foster child

One of my sisters and her husband have done foster to adopt twice now, and have ISB and CLA, two half-sisters from a homeless woman who also has substance abuse trouble and other mental/emotional trouble.  They have worked hard to help ISB in particular, who at 3 has a small vocabulary and is likely autistic.  They were going to Children’s Hospital several times a week at first, when they first got her, as she was labeled a ‘fragile child’ because of all the physical and mental issues she faced.  They did relentless physical therapy with her and today she runs around like a maniac, laughs, has a normally formed head and neck.  She is very funny and healthy, despite the roadblocks she still faces.

My sister is a teacher, is really great with kids and I know she really knows what she’s doing.  Her husband doesn’t seem to help much, despite the fact that he really wanted the kids too, and loves them very much.  I do wish he supported the family more, my sister more, by helping better, putting in more effort.

Last week, they were contacted by the social worker about a 5 year old boy.  My sister, who is already maxed out said no.  They couldn’t possibly take another kid.  However, despite this, they called again and her husband answered and told the lady Yes.  Despite the fact that he doesn’t really help, and that his wife knows she can’t do it, he agreed.

The boy was dropped off with a garbage bag of clothes that were rags, and several sizes too small for him.  His toys were some small ratty stuffed animals.  It’s all he had.  They bought him some clothes.  They put him to bed in their room, and they slept on the couch.  The boy was afraid of the dark, so my sister went to the store to try to buy him a nightlight.  They never made it, because seemingly he had never been in a store before and she couldn’t control him enough to get in and buy the nightlight.  He was on ritalin, though she thinks the dose wasn’t right since at around 5 PM he would start to change and seemingly come off it, start really misbeving, broke the tv, called my sister a whore.  She said she could see it happening, the dose wearing off.

The case worker didn’t tell them beforehand that from 1-5, wtih 5 being the most traumatized and difficult, he was a 4.

The preschool child-care they took him to, refused to take him back, since he lost it at the end of the day, throwing blocks at all the kids and calling all the parents who came to pick up their kids “Bitch”.

They took him to the husband’s mom’s birthday party, and when they left he asked if it was a restaurant, since there was so much food.

My sister’s husband had been in the foster program, and was adopted by our next door neighbors.  I remember him having some trouble with school, with things in general, but that he was likable and we actually got along quite well.   Much later, after they got married, he told my sister all the things he had been through.  I don’t know all of it, but I know it was very difficult.  I vaguely remember that he was 13 when they took him in, and that he hadn’t owned a pair of shoes.

Of course, this is why he agreed to take the boy.  He wanted to help.  He knew what it was like.  But in the end, they couldn’t do it.  Couldn’t really keep up, offer him what he needed, and couldn’t end up compromising the other two girls they’ve already adopted.  Another thing the caseworker didn’t tell them was that this boy was not supposed to be placed in a family with other kids.  He had witnessed sexual acts but it isn’t clear whether or not he had been subjected.  He did tell the husband at one point that he had a secret, and if he told, then the caseworker would take him away…

They finally decided they really couldn’t do it.  The caseworker picked him up and drove and talked to my sister’s husband on the phone while they drove.  The boy wanted to talk to him and the caseworker finally let him.  The boy pleaded to stay.  Over and over.  I like it there, I want to stay with you.

The last thing he wanted, if nothing else, was the sticker chart they had started for him, when he did something good.  He pleaded for the sticker chart.  He just wanted that little piece of caring and love that they had given him, something he could carry with him.

I’m so sad.  I was so angry at my sister’s husband for agreeing, despite my sister knowing that she couldn’t do it.  And at the caseworker for setting everyone up for failure.  And at the the parents of this kid for abusing him, neglecting him, subjecting him and abandoning him.  But mostly I’m just so sad that he has nothing and that he’s fucked up because of everything.
Maybe you could argue that I could change that.  I told the morsel the story and started crying.  Of course I left out the details, the things she wouldn’t or can’t know about.  I was sad and frustrated.  She sat with me and told me that I could take him.  I said I didn’t think I knew enough about the kind of things he needed help with, to help him.  That I didn’t have so much time with her even, and wouldn’t be able to do it.  She still thinks I have a lot of time, have a lot to give.

I wish I did.  I know I can’t obsess on this, because I can’t save him.   I don’t feel qualified.  Just utterly frustrated and sad, knowing he is suffering, has suffered, and will continue to suffer.