House mess level: Spring cleaning has left two rooms absolutely glorious. Oh, the rest of the house? Don’t ask.

Emotional response to mess: Super proud of the clean parts, completely ignoring the rest.

We had court today for our foster cutie BB. Unfortunately, I couldn’t go because my other son had a field trip I chaperoned. But I totally picked the long straw because court is no fun! My sweet husband waited there all day before he was called in. Well, the verdict is in, and it’s good news for us! We have officially started the adoption process! I’m overjoyed beyond words! To think that our sweet boy will soon find his forever home with us just makes my heart sing. He’s super awesome and we are lucky for the chance to be in his life. But I thought I’d take this chance to explain my experience with court for people who are prospective foster parents, or people who are just interested in the process in general.

Let’s start from the beginning…

In Los Angeles County, where we are located, they are so bogged down by child welfare cases in the courts that it takes on average 3-6 months to receive a court date. Sometimes they’ll push for less, but not often. Typically there’ll be court at least every six months regardless of what’s going on. Like progress reports. Foster parents are not required to go to court, but if you’re foster-to-adopt, meaning you want to potentially adopt the child, I highly suggest you go to court to find out what’s really going on. Social workers all have their own…quirks. Some are very forthcoming with the 411 and others are as tight-lipped as a clam. Either way, it takes weeks to get the judges orders from the County because social workers don’t actually attend court, and the waiting is torture!

The judge has ALL the power and no one thinks it’s important for foster parents to be in the loop because well, we’re at the bottom of the totem pole. We have little say and very few rights when it comes to the child we are caring for. It’s a really interesting struggle to figure out how to make the child feel loved and welcome, while the whole system is constantly reminding you they aren’t really yours. I think, for me, that’s probably one of the hardest things about caring for a foster child. I want to love them wholeheartedly because they deserve that, but there are a bunch of rules and regulations that don’t always make that easy.

I save a piece of my heart for my peace of mind,

and that’s not really fair for anyone.

As court approaches, I can feel myself pulling away from him just a little for fear that I may lose him forever. That’s another reason why it was an interesting choice for me to decide to foster. My past life experience has taught me to guard my heart and push potential pains away. Why would I consciously choose to invite pain into my life? I think I’m finally maturing and understanding that pain will not kill me. I don’t think it makes me stronger either, but the joy I gain from caring for my children does. The joy outweighs the pain ten fold and creates a powerful force field around my heart that can handle a ding here and there. It is a relief to have been able to let my guard down long enough to love harder than I’ve ever loved in my entire life. To love your children is an inexplicable love that makes me want to throw up…in a good way. What a blessing to know that I have the capacity to love, essentially, a stranger so deeply. He was a super cute and chubby stranger, but I didn’t know him. What his favorite smell was, what he liked to listen to, how he liked to be rocked…

we learned together how to soothe one another.

On the day of judgment, you are required to check in at 8:30am, but they call you when they call you. Take a seat and shut up. And it’s soooo depressing in there! It’s old and dark and musty and crowded. Everyone is sad. The kids are sad, the parents are sad, foster parents are sad. Kids scream for their birth moms as foster parents drag them out, family members are crying. No one “wins” there. There is always something they have or will lose. These poor parents are missing out on precious moments they will never get back. And while it’s easy to be angry with them for not trying harder, some of the situations they’ve been put in are heartbreaking. I don’t know what I’d be like in their shoes. It’s not like they show up and say “ok. I’m here!! Give me my baby back. Thanks!” there is a lot of work involved. It’s easier to go to parenting classes, therapy, find a job, get your own place to live, visit with your child a couple times a week, and whatever else the judge requires of you (those are very common) if you have a car, a sense of self worth, and a support group. But, try doing all those things on a bus where it takes you 2 hours to get where you need to go, and nobody cares. Can it be done? Sure. Is it easy? Nope. I say all this as a reminder to myself because, like I said, it’s sooo easy to be mad at them for choosing to be away from this little one that YOU know is SO cool.

In the courtroom, it’s tiny. Before my first experience there, I imagined it to be like on TV where there are a bunch of benches and it’s neat and simple. But, it’s a tiny little mess and there is a bunch of people crammed in there. There are like 4 seats for the family and there are about 8 different attorneys and such because each person involved has their own representative. I had no idea there’d be so many people there. It moves so quickly, you have to listen hard for what they are even talking about. They rush through all the necessities and schedule another court date, and you’re out in 5. It kinda makes my head spin. We always end up needing BB’s attorney to clarify a thing or two. Which, she always does, but also is a bit annoyed about it. They are BUSY!

Sometimes we leave court fuming angry, and sometimes, like today, we leave feeling relieved. I guess I could say we felt happy, but there is also a mourning for BB. He doesn’t get his birth parents and they don’t get him. He has to settle for us. He has to settle for being different from my other babies. He has to hear about how I didn’t carry him in my tummy like the other two. He doesn’t have my toes, or daddy’s eyes. How will this affect him when he’s older? How will I speak to him about it in a way that makes him feel empowered and not just “different?” Can I? Well, I’m sure gonna try! He is special and he is mine…almost.

Have fun tomorrow!