Friday, August 06, 2010


I've learned a lot about "Marcus" over the last month or so since I've been home.  He has absolutely no words, nor seemingly any desire to start using any.  His only vocalizations come when he is "stimming" (self-stimulating, which in his case usually involves jumping up and down with his arms raised in mild cases, or loudly shouting "eh!" when he's really cranked up.)  He is usually a sweet kid, very affectionate toward both The Wife and me (especially me...his father was his primary caregiver at home), he loves to feel whiskers and has no compunction about feeling the face of any man he happens to meet, he loves spaghetti as I do, he's very gentle with Panda and she loves him.

Nights are not as good as days though, and sometimes they are downright bad...sometimes he seems evil at night to a tired parent who is ready to get some sleep.  As I type this, he is peacefully out, but last night we were not so lucky.  My first clue that something might not be right was that after listening to the shouted "eh!" for a couple of hours, things were suddenly VERY quiet.  TOO quiet.  Uh oh.  Walking back to his room, I hit a wall of what can only be described as shit-stink.  Crud.  I jumped over the safety gate that keeps him in his room, and sure enough, he had his hand down the back of his drawers.  He looked quickly around guiltily, and equally quickly he pulled his hand out and put it in his mouth.

Nearly retching, I grabbed his hands and kept them both away from his face and his drawers.  A look around assured me that there didn't seem to be any "stuff" around on the floor, the dresser, his bed, etc.  I carried him into the bathroom.  He's between 50 and 60 pounds and this is not a trivial thing, but I was...exercised.  Very motivated to try my best to make this a teachable moment if I at all could.  Plus I was revolted.

Much, much, MUCH scrubbing later plus a pull-up change, he was fit to try bed again.  After an hour or two more of "eh!" he finally fell asleep.  The Wife has been very grateful to have me home (she dealt with this stuff alone for a month or two before I lost my over-the-road job) and I don't blame her in the least.  I even took care of the kids this morning while she slept in a bit.  No, I'm not the Best Husband Ever...quite the opposite sometimes.  But I do have my points at times.

Anyway...the episode I describe was one of the milder ones.  Except for the eating part...that was a first.  But the cleanup wasn't as bad as several of the others.  But it had gotten better...and that's what's bothering me, and what has me thinking, and what has me drawing parallels with other kids we've had.

Foster kids generally come to our house, especially in the current climate of the social work pros, with the idea of eventual reunification with their biological family.  The prevailing wisdom seems to be that it is best in almost all circumstances for the child to live with their biological parents.  While I can see the impulse in that direction, I disagree...but the other thing is that budgets are under even more than the chronic strain they are used to and let's face it, we are expensive.  It's not just the foster care "reimbursement"...there are all the appointments.  My Lord.  "Marcus" has appointments several days a week, and some of them are over a hundred miles away.  Mileage adds up, too.  And there are many people involved in his care.  Us, his guardian ad litem, the PATH worker, several people from his county, his geneticist, his regular doctor, his dentist, and so on.

All that, I guess, to say this:  he has recently begun the "final stretch" of home visits that, if they go well, will pave the way for this reunification.  Now let me be clear:  his parents clearly love him.  They have not abused him, and I'm pretty sure they would do anything they could for this little guy.  That's not a problem.  What IS a problem is that I really don't know if they are ever going to have what it takes to give this child the care he needs.  From what I've seen and heard, it's questionable whether they are the sharpest tools in the shed to begin with, and even a seasoned parent might have trouble with the issues we're faced with daily.

And we were making real headway with "Marcus" before these visits started.  He had settled in very gradually but pretty nicely.  He was learning new skills (eating by himself with a fork was a big one), going to sleep VERY nicely at the appropriate time, his "stimming" was gradually disappearing, and it was getting easy to love this little guy.  Immediately after the home visits started, all the progress we had seen reversed itself.  Not completely, but very noticeably so.

This isn't just "Marcus", either, and it's been a problem with nearly all the placements we've had where reunification was a realistic possibility.  Long-time readers will recall the issues we had with "Josie" (still one of my favorite foster kids of all time)...those got a LOT worse when the county started to push constant home visits.  Same with "Tammy".  And the rest.

When I was a kid and it was my folks doing the foster parenting, it was much more usual that there would be a visit every month or two, for a day or two.  Now for "Marcus" we (or a PCA) are expected to drive this child an hour one way, wait for 2+ hours and then drive home.  As a reward, we get to be kept up for an hour or two while a child yells "eh!" and watch him eat his own poop.

I've been contacted by people who are considering the possibility of being foster parents, asking me what it takes.  What it takes, is to read this post and still want to do it.  If you think you can handle this stuff, knock yourselves out.  We are.  But then...some people think we're crazy, and they're probably right.  People will think you're crazy too.  Be ready for that.


At 1:50 AM , Blogger Nancy said...

I loved your post. I am a foster parent too. I can relate with you.

This is Nancy from Israeli Uncensored News

At 11:36 AM , Blogger redgirl said...

I do not think you are crazy. You and your wife have more patients then most of the world. I happened to fall across your blog and I am very glad I did. I want to foster children once mine are older and I am wiser. God bLess

At 10:33 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

I made it to paragraph 2 and was blown away by familiarity. I hope I don't sound like a nut. My daughter was non-verbal at the age of 3, she stymed constantly. Nights were insane. She would either stand in front of the pantry at 3 am screaming uncontrollably or we'd find her digging into her diaper contents. In fact, we had to race to change her every time she'd had a bowel movement or she would eat/decorate her room. She is 8 now. She is also verbal now. Tantrums are gone stymming happens but mild. She is for all purposes "normal". In our case we found out that our daughter was allergic to food dye. Once eliminated she found words, self contol and normalcy. We believe that the night time antics may have been related to "withdrawl" type symptoms. He body reacted to dyes as though they were a drug and if we weren't putting them in she would simply "recycle". We are in the process of becoming foster parents. I always say if I made it through her "stuff" I can deal with just about anything. I do wonder however if I could have held out hope if I'd been facing the obstacles presented to foster families.

At 1:55 AM , Blogger said...

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