Another Foster Care Story

Our son, Grayson, is adopted. He came to live with us through foster care when he was eight months old. There were no transition visits. We tried to meet him and his foster mom on one of our court visits, but weren’t allowed. So they literally just handed us a baby, asked us to sign some papers, and waved goodbye.

I did call the foster mother prior to bringing him home to ask about sleep habits, foods, vaccines, etc. She said she rocked him to sleep every night. I was told she’d started him on solid foods and he especially liked green beans.

But when we brought him home, we quickly realized someone wasn’t being honest. He wouldn’t eat anything. He also wouldn’t tolerate being held and rocked. He woke up at least once an hour for milk.

(I do think it’s important to take a little detour here. Bear with me—it is relevant.)

I think it was the day after we got Grayson that i received a Facebook friend request from an older woman. (Name withheld for privacy.) I was working as a photographer and got lots of friend requests. I accepted the majority of them.

A message popped up straightaway. She told me that she and her daughter were Grayson’s babysitters and they’d like to be able to keep up with him. I asked some questions about what his situation had actually been like.

This is when I learned that foster mom was only present for bio mom’s court-ordered visits. Grayson did not live with her. He lived in an unlicensed, unregulated, and inadequate home that was not even a respite home.

We couldn’t figure out how that happened. A social worker had been regularly visiting our home from the beginning—even though we didn’t have a foster child. How could a social worker miss this??

Well lemme tell ya. The actual social worker ended up getting arrested for trafficking crystal meth while our case was ongoing. That explained a lot.

And now Grayson’s brother has gone into care. He’s fifteens months older. Truthfully, though, at twelve he looks and sounds like a world-weary traveler. He’s much more worldly than Grayson. That boy has seen some stuff.

For a million reasons, we cannot take him on a permanent basis. With the primary reason being my poor health. Bringing him here and not being well enough to get him and give him what he needs is the wrong thing to do. I know this. Still my heart is crushing under the weight of it. And there’s not a single other person who’ll stand in the gap for him.

I am committed to fostering the relationship between the brothers. We will spend as much time with him as we reasonably can. He’s already been to visit us twice, the last time for three nights! We had yummy dinners, we shopped,, played, watched basketball, talked, laughed—so many things. There are a couple of photos I’ll share. And, as I’ve heard so many times: Be the person you needed when you were a child.

Raising Special Needs Children in Today’s World

It is so hard to be a mama, even in the best circumstances. Trust me when I say every age and every stage has its challenges. But watching your neurodivergent child being mistreated by others, including other children, parents, and teachers, is a whole new level of hurt.

I’ve already shared that my youngest, Grayson, was born addicted and has a whole alphabet soup of diagnoses. I guess the overarching diagnosis he has is autism.

What you think autism is and what it actually is are completely different things. Autism is a SPECTRUM disorder. That means autistic people might have things in common (low frustration threshold, need to organize things in their environment, for example), but no two people with autism are exactly the same.

In Grayson’s case, impulse control is one of his biggest struggles. I send him to his room for misbehaving. He removes the bar from his window and throws his toys out into the yard. There’s no discernible reason he can give when I ask him why he did this. His standard answer is, “I don’t know.” His doctor has assured me that he’s being honest and he probably doesn’t know why he does different things.

And aren’t we always hearing people talk about how kids are cruel? Well, I’m here to tell you, kids are not born cruel. They learn this at home. Children are a reflection of their parents. If kids are bullies, you can count on it that their parents are, too. When they treat the children they feel are weaker with disdain or contempt, they learned this at home.

Grayson can be very annoying. (Like any other kid.) He always wants to play with his “friends”. I know the parents get tired of him. Because they’ve told me so. Which probably means their children have also heard them say things like that.

He knows all the bad words. (And if your kid goes to public school, so do they.) When he’s cornered he lashes out. He gives his most precious things away in hopes that this will make someone want to be his friend. And the kids are well aware of this. Still, they gladly accept whatever he’s giving away that day, whether it’s Pokémon or cash.

For me, the heartbreaking thing is that Grayson can’t help himself. He didn’t choose this. We’re doing our best with him. He has a lot of resources. But he’ll always be Grayson.

And there’s so much that’s good about Grayson. He’s funny. He loves hard. And he’d do anything for the people he cares about. He loves basketball and the great outdoors. He’s a good little fisherman. He’s great at mental math. He has a loving spirit (in spite of all the trauma.)

If you know someone like Grayson, I urge you to make a point of being kind to them. Encourage your children to be kind to them. Treat them with respect and dignity. And never forget that words have power.

I will leave you with this:

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” ~ Matthew 25:40 NIV

For the Boys

One of my biggest joys in life is being a mom to my three sons. And if you want to make an enemy for life, mess with either of them. I’ll make a career out of anyone who messes with these guys. 🙂

I have a son who just turned 31. He’s a working musician. He’s probably the single most talented person I know, and I know some talented people.

My second son (a child I really didn’t think I’d have) is 18 and a recent high school graduate. This boy is a natural academic AND a natural athlete.

Then there’s the 7 year old. (I definitely didn’t think I’d have this one!) He was born addicted and in foster care at 6 weeks old. I was his great aunt, sister to his grandmother. He came to our home when he was 8 months old. His adoption anniversary was in March.

Each of these boys have made me a better person. They challenge me and frustrate me and uplift me every single day. I am thankful God allowed me to be their mother.

Motherhood has many stages. First time moms with new babies are often sleep-deprived and unsure of their parenting skills. By the time the next one comes along, those moms are seasoned veterans who likely feel as though they’ve spent time “in the trenches”. Eventually you get to (finally) become friends with your adult children. (Remember all those times you said, “I’m your mother, not your friend”?

I’m in that last stage with the older boys. One is just now at this point. The oldest has been there for a while. They’re both in relationships with lovely young women who treat them well. The oldest is actually engaged.

Side note: I started collecting a few pieces of nice jewelry some years back, with a goal of gifting these things to the boys for their future wives. So when he told me he was going to propose, I took him to the safe where he “shopped” for an engagement ring. She loved it!

The teenager lost his favorite high school teacher to COVID19 in September. He had this teacher all 4 years of high school. They also worked together (along with my son’s best friend) at a local golf course. They were very close and my son is crushed.

He and his friend felt like they really needed to attend the funeral service, which was about a 3 hour drive into another state. Boy, was I nervous! It was all for naught, though. They made a good plan, arrived safely, and honored their teacher. They both also spoke at the memorial held by the school. Brave boys to let others see their hurting hearts. I’ve never been so proud.

Then there’s the little guy. He’s on the spectrum and we’re learning as we go. He’s very high maintenance—there’s everything from keeping the meds straight, arranging various therapies and appointments, and entertaining him. (Because everyone knows it’s a mother’s job to entertain her bored children.) (Just kidding!)

He struggled with virtual school last year. I honestly felt like he wasn’t learning anything. So, after the holiday break, we prayerfully decided to send him back to in-person school.

He has some sensory issues, so I worried he wouldn’t wear his mask. He was getting a new teacher and he doesn’t handle change very well. He has asthma, so he’s vulnerable to illness. I was scared to death. But I knew it was the right decision for him.

Unfortunately, since coronavirus arrived on scene, he’d learned almost nothing. I spoke with his wonderful teacher and asked what she thought of potentially having him repeat the first grade. She agreed that it was the best option. The main issue was that he couldn’t read.

This awesome teacher agreed to have him in her class again this school year. (She’s definitely a candidate for sainthood in my book!) Thataway, he didn’t have to acclimate to a new teacher and classroom. He comes home daily and shares something he learned. He’ll say, “I know what’s 10 plus 10….20! He can now also read enough to make calls from my phone’s contact list! (Often to their dismay!)

Wherever you are in your motherhood journey, just know that it’s worth it. You will survive, but you might need a little help along the way. And when you have the opportunity to see the good people that your children have grown into, take a minute to pat yourself on the back, because YOU did THAT.

Big love to you.