I told the girls that I had finally decided to write the story of how our family came to be. I invited each of them to chime in and share anything they wanted to share. Aliera was quick to the task. The following is what she had to say about the early days:
I was only five when I was taken away from my biologicals. I don’t remember how I felt being fostered or what it was like. For me, I mostly remember what happened before I was adopted. The day I was taken away is a day I will never forget.
One day after school, my older sister Ashlyn, my older brother Anakin and I were picked up by two people we had never met. They were in a nice black car. Even just thinking about being in that car sends me back to the pure terror I felt in those moments. We weren’t told where we were going. We had no idea what was happening. Ashlyn held me and we all cried. The whole ride was quiet except for the sound of all of us crying. I was most scared because my older siblings were crying. That’s how I knew something wasn’t right. It felt as if we were being kidnapped. That was one of my first thoughts when we were walking to the car. That is the most scared I have ever been. That is all I remember about that day.
I don’t remember much about the days after being put with the people who are now my Mom and Dad. I do remember one day early on being scared. There was a small hallway by the front door where we lived at the time. I would sit there and pet the dogs. Ashlyn came over and told me it’s going to be okay. She could tell I was scared. She said, “You need to trust them”, talking about our foster parents. I remember Ashlyn comforting me in that moment. I am told that she did that all the time. I also have a memory of being in the kitchen. I wanted something from the cabinet. I don’t remember what it was, but I wanted it. I am told that in those days, Ashlyn was my voice. I would just point at what I wanted. I can see myself, just that one time in the kitchen, pointing up at the cabinets. I can see my little arm and my finger pointing up at whatever I wanted as if I were still there.
One thing I remember well is being so excited about the animals in our foster home. Before, we had one dog. We all had our own name for the dog. I called her Princess because I was little and liked princesses. When I got to Stef and Scott’s, they had three dogs, two cats, AND a rabbit. I was SO EXCITED.
Little did I know, that day in the back seat of that black car, my life was going to change forever. Sometimes I still struggle in life with my past, but I would never be where I am today without the choice my parents made to foster and then adopt me into their family.
It has been a number of years since we were in the system. It sounds by talking to others that there may have been some improvement. I am generally not a fan of CPS, but they do have an impossible task. There were lots of moving parts to the situation. My issue was that their approach, at least at the time, was very us versus them. We were not a team. We were a muzzled agent for them. They didn’t let us be an agent for our children because legally they weren’t “our” children. Of the people involved, we knew the children best, but that did not matter to them.
I spoke before about the duality of roles. That was certainly complicated by fostering older children who could say what happened to them. We felt pulled in more than one direction. We were agents of the state, deputized so-to-speak, to march within strict policy. We were also educated human beings witnessing giant blind spots in the system. We were also people who loved whole-heartedly the children who were pawns and potential victims of the system set up to protect them. We were so desperate to protect them ourselves, but had no power to do so.
My best advice here for anyone wanting to foster is to be a bulldog for that child. Do not be afraid to speak up. Do not be afraid to tell the stories. Keep the truth before the eyes of the people with the power. Do not be bullied by a broken system. That very advice kept us a bit at odds with the people downtown, but I am certain that it saved our children. I won’t be sharing details about lots of things. The story is the girls’ to share. I do want to tell the story, though, of when things shifted for us.
Fostering isn’t as simple as just bringing a child into your home and taking care of them. There is visitation with parents. There are court dates. There are lots of things that in a nutshell amount to an outside agency telling you how to run your home. It is too complicated, nor do I have the energy to type it all.
As time went on, the girls’ visits with parents and siblings started happening out in the community supervised by a social worker from an agency outside of DSS. It was not a good situation. We found out the social worker wasn’t actually supervising. She let the family go on long walks together while she stayed behind and read a book. We drove far enough away and watched it happen with our own eyes. At the end of those visits the social worker had to physically tear our screaming, wailing youngest out of the arms of her biological father and force her into our truck. We found out from the oldest that her parents told them they were kidnapped by the state and we were holding them hostage. They also told them they should behave badly so we would give them back. A couple months later the oldest told us that they were planning to send them back in time for school to start. After hearing that I made a phone call.
I got in touch with the case worker and asked about the validity of what the oldest had said. She confirmed that it was indeed being talked about. I had the presence of mind to start asking questions. I asked what she had heard from the supervising social worker. I asked if she had heard that the parents weren’t providing dinner at visits like they were supposed to. She had no idea. I asked if she knew about how upset the children were getting after the visits. She said no. I told her what the oldest had reported about what the parents were telling them about what was going on. She was floored. And because I chose to be an advocate instead of a doormat, things changed.