When I was 18 years old, my mom who was a former nurse started doing special needs foster care. We primarily had infants straight from the hospital who were deemed as having some drug exposure. Other kids had downs syndrome, fetal alcohol syndrome (FAS), or kids who had complex multiple surgeries with neurological and mental development problems as well.
Our first foster child was Desiree. She came to our home from the hospital at 6 weeks old. They said she had some prenatal drug exposure but nothing was apparent to us when she was in our care so thankfully it seemed minor. We absolutely fell in love with her and I knew right then if I ever had to adopt a child I would not have any less love or difficulty bonding with him or her than having my own biological child. In fact, our family wanted to adopt Desiree, but because she was half Chinese and half Aboriginal all non-Aboriginal families were prevented from adopting those kids because of a government imposed moratorium. At that time, the government thought it best they remain in homes of their own heritage, but the majority of kids in foster care are Aboriginal and finding suitable placements was difficult (since then the moratorium has been lifted but an exemption must be requested by the Ministry and a cultural plan must be made - a plan I think is needed for any cross-cultural/ethnicity adoption).
I took over 1000 pictures of her (remember this was film days) and one of those pictures was posted on the adoption list. Our hearts sank but the reality of finding a match didn't hit home until they found a placement. A couple with four other adopted kids applied to adopt Desiree, and even though the adopted mother's psychiatrist wrote more kids would be harmful to the mother's well being, she was placed there anyway (since then they adopted more kids). She left shortly before her second birthday. We were absolutely devastated. We visited her once, noticing how much weight she lost, but it was too hard on us emotionally to keep contact.
So I was 20 years old when my mom recognized that my brother and I had not dealt with loss before. When I was a teenager I had an aunt who died from a rare form of cancer in her forties. She lived in India and I adored her at each of our visits, but the physical distance meant we were not as close as we could have been.
We later had other babies and children come and go through our home but we were more guarded and slightly more mentally prepared. But then came Marie. Marie was an infant when she came to us as well, had downs syndrome, and was Aboriginal. The Ministry finally deemed her a ward of the state as her biological parents still made some limited connections. So that meant she would stay in our care and not be adopted. I then brought down that guard and started to bond with her. At the age of two and a half, she had a stroke and was brought to Children's Hospital. A neurological disease like a spider web was going through her brain. We would take turns sleeping next to her at the hospital and going to work in the morning. My brother called one night and told me she was being transferred to the ICU. It wasn't looking good. I told my mom we had to go to the hospital. I said nothing else as I didn't need to. She just knew. It was decided to end her life support. I remember singing to her before she passed away.
I now cry as I write this.
Nicky was the complex kid - we had her for about 3-4 years and she suffered from a host of issues such as FAS, developmental delays, multiple cardiac thoracic surgeries, and tracheal rebuilding (something like that). Because of the FAS it was very difficult for my brother and I to bond with her but nonetheless she was part of lives for a long time. My mom was more bonded with her as all mother's have this unconditional love for their kids and Nicky was not an exception. My mom first had to grind her food because before she was placed with us she choked on a french fry and landed back in the hospital. Years later she progressed so much she could eat solids. Then two weeks after Marie died, my mom found her in the living room turning blue. She was choking on a french fry. Nicky later died in hospital shortly after. My brother called me at work and I could hardly speak. This all took place six months after my cousin Deepuk died. He was killed by a hit and run driver and I wrote about him a bit in December. I could hardly explain to my manager what was going on in my household that I needed to leave again. On an aside, my mom (in moments between pure grief) thought she was going to lose her job, however the Minister sent her a letter of appreciation for the care she provided to these children.
Years later, I now work at Children's & Women's Hospital (I tried to keep that point vague earlier in my postings but it is easy to figure out). I had wanted to work there since Marie was admitted in 2001. At times I am in the ICU and I find myself trying to remember which small room Marie was in. I look at some of the nurses and try to remember if that was the one who was counselling us in the family room before we had to say good bye. Blonde pony tail and very pretty..... sometimes I think it could have been the former ICU nurse who is now a close colleague of mine in the office next to me.
Nicky's mother, who also has FAS and developmental delays, was very much in contact while Nicky was placed with us and to this day. She lives in Whitehorse. Although the communications have lessened over time, she will still visit my mom for a few days every other summer or so. One time I remember she visited me downtown and took pictures of me in my sari as I was getting ready for a wedding. The moms talk about Nicky and find comfort with one another.
I had thought I would try contacting Desiree through the Ministry when she was of age....16 years was a long time to wait but it was always in the back of my mind. She is now in her late teens and a few years ago she sent messages to my brother and I on Facebook asking if we were her foster siblings. We cried happy tears and keep a bit of contact going through that forum. I can't hate Facebook all the time.
I guess there are two points from this post:
Losing Desiree, Marie, and Nicky have taught me so much earlier in my life that seems to have coincided with meeting the many bereaved parents in my support group. The trauma, grief, anger, fear that "these things will happen twice", and "unresolved resolution". Not many people have experienced the death of a child, and in Desiree's case having a child be "taken away".
All the children we had placed with us reminds me to have faith in adoption (the act, not the process) and to not be too anxious about what we can handle; we just need to be upfront about our limits. These children need the opportunity to be placed in a loving home. We need the opportunity to provide it.
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p.s. I wanted to post pics of these girls but they are not scanned...will do so later.
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