Our Journey Through Foster Care

After Linea left we waited a couple of weeks before we received another foster child.  Jesse* came to live with us when he was three months old and weighed 5 lbs.  He had been premature, and weighed only 2 lbs at birth. 

This baby came with luggage.  He had an apnea monitor, nebulizer and an oxygen tank.  We learned to live within the distance the tubes and cords allowed.  There was a portable oxygen tank for going out into town, but while at home we hooked up to a larger tank. 

We were told that due to Jesse’s health it would probably be best if we kept our outings to a minimum.  What a joke!  Every week we had two to three dr. appointments, therapy, and of course visit’s with the biological parents. 

The visits with Jesse’s parents were a real test of our foster care training.  Jesse’s mother would enter the visitation room, walk over to a corner and sit down on the floor, facing the corner.  She would then hang her head and refused to speak.  I would try to engage her in conversation, but she just sat there silently.  I handed Jesse to her, and she would hold him, and kiss him.  She didn’t speak to him either.  I was puzzled!

For a while visits continued in this manner, and I asked the agency what I could do to help things.  Remember, part of my training was to teach the parent to take care of their own child.  The social workers were as confused as I was, and suggested I just keep doing as I had been. 

Then one day, Jesse’s mom entered the room and sat in the corner as usual, only she faced me.  Over time, she finally sat in a chair and began to talk to me.  We began to get to know each other, and I was able to teach her about how to take care of Jesse.  At the visits, she seemed to do rather well. 

It was several months before Jesse’s dad started coming to visits.  He seemed genuinely interested in Jesse’s care, but made no moves to do what the state asked him to do in order to have his child returned to him.  (Jesse’s parents did not live together, and the state did consider placing Jesse with his father.) 

Again, we were blessed with a family that thanked us profusely for the care of their child and and grandson.  This time however, it just didn’t’ look like the family was willing to step up and take on the responsibility of raising Jesse.  They all wanted him, they spoke often of their desires to have Jesse come live with them, but when asked if they had taken such and such a class, or had they been to their counseling visits, the answer was always no. 

While the visits were strange and awkward, Dr. appointments were a nightmare.  This tiny little boy was subjected to strange and seemingly horrific ways to check on his health.  Jesse was frequently examined for pneumonia and he had to sit on a tiny little bicycle seat with a contraption that trapped him in an upright position.  Jesse would scream, and I could do nothing, but stand behind the window with x-ray technician. 

The worst appointments however were the ones that checked on his eyes.  Being born premature and on oxygen for so long, there was a danger of losing his sight.  The Dr. would wrap Jesse up in a straight jacket, and then clamp his eyelids open!  I tried once to look at Jesse’s eye and nearly fainted.  So at each of these visits, I would keep my eyes averted, while patting Jesse and speaking soothingly to him.  I wanted to cry right along with him.

The day finally came when we were allowed to remove the oxygen.  The apnea monitor was next to go.  Jesse was growing, he was happy, and he was well on the road to being healthy. 

We’ll continue Jesse’s story next week…

*Not his real name.  On my blog he is Boy 2.