The Five Little Ducks Blog

PART ONE
It has been months since I have posted an entry. Time has been in short supply, and whenever I have tried to continue a post, my feelings have shifted and I can no longer remain with that particular thread.

Becoming a mother changes you. Before I became a parent, I had certain thoughts and ideas about the whole business (Co-sleeping? I will never do that. Leaving a baby to cry? I won’t try that either. Smacking? Never! Talking negatively about my child in front of them? Won’t go there. Yelling? Nope.). I thought I was going to be the most loving, creative, kind mum. Motherhood has this way of holding up a mirror to your soul and revealing your sinful nature in a way that nothing ever did before. It turns out you’re not as nice as you thought you were. Not as patient. Not as kind.

If raising your own flesh and blood does this to you, becoming a foster parent has a similar effect. Except that it is totally amplified.
Our nieces have now been living with us for eight months. They seem very happy here. I am told dozens of times each day by them that I am loved. A few nights ago Miss A called out to me to tell me that she loves me to the moon, and to the sun, and back. Miss L frequently cuddles me, saying “you’re my favourite mummy in the whole wide world!” I suppose I should feel flattered. I should feel proud that I have created a warm home environment where the girls feel safe to grow, heal, and learn to trust. In truth, I feel a little suffocated.

Long before we took on our nieces, I had a desire to one day adopt or become a foster parent. I still feel that I have some natural gifting or skill for fostering. However, guilt weighs heavily on my heart and conscience.
You see, Mr E is not doing so well. It was remarkable in the early months of having the girls join our family how he seemed to be unaffected. It was like a miracle.
A sensitive child, he has always been prone to angry outbursts. This year I have watched him become agitated, time and time again. While there are times when he can interact with or play happily with his cousins, he frequently becomes frustrated and aggressive when they enter his space or even talk to him. I want to be on his side, and jump to his defence. Yet he gets so worked up and starts yelling at them or pushing them, so I feel like I also have to reprimand his behaviour. Even when the girls are nowhere near, Mr E can be very rude. He hits himself when angry, and he tries to get rid of his most beloved possessions. Taking him to childcare is a battle. Apparently he doesn’t like going because they have too many rules and he doesn’t like the lunches they provide. However I think the main problem is that it is another place that he has to see Miss A. Miss A who calls him the highly offensive name “baby”. Miss A who has taken to writing and recognising her letters and numbers like a duck to water, while dreamy, left-handed Mr E has had a slow, difficult start. Over the last few months, his teachers have noticed a change in his behaviour. He is stressed, anxious, and highly critical of himself.
Yesterday I was talking to social worker about my desire for Mr E to see a child psychologist. She said that it sounds like his issues are a closely linked to the stress in his home environment. If his home environment isn’t going to change, then a child psychologist would be unlikely to help.

As I compared Mr E’s home life before the girls moved in to what it is now, my heart crumbled a little.
Nine months ago, he had a mum who regularly played with him, one on one. He had a mum who occasionally shouted. He only had one other child to compete with for attention (or TV programming choice). He had a mum who every night got into his bed and told him stories. It was not so difficult for his mum to stop everything and give him a cuddle or listen to him when he was upset. Every morning, he was warmly welcomed into his parents’ bed for a hug. His mum smiled a lot.
Now he asks his mum to play with him and she rarely says yes. He has a mum who frequently shouts. He has four other children to compete with for attention (and TV programming choice). He sleeps in a bunk bed so his mum doesn’t get into his bed, and she reads a few books in the lounge room but he rarely gets to sit near her. It is difficult for his mum to stop everything and give him a cuddle or listen to him when he was upset. Every morning, he wakes up to see that his parents are already up or there is no space in their bed for him to get a hug. His mum frowns a lot.
No wonder the boy is stressed.

PART TWO: one month later
It has been a difficult year. Adjusting to the addition of three new human beings into our family has been quite a challenge. While I knew that becoming a foster parent would likely be the hardest thing I have ever done, I underestimated the toll it would take on my mental health.
The catalyst for my emotional breakdown was watching my own son fall apart and feeling responsible for his anxious, angry state. No mother wants to hear her 5 year old child say that he does not want to live with her anymore, or worse, that he doesn’t want to be alive. I forced him to share his home with two demanding, needy children.
I haven’t posted in so long because I felt like I had nothing good to say; like every time I sat tapping on the laptop I was throwing myself a pity party (and nobody wants to stick around for that, right?).
I became terribly depressed. I felt so stressed, and thinking about the children coming home from childcare always made me tense. My mood swings were becoming quite severe. The tiniest things prompted big, emotional outbursts and yelling from me. On one particular day I started crying and I couldn’t stop for about 90 minutes. I remember shuffling down the backyard to the compost bin, feeling like I couldn’t move or even breathe. Worst of all was that I was having trouble controlling what I said to the children. After screaming hysterically at my nieces one afternoon about how much I hated them, I knew that something had to change.
I spoke with a friend about how much I was struggling and she told me that I might need to consider anti-depressants. I had never wanted to rely on a drug to alter my mood, but I thought that perhaps my friend was right, so I spoke to my GP who gave me the script and put me on a mental health care plan to see a psychologist. Around the same time, I attended the healing rooms at church where a team of lovely people prayed against depression and for peace in my home.
Apparently, anti-depressants can take about a month to have an effect, but within days I noticed a difference. All the little things that had been irritating me so much were no longer a big deal. I was able to stay calm. I feel like my temperament stabilised and evened out. No longer is my mood plunging into a dark and terrible abyss. The old “me” has returned. Best of all; the loving, affectionate feelings for my nieces have come back.
Mr E has seemed happier lately. A few nights a week I now let him stay up past his bedtime for special play. He looks forward to this time and I enjoy watching him as his amazing imagination bubbles over into all sorts of crazy and whacky scenarios through play. He appreciates being special to me again. He is on the waiting list to see a child psychologist and I look forward to learning about how we can support him and teach him to better handle his emotions.
Miss A and Miss L are currently in respite care. Before I started the antidepressants I made the request for a week of respite care during the school holidays to our caseworker because I felt like my family and I desperately needed it.
We were matched up with a carer who was willing to meet the girls before they entered her care so that it would be less threatening to them. The explanation given to Miss A and Miss L was that they were going on a holiday. Thankfully they accepted this without too much drama. For the first couple of days I couldn’t truly enjoy respite because I felt so guilty about what I had done and because I was concerned about the girls being spoilt in care. Yesterday I spoke to them via Skype and they seemed happy (Miss A doesn’t fake ‘happy’). It helped me to realise that although the carer might be ‘spoiling’ them and perhaps not setting the same kind of limits that we do, that they were on holiday and hopefully it would make the transition to home easier if they had had a pleasant time.
Respite care has been very good for my family. Mr E has really enjoyed this time and Miss R has been lapping up the extra attention. Daddy Duck and I have enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere.
For months I have been full of regret and resentment, wishing I could have my “old” family back. It’s nice to know that they are still here. We have been sleeping in and relaxing a lot. Our home has been so calm.
It has been interesting to notice the change in dynamics. Miss R has missed her cousins and expects me to play with her more. We have gone to McDonalds twice (yes, I know, tut tut) and both times Mr E and Miss R refused to play in the playground. I can guarantee that that would not have happened had the girls been with us. It is more difficult to get them to play outside. Usually Mr E and Miss R are the “easy ones” to put to bed. The last couple of nights Miss R has been getting up at bedtime and saying she was too scared to sleep. A few times they have both ended up sleeping in the girls’ beds. This morning was the hardest time I have had in months getting Miss R to attend childcare. I thought that perhaps she missed Miss L. Yesterday I told Mr E that I was going to talk to Miss A and Miss L on Skype. He said he didn’t want to see them but as soon as I was video chatting with them, he was by my side, keen to see them too.
Every time Mr E and Miss R have annoyed me, I have received the knowledge of this frustration with gladness. It is nice to know that my life without the girls would not be 100% perfect. Mr E still gets rude and grumpy at times. Miss R still does normal, age appropriate things like crying excessively and expressing feelings in an irrational way.
I am relieved to know that I miss the girls. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, sayeth the old cliché. Respite has given us time to enjoy our birth family and to reflect on what makes this family so good. I hope that being refreshed will help us to parent Miss A and Miss L better when they come home on Friday. I also hope that we can learn to somehow maintain this more peaceful atmosphere. I do love my nieces and I know that raising them is a valuable, important thing to do.

There is hope in this home again.