Blame it on The Bloggess

I've been reading a great new book by Jenny Lawson, also known as "The Bloggess," called Let's Pretend it Never Happened.


Don't we all have moments like that in our lives? It seems that poor Jenny has had more than her share, at least according to her own account. I have been getting some much-needed laughter (and a few deep philosophical insights as well) from this book since purchasing it for my Kindle last week. Her hilarious tales are admittedly only semi-true, but it's fun just to try and figure out which random situations are true and which ones she made up.

This morning before church I will admit to some procrastinating ... I am emotionally spent after the events of the past few weeks. Doing anything seems like way too much effort. But I decided to finish just one more chapter loaded with her crazy funny stories about working in Human Resources, and some of the unbelievable incidents she related were still rushing around in my head when I decided it was really time start getting ready.

While reading, I had realized in my OCD-ness that I needed to touch up one tiny spot on my toenail before someone at church caught me with an ugly smudge. Although I seriously can't imagine who might possibly be examining my toes. Or why.

But of course by this time I was in sort of a rush and thinking about a million other things (including, perhaps, why someone would email a photo of their genital area to a co-worker, and think they could somehow get away with it). I'm not quite sure how it all happened but suddenly I realized that a nearly-full bottle of bright-ass pink nail polish was all over the bathroom floor.

And the bath mat.

And the cupboard doors.

And myself.

I just stood there looking in horror for several awful seconds before finally deciding what to do. Umm, trying to wash my hands with soap and cold water was definitely not the appropriate thing, but it helped me to gain a little bit of time to think that possibly I could grab an old washcloth out of the closet, drench it in nail polish remover (of which for once I had [emphasis on had] an ample supply), and start rubbing away at the multitude of pink spots on the floor.

I swear, though, that those pink splashes kept multiplying like rabbits. I would go completely over a small area, move on to the next area, and look back to find a half-dozen more splatters of polish. They were all over everything, and I expect to find minuscule pink dots all over my bathroom for months to come. I certainly found enough smudges on my hands and feet during the times I was supposed to be praying.

After all that, I still did get that nail repaired. Suffice it to say that how I managed to get dressed or put on a pair of sandals as I was getting ready to head out the door for church, without messing up that one tiny toenail that caused it all, was a tricky proposition, best left to a not-too-fertile imagination. But please, still don't look too closely at my toes.

And for the record--it's all Jenny's fault if I went to church smelling more of nail-polish-remover than of Chanel No 19 perfume.

Epilogue

Today was the day.

Unbeknownst to her, Savannah started a new life this morning. But like most everything else related to this saga, nothing went exactly as it was planned.

David and I drove down to Ohio Tuesday night to spend time with Alyssa, Noah, and Savannah. When we arrived, her aunt, uncle, and cousin; grandfather; and great-grandparents were also there, along with two of Alyssa and Noah's long-time friends. It had the air of a party except everyone there appeared to be in desperate need of a super-size bottle of Murine. Ourselves included.

Savannah seemed delighted to have a lot of people exclaiming over her, taking her photo, telling her how sweet she was, and generally catering to her every need. She was full of smiles and definitely knew that she was surrounded by people who love her.

As everyone else left, we settled in to spend the night. We tucked Savannah in late, and went outside to chat. I had really wanted to snuggle with her all night even though I knew that was probably counter to Children's Services recommendations. Honestly, I absolutely didn't (and don't) care one whit what they thought. But I let Alyssa put her in her own crib as usual. While the four of us were outdoors by the fire, a few bottles of beer and wine were consumed. A few walks were taken to the lake. And some of us were up way past our own bedtimes.

Fortunately I was the first one in bed at 1:30 a.m., and consequently I was also the first one awake at 5:45 when I heard Savannah crying in the next room. I walked in the room and immediately knew why she was awake so early. After the quickest diaper change possible under the circumstances, I took her in bed with me to snuggle for a while. She calmed down immediately although it was obvious that she wondered, as she sleepily looked around the room, what in the world she was doing in a big bed with Mimi.

Was going back to sleep a possibility? Not so much. After a half hour or so, we went and hung out on the couch with her soft blankie wrapped around both of us and she settled down again for another 15 or 20 minutes before making it evident that she was awake for the morning. We sat together quietly, tucked into the soft blankie I'd bought for her birthday, and read "I am a Bunny," which was also Chase's favorite board book when he was a toddler. She would clap every time I counted the birds, the butterflies, the flowers, frogs, and leaves on each page. We played Pat-A-Cake. We sang Eensy Weensy Spider. And finally, when it was clear she was done sitting quietly, we went to the kitchen and shared some Kix for breakfast.

Each moment we spent together this morning seemed so bittersweet. Of course we have done all these things dozens of times in the past. But I knew today would be the last time I'd probably get the chance to do any of this. Savannah, however, did not know. So she was perfectly happy to play these same games over and over and over again. And listen to the book a half dozen or more times. It's a good thing I memorized all the words to "I am a Bunny" eight years ago. Because most of the time, I could barely see the words on the page, or the face of the precious little girl in front of me, through my tears.

When she wanted to go outside, we got photos of ourselves in the long morning shadows. It was lovely. Call me selfish if you will. But I am so grateful for that hour or so that I had with her before anyone else was up this morning. It was totally ours, and a beautiful memory that I can savor forever of this sweet baby who has brought so much joy into our lives for the past year.

All too soon (even though it was now three diaper changes later), Alyssa's phone rang. It was the social worker announcing that she was on her way out to transport Savannah to her final visit with her biological mom. The appointment was at 10 a.m. in downtown Toledo (about 15-20 minutes away), and it was about 9:50 when the social worker arrived.

Without a car seat. I cannot imagine why a woman with a Master's Degree who works at a Children's Services office, would come to pick up an 18-month-old toddler to a visitation appointment without making sure in advance that there was a car seat available in which to put that child. While yes, Alyssa and Noah actually have two car seats, they were never provided with one by the agency--one was borrowed and the other was purchased by them (and had been left in the car that was at the shop for repairs today).

This necessitated the social worker to make a trip to the nearest Wal-Mart. Talk about adding insult to injury. Those of you who know me well will realize how much I hate that store, for various reasons ... and now I have a new reason to hate it: YOU ARE COMING TO TAKE AWAY OUR GRANDCHILD AND YOU AREN'T EVEN PROPERLY EQUIPPED? I think that's reason to call the whole deal null and void. Not to mention by this time it's nearly 11 a.m. and her visitation time with her mother is nearly expired. Another one of many epic fails for LCCS. You call this acting in the best interests of a child? Any child, not just our granddaughter. You all suck.

The silver lining is that we did get that extra hour with Savannah. Of course we cried just as much the second time as we did the first time, so that may have tarnished that silver lining just a bit. But in this situation, an hour is an hour. We took what we were given and called it a mini-miracle, possibly orchestrated by our personal angel, Alma.

After the social worker had struggled with the car seat for another 10 minutes (sorry, none of us offered to help her at all), the most difficult moment had arrived. She was buckled in. While still fiddling with the straps around Savannah's shoulder, the social worker mumbled, "Thanks" and "You've done a good job" to Noah and Alyssa. What an insult. She didn't even look at them while saying any of this. She had her BACK to them while we were all standing behind her and she was looking into the vehicle. She turned on her heel and still without looking them in the eye, offered that they could kiss Savannah goodbye as she got into the car and prepared to pull out of the driveway. I walked up to the car and waved in the window at Savannah and blew her a kiss. As I walked away, the social worker rolled down the window and called out, "She can see you now."

IDIOT. BITCH. Savannah could see me before. She had already smiled and blown me a kiss back. But I went back anyway and blew her one more.

Amid all my sadness I am simply furious at the way my children have been treated through all of this. Those who have suggested I report this stupid woman to her supervisor, don't realize (nor did I, until I mentioned it to Alyssa) that this woman's supervisor is the person who scheduled the recent hearing without allowing Alyssa and Noah any time to arrange for representation of their own (and, consequently, Savannah's) interest in this fiasco. Who insisted that POLICY rather than love, common sense and compassion will dictate the course of Savannah's future. So, what good will it do to report anyone? They. Don't. Care. Their policy is being followed. I hope they are happy. And I hope and pray that this sweet baby will not be unhappy even as it begins to dawn on her that this time, she won't be coming back to the only home she knows or the people she believes to be her mommy and daddy.

I will reiterate that Alyssa assures me this new family is very kind. I am sure they do care about Savannah, even though they have already established a bond with her baby brother. I pray that their hearts will expand to include Savannah in that circle. And they are open to Alyssa and Noah keeping in touch as well, which provides a measure of comfort, even if it doesn't really make us feel "better."

The four of us spent another quiet hour in contemplation after Savannah's departure. As one of my good friends has pointed out, there is now a Savannah-shaped hole in all of our hearts. Eventually, we will have to try and figure out a way to fill that hole up, but for the time being it remains. And it hurts. A lot.

I can't say enough about the wonderful outpouring of support we have received from family and friends in the past few days. Perhaps you all can imagine how many times I have already gone back and read and re-read the beautiful messages sent to me on Facebook, via email, text, and private messages. I will share them with Alyssa and Noah as appropriate. But right now--I need to say thank you, thank you, from the bottom of all of our hearts, for reaching out with the love, compassion, and common sense that LCCS seems to lack. For assuring us that it is OK to be sad. For giving us a shoulder to cry on. And for reminding us that, eventually, we'll find a new normal in our lives.

And most especially, for helping us start to fill up the huge hole that this tiny little girl has left in our hearts.

 Mimi and Savannah--July 11, 2012

So here is the scoop ...

I have avoided for some time writing about what is going on in our family life these days. It's been too emotional, too complicated, and quite honestly, I am feeling uncharacteristically speechless about what has been happening to us over the past several weeks. This blog post will be my feeble attempt to keep our family and friends up to date and informed.

On my birthday last year (August 24, 2011), David and I became grandparents for the third time. Our daughter Alyssa and her husband Noah had been encouraged for several months to consider foster parenting with the supposed end result of adoption, through Lucas County Children's Services (http://www.co.lucas.oh.us/index.aspx?nid=131). Just days after they completed an extensive training program, a precious 8-month-old girl, Savannah, was placed in their home.

Of course, we were all thrilled. At the time Alyssa and Noah took her in, Savannah was the equivalent of an over-sized newborn baby. Born two months prematurely, Savannah had been born with the effects of drug use as well as having obvious symptoms of neglect during her lifetime. But her beautiful eyes and her winning personality soon captured all of our hearts. Her appearance at Ian & Shelby's wedding took many of our friends and family members by surprise since we hadn't shared the news widely (abiding by LCCS foster-care rules).

By the holidays it seemed evident that Savannah would not be returning to her birth family. As expected, her birth mother was making little to no progress on the reunification plan. Alyssa and Noah had been told early on that they had been chosen as Savannah's foster parents because this was the probable outcome. The birth mother was given by the court six months from placement (2/24/12) to straighten up and fly right. 


That didn't happen. Nor did the expected parental termination. Some people obviously understand how to play the system. My kids apparently have never learned these skills. What they had learned over those six months was how to become parents to Savannah. She had been blossoming under their care. She was going to regular play groups with other foster children. She learned how to walk; she learned how to trust; she learned some basic sign language. She is thriving physically, emotionally and developmentally. She has a wide network of grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends who love her dearly. (Look at this face ... Can you blame us?)

But evidently none of that matters to Lucas County Children's Services. What apparently is important is that she is placed in a home that wants to take her and a brother that she doesn't even realize she has. Yes, after losing Savannah, her birth mother conceived another child. Alyssa and Noah were offered the "opportunity" to foster this unknown new baby, but realized that this could quickly become more responsibility than they could handle. They respectfully declined. 

Finally, on June 19, a hearing was set to finally terminate parental rights, four months after the original deadline. By this time, the new baby had been born and taken in to LCCS custody, but placed with another foster family. Alyssa and Noah continued to believe that their bond with Savannah and the fact that she didn't know this baby (nor any of the nine *additional* siblings and half-siblings that her birth parents had assembled over the past few years), might carry some weight with the court. However, on June 18, a special hearing was set without benefit of the presence of social workers who had known of the situation with Savannah over the past 10 months. In that brief hearing, Alyssa and Noah were effectively stripped of all of  their rights as foster parents and potential adoptive parents. 

On Wednesday, July 11, Savannah leave Alyssa and Noah's home. She will have her final visit with her birth mother. And then she will be placed in the foster home that is currently hosting her "brother." 

This is so wrong on so many levels. Over the past three weeks, an 18-month-old baby has been tossed back and forth between two homes. She visits a house where there are other children and adults who are strangers to her. She has NO idea what is going on. Of course she seems OK for the moment, since after these visits she is returned to the home she *knows*. But when she returns, she is suddenly attached to a pacifier she hasn't needed for months. She cries uncharacteristically. She's clingy and doesn't want to deal with anyone but her mom and dad. Have you ever dealt with an 18-month-old? What child at that age wouldn't react this way? 

However, at this point, barring some kind of a miracle, Alyssa and Noah are only going to be her "Mom and Dad" for two more days. What is going to happen to her when she's no longer returned to the place where she learned about love and trust? 

LCCS says they are looking out for the best interests of the child when they place "siblings" together. They are ignoring the obvious here. Yes ... some day, Savannah will want to know about her birth family. No one with any sense would deny her that information. But that does not mean she needs to be placed with them NOW. They have forgotten that the best interests of a child include being raised by people who love her. People who have grown with her. A couple who deeply want to have a child. Even if it's only ONE child. 

I am sure that Savannah's new family are good people. I have no doubt that they mean very well. Certainly, not many people who take on the responsibilities of foster care are bad (although we do tend to hear about the bad ones more often than the good). They'll learn to love Savannah--she's easy to love. But they don't *know* her. They don't understand what she's been through. They will love her infant brother, but I doubt they can possibly bond with Savannah the way that they can bond with him, and I'm sure they won't bond with her like Alyssa and Noah have done. 

Our entire family is grieving right now. This is a different kind of grief than any of us understand how to deal with. When someone is sick, or depressed, or even dying, people tend to know what to expect and how to act. But this is uncharted territory. How do you comfort someone who is going through this kind of sadness? I haven't figured it out yet so I certainly don't expect anyone else to do it. 

I haven't given up hoping and praying for that MIRACLE, and I won't until I see her leave on Wednesday. But at this point, I'm resigned. It will probably happen, and my heart will definitely break at that moment. Prayers have not produced the result we hoped for. I keep remembering Father Tim, of the Mitford books, praying the prayer that never fails, "Thy Will Be Done," and try to take heart. Not that it's easy. This week, I'd like *my* will to be done. And I don't want to settle for anything else. 

I would like to thank each and every person who has reached out to us in the past month. Family, friends, church family, co-workers, Facebook friends ... many people have supported us in many different ways. And we have appreciated each one of you and the sincerity with which you have offered your thoughts. It's been very difficult to respond to all of the messages, emails, texts, phone calls, letters, and more. Like I said, it's been emotionally charged and extremely complex. I would like to respond to everyone individually but I will probably forget some of you ... please know that I love you all and even if I forget to say thanks at this time, I will NOT forget your kindness to our family. 

David and I are going to Toledo tomorrow (Tuesday) night to spend time with Alyssa, Noah, and Savannah. I am taking a child-sized prayer shawl that I've been knitting for the past couple of weeks, and I hope her new family will respect that and share its story with her. Your thoughts, prayers, and personal messages to us and to them will be appreciated and remembered always. If you would like to contact Alyssa or Noah, please message me through the comments or via email, and I'll send you their email addresses.

Thank you.

Marsha & David,

Alyssa & Noah

Arianne, Chase, & Peyton

Ian & Shelby

Stuart

and Savannah

Whatever happened to common decency?

Sometimes, I just don't understand how things work.

I was taught that if you were honest, aboveboard, and friendly, people would respect you. They would try to accommodate your requests or your needs. You could count on things getting done if you were polite.

Nowadays, it seems like unless you're an asshole, you can't get things to go your way. If you figure out how to work the system, you can get ahead. If you behave in a way that I would consider normal and decent, people think you're a wimp. You get no respect. People walk all over you. And no one bats an eye.

Shoot, who was it that said, "Nice Guys Finish Last"? They were right. They not only finish last, they get trampled by the crowd of Bad Guys who barged across the finish line not caring what happens to the people they left in their wake.

Yes, it's true. I'm feeling a bit cynical tonight. Or this week. Or maybe it's this year.

Where have we gone wrong?

My mother taught me these things when I was growing up: Be nice. Be considerate. Be cooperative. Play fair. Try to get along. Give other people the benefit of the doubt. I taught my daughter these things and my son-in-law's mother obviously taught him the same.

Here's where has it gotten them. They have played by all the rules for more than 10 months; demonstrated themselves to be excellent parents; done everything that has been asked of them. But in a little more than a week, their foster daughter will be yanked out of their home, in large part because they have been responsible and overall acquiescent, while Children's Services, the biological parents, and a host of other people are playing games and demanding whatever the hell they think they deserve. Whether or not they actually deserve anything.

Here are my son-in-law's words, slightly abridged: 


"I keep coming back to that thing I always say ... it is silly for me to expect anything  from society in general and our government in particular. If you work hard, pay your taxes, take care of your family, and live like a responsible member of society, prepare to be shit upon. Because it will end that way for you every time. The proof is right in front of us, right now: how many breaks has (biological mother) gotten? Too many to count; far more than she deserved and way than she actually took advantage of. How many breaks did we get? The same number we required: NONE.

"And that has been my mistake all along. Someone asked us what we thought of the social worker. We didn't say much, but then he ranted about how he took a morning off to meet with her, and she called at the last minute to cancel. He apparently told her, 'I took time off work ... you will be here.' And ... the social worker showed up. I guess she cancelled or cut short whatever was encroaching on *their* appointment, and showed up, because he demanded it. And I realized ... she canceled on us numerous times, and we stood for it. We stood for everything they dished out, thinking it would win us consideration. The opposite was true. The opposite is almost always true."

So, yes, we are speaking out of our own pain at this point. We are losing a beloved member of our family. For no reason other than "policy." A flawed, pointless policy, I might add. But it's *their* policy and *they* have

It seems totally unfair ... it IS totally unfair ... but there's little we can do about it.