Just Ten More Days

You would think that after nearly six months in our home the girls would truly feel like ours. In a way they do, but the fact is that they still belong to the state of Texas right now. We're still being watched to make sure we are taking good care of them, and still being told what we can and can't do in regard to them. It didn't bother me as much in the beginning, but as time goes on and we have really begun to bond as a family, I just want the state out of our lives.

For instance, I haven't taken the girls to therapy since I've had them. I really intended to in the beginning. I even made the appointment. But then because of some weird state laws, we didn't have their Medicaid coverage for the month of December and their therapist didn't accept our regular insurance. So I decided to wait until January. But then we were busy and the girls were doing fine and not having any serious issues. It just wasn't a top priority. I kept meaning to do it and just didn't. So then somehow we got all the way to April getting gentle reminders from our social worker that a visit to the therapist might be helpful (not because she saw any behaviors that worried her, but just because ALL foster kids need constant therapy in her opinion). Finally it came down to the last visit in our home, and I still hadn't taken the girls to see their therapist. After all this time of doing well and not seeing any issues or behaviors that needed addressing, I had pretty much decided that taking them to therapy was unnecessary.

But our social worker disagreed. She called me the next day and said that she had discussed it with her supervisor and they both insisted that I get the girls to therapy before the adoption. That put a little bee in my bonnet. Not because I'm deadset against therapy, but just because I feel that I know the girls better than she does after living with them for six months, and I didn't feel like we needed to go. However, rather than cause a lot of trouble, I just agreed to take them in. My SIL recommends that you choose what hill you want to die on, and this one wasn't it for me.

So I took them to see their therapist to discuss their feelings on the upcoming adoption. Their therapist told me that she could see positive changes in their behavior since she had last seen them six months ago. She said that it was much easier to calm them down, and that they settled down as soon as she asked them to, versus having to ask them over and over like she used to. She also said that she could tell they were sharing and treating each other more respectfully than they had in the past. It was also her opinion that they were not in need of therapy at this time and that we were doing a great job with them.

I felt vindicated. My judgment wasn't off. I took them in because the agency insisted. I didn't want to do anything that might have jeopardized the adoption when we are so close to being finished. In the future, I have no problem taking them to therapy as problems arise. My problem with the whole thing was just in having the decision taken out of my hands. I really am capable of caring effectively for these children.

In ten more days those babies will really be ours, and I think I'll be able to open that last final frontier of my heart that has been waiting for closure. It's really hard for me to love them wholeheartedly with the threat (however minute) that someone could decide to take them away. I'm just so excited to finally close that gap and bond my family together permanently.