Words from my wife Tammy July 18, 2012:

My wife's comments:

     I always share the bad, and try my best to share the good. Here's some good in the form of small victories that will have big impact on the children.

1. Lil’ man (my wife calls my 6 year old son this and I love it) was "discharged" by his therapist, stating that "he had no issues"... cough cough bullshit! I live with this little boy, and he's NOWHERE near ready to be discharged from therapy. First of all, he's still in foster care, jackhole! Secondly, he's being poisoned, emotionally, every week by his mother on visits. Being told, "You'll never see Paul and Tammy again when I get you" and "I have to live alone and be sad because you live with them". 

     At a recent CFT (child and family team meeting) I chimed in and said, "I'm not a therapist, but I am a mother, and I live with him. He needs to have this avenue to discuss things that he is emotional about, and family therapy is not enough. He cannot discuss his mother right in front of her."

     So today I received an email that he will be taken back into individual therapy. WOOHOO! Finally, I've been heard on something (There is a lot of back story that will support the “WOOHOO”).

2. The bio father recently married the woman he disfigured a few months ago, and they are fighting for custody of the wee ones (2 are his bio children) to add to the 5 children they already have in their home. The bio mother and he have started fighting during family visits (they shared them up until now) and CPS informed me that they would have to split the visits up (give them each 2 visits per week) meaning that the kids would be at office buildings for family visits 4 days out of every week instead of 2. This was very disheartening to me for several reasons. First, they feed them nasty junk food every time they go on a visit. Second, their schedule has just finally gotten settled, and this would uproot everything once again. Third, we would never see them until bedtime every day. CPS assured me that they were trying their best to get the visits back-to-back, so that they would still only be 2 days a week. 

     Today I found out that the court backed up CPS and gave them each only 1 visit each week (since they are both refusing to follow the case plan) and the kids will still only have 2 visits a week (one with dad, one with mom). Yay! They didn't need more upset in their lives.

3. The organization that was SUPPOSED to offer therapy to lil’ lady called me to set up an IN-HOME evaluation for her. THAT ONLY TOOK 3 MONTHS TO ACCOMPLISH! She's much better now, but I won't turn down anything offered that will benefit the children.

     Yay again! I won a few battles, and I'm going on vacation where I can bask in the glory of ADVOCATING for the kids while they are safe in the home of their respite providers (trained foster parents).

My comments on my wife’s hard work:

     My loving wife is the best when it comes to advocating for the children. She wants them to be successful members of society and tries to get in as many benefits from the system as is possible to promote a productive and positive future for these kids. 

     Our licensing agent praises her even if CPS thinks she is bothersome. CPS is overloaded with work, so when more is laid upon them they cannot properly deal with issues as needed. This causes them to try and stop the extra responsibilities coming their way. Once the stopping of avocation for the children occurred in the form of threatening to take the kids from our home (as I have mentioned in the past). 

     This happened after promises were made for the two year old to receive therapy and then nothing became of it. My wife went above the CPS worker's head, and after discussing it with her supervisor who said she would address it, this superior asked to be taken off of my wife’s email list. Hey wait a minute! Why don’t you just do your job or stop telling foster parents to advocate for the children? There will be more on this story later...

Trip to Mt. Lemmon near Tucson, AZ on July 7, 2012 – Part II (Emergency Room)

     My wife called me a couple of minutes after I sat down in the waiting room and we talked for another couple of minutes until I was called to the triage room. I told her that I did not understand the reason that we had not been taken back immediately, but at least I was at the hospital if something bad happened. She was as frustrated as I was when I told her that I was asked to have a seat with a child that just had three seizures and a fever of 104 degrees plus.

     When they called my name to come back, I had the kids' paperwork, my XOOM tablet and the two year old in my arms while talking on the phone to my wife and it was a struggle to get up. I was in such a hurry that I pulled the phone away from my ear and scooped the two year old off my lap with my arm under her diaper and the phone extended out in front cradled by my hand. I never hung up. When I made it back to the triage room many questions were asked and the phone was still connected to my wife’s call as I answered them the best I could. A couple of minutes later I brought the phone back up to my ear and told my wife that I would have to call her back. 

     After making it to the room and laying the child on the one of the two beds inside it I began to text my wife. There was a woman having a great deal of pain in the other bed. The atmosphere in the room was silent with whisperings emitting from behind the curtain that separated the two beds in the room. I could make it out and listened while texting information to Tammy. I know that it is rude to eavesdrop, but I am always afraid they are going to place me next to a psychotic person in one of these rooms. I listen to be aware of my surroundings. 

     A doctor comes into the room, but walks to the other bed where the woman lies in pain talking to another girl. I hear them talk about a miscarriage and my heart sinks and I feel the need to tell her I am sorry. I do not offer this condolence as I feel it may be pushing the boundaries of privacy. My heart goes to her in silence as I think of my own struggles in conceiving children. I text the information to my wife.

     My daughter is starting to act as if nothing had happened about ten minutes after lying in the hospital bed. She begins to laugh at the movie that is playing and talks to me about it. A few minutes later, a nurse enters the room to speak with me. I go over the story of why we are here and she has Motrin administered to further bring down the fever that is still around 102 degrees. She leaves after telling me that she will be back to check the fever and that the doctor will be with us as soon as they can. 

     As always, when waiting in a bed at the E.R. the financial department comes by asking for updated information and verifying insurance of a means of payment. I have the information for my daughter which gives us sole power to sign documentation for the child to be treated anywhere that accepts their insurance (that had better be ANY emergency room). I give her this paperwork so she can go and make a copy of it, but she returns and asks if the CPS worker is with me to sign. I tell her that my wife and I are the legal guardians and CPS is not required as we have been licensed with the state of Arizona for this reason. I tell her that the last time we were at this institution the same thing happened and it became a long drawn out ordeal that ended with the result that we are able to sign the documentation. She looks at me with doubt and says that she does not think that this is correct. I am controlling my temper as I want to fly off the handle deep down and tell her to get her uneducated carcass out of the room and send in someone that is helpful. I do not, but I should be talking to the patient advocate or something. This is ridiculous! What the hell is wrong with these people?  Do they think we have to call CPS to come out every time the kids need to take a crap? I wish someone could be properly trained to know that we are the people responsible for the children we have in our home. We have the proper paperwork and did not have any trouble attaining a pediatrician, dentist, and an eye doctor with this same information I am displaying here. It would eliminate the added stress when there is already much of it to go around when dealing with finances at the hospital. 

     I can tell that the woman wants me to call CPS which I am not going to do even though I have the case workers number. I tell her to go back and relay the information to her supervisor because she is wrong. She is now trying as I am to control the tension rising between us. She leaves and returns only to tell me that I am right and they made a mistake. Really? I mean I couldn’t possibly be more educated than the person telling me I am wrong in this case. She has thrown out the other paperwork because she figured she had it right so I resign a new form and do not have to see her again, much to my pleasure. 

     I text the information to my wife as the paper-pusher leaves the room after I have explained that she is wrong. Tammy is pissed. She reiterates the occurrence of this the last time and cannot believe that I am dealing with it again. She feels badly that she cannot be here with me, but it is better not to subject the other children to sickness. I tell her I am fine and that she is already giving me the support I need, through her communications on the phone. 

     You never know how long you will be waiting in the E.R. because worse illness can occur causing the act of triage to take the doctor away from other, less worrisome ailments. It must have been an hour before the doctor came in to our room, and after checking out my daughter who was now happy as a clam and becoming sleepy, said that she was sending her home with medicine to control the fever. Even though the medicine is available over the counter, I ask for prescriptions so we do not have to pay for them. We have spent a lot of money because of illness up to this date and any chance to get it for free through the children’s insurance I need to take advantage of. The discharge instructions are to see our pediatrician the next morning, which is Monday. 

     The entire ordeal at the E.R. is over in three and a half hours which is relatively not bad. I pick up my daughter and walk down the hallway exiting the back of the emergency room and entering the waiting room where it is a quick turn to the left and then right after 75’ or so past many individuals that stare as they mull over in their mind the racial difference in me and my daughter. It happens everywhere we go. We head out the front door and walk across the asphalt to my work truck. The nightmare is over, as I put this sleepy child into her car seat, smile at her, and ask if she is ready to go home. Of course her reply is "yes" with a smile, and I shut the door.

End of Part II and the Trip to Mt. Lemmon Storyline

Unwanted Visit – July 16, 2012

     While I was taking my 6 year old son to school on this day he asks, “Can I come home after school today?” 

I tell him, “There is a visit with your parents and you have to go to it. 

He replies, “I just want to go home today.”

I ask, “You don’t want to go to the visit.”

     He is silent and I do not push the issue. Poor guy is probably becoming more and more confused with the inappropriateness of his mother’s conversations with him on visits about not seeing us again in the future. Can you imagine as a 6 year old kid having a family that listens to you, treats you with respect, feeds and clothes you properly, and loves you only to be told by your bio mother, whom you feel obligated to love because it is all you have ever known, that you will never get to see the people that feel more like a family to you than anything in the past? "Heartbreaking" is the word I use to describe this whole mess.

     Later in the day, my wife calls me at work at 2:33 p.m. I notice the time because she quickly tells me that there is not going to be a visit today and this would change my schedule as the school day is over at 2:40 p.m. I know there is no way I can make it in time, but someone will wait with him until I get there. I start packing my laptop as my wife continues to talk, and I hear her say that the transportation that normally picks him up for the visit will bring him home to her, so I stop frantically putting things away that I do not like to leave out in the open at work and sit back down.

     I say, “Thank God! There is no way that I would make it in time to get him.”

     She says, “I know it is good that they are going to bring him home.”

     In case you are wondering my wife does not drive. She has no license for reasons stemming from her teenage years along with several serious accidents that she was involved in as a passenger. She has developed a phobia of driving, and for the time being, does not feel comfortable with operating a vehicle. Before the purchase of the Caravan, I told her that if we ever bought a vehicle that would be easy for her to learn in (not a stick shift) that I would help her practice in a safe area, so she can help out with the many places we have to go on a regular basis. This should begin to happen in the near future if she can overcome her fears.

     There have been many transportation issues in the past that I will write about later as I make up for lost time on this blog; reflecting back on everything that has transpired to the current date. For now, I am surprisingly happy that they (the transportation providers) are doing the right thing. If you noticed though, I was ready to go get him from school without hesitating, because it has been a common occurrence for me to be called out of work to pick up a child or two for illness, transportation problems, and appointments with different doctors and CPS. I believe I wrote it in my “About Me” area on the Home page of my blog, but I am the Operations Manager at a company known as Arizona Party Rental. This means that I am the general manager (one position under the owner). I have the most flexible schedule a person can have while being on salary. I am in and out as needed. From mid-August to mid-June, I am mostly in, but can leave at opportune times to take care of issues here and there. My schedule fits into my life perfectly at the present time.

     My wife goes on to tell me that the bio dad (of the two girls) told CPS that he did not know there was a meeting on this day and his work will not allow him to leave on short-notice. Um…. there have been Monday and Thursday visits from 3-5 p.m. ever since we have had the children in our home (5 months). I did tell you that the bio parents were screwing up didn’t I?  This is just part of them not following their case plan. Not that we are upset by it, and my son must have some sort of ESP, because it’s as if he knew there was not going to be a meeting or maybe he willed it to happen this way. Either way he is not upset by the news. He will get to go straight home from school as he wanted where he can be with my wife. In fact, she hurriedly gathered craft supplies and a snack so that they could have some fun when he arrived.

 

     There have been some mentions of future plans to make changes to the visits soon (splitting them up because bio parents are fighting), but nothing has taken effect yet. Both bio parents were in attendance at the CFT this past Thursday where they discussed the visits being split, and that for the time being it would not change until further notice. Today, Tammy got the baby ready at the normal time, and was waiting for the doorbell to ring so that transportation could pick her up, when the phone rang. It was the supervisor of the agency that transports and supervises visits. She said that the visit was canceled and that the 2 year old had not been picked up from daycare. She then offered to pick up the 6 year old from school and bring him home to help us avoid an inconvenience on such short notice. Tammy agreed and thanked them very much for offering to help. The supervisor then explained why the visit was canceled (bio father claiming that he had no idea). This is a complete lie. We can only hope that the system sees these failures as what they really are.

The Acquisition of a Foster License – Part IV

     We are currently waiting for our fostering license after it has been submitted to the State of Arizona. Finally one year and four months from the beginning of our training we are nearer the end than we have ever been. We are both very excited. My wife receives a call about a possible placement as we are waiting for our license. Not for placement before the licensing happens, but for us to go over the case of a child currently in care to decide if she is a good fit for our home.

     The girl is a teenager, has suffered sexual abuse from her father and uncles and would love to be adopted to have some permanency and feel as if she belongs to a family. We attended a meeting with several people from different support resources to go over what this child needs in her life, how she is acting now in her placement, and what the future could hold for her. Soon after this meeting my wife went to meet with this young girl and her foster mother at a library, which is one of the teenager’s favorite places to hang out. Immediately after meeting my wife the girl asked if my wife was going to adopt her. Wow! How scary is that? I don’t know if the girl was trying to sabotage her placement in our home or not, but it made my wife and I very sad for her. Ultimately, we chose not to foster this particular child. We did, however, consider it very carefully before coming to this decision.

     One reason was for my daughter’s sake. She is 17 and needs the attention that this girl would be taking from us; mostly because of her outgoing manner and mental problems. I know that one of the support personnel individuals asked my wife if the foster mother had tried to damage the possible placement, but my wife didn’t feel like this had happened.

    

     During the time we were trying to obtain the foster license we finally bought parts for my wife’s motorcycle that had been sitting around since well before we were married. It is a yellow, 2003, Honda CBR 600RR. This bike is in mint condition and we ready it for the road with two new tires, a new battery, and insurance. The only reason we hadn’t been riding it is that we prioritized the money it would take for insurance and other costs to put toward fertility treatments.

    

     By the time the bike was road ready, we had become licensed to foster children in the state of Arizona. Yes, I snuck it in there and can you believe that our dream has finally come true? On February 22, 2012 we received our license. From the beginning of the PS MAPPS class in October of 2010 to the date of this part of the story in February of 2012 we have fought and dealt with incompetent people that have not helped out the situation of children sleeping on the floors of group homes that are overcrowded and mixed with juvenile offenders and regular kids side by side. Way to go you sorry excuses for people on this planet! Our persistence and dedication have prevailed over this flawed system in child protection.

     We decided to take the “maiden voyage” on the bike to celebrate this accomplishment. We travel to a town called Sonoita. The trip is a popular one for bike riders, as the road winds in and out of rolling hills and landscape that is pleasing to the eye. Sonoita is one hour from our home. Half of this time is spent traveling towards the freeway exit that leads to this town from our home in Tucson. We arrive in Sonoita late in the afternoon and stop at “Sonoita Mercantile country Store and Deli” to grab a bite to eat.

     We know this particular store, because we have stopped at it many times in the past on trips to Patagonia Lake. This store integrates: gasoline, restrooms, a place to sit and eat, not so fresh daily made food, and many items you would find in a local convenience store. The outside of the building is styled to look like a business from the old west. It has a wraparound wooden porch, covered with a metal corrugated awning. Above the awning is the second story that is inaccessible to patrons of the store.

       My wife steps off the bike after I have pulled it into a parking space. She removes her helmet and I set the kickstand, lock the front wheel and take off my own helmet. I step off the bike and stretch then unzip the front of my jacket. We bought new riding jackets along with the tires and all. Each of them is black with built-in removable armor to minimize road rash if we ever lay the bike down. Her jacket is made of a poly mesh material and has a design that mimics a tribal design but in a modern fashion. My jacket is thick leather and simple in design with zippered openings for the admittance of airflow when needed. At this time she is using her old helmet that has yellow, white and silver swirled around in different designs. My helmet is new and solid black as I like it. I wear my Harley Davidson boots that my wife gave me for my birthday in December last year. The boots are black with thin belts running from the sole upward where it attaches to a medallion with a silver skull on it. Two other belts grab the silver skulls outer edge one extending around the front of the boot and the other the back as the make their way around the footwear attaching to a similar steel piece on the other side. This may upset some diehard fans of the Harley brand name because I am mixing it with a so called “Rice Burner”. This burner of rice will leave them in the dust before they have a chance to yell, “Hey!” Besides, any real biker would welcome any other biker along, unless they have a complex.

     We walk to the front of the door, holding our helmets to one side; we enter the double glass door entrance. We are greeted as always when we walk into this establishment. Very warm, helpful, and friendly are three words I would use to describe the different individuals we have encountered each time we come here. I think to myself that this is how I remember life in a small town, and I miss it. My wife agrees when we talk about it later, but we have talked about our past lives; both, living in smaller towns and how the feel of it is different from the city. Someday we may move back into its slower paced life that promotes happiness in each of us. We walk over to the deli and begin to look at the remains of food left behind the glass separating the food from the customers. My wife hands me her helmet and states her need to use the restroom. When she returns I am still looking into the glass more day dreaming than looking at food. The ride was a great release and long awaited thrill that I have missed for many years. I always say there is nothing like riding a motorcycle. When I say this my wife always replies that there is nothing like riding a horse. I guess we will own horse at some point in our lives. We decide on the meal and after paying for it we sit at one of the tables inside hanging our jackets on the back of our chairs. It feels so good to relax and be away from the city.

     This lasts for all of twenty minutes and then my wife receives a phone call. It is our licensing agent asking if we are home. She tells my wife that there is a young boy in need of emergency placement. Before your paperwork is turned into the state the type of licensing is needed. This encompasses how many children you can accommodate, if we will take emergency placements, male, female, ages, race and the list goes on and on. We are on the emergency placement list which means we have to stay relatively close to home when we are without a placement. We only got our license YESTERDAY! My wife tells the agent we can be home in…. she looks at me and I excitedly say, “One hour!” I am already beginning to pack up food and put my jacket on as she talks on the phone. Our agent says one hour is perfect and we are back on the road in no time.

     We arrive home and receive no call. We expect to hear from someone about the boy needing emergency placement mentioned to us while we were in Sonoita, but no one calls and it is now after hours. We figure if they need us they will call, but are a bit miffed by the relaxation being cut short for nothing. My wife contacts our agent the next day. She (the worker) has no idea that the CPS worker had not called us to place the boy in our home. Later she finds out that another placement was available in the same family of the child. We are encouraged to hear that it will only be a couple of days before we have a placement because the need is great.

End of Part IV and the Licensing Storyline

The Acquisition of a Foster License – Part III

     After receiving the unsatisfactory information from our final meeting with the first foster agency and speaking to a psychiatrist, we decided to attend a recruiting “Orientation” in Tucson, Arizona. This basically means that all of the local agencies are in one building. It was held at a church, and each agency had a booth with one or two representatives available to speak with potential foster parents. The room was full with seating for at least 100 people. Rows of chairs with a small aisle down the middle setup with a narrow area in the front for an introduction fill most of the room. The booths surround the chairs on all sides. More space is needed so there are a few running down a wide corridor to accommodate all of the agencies that have shown up. I would imagine all of the people that attended except us and the agency workers were thinking of becoming foster parents and had not participated in any form of training.

      Our situation was different, as we have already fulfilled many important requirements. We had taken and passed the main course (PS MAPPS) required by the State of Arizona, acquired CPR and First Aid Cards, obtained level one clearance cards from the F.B.I., taken an extra class on dealing with children who are victims of sexual abuse, finished the extensive, online application, and started the home study interviews. The Home study and home inspection by the State of Arizona were the last items that needed to be completed. Our paperwork could be sent in for processing and approval for a foster care license when these were finished. It is easy to see why we remained committed when looking at all of these accomplishments. My wife is a huge source of strength, and she helps me keep the goal in sight at times when I would be ready to throw in the towel. Her willpower has only grown in strength towards this achievement that we struggle to accomplish. Telling this woman she cannot do something and then offering no reasonable excuse as to why this decision has been instituted is not a good way to send her on her way. Knowing that the decisions of the first agency are without justification, because they are based on opinion rather than fact, fills her with the determination to accomplish the goal another way. Something this life changing should be handled with more professionalism. When I say life-changing I refer to both our family and the children we could be helping.

     During the recruiting orientation, we introduced ourselves to an agent who had been playing phone tag with my wife. She had immediately started to call the different agencies in town to try and find the right fit for us after our fiasco with the first agency, and had left messages with different individuals. Meeting other agents and receiving different tidbits of information at the gathering we were able to see first-hand if we felt these introductory people would mesh with our thoughts on the matter of foster care licensing. We could also find out how they would be able to use our previous endeavors to help us reach our objective without starting all over. The individual that engaged himself in the game of phone tag with my wife seemed the best fit after touring the room and hallway meeting the other agency representatives. Each small conversation with the different agencies varied to some degree, but remained mostly similar. Some agencies will not license a family if they are not a specific religion. Some agencies will not license a family if they have an interest in adoption.  Orientations are a good way to weed out those agencies that are not an option for your family. The reason we chose the phone tag person was his outward personality, truthfulness and demeanor. Of course this does not always suggest that each person we deal with at this agency will be the same, as we quickly found out.

     We were assigned a licensing agent with the second organization shortly after the orientation. We looked forward to meeting with him in our home to continue the home studies. I won’t say that punctuality was this person’s strong suit nor calling ahead when he was late to show up at our house by fifteen or twenty minutes, but we forged ahead anyhow hoping for a better overall outcome. He was pleasant and much more professional when it came to the actual interviews. I chalk it up to caring and experience mixed together. Unfortunately, this agent was pursuing a different career as he was going to obtain his Master’s Degree soon; however, he promised to finish and submit our home study before actually leaving his post. Just like in the prior agency this man told us that he felt we would make the best of foster parents and could not wait to give us placements of children in need. He finished our study, but failed to submit it before leaving. We were assured by him that the person who would be taking his place would be just as attentive as he had been. Just when we thought we were in the home stretch we hit a barrier again. We never received any introduction from the new licensing worker that replaced him. My wife emailed this woman and did not even receive a reply. The poor correspondence and failure to provide pertinent information of this new agent again filled us with despair. We tried to hold on to hope, but ultimately could see ourselves slipping into a stale area where it seemed this agency now did not want anything to do with us.

     Again, my wife had to involve a supervisor in the pursuit of our fostering license because of the failings of their worker. We have been working hard with this agency and it does not seem possible that anything could go wrong. After several emails and phone calls from my wife, a supervisor states that they have a “few concerns that they would like to discuss”. A meeting is scheduled to go over the “concerns”. Again… this meeting is inspired by my wife as they would just as soon we disappeared. They offer no possible reason or solution to their so called concerns. During the meeting, we are told flat out that we should be spending at least $100 each week on groceries, and that the state would not license us if they were to send our study in while it showed our current grocery budget. Hmmmm… wow they’re right! We are wasting away to nothing. Had they not let us know this we may have starved to death. I hope the depth of sarcasm I am displaying here resonates as it is meant to. My wife then explains to them that we have a fully functioning garden that produces so many vegetables during 6 months of the year that we have to give much of it away. We can’t possibly eat it all! She also explains that we use our tax returns and any bonuses that I receive at work to “stock up” on non-perishable food items. We do NOT need to spend $400/month on groceries to feed our family. In fact, we eat pretty damn good and still have 2 full refrigerators/ freezers, and stacks of canned goods, rice, etc. in our cupboards. We also ask the supervisor to go over our finances, because it seems that there is another discrepancy. She agrees, pulling this information from a large stack of paperwork that is our home study (Mind you, we’ve never seen our actual home study with our own eyes). The information is gone over thoroughly, and I notice that my child support has been accounted for twice. Now I am certainly not a genius, but if they had simply noticed a very easily seen error on their part the financial issue would not be relevant. We have more than enough money to care for our own family without the state reimbursement. These types of accusations are downright humiliating when you are just trying to help someone less fortunate than yourself.

A Reason that will remain unspoken until a later date:

     The day after this meeting about “concerns”, my wife reaches out to what she has decided will be the last agency. If this doesn’t work, we are done.

     It was our choice to pursue a 3^rd agency, without waiting for an answer from the 2^nd, but we later found out that they had no intentions of licensing us. Their reason was without justification, biased, and discriminatory. If we had the time and money to pursue it, and weren’t more interested in helping foster children than fighting with them, I have no doubt that we would have won in court. This imaginary winning of a suit against these pompous closed-minded people makes me smile today. I can only imagine a couple of people losing their poorly executed careers as the verdict causes unwanted press and shame upon an agency that is supposed to help people.

How we found the 3^rd agency:

    

     After our infertility struggles, it just so happened that my wife had a conversation with an acquaintance (Bill) that had been through the foster care system and had even adopted one of his placements. He is the one who urged us to check into the first agency. His experience was obviously much better than ours. During our repeated disappointments, my wife had kept in touch with him, and after the 2^nd agency proved to be a bust, she reached out to him with great desperation. Bill begged her to not give up, and offered to speak with his licensing worker at a completely new agency that we had never heard of. A few emails were exchanged, and my wife began the process of having our records transferred to this woman’s office. Being the bleeding heart that she is, my wife’s hope was renewed yet again. Mine was not. I’m beginning to wonder if anyone will be able to help us. Do they want to help us? What is so horribly wrong with us that we are not wanted to fulfill a position that is so desperately needed in our state. We are told that children are sleeping on floors in group homes because the beds are all full. We have a clean home, love to give, and have passed all background checks. I cannot believe that we are at our third stop (agency) and that it has been close to a year after receiving our certificate of completion of the PS MAPPS course for fostering children.

     The reason the second agency did not want to license us comes out after a month or so of going through paperwork, and putting the final additions on our home study (that was never finished). This disgusting reason for our abandonment was gleaned when our new licensing agent’s supervisor happened to be in a meeting that included other agencies and spoke with our previous licensing agent from stop number 2. Again, I will reveal this reason, along with the entire conversation between the individuals mentioned, when the time is right.

     The only reason we were ever apprised of this conversation and reason for never being considered for a license by the 2^nd agency is that our new licensing worker cared enough to tell us, after her supervisor told her. We are extremely hurt, but glad that we finally know the truth. It also validates our choice to leave the 2^nd agency before being officially turned down.

     The new agency sees us as a breath of fresh air and admires our passion and commitment that has brought us to their door. After a few months, our paperwork has been submitted with the overwhelming approval of our new agent and her supervisor. Now we wait to see if the state of Arizona feels the same.

End of Part III

Trip to Mt. Lemmon near Tucson, AZ on July 7, 2012

The Fun Part:

     On Saturdays, the company I work for closes its doors at 2 p.m. When I arrived home after working on this particular Saturday, I mentioned to my wife that we should take a trip to the mountain, since we recently bought a 7 passenger Dodge Caravan. My thoughts are that we will plan it tonight and go up on Sunday. My wife springs into action quickly planning out a meal for our arrival near the top of the mountain. I am lying in bed looking at my Algebra homework on my laptop and do not realize until a bit later that she means for us to go today.

More information on my wife and me:

     I do not believe that I have mentioned the fact that my wife and I attend college online. We started out in February of 2011 attending the “University of Phoenix” then, after witnessing sub-standard students and participation my wife began to research other colleges. She had previously heard from a friend of hers that Walden University was a better school to attend online. The reviews illustrated the same, and we switched over in February of 2012. Walden University offers a wider variety of courses and concentrations for my wife’s field of interest, so this too was a deciding factor to switch. My area of concentration is “Information Systems – Computer Programming” and hers is “Psychology - Criminal Justice”. We are extremely busy people, and there is never a dull moment in our lives.

Back to the Story (the Fun Part):

     My daughter is called into our bedroom by my wife where they continue the planning of this mountain trip and I notice that they are discussing ordering take-out pizza over the phone.

     I say, “I thought we would go up tomorrow.”

     My wife replies, “I would rather go up today.”

     Let’s face it, she is the boss, and her choice to go up tonight is the better one because of things we need to accomplish on Sunday, and the news reports a high chance of rain on Sunday as well.

     I put down my computer and begin to dress myself in appropriate clothing for the mountain. I had already slipped into my comfortable home attire thinking the day would play out remaining at home. These are the type of clothing you wear solely around the privacy of your own home when you are trying to relax in comfort. You know the type with holes here and there, logos faded and seams coming apart? Hopefully we are not the only ones with this special clothing (I doubt we are), but anyway it was time to switch gears and get ready to go for a drive.

     It is already in the afternoon and the sun up on the mountain doesn’t shine as late as it does in town because of the trees and hilly terrain. We know we need to get going soon, and assembling our small army has become more and more efficient with each passing week that we have cared for the three extra children.

     I am off to get the pizza with my 6 year old son and 17 year old daughter in our new van (new to us anyway, as it is a 2005). As we are leaving the house, my 20 year old son pulls up to get his paycheck. The reason his paycheck is at my house is another story all together, so for now I will keep it at: he and my daughter both work for me at Arizona Party Rental. I tell him I am going to the store, yes I said the store in my hurry to get going, and tell him where his check is before leaving.

     The three of us arrive at Pizza Hut and the pizzas are ready, but I receive a call from my wife while paying for them and she asks me to buy a fifth pizza to take with us because my son is now going on the trip. I know that five pizzas is a lot of food, but when we buy pizza, we buy enough to have some the next day. It tastes so good the after all the flavors have time to marinate. Not to mention the fact that my 20 year old son will eat an entire pizza if you let him.

     I order the fifth pizza and we wait for it to be ready. Fifteen minutes later, we are out the door and headed home. When we arrive back at home, everyone that is not already in the van is either brought out to climb inside. My wife returns to the house after placing my 6 month old daughter in the van. She often does this before leaving the house because it is the only time she can focus on what we may be forgetting (Quiet). She is very into the organization of things to make life easier in our hectic life. You should see the kit she put together that remains in the van. I will share this with everyone at another time as it is good information to have available. Satisfied, she comes out of the house, climbs into the van and we are in route to the mountain, that is after one final stop at a Circle K for drinks then everyone is ready to go.

     One hour later, and close to the top of the mountain, we turn on a side road of grated dirt away from the normal picnic areas off of the main road leading up the mountain. It is hard to get away from other families up here because Tucson has grown so large, but we do our best. We reach the end of the road where one car sits in a spot off to the west of the spot we have chosen. To our liking we never see or hear the owner of it.

     I pull alongside of our chosen picnic site. After coming to a stop, a blanket is quickly spread out on the ground. It is held down with the pizzas we purchased in Tucson because a cool breeze is softly blowing through the dense pine trees. Wind passing through the leaves of trees often sounds like a river and it soothes the soul just to be there listening to its sound. The 6 and 2 year old children are given plates of pizza after they sit down on the blanket... much to their delight. As they eat they take in their surroundings with wonder, making plans to explore when they finish the meal. Everyone else indulges in the feast, and pictures begin to be taken by my wife and myself. We each have our own camera, and this eliminates one of us from being excluded in the memories.

     The baby has fallen asleep during the ride and wakes as we are eating. She is in the van in her car seat. We have left the side door open as well as the back hatch door, so the wind blows through the van keeping it cool as we watch and listen from 20’ away. I get her out of the car seat and place her in her “Bumbo” chair leaving it in the van looking out the side door. These chairs are the best purchase you can make for a baby. The other children finish their meals and recruit my older son and daughter to help them explore. They walk all over the mountainside looking at the view of far off places and keeping an eye peeled for wildlife. My wife and I relax here for a bit then decide to continue driving to the top of the mountain to get ice cream from one of the shops there.

     When we arrive at the top, the shop has just closed its doors for the night, so we decide to go back to Tucson and get ice cream from “Cold Stone Creamery” on the way home.

When things went wrong:

     It is another hour’s drive to the ice cream shop and when we arrive I mention that my wife, older son and daughter should go inside while I wait in the van with the kids. During the wait, my 2 year old daughter vomits in the back of the van all over herself, her car seat, the seat belt, and the van’s bench seat. She has never gotten car sick before, and I chalk it up to this after I clean her up. It is in her hair, fingers, clothing, and on her face. She does not look like she feels well and when I ask her if she is okay she says, “Yes”.

     The rest of the family comes out with ice cream, and we head home as I tell my wife of the incident with the two year old. Ten minutes later, when we arrive home and everyone is inside I pick up the 2 year old to place her in her high chair for ice cream and notice that she is extremely hot to the touch. I tell my wife and she takes the child’s temperature by mouth as she sits in the high chair. When it reaches 104 degrees she takes it out and yells the information to me. I am already in my room getting ready to go to the emergency room, as I hear the news.

     There is a history of my two year old daughter having febrile seizures prior to being placed in our home, but we have never had the experience of witnessing her during one of these.

     I quickly get her into my work truck after my wife administers children’s Tylenol and rush to the emergency room. My wife stays behind to watch my young son and baby daughter at home to avoid exposing them to other illnesses. The E.R. is only 7 minutes from our home, but the poor child begins to seize in her car seat as I make the first turn onto a main street out of our neighborhood. They are small seizures (what I call petit mal from my training in the past as an EMT), and I watch while trying to remain calm for the child. I begin to speak to her to obtain focus and I can see when she is going to have another seizure because of the look in her eyes and slow slurring speech as she tries to answer my questions. The truck’s AC is cranked up to its maximum coldness and force of the fan as I pray the jerking movements of her body do not get worse. If so, I will be stopping to lay her down on the seat. She has three of these seizures on the drive to the E.R. Her entire body convulses with each one a single time and then she is back looking at me. I can see the fear in her eyes as she stares back into mine. I attempt to emit strength for her in a look of confidence. She knows something is happening, but she is a strong-willed little thing, so I know if I can speak normally and act like things are alright she will make it through without having a meltdown before we arrive at the hospital. At least I hoped that events would occur as I have planned them in my head. After three of the seizures she has no more. Perhaps the medicine has kicked in and with help from the freezing AC she has been spared another.

     I quickly pull my truck into the parking lot of the Emergency room, and walk briskly carrying her to the front desk. To my surprise, when I tell the attendant that my daughter has a fever over 104 degrees and was having petit mal seizures in my truck on the way to the E.R. I am told to fill out the form and take a seat. If I were of a violent nature, I believe the glass separating me from this person would have been shattered as I struggled to wring her uncaring and inappropriate neck. I won’t say that the thought isn’t good. I do as asked, thinking that if something worse happens (grand mal seizure) at least I am at the hospital.

     I have had experience with Grand Mal seizures with my younger brother. I believe I was 14 or 15 years old when he began to have them occasionally and I have held him in my arms as his entire body convulsed violently with such force that it could knock me over and put holes in walls. At the end of these seizures his tongue would be chewed badly and bleeding. He would look up at you with wondering eyes as if asking what had just transpired. There is a deep helplessness inside me as I witness the unnatural movement of his body while holding him loosely to keep him from hitting objects that will harm him further. I can only imagine the feeling of an individual that suffers from these attacks of the brain after regaining control.

     I think I need to share this institution's name and gladly do so here because this is horrible patient care right at the beginning of the visit. If you have become so emotionally cut off from the experience of your job then it is time to find another. St. Joseph’s Hospital in Tucson, Arizona, has disappointed my family on more than this one occasion in their E.R. and needs to look at their staff and policies then make some changes. The discouragement of this visit is not over yet.

     Thankfully it is a short 5 minutes that I wait, until we are called back to the triage room. Someone with half a brain must have looked at the information I provided on their insignificant form. The proper manner by which this issue should have been addressed is to pull us in to the triage room immediately after hearing the problem. Then, at least, the poor child would be in trained, helpful hands while I fill out the useless form. This form only asks the patient's name and the reason they are at the E.R. To my understanding, temperatures of 105 degrees begin to kill brain cells. I will get back to the story now and save the rant on healthcare, and broken oaths of some of the doctors in the United States for a bit later.

     Her fever is down to 102.5 degrees in the triage room due to the medication given at home, most likely. We are escorted to a room where I lay my 2 year old daughter on the bed, sit next to her, and begin to play a movie for her on my Motorola XOOM. She smiles as “Despicable Me” begins to play and I sigh with a bit of the first relief I have felt since the seizures began.

End of Part I

In Retrospect: The Acquisition of a Foster License – Part II

The Story continues:

     
     My wife calls the foster licensing agency, which has chosen not to recommend us for a license through the State of Arizona, searching for hope. She is mad at the unfounded rejection and wants some answers. We both have many questions that need to be addressed: how can you give hope for 10 weeks and then break someone’s heart? How is this decision made in one day after we have been told we will be great foster parents? Why subject us to the entire course if you already had an agenda for people suffering infertility? Is there anything that can be done to change the decision? Do you think it is inappropriate as to the manner by which we were informed of a decision? And the list goes on....

    My wife demands that someone give her a valid explanation of their decision. After 3 attempts, a meeting is finally scheduled. Our dedication to the cause and my wife’s ambition has earned us this seat for discussion. Unsure that it will change the current assessment of the agency we still have a small amount of hope to sway their decision. It is December 22, 2010 when we arrive at their establishment. Eager and early we wait in the lobby silently. We have talked and mulled over the information we wish to share many times before arriving here and there is nothing left but to wait for the chance to share our feelings. We have already decided to use another agency no matter what the outcome of this gathering produces.

     As we meet the supervisor for the first time we are thanked for coming in to meet with them (like it was their idea), but it was fully instigated by us as they would have never spoken to us again after that unprofessional "dumping" had my wife not pressed the issue. 

Backing up for a minute here (yes, I do that a lot):

     The person assigned to us as our licensing agent was supposed to perform three or four visits at our home near the end of the course to have a “home study” completed. It would not necessarily have to be finished by the time we graduated PS MAPPS training, but it would speed up the process if it was completed early on. My wife was aware of this, and attempted to reach the agent who we will call "A.B.". After numerous unanswered calls, A.B. scheduled the first home visit on an afternoon that I would be at work. I arrived at the house a few minutes early, and my wife and I compared notes on things we would like to bring up with her.

     As we noticed that the time had come and gone for the meeting (45 minutes past, in fact), my wife called the office. A.B. answered the phone, and was shocked to realize that she completely forgot our appointment. She gave my wife no excuse other than, "I completely spaced our meeting." 

     “Not a great way to meet our licensing agent,” I think.

     After attempting to reschedule the meeting, and my wife resisting (as I had already left work for this appointment), A.B. said she was leaving the office right away. 15 minutes later, A.B. arrived at our house. She unloaded a stack of paperwork and apologized for her mistake. Frustrated, my wife was as nice as she could be under the circumstances. 

     Thinking that we will be starting our interviews, we are both shocked to realize that all we will be doing at this meeting is signing paperwork. Some documents include rules about disciplining foster children, notice of inspection, and our preferences of what age, race, gender, and background of the children we are willing to take in. During the signing of the paperwork, my wife brings up the conversation she had with a couple outside of the office during training (about not being able to afford their home without the reimbursement check for foster care). The agent said, "I don't want to hear anything about it, don't say any names." My wife and I are completely shocked. She has to be joking, right? No. She quite literally turned her head to this indiscretion.

More lead-up information:

     You would think if there was a doubt in the agency's plan for licensing an individual that they would address it directly. We are told to be as direct and truthful as possible; however, it appears that the preacher is not practicing what he (the agency) is preaching. Nothing is mentioned at our home interview nor ever before in PS MAPPS class about infertility being an issue in foster care. We already know that it is not a known issue through the personal experience of friends in the same situation (previous infertility) as us fostering children without the trouble we are currently having here.

     At the beginning of the PS MAPPS course everyone has a chance to share the reason for wanting to foster and the story of how each ended up at this juncture in life. We were totally honest from the beginning and still nothing was ever mentioned to support their reasons for not licensing us at the end of the course. The agency should share this concern from the beginning, if it is as substantial as they are now claiming.

     My own thoughts on their decision for no license recommendation includes: we turned a couple in for saying something inappropriate about finances and fostering, we spoke to the agent's supervisor about our licensing agent's failure to show up on time, and we let our instructor know of the agent's non-caring attitude towards a concern of ours. Perhaps this type of honesty is frowned upon in this agency’s organization. Whatever the reason, my wife and I decided this agency was not a good fit for us. All through the class we were told that we needed to choose children that fit into our lives and not every child that comes our way will fit. It is the same of the organization we chose to represent us in foster care apparently because we are currently licensed to foster children, but not through this agency. It could be that they figure we will cause problems because we address issues that are of concern as my wife addressed our agent’s failure to show up on time to our house. More like failure to remember an appointment at all.

     In my profession if I forget to meet with a client with whom I have scheduled an appointment at work I lose this client. This will cause me to lose my job. Why should these employees be any different? We were quite hurt in the moment, but now realize that this was a blessing in disguise. This lifestyle is full of stress, and if you do not have the full support and trust of and for your licensing agency, you will undoubtedly fail or burnout quickly.

Back to the main story:

     After meeting the supervisor of the agent we are led to a large conference room. There are 4 of us attending the meeting. Our licensing agent, her supervisor, me and my wife. We begin to filter through the room’s doorway. The chairs in the room suggest that it is used for conference meetings involving twenty or more individuals. They neatly align as they run around this large oval table. It is made of wood shined to a high gloss and their padded seats are comfortable enough. The agency supervisor asks us to sit where we like, and we choose the long side of the oval near one end. The two individuals from the agency sit directly across from us and the meeting is started by a simple phrase spoken by the supervisor.

Directly quoted at the beginning of the meeting:

     She asks, “Alright, tell me where you’re at?”

     My wife responds, “Well, I’m completely confused. I mean at first I was just like, I felt like somebody punched me in the stomach and I was sad and I cried and then I got upset, I got angry because… this is totally wrong. It’s not true. I mean I just don’t get it, um…. I understand where the agency is coming from if it were true. That wouldn’t be a good match, ya know but it’s not where we’re at…

Fast forward past the meeting:

     This meeting lasts just over half an hour. I will not, at this time, write out the entire conversation, but my wife and I go on to let them know that no one EVER said infertility was an issue, that we had mentioned it from the start, and if it was going to be an issue why hadn’t anyone sat down as we are now early on to have the conversation? The end result, after them back-pedaling and realizing that this was handled improperly, and my wife mentioning that they had no basis for their decision (such as a psychological evaluation) was to say, "Oh, we think you will make great foster parents. We just know how tragically this can turn out if the family has not resolved their feelings with infertility." My wife replied (in so many words), "You have no idea how we feel, because you never took the time to find out." They go on to say that they will definitely reconsider if we see a psychologist, and blah blah blah.


No thanks. 

     After two years of trying to have children and now 2 ½ months more of PS MAPPS classes we are far past the fragile point of our infertility. We have never given up hope of conceiving, and are NOT fragile or delusional about how foster care works.  Thanks for taking this bit of hope away from us as well. In the act of doing so they are compromising the system they work for, because they have a loving family that is equipped and ready to help out the problem of the lack of foster parents in Arizona. We see the commercials all the time about how desperate they are to find foster homes, yet they dismiss us without ever speaking to any of our references or doing a single interview with us or our children in our home.

     My wife and I are disgusted by the outcome, even after mentioning that we could see a psychiatrist on the subject. We do not have a lot of extra money to spend on this endeavor, so my wife locates free psychiatric help through a church. We meet with the individual who says that it will take many sessions to be able to determine if we are truly mentally stable enough to handle children being placed with us and then taken away as required for the reunification of their family.

     After this meeting we discuss our options and feel this is not the proper avenue for our progression towards becoming foster parents. We chose to seek out another agency to fulfill our commitment to help out in the community as well as parent children in our home. 

End of Part II