One morning last week I was helping dd5 with something, when she exclaimed, “I’m happy!” “That’s nice,” I responded. “Why are you happy?”

And she answered, “I’m happy because I came to your family!”

Sometimes she’s bouncing from one thing to another and in the midst of it, heart-warming statements like this come out.

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I do a nightly read aloud with the twins using a flashlight to shine on the book since the night light isn’t bright enough. On Friday nights, I can’t use a flashlight so instead, I began telling them a story I made up – a story of how the twins arrived to our family. I describe how Hashem was looking for the best family for them, and the best children for us, and how he made the match. Then they arrived, one wrapped in silver paper and the other wrapped in gold paper, and I describe how happy we were as we unwrapped each of them and saw who they were. I end the story by telling them they are ‘matanot mishamayim – gifts from heaven’.

Yesterday I was in the pool with dd5 when she asked me, “Right I was sent to you from heaven?” “That’s right,” I responded, “you’re our present from heaven.” And she told me, “You’re also from heaven, for me.”

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This morning as I was helping ds5 get dressed, he told me he doesn’t want to go to kindergarten (which he loves so much that his past foster mother told him the biggest threat was telling him he wouldn’t be allowed to go). I asked him why he doesn’t want to go, and he told me he only wants to be at home, he likes that the best.

They’re doing really great, thank G-d.

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Since the twins are native Hebrew speakers and we are native English speakers, we’ve been asked how we’re dealing with that.

While I intend for them to eventually become fluent English speakers, the immediate priority has been to make them feel welcome and secure in our home. This meant only speaking to them in Hebrew, and dramatically limiting the Hebrew we spoke in their presence.

Israelis have chastised me for this, “No, you should speak to them in English, kids are fast learners!” Their comments are well-intended and reflect the value they have for fluent English. Practically speaking, doing as they suggest would increase the trauma for children moving to a new home, putting them in a situation where they have no idea what is going on around them or what people are saying to them. I’ve reassured the concerned Israelis that they’ll end up speaking English very well without adding to the trauma.

If the twins are nearby when I need to say something to ds6 or ds10, I’ll speak to the boys in Hebrew so the twins know what’s being said and don’t feel excluded. If we’re all at the dinner table, it’s mostly Hebrew. (In the beginning it was only Hebrew if they were around, but we’re slowly backing into more English with the older family members.)

If I’m speaking with my husband or one of the teens, I’ll speak in English as usual. They regularly ask us to translate different words and phrases they pick out.

A few days after they arrived, I began to slip in English words when referring to things that were obvious to them, like ‘grape juice’ when giving them kiddush, ‘chicken’ when serving dinner, ‘water’ when they ask for a drink, etc. They routinely use these words in the middle of Hebrew sentences now. I was amused when dd5, enjoying refreshments at her end of the year kindergarten party, asked the boy next to her in Hebrew, “Can you please pass me the ‘water’? (‘Water’ was said in English.) He looked at her quizzically and asked, “What’s ‘water’?

They’ve accumulated a good number of words like this, and the longer they’re here, the faster they increase their vocabulary.

They’re also picking up words and phrases on their own: ‘Come on, let’s go home, excuse me, you’re excused, please, no, stop, good morning, good night, I love you.’ They regularly ask me what something I’ve said in English means, and then I’ll try to include the words they’ve asked about into conversation to reinforce their learning.

When saying something simple to them in Hebrew, I recently started to repeat the sentence in English. They don’t have to ask what I meant, because it’s obvious to them I’ve saying the same thing.

I’ve made a couple of individualized videos using Gemiini, the language program I use for ds10 and ds6, to facilitate their language absorption; the first two videos were fruits and foods we commonly have. However, I’ve only played them a few times, since as much as possible I’d like to keep them away from screens, so while the videos were helpful, I can’t credit that for the bulk of their learning.

Avivah

My oldest son and his wife had their third child (a girl) yesterday, the same week they celebrate their sixth wedding anniversary and the fifth birthday of our oldest granddaughter!

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We are so grateful that transportation arrangements for the twins to attend kindergarten for the rest of the school year have finally been made this week!!! I was really worried that this wouldn’t happen before my husband needed to go back to work (he has two more days at home before he goes back), and that I’d be alone all day with them. They spent a bit over five weeks at home with us, and in that time it felt like every interaction with them was therapeutic work. 

Last night I spoke with a friend with whom I had fallen out of regular touch, who I learned had begun fostering several years ago. She told me in the three years she’s been fostering, this is the first time she’s talked with anyone about what it’s actually like. It’s so hard to explain how complex and difficult it can be; either it seems like you’re complaining or exaggerating, or they wonder why in the world you would have taken something like this on.

When writing, I grapple with the balance between honesty and negativity.  I constantly try to find a positive interpretation and understanding of people and their behavior, and that’s what I share here. When I share my process as I deal with challenges, I’m sometimes concerned that readers will think things are easier or simpler than they are, that there are pat answers to complex issues.

I feel this very much currently as I write about foster care. It can be a very difficult and challenging experience; we’ve taken in two children with complex issues and a lot of trauma, and that isn’t easily nor quickly addressed with warmth, smiles and good intentions. The first five weeks when they were home around the clock were really tough, and we all felt maxed out within ten days. “Overwhelming” was the word that everyone expressed, each one in private conversation.

It is draining to give and give and give; as my friend last night said, it’s like a vortex that sucks the energy out of everyone around them and still wants more. I highly doubt we will ever be able to give enough to fill that gaping hole completely, but my hope is to lessen that desperate drive for connection by giving them a consistent base of security and love.

We’re parenting children who are much, much younger than they look (it’s common for foster children to emotionally be 40 – 50% of their biological ages); a lack of nurturing leads to a lag in brain development.

I am intentional about just about everything I say and do with the twins, and am constantly working on the balance of different issues that are constantly in flux. For example, the balance between very clear boundaries, and giving them room for expression and independence. I have to be much more clear and consistent about boundaries with them than with my biological children, because they don’t yet show the ability to understand nuances or ambiguity.

Before they came I was concerned about not connecting emotionally with the twins, but fortunately that hasn’t been an issue. Along with the challenges, I look for their sweetness and good intentions, and I try to keep that in front of me all the time. That doesn’t mean the sweetness is just sitting there looking obvious. Sometimes it can be hard.

At the beginning of this week I met with their temporary foster mother, who I am increasingly impressed with the more I speak with her. It was nice to sit with someone who understands exactly what we’re dealing with. She  told me it was very hard for them and their adult children to emotionally connect with the twins because their behaviors caused people to distance themselves.

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I needed to say all of the above before I share some good things we’re seeing, because I don’t want to seem like it’s all unicorns and rainbows, or that there’s some magic happening. Actually, maybe it is somewhat magical to see how feeling safe and accepted positively affects children.

We all have strategies we choose as young children to get our needs met, and we tend to hold on to those strategies into adulthood, unless we do deep inner work to recognize we might want to consciously choose different strategies. For one it might be to be helpful, another will choose the role of a comic, someone else might focus on being physically attractive, and another to be dependent.

It was clear to me that being little was the security for ds5. He had an affected walk of a toddler, he communicated in large part with grunts, pointing and single words, he spoke in a squeaky baby voice and his overall emotional age was about an eighteen month old. He referred to himself as small and little, and acted like a very young child. 

I recognized his identity as ‘little’ gave him emotional security, but the survival strategy he adopted that at some time gave him the positive attention he sought was now backfiring and causing people to distance themselves and become irritated with him. To develop emotionally, physically and intellectually, he was going to need to release that baby identity, and learn that it was safe to be big.

To do that, I didn’t address anything directly – I didn’t tell him to stop talking like a baby, act like a big boy or anything like that. In fact, I did some things that might seem counterintuitive. Knowing that he missed critical steps of nurturing from the time he was born and that healing requires going back in time to give those missing experiences, I held and hugged him a lot, rocked him, carried him when he was capable of walking on his own, fed him (I did this for dd5 as well) – a tremendous amount of nurture like what you would give a little baby. I encouraged dependency. 

I simultaneously wanted to let him know it was safe to be big, that he didn’t have to be a baby to get love. At the same time I was giving all this nurturing,  I looked for ways to stretch his picture of himself, and after he did something would comment, ‘Wow, just like a big boy!” This week he’s begun to refer to himself as ‘big’.

Ds5 has made noticeable strides in the way he speaks, walks and runs. He still has a young voice and is a little squeaky but doesn’t usually use the falsetto that was his old normal. His little fanny wiggle and minced steps don’t make an appearance unless he’s tired or about to do something he knows he shouldn’t do. His restricted body movements have become more relaxed and he walks and runs much more normally.

He was diagnosed with very low cognition, and I’m continuing to work to develop his thinking skills. He repeatedly asks the same questions, over and over again, just like a toddler. After answering once or twice, when he asks another time, I’ll pause and ask him what he thinks the answer is. Then he’ll tell me the answer, to which I’ll enthusiastically reflect, “Exactly, you remember what we talked about!” or something like that.

Our five year old son’s teacher told me after his first day back that she saw noticeable differences since he was there six weeks ago: he’s calmer, more focused and able to learn better. She said it was obvious we were doing a lot of work with him. It was very affirming to hear that others can see clear differences in the time they’ve been with us. 

About dd5 – she’s a very different person, with very different needs that aren’t as visible but emotionally are more significant. Again, our focus is on helping her feel secure, loved and appreciated for who she is. If time allows, I’d like to talk about what an attachment disorder is in a different post, where it comes from and how we’re working on that.

Another thing I’d like to share about is ADD/ADHD and it’s prevalence for kids from hard places, why this is and what we can do about it. No promises, because time is really tight now.

For now, I’ll say that my primary focus for her is to build attachment and a feeling of security as the foundation, with the expectation that as this builds, her behaviors will shift along with it.

Her teacher told me they’re wondering what happened to her, because she’s so much more quiet. Now, I took her to school the first day and she was far from quiet; she’s never quiet or still unless she’s asleep. I asked for clarification from the teacher, and she said it’s not a bad thing, but she used to be jumpy and have non-stop energy, and that’s different now. My explanation is that as the children feel more safe, they experience some inner quiet that counters the nonstop inner agitation and restlessness. So to my mind, being more quiet is a good thing in her case and I hope we see this continue.

While it was a tough period being home with them for so long, to see them emotionally gain so much is a big deal. There’s a long way to go; there are no quick fixes. We’re not trying to change them. We appreciate them as they are, and trust that the safer and calmer they feel, the more healthy development they’ll experience.

Avivah

My husband left to the US again, this time for a family wedding and taking ds14 with him. Several weeks ago, I stressed to the foster care agency that they must have schooling arrangements in place before he leaves, because I. cannot. do. this. myself.

Well, the arrangements for school transportation still haven’t been made. Clearly G-d knows this is the best situation for all involved despite my preferences, and since the external situation hadn’t changed, I needed to consciously shift the way I was thinking. I focused on gratitude and appreciation for the opportunity to raise all of these children, and told myself, “I get to be with them” rather than “I have to be with them”.

For the first two days, ds5 and ds6 had a fever and were out of sorts. Waking up on day 4, I told myself, just one more day to get through.

I planned a trip to my daughter’s pool for the afternoon, after insisting everyone had to rest first because they were so irritable. Miracle of miracles, for the first time ever, ds5, dd5 and ds6 (who stayed home from school because he didn’t feel well) all fell asleep. It was clearly very needed, and though I didn’t sleep for long at all, the ten or fifteen minutes I slept was very helpful.

When I got up, a fire had broken out on the mountain across from us. Within ten minutes, all of the children had woken up. It was dramatic and interesting, to watch local citizens rushing to help, beating back flames as huge black clouds of smoke rose into the sky. As time passed, fire planes came to douse the mountain with water from above. This was fascinating and exciting. It also became an opportunity to learn about ds5’s capacity to tolerate noise.

Seeing he was becoming distressed from the sound of the airplanes, I went inside with the twins, then shut the doors and windows to block the sound. It wasn’t enough. The drone of the planes over the next hour drove him to crying and tantruming with almost no breaks for the next three hours. He was irritated and annoyed by everything, unable to be soothed or comforted, but insisting he needed to me to hold him.

As I held him, he twisted and turned restlessly, whining and crying. After an hour or so of holding him, I told him I was going to stand up and would put him on the couch next to me; he collapsed even further, lying on the ground screaming before shifting to jumping up and down screaming about whatever it was he wanted in that moment.

I gave him some lunch, which he turned around and fed to the dog. (I allow them to give appropriate leftovers at the end of a meal, but not before that.) Then he began crying he had no food; when I gave him more, he cried it was too hot. When it cooled off he screamed he didn’t like it. And so it went.

It was clear he was in a state of sensory overload, and while holding him was able to tone down his distress a notch, I was feeling stretched very, very thin. I was also now experiencing sensory overload.

At some point, I realized if I was going to be able to continue to be compassionate and helpful, I needed to have a few quiet minutes to myself
without someone yelling and rubbing snot all over me. After giving food, drinks and hugs, I went into my bedroom, letting them know I’d be out in a few minutes.

Within ten seconds, our dog was at the closed door wanting to be let in. When I go to my bedroom, if the dog is in the house he always follow within a few minutes. If the door is closed, he jumps on the door handle repeatedly until he gets the door open or until I let him in. I quickly let him in.

Less than a half a minute after entering my room, ds5 had moved from jumping up and down screaming next to the couch to doing so next to my bedroom door. Dd5 helpfully banged on the door, telling me ds5 wanted me, than kicked it to try to get the door open. At the same time, someone called to let me know ds10 and ds6, who had been outside watching the fire with some neighbors, had migrated to her house and didn’t want to leave. That was my five minute break.

Sometimes you just have to find humor in a situation!

I spoke to ds10 on the phone, told him we were going swimming soon and asked him to bring ds6 back with him. I couldn’t leave the house to get them myself, since I couldn’t leave the twins alone even for a few minutes, and taking them out with me at that point was an impossibility. When he got home, I had him give ice pops to everyone. While ds10 doled them out and they all slurped away, this created ten minutes of blessed quiet.

It was now the time I usually began winding down to lead into dinner and the evening routine. It so late that I really didn’t want to take them swimming, but I had told them if they took a nap that’s what we’d do, and I really try to keep my word.

Within five minutes I got everyone dressed in swim clothes and off we went. We were out for a short time, which three of the children enjoyed – one little boy was having a hard time relaxing. But I was still glad to have done it.

We came home, had dinner, and before putting the children to bed, I needed to milk the three goats (since ds14 went to the US and ds15 went to a wedding that evening, I didn’t have their help). This wasn’t something that was optional to do, since it would cause suffering to the animals to leave them unmilked, and I couldn’t wait until after the children were all asleep, since I was already late for the usual time.

When one goat began pushing at me with her head and a second began lifting her leg and repeatedly kicking my arm in the same place I had gotten cut a day before, my tolerance was gone. I pushed each roughly against the wall they were standing by and told them to stop it and stand there. When one stood very still and gave me a hairy side eyeball, I realized I was being unreasonable and I better calm down before interacting with anyone or anything.

I took two minutes to sit there quietly, then apologized to them, patted each for a minute, and continued milking them. Though the children were running in and out of the house arguing and complaining, this time gave me the opportunity to emotionally detach from all the overtired behavior and the stresses of the day before putting all of the children to sleep.

Bedtime was delayed, but it went smoothly and peacefully for everyone. Soon after I finished, we had our weekly parenting discussion group, which is always a nice opportunity to connect with adults.

I’ll be going away for the next day and a half to a retreat for mothers of children with special needs. The hotel where it is being held is twenty five minutes from here, so I’ll be going directly there rather than joining the chartered bus leaving from Jerusalem. I was disappointed last night to learn that I’ll miss a half a day of the planned activities since additional trips are planned on the way to the hotel, so they won’t get there until late in the afternoon. But I’m looking forward to the opportunity to connect with other mothers, and recharge with some quiet and fun.

Avivah

Since the twins arrived four weeks ago, I’ve consistently told them that they’re now part of our family, and in any way that I could, tried to help them feel a sense of being welcome and belonging.

One night last week after our bedtime routine – when the kids are relaxed they become very open – dd5 asked, “Right, now we’re Mishpachat Werner?” (Translation: We’re the Werner family). Yes, I assured her, you are.

She was quiet for a moment and then asked, “When are we going to move to another family?”

I can’t tell her something I don’t know to be true, like that she’ll be here forever and never leave, even though I’d love to be able to say that. It’s in the hands of the court, not mine. I was disturbed when their social worker told them she’s always going to be there for them. I understand her wanting to reassure them, but she knows she’s going to see them one more time and probably never again – please, please don’t lie to them! That will lead them to distrust people even more.

I told her, “You’re our family and I hope you’re going to stay with us for a very, very, very long time.”

Ds17 told me today that ds5 asked him about when they’re going to live in another house. Also today, he was pushing dd5 in the swing when she asked, “Right you’re never going to leave us?”

The heavy weights and worries these young children have inside them, bottled up and chewing away at them…They are seeking the confirmation that they belong here and won’t have to leave, but their life history has programmed them to expect loved ones to suddenly disappear from their lives.

To me ‘family’ means being accepted and part of, no matter what. They don’t hold that same definition of family in their hearts. While my intention by telling them they’re now part of our family was to cement their feeling of security and belonging, I realized it means very little to them and offers only momentary reassurance. When they’re feeling really peaceful and loved, the fear comes up that it could be taken away any minute and they have to check in about when they’re going to leave.

They’re almost six; their programming has been going on for years and reprogramming them to believe that they are wanted, safe, loved and that the world is a good place that they can trust will take years. I knew that going into this.

But it struck me forcefully when dd5 asked that question of me, how even in a home with so much love and security surrounding them, they remain uncertain and fearful about what will happen to them.

Avivah