Hello Again

It has been almost a year since I have written to you. A year where I experienced just about every joy and heartache that a mother can experience.

I have feared for Mulan’s life, well-being and sanity.

I have feared that the continued waiting will break Snow White.

I have often wondered in awe that my marriage and survived and thrived in this time.

And out of no where, in the deepest of our dark moments, God sent a miracle. A baby of my body. Undeserved and untried for, she came into our lives with all of innocence I wish our other girls still had.

The joy that she has brought has not diminished the trials we have with our two oldest girls, nor does it diminish their victories.

I wonder if her arrival isn’t a little bit like the arrival of the rainbow after 40 days of storms. God’s promise that through all of the pain, suffering and sacrifice we are not forgotten. We are not forsaken. We will thrive.

Like Noah, sometimes I forget the rainbow and become isolated by the weight of what is needed of me. 

 Snow White is 8 and lovely and challenging and sassy and wants to be a teenager so badly she can’t stand it. Her parents appealed the termination and lost. He biological grandparents (the crazy ones ) petitioned the department for adoption. We are waiting on their homestudy almost a year later.

Mulan has been a roller coaster. Her pain is so deep, and her ability to cope so limited that circumstances forced her to move into her own apartment last August.  Every time I think she hits rock bottom or finally learns something,  disaster strikes all over again.

However, through it all she has stayed in school and is scheduled to get her AA in August… something she never truly believed she could accomplish. I can’t wait to celebrate with her when she achieves this goal. Parenting her has been the hardest because so much of her healing is on her. I can’t heal her or help her, and my heart aches because that is all I want to do.

Trusting God in this is so much harder than infertility was. I see what evil did to my precious daughter, and a tiny part of me doubts. I doubt that He can fix it. I doubt that she will let him.

I can’t believe I admitted that. I haven’t before.

Of course I write all  of this because Mother’s Day weekend is here. I don’t think I will ever be completely comfortable with Mother’s Day. Last Mother’s day was a disaster and the year  before that I felt a complete fraud.

We  will see what this year brings. 

Sometimes

Sometimes things are too bad to put into writing.

Sometimes you are waiting for the miracle to happen so you can talk about the miracle and not the problem.


Sometimes there is nothing positive to say.


The miracle hasn't come (yet...... have to force myself to type that.....yet).


The problem is still there.


Sometimes the Enemy is strong.


Sometimes you wonder if he will be get to steal, kill and destroy everything you have done.


Sometimes hope is beyond you.

Pray for us dear friends. We won't survive with out it.

"He will never leave you, nor forsake you"

I started a blog with this title last week. Forgot about it.

Saw it this morning.

Needed to see this. God is good.

I don't remember having ever been this terrified.

There are lots of words for what happens to people who have experienced extreme trauma.  

Detachment

possession

"dead" eyes

feral 

All refer to that moment when the world gets too much for these people and they "click off". They go away and let another, stronger, angrier, survivalist part of themselves take over. The light goes out.... and something else comes on. 

I have seen it in a young child named Ella*. She was 5 and her entire personality was a result of her abuse. Things would get too loud, too "good" too "hard" and she would click off. 

It is pitiful when you see it happen to a young child like that. 

It is downright terrifying in a teen/adult. 

I saw her change yesterday. Was taking her cell phone as a consequence, and my daughter wasn't there. Her eyes were dead. All that was left was her anger and rage. I have no idea how I weathered that storm.... until suddenly she stopped struggling against my hold (was holding her in my lap like a baby.... partly to restrain her, but partly in that "comfort position") and all of a sudden her breathing picks up... she has a panic attack, and starts screaming crying. 

The day  was long. During it we talked and prayed. She read a book that talked about the "unloving spirit" that a person can have. She understood that it is a part of her and wants it gone. 

But this morning her eyes went dead again. I didn't know if she would come back. I was at work, she was at home, flinging accusations and arguments across email like poisoned darts. My logic didn't stop her. She was in a full rage, about to tear apart the house to find her phone... to leave and never come back. 

Then I prayed. Sent her in email form what I prayed. And she stopped short. 

This is what I said. 

Heavenly Father, 

We are at a place where I truly don't know what to do. My daughter is under attack. This book called it an "unloving spirit". Father it is taking Mary over and I don't know what to do. God send it away. Defeat it. Send it to its knees. Tell it that is has NO POWER here. Because MY DAUGHTER is YOUR DAUGTHER. And MY DAUGHTER  is precious and loved and wonderful. MY DAUGHTER has been saved and this "spirit" IS NOT WELCOME. IT CAN'T HAVE HER.

God save us. We need a miracle. Save my daughter. Save Mary. I love her so much...... 

Amen. 

I don't know where the words came from....but they were there and then she was reading them. From there she fought. She fought and fought.... for a terrifying 10 minutes I thought she had lost. My husband ran home from work..... walked her the rest of the way through. 

And won the morning. 

I should feel relieved. But it isn't time to feel that yet. We are simply sleeping in between battles. 

It never ends

Snow White's grandparent's visits didn't get cut off with TPR. After saying goodbye, they are now demanding visits again. With no consideration for Snow White's feelings.

I spent an hour cleaning and reciting what I would say to the judge if/when we have a hearing about this.

Then the new, popular saying come to mind: Not my circus. Not my monkeys.

This is God's circus, and they are God's monkeys.

I am going to let Him handle it.


What a feeling of freedom :).

There are days when you get it right

Usually because you prayed your ass off not to screw it up.

Waiting to Inhale

You don't breathe steadily as a foster parent. At least I don't.

I am not saying I breath in anticipation either. There is no holding your breath and waiting to exhale in relief. Instead it feels like I am breathing the way you breath when in intense pain. Inhale and exhaling through the searing wound.

And those time when you aren't hurting? Crying? Cleaning up the disaster? You are waiting to inhale that next breathe through teeth clenched in pain.


Yes I am being dramatic.

But that is how it feels.


Right now things are steady. Right now everyone is behaving (albeit cranky from lack of sleep and a return to school). However instead of being thankful that the last visit has happened, thankful that Mulan seems to be sticking with her good behavior, thankful that my husband and I had a nice date night just three days ago..... I am waiting to Inhale.

Waiting for the next lash of the whip.

Waiting for it to all fall apart.


The system does this to us. It teaches us that a normal, steady life is next to impossible, that we should always expect the worst, and to never get to comfortable in the NOW.

While not purposeful, this feeling serves a purpose. It is the closest I will ever come to understanding what it must have been like for my babies before they came to me.


I think of Mulan in her home, surround by men who raped her on a regular basis, by women who beat her, and visitors who were indifferent to her. Times of calm must have been very disconcerting. Because they never lasted. They always ended with pain.


It is no wonder then, after almost a year with us, that she is still afraid. That she is still afraid of pain to come. Of abandonment. Of indifference. Of rape. Of a beating.

This understanding is weary, and my art struggles to pump through it. However it helps when I find doodles that she has drawn that say "I am tired of being afraid." This I can understand.


Dear God, I am tired of being afraid. Take my fear. Seriously God, take it away. Leave only faith in You. Faith that you love my babies even more than I do.
Amen.