I've been eating like a kalua pig on this trip.  Considering that two weeks ago, Aunt J lent me the comfiest pair of shorts ever and today they, too, were making me angry, I'm beginning to think we are in a growth spurt.  Also of note is that I could still, for short periods of time, lay on my belly earlier on this trip, and today I couldn't even let my belly hit the bed as I flopped over to the other side without severe discomfort.

So, way to grow, Little Homer!

We did some sight-seeing this morning, and then had fish tacos and ice cream for lunch.  I will likely spend large chunks of the afternoon, with my feet up, reading on the lanai, or perhaps knitting another pair of baby socks.  Regardless, I am having a lovely time with my family doting on me and my baby belly.  Happy New Year and Aloha!