Leaving

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Do you know what it’s like to have a social worker tell you that the child you have loved and raised is leaving almost immediately?

Now I share this experience with his mother. She was told this when he was a newborn before he came to me. Now I am being told this while he is a toddler headed back to her.

We knew this day was coming. We knew. We are foster parents, and the goal of foster care is reunification. He was only ever supposed to be here temporarily. But time kept going, and dates kept getting pushed, until next thing you know, reunification seems far away, because it’s always been far away. And then you sit down for what you think is a totally benign meeting with the social worker and you’re told “he’s leaving. Presently.”

I’ve read about these situations. Going from 1 hour visits to reunification, but that happened to other people. In less progressive states. We would certainly be doing half days, full days, overnights, weekends… you know, the normal protocol.

But, no.

The child whose open wounded skin you cleaned and soothed, the child you fed at 3am, the child you rocked for hours on end while staring at his beautiful face, the child you fed his first bite of food to, the child who called you mama first, the child who took his first steps to you, the child you advocated for, the child you loved as much as your own flesh and blood… that child is leaving. In two days.

My heart shattered. My stomach lurched. My voice sprung out of my body involuntarily like an animal wounded. My tears so thick I could not see. My hands shook. My face flushed. My head spun. This is the same feeling I felt when I saw my still baby with no heartbeat on the ultrasound. This is the first part of mourning.

I broke the news to my two oldest children as soon as I walked in the door. Captain held me tightly and said what I have drilled into their heads for months: “We knew this day was coming, mama.”

And so we did. And so he will leave. And so we will weep. And so we will mourn. And so we will worry. And after I deliver this baby who kicks so fiercely in my womb— we will open our home again. We will say yes again. We will love intensely once again… only to say goodbye, yet again. Because this is foster care.

Editing to add:

Hello All,

While I usually try to individually reply to each comment, I currently don’t have the emotional capacity to do so right now. Know that I have read every comment and appreciate each of you, your support, and your prayers.

To those who have walked this road already: I feel what you have felt. There is a comfort in knowing I am not alone.

To those asking why this happens: nothing illegal has happened, it’s more common than we think. I don’t make the decisions, because I’m just a foster parent. I may not always like the decisions others make, but I have to trust that this is just how the system works, and I will not let this sour me— just yet. Our work as a foster family hasn’t finished. (Though it will be on pause til the new baby is born).

We are hurting, we are grieving, but most of all we are praying for this little family that is going to be intact again, for peace, wisdom, strength, and safety. As sad and as broken as I am right now, can you imagine how over the moon his Mommy must be? I dare say as I am packing his things up with tears, she must be preparing with the world’s biggest smile!

We take the bitter with the sweet. Because that’s just what foster care is. Bittersweet.

Thank you again for all the love and encouragement! It has helped tremendously.

As Much— but Different

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One fear I had going into Fostering was “what if I don’t love the children as much as my own biological children?” And then the follow-up was thinking, I suppose if I didn’t love them as much and they are only here temporarily, that’s not the end of the world, but what if I adopted and I didn’t love that child as much as my bios?

I read blogs, Facebook posts, and books where people always just said they loved their foster and adopted children as much as their bios. But, it still scared me. Okay, so those people love their kids as much, but what if I don’t? And frankly, no one can answer that question before they begin fostering or before they’ve adopted, and it may be on a case by case basis. You may have that “as much” love for one child and not another.

Last night, I had the opportunity to speak on a panel with a former foster youth who aged out of the system, a reunified parent, and I was representing foster parents during a training for new foster parents. As I was answering a question about the dynamic in our home between bios and fosters, I came to this realization, and voiced it: I love my foster child with the same intensity that I love my biological children. I often think that no one has ever loved their foster child as much as I love mine. But I would be lying if I said it was the same type of love. Before you judge me too harshly, let me give you an example.

I love my husband intensely. If the dial goes to a 10, I love him at an 11 (name that movie reference!). I also love my bio children, and I love them at an 11. But it’s a different type of love. Same goes for my parents. 11… but on a different dial. I love them all to the same intensity, but my love for each of them is a love that plays out differently. So, when I say I love my foster son just as much as I love my biological children, I don’t want to give you a false idea about how it may be for you, by leaving it as simple as that.

You will (hopefully!!!) love your foster child just as much as you love your bios, but don’t be surprised or feel guilty if that love is different. I don’t know why exactly. Maybe because I co-slept and nursed my bios, so there was that really early physical bonding. Maybe because they are a permanent fixture in my life and in our home. Maybe because I’m parenting with just their father, and not co-parenting with a stranger. I’m sure there are lots of components to the puzzle.

My encouragement to you today is this:

If you are considering foster care or adoption (yes, those are two very different categories!) and the fear of loving a stranger is holding you back, I’m here to encourage you, that it is very possible to love a child who is not from your body, just as much as you love your bio kids.

If you are currently loving on a foster or adoptive child, and you love them just as much, but it feels a different? That’s okay. I think it’s that way for a lot of us. It doesn’t mean you love them less— it’s just a little different.

To the Boy Who Made Me a Mama

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To the boy who taught me to trust in God’s timing… thank you. If we hadn’t gotten pregnant 3 months after we were married, and about 10 months before we planned on getting pregnant, we may have gotten too used to freedom before becoming parents and would long for it more now.

To the boy who taught me what long labor was… thank you. If your labor had been shorter than 34 hours, your sisters’ labors would have seemed intolerably long.

To the boy who taught me that love at first sight is real… thank you. This cynical, hard to get girl became a little more sensitive when I first laid eyes on you, fresh out of the womb.

To the boy who taught me how to be a 24 hour, around the clock nurser… thank you. I was so tired and so drained, but you showed me it was okay to sit for hours and breathe in every little detail of my baby boy. Little did I know that your first latch would start me on the 6 year, solid nursing journey I’ve been on since you were born.

To the boy who didn’t sleep… thank you. Your record was 23 wake ups in one night. You averaged around 12 wake ups per night for the first year of your life. You taught me patience, perseverance, and how long a mother can go with an incredibly big sleep debt. You also made it seem like your sisters’ 6 average wake ups a night were walks in the park.

To the boy who has always loved to help… thank you. You have your papa’s servant leader heart. Since you could push a step stool up to the kitchen sink, you’ve been eager to lighten my load.

To the boy who loves his younger siblings… thank you. Whether by blood or fostering, you have loved and cared for every child in this home. Asking to learn to change diapers, feeding bottles, playing games, protecting them, and pushing them on the tree swings are just some of the ways you show your love for them. I’m in awe of your selflessness.

To the boy who hates to be taught anything… thank you. You sometimes frustrate me with your know-it-all approach to your home education, but my goodness if you don’t send me to my knees before God to trust in His strength and not my own. And you shatter my pridefulness when you end up learning on your own anyways after my failed attempts to figure out how your brain works.

To the boy who loves Jesus… thank you. Your little voice in the back of the van on visit days saying “mama, can we listen to Dr. Sproul sermons?” is the accountability I need to stay spiritually fed. Your prayers, sometimes long and lofty, sometimes simple, always touch my heart. Your sensitivity to the things of the Lord make my heart leap with joy. I pray you will know and walk with Jesus your whole life.

To the boy who snuggles the best, can quote every line of all 3 Cars movies, loves to ride his bike, stands on a chair to reach the mail every day, puts pigtails in his sisters’ hair, sings lullabies to his foster brother, wants to be just like his daddy, adores his nana, and is a sensitive soul… thank you for making me a mother. I can’t imagine life without you. I’m so proud of you, little man. Happy 6th birthday, my darling boy. I love you. Right up to the moon… and back.

SPD Update and a Bit About Harness Gravidarum!

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Howdy Y’all!

As promised, I wanted to share a bit more about the harness I have been wearing to get me through my 5th pregnancy with SPD! I am solidly in my second trimester, and by this point in my last pregnancy, I was needing a walker to get around, and spend most days laid up on the couch. I am happy to say that this time around, though I still deal with pain from overdoing it or in the evenings after a long day, I am thriving! I attribute this to two main things:

1. I took the longest break between my last pregnancy and this one and gave my body some time to recover! I have always gotten pregnant within a year of delivering my last baby. I was 7 months postpartum when I became pregnant with Mamitas, 11 months postpartum when I became pregnant with Ezra, and 4 months pregnant when I became pregnant with Peachy. This time, I took 23 months! My body had more time to recover. HOWEVER, due to my history, I could likely have waited 10 years, and would still suffer from SPD. Which is why, I was proactive and that leads us to our second change!

2. Before I became pregnant, Milkman and I had done our research on the Harness Gravidarum Maternity Support Belt, and I had it show up on my porch around the 10th week of my pregnancy. Right when those old clicky, loosey-goosey, shooting pain feelings came back! The harness literally holds my pelvis in place. There have been times where I have thought “Oh! I don’t need to bother with putting on the harness!” and an hour later of washing dishes, and I am a limping mess. I throw that harness on, and it buys me some times another few hours of on my feet time! I audibly sigh with relief each time I velcro the last belt tight!

I could go into more about the harness here, and I may later (Though likely, I’ll keep more of a running progress journal on my Instagram and Facebook accounts!), but today, I want to tell you about the people behind the brace. Why? Because they are a huge part of what makes this product not just work, but when you hear a bit about them, you’re probably going to feel all the better about giving them your business.

The product was developed and created by a married couple, Dafydd and Ruth Roberts. Ruth was the reason behind its production and is the heart behind the concept, and Dafydd is the problem solver and practical side of the harness’ conception. Unfortunately, I couldn’t sit down face to face with Ruth and Dafydd, because I am on the West Coast of the United States, and they are all the way over in Wales! But thanks to the wonders of modern technology, during naptime for me, and bed time for them, we got a chance to video call, and it was a pleasure– not just because of their amazing accents!

How the Idea Was Sprung:

Ruth had two pregnancies without SPD, and when she was pregnant with her 3rd, she began to experience pain her SP joint. This was several years back, the NHS supplied her with crutches and a little belt that helped very little. She delivered early, and that was that. Nearly a decade later, Ruth and Dafydd were expecting their first child together. Ruth felt that old pain, much earlier this time, knew exactly what it was, and was and got her crutches and semi-useless belt again. Dafydd admits, that he was skeptical about SPD. Coming from a farming background, he said he told his wife “I’ve never seen a sheep or a chicken limp in pain from pregnancy… and don’t all pregnant women complain?” Ruth was quick to set him straight, and he was quick to learn to keep those opinions to himself! Wise man…

As the pain worsened, they drove hours and paid out of pocket to try something called Spinal Touch Therapy. While it helped some, the pain relief did not last long, and after they attempted to do it at home, the relief became non-existent. Ruth became more debilitated, needing a wheelchair, and emotionally? Depressed. As is the case with so many suffering from SPD, she got to a point in pregnancy where she no longer was excited about the baby coming. She was depressed, she was overwhelmed, and she just wanted this baby out of her. She had to be hospitalized for rest, and felt detached from her baby. When she was home, she said it was hard, because not only did she have to rely on other adults in the family for support– she had to have her children assist her with the simplest of tasks.

Where Ruth felt helpless and hopeless, Dafydd was determined to find a solution, and he got to work. He grabbed a back scrubber and a pair of socks, slung in between her legs, placed the ball of socks up against her SP joint and hoisted her up. She felt relief. But, it wasn’t practical for Dafydd to follow her around with a back scrubber all day, holding her together. Luckily, Dafydd and Ruth own a clothing manufacturing business, so while Ruth was in the hospital, Dafydd was busy coming up with prototypes in the factory. By the end of the pregnancy, Dafydd had come up with a working model– but before they could perfect it with better material for the task, Ruth had to deliver by Caesarian Section, four weeks early. Her pelvis was such a mess, the doctors didn’t even bother risking a vaginal birth. Their sweet new baby, Harry, ended up in NICU, and Ruth had to do intensive therapy in the hospital to get mobile again. During this time, more developments of the harness took a back seat, though she was able to use the harness postpartum to get a little more support with becoming mobile.

It wasn’t until a while later that they got to work on the harness again. This time they decided to try out a better and more flexible fabric. They also got to work finding medical personnel to test the harness for safety and efficacy. With Dafydd’s business savvy and knowledge of manufacturing, along with Ruth’s heart, experience, and desire to help fellow mothers, it was a perfect balance for a great business model– and the rest, as they say, is history!

Dafydd and Ruth are currently working on finding ways to make the harness more affordable, as they understand what a real need there is to make this product available to more women. I find this so commendable. Many of us with SPD would pay nearly any price we could for relief, but for them to be sensitive to the monetary stress it would put on customers? That’s all heart.

Want to learn more about the Harness Gravidarum? Check them out on Facebook and head to their shop to check out the harness. Have questions? Dafydd is super responsive to messaging via their Facebook Page, and I would also be more than happy to answer any questions I can based on my own experience!

A Cancelled Birthday

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It was my birthday today.

I gotta tell ya, it’s been a rough couple of weeks. Some of you may have noticed that I have posted less lately. Between pregnancy, fostering obligations, homeschooling, therapy, medical appointments, documenting, family events, and being a (lousy) home maker, I’ve just been zapped.

I put a stop to birthday dinner plans with my family. I deleted my birthday on Facebook the night before, so people wouldn’t feel obligated to wish me half-hearted, internet mandated birthday greetings. I told Milkman to just forget about it. I wanted to cancel my birthday.

This has nothing to do with fear of growing old. I admired new wrinkles this morning, rejoiced over a few more gray hairs, and remembered how much I can’t wait to be an old lady. I have no issue with aging.

It just felt like… I dunno. Too overwhelming. Since becoming a mother, my birthday is often overshadowed with just that— being a mother. Perhaps it was petty to cancel my birthday. Perhaps selfish. Perhaps a pity party. Actually, probably all of the above.

Milkman still did his best to make me feel special. Home made enchiladas (my annual birthday meal since elementary school), gluten free cinnamon rolls with birthday sprinkles, and telling me to go do whatever I wanted to. My kids missed the be nice to mama on her birthday (even if she did cancel it!) memo. They fought extra today, were particularly hurtful a few times, and no one napped.

So here I am. It’s 6:26pm on my self- cancelled, 30-something birthday. I’m sitting in the van parked outside of our old house, listening to Buffalo Springfield, eating a giant bag of Cheetos (my birthday gift to myself. Nothing says self care like dyeing my insides with yellow and red dyes), tapping away on my phone, and feeling pretty pathetic.

But the truth is, I’m not JUST pathetic. I texted Milkman yesterday that I felt fragile. I typed the word, back spaced, typed it again. Stared at it, and sent it. I do not think I have ever used that word to describe myself. I am his strong woman. I am a strong mother. I am a strong advocate for my foster children. I am a strong sister. I am a strong friend. I keep my softer emotions in check 99% of the time. I don’t like people to see when I’m feeling weak. But lately? I’m fragile.

Maybe it’s the insanely low lows, the really high highs emotionally we’ve experienced lately with fostering. Maybe it’s this baby who is currently kicking away at my bladder throwing my hormones out of whack. Maybe it’s the lack of quality sleep. Maybe it’s my kids going through their own feelings and testing me. Maybe it’s all in my head.

But today, on this, my forgotten birthday, I’m telling myself it’s just gonna have to be okay to be fragile. Perhaps my gift to myself is letting myself cry buckets of tears that I’ve held in for too long. Letting myself realize that even the strongest of people have weak days and weeks. Putting aside my pride that says I’m better than those who show their delicate side. Maybe this is the year that I can take down another layer of stone from my many walls that I’ve built throughout the years to insulate myself from my feminine side. Maybe my fragile birthday will be forgotten by myself in a few years, but I’m holding out hope that it’ll be remembered as the year I said it was okay to not be strong all the time. Because guess what? It’s okay to be fragile sometimes. For me. For you. For us all.



You Can’t Fix “The System”

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No one sits behind their desk and says “Lets emotionally scar a child”.

No one speaks out in a courtroom and tells a judge, “Your Honor, we need to ensure this child ends up with RAD.”

No one sits at your dining room table and says, “We really ought to set this baby up for complete emotional failure in life.”

In foster parent circles, you hear a lot of people saying, “The system is so broken! It must be fixed!” And indeed it is broken. Like the public school system, it is a one size fits all path. So while slight variations may be made here or there, it’s designed to work for the average case— whatever that is.

In my county, young children are not supposed to end up in the system terribly long. This is a good thing. But what is supposed to happen and what does happen are two different things. A child whose life hangs in the balance. A baby who has formed attachments to people other than their parents for months or even years, suffers from the instability of belonging nowhere. An older child passed from home to home, racking up a line of diagnoses and worsening behavior with each disruption. A teenager, ready to age out, with no real hope or plan of what comes next.

So we should speed up the process, right? Well, if we reunite these children too quickly, their parents will fail. Often times, parents have a long history of struggles to overcome in a short time. Addiction, mental health problems, abusive tendencies, and the like cannot be fixed with the swish of a wand. These hurdles can take a long time to overcome. We set children up for failure and re-entry into the system, we risk their physical and mental health, and sometimes we risk even their lives by reuniting too soon.

But, if we terminate parents’ rights too quickly, we needlessly rip families apart. This leads to resentment on the part of the adoptee. We see depression, RAD, we see regret, we see that a family may have been reunited if the parents only had more time. We see two families worn down and broken.

So what’s the fix? How do we “reform the system!”? I don’t think there is an answer to that. Call me a pessimist, but there is no fix that would work in a one size fits all system. The system, “broken” though it may be, is the most effective formula for the middle cases. The ones on top and the ones on bottom get the short end of the stick, but there simply has to be a middle of the road procedure they slap on every case.

Individualizing every case would be ideal of course. But this would require so much more manpower, so many less hard and fast laws, and so much more personal interpretation of the rules on a case by case basis by the decision makers. While that sounds great, it is, of course, a lawsuit nightmare waiting to happen. You terminate the rights of one parent at 3 months into the case, give others 6 years, and you’re asking for revolt.

So what happens? What happens is you sit awake all night with a screaming baby on visit days who is torn apart by anxiety because you left her with a stranger for a few hours. Except that stranger is her mother. You have a little boy, so shaken up by instability that he eats obsessively, hoards food, and steals more for later, because it’s the only thing he can control. You have a preteen girl punching holes in walls, completely conflicted by the stability she gets in one home, and the love she feels for her mother— no matter how unstable her mom’s home may be. You have an adolescent boy shooting up heroine to stop feeling the rejection he has felt from being bounced around home to home for the majority of his life.

So, no. There are no lawyers asking to inflict RAD on a child. There are no social workers providing drugs for foster youth. There are no judges sentencing small humans to a life of depression and instability— but it’s still what’s happening. Fix the system? I don’t think you can.

Sound bleak? Yeah. It is. I’m worn out. I’m weary. I’m tired. I’m wrecked. What can I do? What can you do? If we can’t save the foster care system, how do we make a difference?

By taking the punches— sometimes literally. By being a child’s rock to cling to when they’ve been shipwrecked in a stormy ocean of instability. By praying for that baby while you rock him, since he is too small to understand why he is so scared of visit days. By advocating for resources when you are personally tapped out, and that young lady needs clinical help. By not giving up on the child— even when you’ve given up on the system.

You cannot control the system. You cannot control the parent. You cannot control the judges, lawyers, and social workers. You cannot control the child sometimes. But, you can control the conscious decision to keep going.

So. Tired though we may be. Exhausted. Wrecked. Jaded. Bruised and broken. Soldier on. Keep going.

I Don’t Want To

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I don’t want to co-parent today. I don’t want to pretend that it isn’t frustrating that someone parents differently from me. I don’t want to get a child back with a diaper put on incorrectly. I don’t want to smell someone else’s strong perfume on him.

I don’t want to have to spend 3 days getting eczema flares down after a visit. I don’t want to deal with the meltdowns that will plague us for the next 24 hours. The clingy baby who refuses to let you pee alone, because he’s so afraid you’re going to leave him with someone else again. I don’t want to deal with crappy naps and night terrors for the next day.

I don’t want to send texts and pictures every day. I don’t want to give updates that aren’t appreciated. I don’t want to spend hours writing up parenting instructions per the social worker to find out they were never read. I don’t want to spend hours every week transporting and dealing with 3 other whiny children stuck in a car. I don’t want to make pleasant small talk at drop off and pick up.

I don’t want to worry. I don’t want to be scared about something going wrong. I don’t want to spend hours with my stomach in knots in fear. I don’t want to get a baby back who has gotten hurt.

This is the point where you ask “Then why are you a foster parent? Stop complaining and find something else to do with your life!”

Because this is what I’m supposed to do. Because doing the right thing is hard— but you still have to do it. Because being selfish isn’t a right– and it’s a pretty crappy character quality. Because, if I don’t do it, someone else also might not. Because this is what i signed up to do. Because being a co-parent is a necessary role for a foster parent to fulfill. Because this is how I can help a family reunite. Because sometimes you have to fake it ‘til you make it. Because this baby is worth trying for. Because his mama is worth trying for. Because it’s not about me. Because, today is just a bad day. Because, tomorrow will probably be better.

Managing SPD and PGP in Pregnancy

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If you’ve ever had the feeling of a steel toed boot kicking you in your pubic bone and been told “it’s because your baby is low”…

If you’ve ever tried to get out of bed in the morning only to feel like your pelvis is about to snap in half and been told “oh that’s just because you need to do prenatal yoga”…

If you’ve ever had pain radiating from your SI points down your legs, like electric shocks and firey needles and been told “that’s just normal pregnancy back pain!”…

I’m here to tell you honey, that ain’t normal. And I hereby give you permission to tell your Aunt Barbara, Dr. Know-it-All, and Queen Earth Mother Yogi where to hang it.

I can’t tell you how many times I have read posts like these in mom groups, only for “veteran” moms to tell other moms that it’s normal. Can back pain in pregnancy be normal? Sure. Should normal pregnancy back pain debilitate you? No. Do women experience round ligament pain? Even though that concept seems like a made up term to push mothers out of OB and Midwife appointments quickly, sure, it exists. But is it normal to feel like your pubic bone is about to snap in half? No, ma’am, it is not.

Let’s talk a little about Symphysis pubis dysfunction aka SPD and PGP— that’s pelvic girdle pain. (I’m not a medical professional, so this is in super laymen’s terms… laymoms? That sounds weird. Laymen’s.) SPD is what occurs when your body produces too much relaxin and your joints get all mushy. Your ligaments stretch out, and become useless, because your body thinks it’s time to push a baby out. Except, for most is us with SPD, this hits long before it’s baby time, and often lasts for some time after baby has left. With your joints and ligaments in an uber relaxed state, your pelvis becomes unstable. Nerves get stuck between bones, your ability to balance becomes iffy, and your pubic bone and SI points click and grind. In a nutshell, it’s a little taste of torture, often with no real end date in sight. This can lead to depression, agoraphobia, PPD, PPA, and a whole lot of frustration.

From Pregmed.org

This is my 5th pregnancy, with SPD and PGP. I am taking several proactive measures to (hopefully!) help make for a smoother journey with my SPD this time around!

Here’s what’s worked in the past that I’ll be continuing:

Physical Therapy: I actually didn’t have success with PT during my previous pregnancies. I had PTs who didn’t know what to do with me, handed me a cane or a walker and said “Sorry, we don’t know what to do with you.” However, after Peachy was almost a year, I connected with a great PT who took me seriously and got me strong again! I’ll be working with him this pregnancy, and I look forward to seeing how that will help in the midst of pregnancy!

Acupuncture: I was so hesitant to try acupuncture, partially because I thought it was fake and partially because I had given up on anything working. But at the urging of a physical medicine doctor, who assured me there was science behind it, I gave it a go! I had tremendous results! Now, mind you, tremendous results for me meant 2-10 hours worth relief or maybe 24 hours without a walker, but when you are living in constant pain, those breaks are what keep you going! The acupuncturist I saw, focused on needling and massage, not on herbs. We were a good fit, and I look forward to connecting with her sooner than last time.

Quality medical equipment: I have a wonderful and trusty cane at my ready! I started out with a walker that was for a much shorter person last time, and I was crouched too low. This time, I’m planning on getting a walker that suits my height better! And in time, hopefully I can snag a great wheelchair (my last one was a little rickety!)

Here’s what didn’t work in the past, that I will be doing without:

Chiropractor: I have been to MANY chiropractors. 2 certified in the Webster technique. What I got was really high quotes for treatment, cockiness (two chiropractors told me they were going to hang my cane on their walls for a trophy once they “fixed” me— which neither accomplished!), worse pain that before each adjustment, and no relief whatsoever. Because this is an issue of your ligaments and joints constantly failing you, even if I found a chiropractor who could set me straight, I would be out of alignment within an hour with how loose my pelvis is. Some have found relief, but overall, the ladies I’ve talked to with SPD, there are many of us who have not had success with chiropractic care.

Ill-fitting, poorly made supports: I have 6 or 7 belts, braces, and harnesses in my collection from my last 4 pregnancies. Some given to me my bewildered physical therapists that aren’t even made for pregnant people. Some from amazon, some hand me downs. Some are full over and under the belly braces, others just under the belly belts that cut off blood flow. None of them have worked, but I’ve held on to each one, maybe hoping it might work one of these pregnancies. None of those are made for people with SPD, so none of them address the problems caused by SPD! So, the crappy, useless braces have got to go!

Here’s what I haven’t done before, but am doing this time:

When I was pregnant with Peachy, I read an article about a man in England who had a wife with SPD and had fashioned a brace specifically made for women with SPD and PGP. I told Milkman about it, and he said “if you ever get pregnant again, we are getting that thing!” Well, I got pregnant again, and so guess what? I got “that thing”. The brace is called the Harness Gravidarum Maternity Support Belt. The first time I put it on, I was 10 weeks pregnant, and as I fastened the last strap I let out an audible “ahhhhhhhhh!” The relief was immediate. I’m going to be talking a lot more about this harness and it’s creators in posts to come, but I gotta tell you, I’m already impressed with it! I have high hopes for a better quality of life in this pregnancy!

Yes, please!So! That’s what’s going on with me and SPD this pregnancy! And the next time someone brushes your SPD or PGP off as “normal pregnancy back pain”, you send ‘em to me, and I’ll set them straight!

Have you struggled with SPD and PGP? What helped you find little bits of relief and sanity?

A Forever Changing Family

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First, two became one. And that was the day Milkman and I were married. We were going to wait a year before trying for a baby.

2 months into our marriage we decided to “leave it up to God and see what happens.” We were pregnant the next month. Just two weeks before our first wedding anniversary, we became a family of 3 when Captain was born.

We thought we would wait a year before trying again. And then when Captain was 8 months old, we got another positive pregnancy test. Our sweet Mamitas was born 41 weeks later, and we became a family of 4.

When Mamitas was 11 months old, we had another positive pregnancy test. We were so excited to be a family of 5! We cherished each moment we had, but at my 17 week appointment, our little baby love was no longer. I delivered Ezra’s sleeping body 4 days later, and we remained a family of 4.

4 months later, another positive test! Our rainbow baby was the greatest joy of our lives. Peachy was born that Fall, and then we were 5. We knew after such a difficult pregnancy and traumatic labor and delivery that biological babies would not be in our near future, but we had already completed our foster parenting requirements, so we trusted that our family would grow in time.

9 months later, we received a call for two sisters from our foster agency. Within 24 hours of getting a call, we were a family of 7. Three months later, they reunified, and for two weeks, we became a family of 5 yet again.

It was too quiet, so imagine our joy when we received a call for an “adoptable” 5 day old newborn baby boy. Sweet Warrior. He left us just under 3 months later to a non-family relative home. We were devastated.

And the calls stopped. We were just 5 again. For 6 months we sat by the phone, and no more children came. But then, a call. And we were 6, when little Chatito came to live with us. And 6 we have happily been, and 6 we shall remain for a little while longer. Then 5 again when he reuinifies, but not much longer after that…

And we will be a family of 6 yet again. Because the Lord has blessed us with the gift of pregnancy!

We are grateful to God for giving us another baby to love. Our hands are full, but our hearts are bursting. What a joy to have 4 children at my feet to love on while a 5th steadily grows in my womb! Join us in praying for a healthy pregnancy and a sweet, full of life baby in Summer 2018!

Visitation Day Blues: Kid Edition

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As we all piled for our morning cuddle on the couch the kids asked what the plan was for the day. I told them, “Don’t forget, you guys need to pack your backpacks with quiet activities, today is visitation.”

Captain, my oldest asked, “Is it the one where we go to the coffee shop?”

“No, that’s the other visit. Today is the one where you need to sit quietly in the car in the parking lot so your baby sister can sleep while the baby is visiting with his mom.”

Both my preschooler and kindergartener groaned. This is the least favorite day of the week. We eat an early lunch, every one goes potty, and we load up into the van and head to the other side of the county for our fosterling to visit his mother for an hour. Because of when it’s scheduled, my little ones end up stuck in the car for two and a half hours. I don’t like it either. Trying to keep my older kids quiet and occupied so that my youngest can get some sleep is stressful. On good days, she gets half of her normal length in nap. On bad days, it’s a 5 minute nap and a whole afternoon of meltdowns. It’s not easy on our foster baby either. Some how it always works out that he gets awoken to go to the visit or awoken once we get to the visit. Lots of interrupted sleep usually equals a very long day with lots of crying, nap fighting, and fussiness for him.

“Mom, we don’t like this visitation day! It’s boring!” I sighed as the day had just started and the complaining was already starting. Milkman looked at me sleepily from the corner of the couch where he spent the early morning after a very early wake up call from our foster baby. We trade off nights, so I actually got sleep last night, but I couldn’t say the same for my sweet husband.

As much as I wanted to reply, “Stop complaining, too bad!” I realized this was a teaching moment. “You know what guys? I don’t necessarily like this visitation day either. It’s stressful for me trying to ensure every one is quiet in the car. But… Well. Do you know why we do this? God says that we need to care for orphans and widows. Do you know what a widow is? It’s someone who has lost their spouse and has no one to care for them. Do you know what an orphan is?”

They looked at me blankly.

“An orphan is someone who either doesn’t have living parents, or their parents cannot currently safely care for them. The foster children we’ve had in and out of our home are considered orphans. So we actually have a really important job, because we are obeying God when we care for foster children. We don’t just do this because babies are cute— even though they are! We do this because we love them, and have a duty to obey God, and this is how our family has been called to obey. And one of the jobs of foster families is to make sure foster children get to see their parents.”

They nodded slowly. Well, the older kids did. My youngest, Peachy, was dancing around like a wild maniac to Celtic Christmas music. Never a dull moment.

Milkman chimed in, “Can you imagine if you only got to see mama and papa two hours a week?? You would miss us so much and we would miss you so much, right? The baby’s mommy wants to see her baby.”

I continued, “Exactly! And that’s one way we can serve his mommy, too. She loves her baby. So I know that visitation day is kinda lousy and boring for us. But it’s a sacrifice we make together as a family to obey God and to serve the baby and his mommy. Can you understand that?”

“Yes, mama.” They replied. I’m sure they didn’t feel super happy to go on with the plan for the day, but at least they now knew there was a valid reason behind their boring day ahead.

Sometimes teaching moments are hard to come by, and sometimes they fall perfectly in your lap, like it did for us today. My kiddos do sacrifice a lot for our family to continue fostering. While it’s not as much as Milkman and I have to, it’s a decent amount for very young children.

I hope they know, for as long or short as we have to foster, it’s not just something we do for the heck of it. It’s something that takes self sacrifice. It’s something that is hard to do. It’s something that takes giving up our schedules, preferences, and desires. It’s certainly not something we do for praise from others or accolades. But, most importantly it’s something that we do in love and obedience— together. As a family.