"The world will not be destroyed by those doing evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything." -Albert Einstein

Today I'm getting ready to do something that scares me. As you know, we are foster parents. The biomom of our foster daughter is severely bipolar, 5'11", and pushing 300 lbs. The biodad is mentally delayed and unstable on a few levels. They are not married, but still together. Dad recently just got out of jail. Our foster daughter has never spent a day with her parents. She was removed at the time of birth and placed in kinship care for 3 months. (bioparents were neglecting to feed/care for baby at the hospital and it was later discovered that their home was unsafe for a return placement) After that time, she was placed with us. Before being placed with us, her parents did not visit her often. Since placement, they have been given weekly visitations. Last month they were both almost finished from a drug rehab class but were kicked out due to lack of attendance (and other things) and have to start over. The program is 6 months long, and they have not restarted yet. Foster daughter's case ends in December. You do the math.

Biomom has a sob story a mile long. I've heard it all and more. It is sad, I will not argue with sorrow. She is young, and she lets her problems define her. No matter how much I listened, befriended or advised her... it seemed to get no where productive. After a few meetings with the parents, I decided it wasn't "worth it" to attend visitations personally because it would cost me $30/week in babysitter fees and more $$ in gas (because she's from a different county). So I have been packing up the kids (yes ALL of them), hauling them to visitation, dropping baby off, and sitting in the parking lot, in the van, entertaining the kids for an hour.

Now I'll be honest... I claim that I bring the kids to save money. But in reality, the bio parents scare me. Entertaining the kids by myself for an hour, keeps me focused and discourages me from anxiety. But it's really not fair to my kids. I can't tell if my uneasiness is how unpredictable they are with moods (biomom cries often), or how surprisingly angry I get when they admit things I really don't want to know. (i.e. "I've been smoking marijuana to help curb the morning sickness of my new pregnancy.") --yes, you read that right, she is due in November with baby #2.

My husband isn't able to attend visitations with me due to the time of day they fall and his work schedule. I really don't need him there, I just want him there. He wants to be there too.

I am a self-proclaimed "firecracker". My husband is not. He is a good balance for me when I lose my cool. I thought my distance (by sitting in the car in the parking lot) would be looked at as respectful. I was allowing the bioparents time with their daughter without me looking over their shoulder. I thought they would appreciate it. However, in the past couple of visitations, she has been accusing me of several things. Here are a few of them:
     1.) I never let her feed the baby.- (last time I provided food, she dumped it out, in favor of a bottle of High-C)
     2.) I don't provide enough diapers. (I change baby before visitation, and I give her one diaper and full set of wipes for the hour.)
     3.) Biomom said baby came dirty. When the social worker prompted more detail, she said that baby had fuzz between her toes and a dog hair stuck to her diaper. (she is becoming very mobile, we have dogs. I do my best, but when a baby is this mobile, it's unfair to keep her from learning to move around.) I can't keep her perfect.

{author's note: these visits ARE supervised by the social worker from a 2-way mirror at the DHS facility.}

Complaint # 3 came after the last visitation. It became very clear that biomom thinks I am not doing a good enough job at caring for her wee one. I tried very hard not to cry as the social worker told me of mom's complaints. I do try very hard, but I am far from perfect. Second reaction was anger. As I drove the 45 minutes home, I began pounding out the reasons I am a good mother and how she was not. How her house wasn't even fit for a baby, and yet she is complaining about my house (which she has never seen). We took a week long family vacation to Disney the next day. Even in the madness and excitement of that week, biomom's accusations continued to sting. I wanted to show her how it was.. how she should appreciate me more. I wanted to say things like "When you start paying for diapers, you can decide how many to supply during your visitation." I was instantly drawn to be combative. It's my nature.

Up until last night I have been asking my husband "How should I deal with this? What should I say?" After contacting several social workers in our county (who fully support us) and our current social worker, the answer was "Start attending visitations". Ugh.. really? Because mean words that put her in her place are so much easier. Really? Then came the "I want to save money." excuse.... yea, it's just an excuse.

So today, I am going. I have hired a sitter (bleh) and am going to drive all by myself to visitation. I am going to sit in a little room with two people who are out to get me, and I am going to break down the walls of insecurity they have about me. How? With kindness. It's a HUGE pill (for me) to swallow. I'm afraid my silence will be mistaken for ignorance; my kindess, with weakness, my calmness mistaken for acceptance. Let's just say, it's not how I usually fight. 

I want to scream at her:

But then it hit me.. I should be saying that to myself. Stop complaining and just go there! Do it! Because, even if she choses not to accept my olive branch of peace, at least I did the right thing. The ball will be in her court instead of mine. And if she choses to still complain, it's only going to make her look bad. If I make every effort to help her bond and learn about her daughter -in a kind manner- she will either succeed faster, or fail faster. Either way, it gets baby to a more permanent solution, faster. It's a win-win. It may hurt... but if I didn't want to hurt, I wouldn't have become a foster parent in the first place. 

As if I hadn't convinced myself enough already, this verse smacked me in the face this morning. 1 Peter 3:3-4

Be a gentle and quiet spirit.... it's worth very much to God. 

Not a loud, mean, firecracker, let-me-show-you spirit...

God's not asking me not to be myself. He gave me that firecracker spirit for certain, specific situations. He's just asking me to be kinder. This biomom feels she has been treated unfairly by the system. That her child was taken before she even had a chance to be a real mom. She must feel that by holding me under the magnifying glass, and picking out my imperfections that the social worker will "see the light" and give her her daughter back. Sadly, she needs to learn that I am not the enemy. That no mother is perfect.  I've said it before; there's no way to be a perfect mother, but a million ways to be a good one. It's not an entitlement, it's earned. I can teach her more about being a good mother by example than by a huffy puffy attitude. 

I'm sure I will have to remind myself of this every minute of the quiet, long drive today. And I will probably have to bite my tongue several times during the visit. But I am going, and will work very hard at doing my best. Pray for me if you think of it.