Foster son update: Mom moves out, dad steps up

"It is a fearful thing to see yourself as you really are."
-- Dorothy L. Sayers

I got an update Friday night on Isaac and his home situation. As some of you already know, my foster son returned to his parents back in mid-October. About a month ago, his mother realized that taking care of children is beyond her ability, and left. She moved out on her kids and her husband, and moved in with her boyfriend.

The state Division of Youth and Family Services so far has left Isaac and his younger sister in the care of their father. He is now suing in family court for full custody of the kids, and has the backing of the state, which considers the mother to be dangerously unfit for parenthood. It's likely he will win, and even more likely that the state will not intervene in the situation in the foreseeable future.

Isaac and his sister are in regular day care so they're in a nurturing and stimulating environment, their mother is removed from the situation so she can't harm them any more, and their father -- about 30 years old -- apparently is starting to grow up and take responsibility for his kids. From what I'm told, he is determined not to be an absent father, and is doing his best to make sure the kids are taken care of properly.

I'm also told he's developing a solid connection with his son.

This is good. Kids should be with their biological parents, and the whole reason we got into the foster care situation was so that we could help Isaac overcome the neglect he had suffered and develop a good relationship with his parents. That's now happening, so the status should be "mission accomplished."

Clearly, that's why I spent about 10 minutes Friday night crying my eyes out. We did our job.

I gave my all to Isaac while he was here. When he arrived here last February he could barely stand, let alone walk. He couldn't eat on his own. He couldn't talk, dress himself, control himself, play, or stand or sit still for five seconds. He had no idea how to love or to be loved, and was a poster child for reactive attachment disorder. By the time he went back home nine months later, that had all changed.

Craig's got a connection with his son -- because I taught Isaac how to love and how to receive somebody else's love. I poured my sweat into him, and now I've got nothing while the man who was content to ignore his son for two years is reaping the rewards.

Notice the theme here? It's all about me. After all, what else matters in the world? Not Isaac's happiness; clearly, he has to be happy with me, or he's not allowed to be happy at all.

You would think after nine months of caring for somebody else's developmentally delayed child that I would be capable of thinking about other people. Instead, I find myself going through the same thought patterns that Isaac's birth parents were going through before and just after he was removed.

.Sometimes I make myself sick.

Don't tell me I'm being too hard on myself. I'm well aware of what I did for Isaac and that it has a lasting, eternal value, but I need to be willing to let him go. He's not my son, he never was my son, and I need to be willing to let the relationship develop into its next stage.

Right now that's void -- his parents decided some time that they wanted nothing to do with us once he returned to us -- but I'm hopeful that will change. I plan to contact Isaac's father and offer our support in whatever way he needs, as well as offering babysitting and play dates so Evangeline can see him and vice versa. We'll see what happens.

In the meantime, I need prayer. My attitude's been far from Christlike in this matter, and that's no good for anyone.