Grieving the Loss of "Normal"

When we decided to foster, we were well aware of the fact that children in foster care have issues. Sometimes those are really big issues. They have behavior problems, emotional trauma and are just plain more difficult to parent than "normal" kids. We were ready for that. As ready as you can be.

What I wasn't ready for, was the duration and the frequency of the acting out. The intensity of acting out is far less of a problem. In fact, I'd prefer very intense acting out if the duration and frequency were a lot less. That would be easier, I think. Of course, no one asked me my preference. So, the reality is, the traumatized child sometimes has intense reactions (big, big behaviors), but mostly they have constant, less intense, but all the time behaviors. There is rarely a break from them. It's these seemingly "small" things that pick at you and your family like water torture. It's also these "small" things that make it nearly impossible for other people to understand. "All kids do that" is often the sentiment. To outsiders, the behavior seems like minor inconveniences. To the family, it is a constant reminder that the child is wounded and cannot function "normally" within a family.

I think most people think of their home as a safe place. A place to be themselves, let their guard down, come home and kick their feet up and relax. However, foster parents (and adoptive parents) have made the choice to bring a hurting child into their home (or several hurting children), which inherently makes their home no longer that same comfy place. It's now the place that houses the wounded animal that is always looking to strike. And often that strike is very small, very subtle. But it's there.

When I decided to leave my job and stay at home with the children, I tried to keep a realistic picture of what that would be like. But, I have to admit, I sometimes dreamed of walks to the park, arts and crafts at the table, sitting down to lunch together and other things that were so enjoyable with my bio kids when they were young and not yet in school. And eventhough, I know that is not what I have with these kids I have chosen to love, I still set myself up for disappointment. Because I want it to be normal.

Denial is a normal part of the grieving process and I certainly find myself back there from time to time. But when I am able to recognize that it is my own expectation that leads to frustration, it's easier to move forward faster. So, when I walk the kids to the park and they sit at the bench the whole time and don't play (while I'm thinking "what did I take them to the park for?") or when I have a fun activity planned and we can only get through the first 2 minutes of it before I have to call an end to it, I have to remember the importance of what they learn by my leading the activity, keeping good boundaries with them, teaching them appropriate social interaction, is all more valuable at this stage in their lives than whatever the actual activity was going to do for them.

I still find myself grieving the loss of "normal". And I would imagine that is true for many foster parents. But, it's easier to recognize now and I guess that's a good step.

So, when Jenny* (age 5) literally walks out of her shoe on our family walk to rent a movie and leaves her shoe in the middle of the street. Yes, the middle of a very busy intersection. Just walked right out of it and left it there and said nothing and no one noticed for quite sometime that she was walking around with one shoe on. She wanted to sabotage our fun family time. And for the first few seconds when we all realized she left her shoe in the middle of the street, we began to get angry and look at Jenny like "what the hell is wrong with you?" We almost let her get what she wanted (lots of attention for really stupid behavior and for our fun time to be ruined by this ridiculous act). But, we didnt rush to get her shoe. We rented our movie and went about our business and said if it's still in the street when we walk back home, we'll get it, if not, I guess you have one shoe.

As we got back to the intersection, we saw the shoe. As we waited for the light to change for us to walk, the shoe was run over no less than 5 or 6 times. Each time, it was harder for me to hold back the laughter. We watched as, almost in slow motion, car after car ran over her shoe. When we got to the shoe, it was still intact enough to be worn although it now looks like, well, it's been run over a few times. We grabbed the shoe and went on our way back home. And Jenny now wears one really dirty shoe to school everyday.

I was frustrated on the walk back home. I knew in my mind, this would be one of those things we would laugh about and soon. But the pure disbelief at such a strange thing to do. One that we knew was intentional, but still made no sense. And there I am again, trying to fit a disturbed child's crazy behavior into "normal". It doesn't make sense and trying to make sense out of craziness, will just make you more crazy. So, let go of "normal". It doesn't live here.