I was 2 months into my first job as an elementary school counselor, fresh out of grad school. I had reported to CPS just a handful of times during my high school internship the year prior, but because of the age and agency of students, there was rarely any follow up.
So when I reported my first official CPS report on my own as a professional school counselor, I was a bit jaded with what would happen next. Much to my surprise, an investigator came within an hour of my report, did an extremely in depth interview, and then the following day, called me to follow up and let me know the child would be being placed into foster care that very afternoon. And knowing it made the child feel safe, asked me to go along with her as she met her new foster care placement. Although I want to spare the details of the abuse and the child, this experience was transformative in my life.
Being part of this little girl’s journey filled with both grief and attachment to me as her counselor would later inspire a few different things important to my career and life: – belief in the CPS system (although I later found this particular investigator was brand new, full of hope and that not all CPS workers think and act in the same comprehensive way as I detailed above) – passion for uncovering abuse disclosures in elementary school children and teaching my staff how to look for signs of potential abuse – a first hand look at the despair and grief that is a child being removed from their biological family, no matter the harm it was doing to them – her attachment to me as a safe person because I had believed her/helped her was communicated in her body language the day we took her to to her first placement and that will always stick with me
And 14 years later, “keeping kids safe” is one of the most sacred and rewarding parts of my job (and my family life as well).
This experience also was one of many in my school counseling career that confirmed I wanted to be a parent so incredibly badly, but wanted to do that through foster and adoption. In the same scrapbook as above, I listed my bucket list items at the time. I’m about half way through my list which seems fitting at this mid-point of my life.
Alright so yes this is cheating. I am going to link a blog post I did a while back documenting some pivotal moments in the forming of our family with our little (at the time) Wonders. But if I’m nothing else at almost 40 years old, I am efficient and always looking for a way to get things done faster.
I struggled with what to call the experience of WonderGIRL moving out of our house unexpectedly this last summer – although many writers talk about it as a transition (when your teen moves out or goes to college) defined as “the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another”….that just didn’t fit this particular experience.
Our experience was much less of a process and ongoing period but a jump off a cliff into the anxiety-ridden unknown. And as we move forward, I am going to write about this experience just from my point of view and not sharing a lot of details about her or her choices during this time – and the reason I’m writing about it at all is to practice my own form of self-care and survival and my own processing of disenfranchised grief that happened during this time.
At the end of July, WG decided she was ready for adulthood outside of our home. While I am sure she was fully convinced she had the skills necessary to do so at the time, I knew a different story but had no control one way or the other. In Brene Brown’s newest book (must-read BTW), she writes, “as it turns out, being able to see what’s coming doesn’t make it any less painful when it arrives.” Because the thing is, we PREPARED for this transition. We were talking about her adulthood with her therapist starting at the age of 16! We purchased a house to transition into a downstairs apartment for her. We had countless conversations spelling out (and acting out awkwardly) every hard thing she might encounter and how her emotions might react to front load her body’s reaction. We provided all the safety and the protection and the structure that all the books said we should.
The only picture I have of us during this time period. We saw each other less than 5 times in 5 months.
And I’m pretty sure the hurt and the grief was the same amount as folks that literally didn’t even see the cliff looming ahead. After she left, we tried to set up regular meeting times – they all fell through. After she left, I tried to text and remind her of our unconditional love – they weren’t returned. After she left, I checked my phone obsessively just for a sign that she was still alive or hadn’t ended up at the ER for suicidal thoughts. I felt twinges of hope when she sounded lucid and genuine and then waves of despair when I encountered the shell of a daughter I had raised for the last 7 years.
I truly felt like a failure – I did all the things that I knew how to do from countless trainings on the effects of trauma. I did all the things I thought I should do as a foster/adoptive mama. I advocated for her in all the ways I knew how to – and it still ended like this and her choices were that of any other kiddo aging out of foster care (I’ll share those devastating stats below) – so what was all the heartache, the criminal trial, the social workers, the allegations, the painful moments even for?!?!
This feeling (not her or her actions, just MY bodily response) sent me into a state of depression for quite a few months this Summer/Fall. People even reached out to me with typical requests to share my blog or talk to their friends about adopting or taking in teens with trauma and I told them I was the wrong person to ask – I would have told them to run the other way!!!!
I went to work and to volleyball and sometimes thought of nothing else besides returning to my bed and Netflix the second I could. I found small pockets of joy (especially during volleyball) that kept me going but was having a hard time. I found this image while scrolling social media and it resonated with me for that time period – like I’m going to work and outwardly showing signs of flourishing, but definitely ALSO in a period of depression.
And just in case someone you know is in a similar state, I thought I would share a little section titled “What helped me during this time period?” – my husband and WB understanding my grief and letting me be – check ins with our therapist – vocalizing my struggle to my colleagues and my volleyball team – adjusting my goals of movement and self-care to accurate standards (work out 1/week vs everyday for example) – texts that just say “checking in” without any judgement if I don’t respond – being clear with my boundaries (“I don’t want anyone to come in my room tonight”, “I can’t go to that family thing – you need to go without me.”)
Although WG didn’t technically age out while “in the system”, any history of foster care and a trauma-brain can contribute to these outcomes.
Again, I am writing about this experience just to process it for myself but also to highlight a journey that I don’t see revealed in many other places. Having a struggling adult child with mental health issues is SO ISOLATING – you care about their privacy and dignity with their own story and can’t share the same as with a little child, yet folks really don’t know how to help or what to say even if you do share. So you spare them that experience and say nothing…..
As I am still smack-dab in the middle of this transition, other things I’d like to document here: – what I learned (about myself, about young adults with her background, about our system) – the impact on my marriage
Summer can be a hard time for our crew….this summer brought a few extra transitions that were tough as well.
While we look super happy and loving in the above picture at our camping site pool, we are also sadly grieving that in this picture there is only 4 members of Team Hoelzle Brown. Our sweet BraveGIRL decided to move back with her biological sister and legal guardian (reuniting her also with her twin sister) a few days before this camping trip. We are happy for her but ultimately, do not agree its in her best interest to move back and really wish we could still guide and influence her life for a bit longer. We poured our hearts and time and love into her and hope and pray the two years of lessons, struggles and character improvements will last her into her adulthood.
This grief is tough because it’s unresolved. There is no ending, but a lot of wondering and questions and mixed feelings that will last for a while. It’s been tough for our littles, especially WonderBOY as he misses her deeply. Seeing her empty room filled with cats instead of clothes on the floor is hard each day. And yes, we still communicate with her and will continue to be in her life as long as she lets us. We got an enthusiastic call on her first day at her new high school excited about the year ahead, so I continue to be hopeful for her. We love her and have high hopes for her future and I trust that she knows that deep down inside and will always remember that.
If nothing else, this experience is stretching and preparing our hearts to foster other little ones as they move back and forth between their biological families and ours, navigating that deep love and deep grief with each new placement.
Each summer, we dive deep and hard into the waters of our kiddos’ traumas, doubling down on therapy when we have enough time and space to process and endure the resulting emotions and behaviors afterward. In particular, we are exploring the “why” of some of WB and WG’s triggers and behaviors…..listening to them unpack their childhood is excruciating to sit and listen to. I can’t imagine enduring that they had to which leads to deep sadness. But I also become overwhelmingly angry that I couldn’t protect them….that I don’t have a time machine to go back and take away the hurts and the deep wounds that I am now accepting might never change or be healed.
For instance, Scott/Daddy/my hubs is away hunting right now. Both of our kiddos are struggling with that and do every year around this time…typical children might be worried Dad is going to get hurt or an accident will happen and just a sadness of missing him.
But instead, both of my kiddos are stuck with this automatic fear that he will not return and even stated to our therapist “What if he doesn’t want to live here anymore?”. Insert my own heart breaking. Insert imagining what it’s like to be a 2 year old waking up in the morning, searching for a parent who is not there and lashing out at his 8 year old sister who is charged with being his caretaker…..insert tears and grief and Daddy creating voicemails assuring him he loves our home and him and will be returning so he can listen to it over and over when he needs reassurance.
So with some of that, we decided to “stay home” quite a lot this summer. We watched lots of Netflix, enjoyed our new air conditioned home, and hunkered down together. I am sooooo ready for the new school year and soooooo excited for my new volleyball team, which gets me up and out of bed in the morning and makes these thorns hurt a little bit less which I am grateful for.
Thank you for your kind and supportive words through some of our “hard” this summer…..we appreciate your love and understanding and encouragement through it all over the years.
