When does the hurt become irreparable?

Almost two years ago two children were placed with what were to be permanent caregivers. Against my strong advice to social workers that these two children would not manage together. 

Instead of supporting the caregivers ... The social work team left them to flounder under extreme behaviours. When it was offered to continue caring for one child... This option was taken from them completely. I did all I could to help... But ultimately I couldn't do more. It hurt. 

For a temporary placement the kids were seperated. Things went wonderfully. Then the social workers decided to put them back together. There were a number of reasons I didn't feel the placement would be successful. But again... I was forced to sit upon these thoughts. And when I tried to raise them (to ensure family number two was supported) I was told that the social workers are the ones with the experience and qualifications... 'You are just a caregiver'. So I stepped back. 

I regularly offered support for these children and was declined. For the boy, the permanent placement ended earlier this year. His family gave up. He was too hard. Just this week it ended for miss as well. 

Although I am delighted to have this wonderful young lady back with me... (And that the social workers were brave enough to let me have her back despite them probably expecting me to say 'told you so') I am heartbroken for her. Another permanent home broken. I fear the damage is irreparable. I remember when she was moving to her last home I said to the social worker 'this has to be her last... She can't take any more'. I was assured it was her last. I just hope I was wrong. I hope she can take more! I hope this hasn't broken her beyond repair. 

There is a young girl hurting so bad that she shows no emotion about what has happened at all. She sees what has happened as just another experience to put on the list. 

I have no idea what the future holds. I can't commit to anything for her due to several other complications. However what I need to focus on now is making sure this kid is not hurt beyond repair. That she finds her way home. Wherever home is. 

It made a difference to that one

When I embarked on the journey that is foster parenting I expected it to be hard. I expected that kids would come to me with some level of trauma. That I would be tasked with provide love, guidance and stability. I also knew that it would be riddled with heartbreak... But I chose the journey... And I choose to continue it. 

Throughout the Journey I have learnt a lot. I have a pretty clear idea about how the legal system works in relation to children's rights and care of children. I have learnt how social workers work, how cases are pieced together. I have learnt the ways that behaviour reflects internal thinking. I have learnt that physical age is not necessarily emotional, social, sexual or academic age. I have learnt how to cater the needs of a child that has a different age for each facet of their being. 

What I did not count on, was my international student. A guest of my foster child, becoming what I now think of as the very reason I have learnt all I have. I took on an international student... The easy one, the one that comes from a supportive family, is educationally focussed with huge carer aspirations. One that wasn't filled with trauma in such a way that it could bubble over at anytime. 

But by what can only be divine intervention... She applied to the school to become an international student at the same time I applied to become a host parent. For five months... My 'idea' of an international student remained what I had always pictured it to be. Idealistic, the perfect child! Then the earth shattered around me. 

The young girl I had accepted as part of my family became a mum. Over the coming six months I had to use every skill I had learnt in order to keep her safe. I had to jump through legal hoops, I had to spend hours researching, I had to reevaluate the everything I knew about the world. 

I sat through and translated numerous psychologist, doctor, lawyer, government, and social work meetings. I had to, more than once, put myself in dangers way. I had to be very careful which parts of the story I shared with whom. Some of the people closest to me I couldn't even share details with. 

Some of the details I couldn't share as legal cases sat right on top of them include things like an international embassy threatening miss 16, miss 0 and myself. Like a school right here in my own country treating a child in a way I wouldn't even treat a rodent. I watched basic human rights be broken right before my very eyes. 

Yes... I agree... I think she was lucky to be placed with me... I think that I was the best person for the job of protecting her. But the bit I'd like to clear up is this... No one else would have given up months ago (like lots of people suggest... Making me out to be some sort of life saving hero)... No one else quite had the insight I had into the extreme danger that was probable. No one else had seen with their own eyes the physical threats, or heard with their own ears the emotional threats. I can assure you of this... ANYONE who had seen what I saw...would have done the same thing. 

I'm not saying I'm not proud... Because I am. I took on a mammoth responsibility that at times was all consuming. What I am saying is that for quite a few years  I was learning the skills I needed so that I had them, I was placed in this life to protect it, and the job was done. 

That's the most important bit. The job was done. The girls have refugee status, they can remain here forever. There is a 20 page document from refugee services outlining the dangers miss would be in, and a ten page psychologist report outlining the danger she has already been in. 

My girl is no longer my international student, she is my child. And every day I get to hold her beautiful daughter in my arms and see her eyes light up when I enter the room. Cos that's what love is, right?

But no... Kind and concerned people in my life. This isn't the end of the journey for me. I know I can do it now. My fostering count is sitting around the 20. There have been others while this saga has unfolded I just haven't had the energy to blog. I will keep doing it...and instead of asking me why... Remember this .... It made a difference to that one. 

 Once upon a time, there was an old man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing.He had a habit of walking on the beach every morning before he began his work. Early one morning, he was walking along the shore after a big storm had passed and found the vast beach littered with starfish as far as the eye could see, stretching in both directions. 

Off in the distance, the old man noticed a small boy approaching.  As the boy walked, he paused every so often and as he grew closer, the man could see that he was occasionally bending down to pick up an object and throw it into the sea.  The boy came closer still and the man called out, “Good morning!  May I ask what it is that you are doing?”

The young boy paused, looked up, and replied “Throwing starfish into the ocean. The tide has washed them up onto the beach and they can’t return to the sea by themselves,” the youth replied. “When the sun gets high, they will die, unless I throw them back into the water.”

The old man replied, “But there must be tens of thousands of starfish on this beach. I’m afraid you won’t really be able to make much of a difference.”

The boy bent down, picked up yet another starfish and threw it as far as he could into the ocean. Then he turned, smiled and said, “It made a difference to that one!”