And now I know. I know it’s done. At least, I know I’m done. I have to be. In truth, my husband Luke, has been done for awhile. The damage left in the wake of Sean has been nothing short of a tsunami.
Let’s start with the allegations. The investigation. It’s done, over, finished, and grandly ridiculous. Sean left our house amidst a storm of drama, rage, and physical violence that he perpetrated. I was bleeding, we had damage done to our property and Carl had been shoved to the ground. It was a violent and scary scene. The state police came. They suggested that we press charges. We declined.
Weighing in at just under 230 lbs, Sean walked himself to the ambulance and got on laughing and joking with the staff. We chose in-patient treatment in the hopes of getting him some help. What mother would want to press domestic violence charges against her own son? I was hurt and angry and scared, yes, but I was still his mother. No, I didn’t want to press charges. Luke and I declined the officer’s suggestion. I hid my injuries in an upstairs bathroom, applying ice and bandages alone. I was scared and ashamed. I didn’t want to show anyone. I didn’t want to press charges against Sean. It wasn’t until later that I learned we should have.
It wasn’t until later, when I was alone, that I destroyed his iPod, the object of the whole stupid dispute in the first place. My next step was to promptly forgive him and move on. We respected his wishes not to remain in our house. We even agreed with them, given the level of violence we had experienced at his hands. He wanted to live with his bio dad. We informed the DCF (still his legal guardian) of this. We told them he was always welcome back if he would agree to participate in his counseling, take the medication prescribed by his psychiatrist, and agree to a no-tolerance violence policy. I’d been injured one too many times. Luke and I both decided no more.
I mourned the loss of Sean. I irrationally waited for the day he would ask to come home. He was now in a foster home with Marcus, he was safe, but he wasn’t loved in the way a mom and dad would love him. I figured eventually he would miss his honors classes, art classes, outings with his friends, and family game night. He would have to miss baking cupcakes with me and binge-watching iZombie episodes on Hulu. He would have to miss his little brother and sister. Right?
I tried hard to prepare myself for the possibility that he wouldn’t want to come home with us permanently. It was simply unfathomable to me that he would continue in his senseless adolescent rage. It was over the time his iPod was confiscated until he had finished taking out the trash and showering. I mean, he was just surviving, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he just confused?
Social workers came and went. They checked on our house and checked on our children. The in-home therapists processed the events with our Littles. Miraculously, tension and stress seemed to leave our Littles. They were actually more relaxed and less anxious. Things were going well. Still, I waited for Sean. I was like the golden retriever in a Disney movie, sitting by the window and waiting for it’s human to return, against all odds.
We saw him a month later, at his foster care review at the DCF office. These reviews occur every 6 months, and all parties are invited to attend and report on the progress of the children in their care. Marcus was there, too. Marcus ran and hugged Luke, exclaiming, “Hey Pops!” while ignoring their bio dad. I joked around with Marcus until the social worker attempting to run the meeting shushed us. Marcus gave me a conspiratorial grin, as if we were the class clowns interrupting the important DCF meeting.
I was cautious with Sean. He sat down next to me and said, “Hi” right away. I told him that his school pictures had come in and that he had smiled in them for the first time ever! (Sean rarely smiles in photos because he ends up talking to the photographer. He has years worth of open-mouthed startled looking school pictures.) We told him who got what position in the high school student government. He had been running for class treasurer against a “frenenemy” of his. He seemed jovial and engaging. We left for the teen’s half of the meeting, although we weren’t sure why at the time. The stern DCF worker running the meeting told us we would be invited back for our children’s portion.
It wasn’t until a week later that we learned about the allegations Sean made in that meeting. After he had spoken so sweetly to us, after we had left the room feeling hopeful for some sort of future relationship, he had accused us of child abuse.
More specifically, he had accused me of physically harming him. His claims included me kicking him in the back and them picking him up and throwing him onto the bed (or maybe the floor?) He also alleged that I punched him, and Luke physically held him in the room. The latter part is somewhat true. Luke did hold him back by placing both hands on his chest, as I ran from Sean’s attack. Sean then punched Luke, to which Luke calmly replied, “Really? Really, Sean?” (Short of a nuclear attack, Luke is always calm and soft spoken.) However, Luke promptly stepped away as soon as I was safely locked in the bathroom, and allowed Sean to go outside the home. Then Luke called the social worker and called the police. Following the disruption we contacted all of the involved social workers and therapists. I even visited Sean in-patient and Luke packed and delivered his things. We thought that portion was over.
After the big review meeting at DCF, Sean smiled and wished us well. It was a pleasant good-bye. Luke and I made bets that we would hear from him by the end of the week. Maybe he would just want to visit on a weekend. Maybe a day trip with the family? Certainly we assumed we’d have him with his siblings for a visit Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I got the call a few days later about the allegation. Our adoption finalization for Mary and Carl was put on hold pending the conclusion of the abuse investigation. A very nice worker came out and questioned all of us separately at our house. He met the Littles right off of the bus and we encouraged him to please feel free to drop in unannounced at any time. We had nothing to hide. We reviewed the allegations together and I showed him a picture of me with Sean. Sean and I are the same height. This teenager has almost 100 lbs on me. It is physically impossible for me to pick him up, let alone throw him. As for kicking him in the back? How would I have accomplished that? Like a Rockette? I’m certainly not flexible to kick up that high. We showed the worker the damage done to the window in Sean’s room. Again, I’m not physically capable of doing that kind of damage. Maybe I should start lifting some weights?
We provided this worker with the names and contact information of Sean’s therapist, psychologist, psychiatrist, and all of the crisis team who had been in our home,multiple times, for Sean’s anxiety attacks, Sean’s anger outbursts, and of course, his attempts to run away (mostly just sitting alone under the porch until he felt he needed snacks.) In addition we have him the contact information for Sean’s previous foster home (where he had also made an allegation when leaving) and the in-home therapy team who worked with the Littles and were in our home multiple times a week. Hey, raising kids with the issues our chickens have, isn’t easy. We have a big team. We do a damn good job considering the past trauma we are working with. Aside from my yelling at Sean that day, we don’t even raise our voices when the children have violent tantrums. A screaming child slamming things about is nothing new around here.
Our resources backed us up about going above and beyond for Sean. They gave information about our extensive training and use of therapeutic parenting strategies. They were able to confirm that we are relatively calm, level-headed, nonviolent parents. We do not participate in “holding therapy” or physical punishment or even grounding.They also confirmed that one must, indeed, shower and take out the trash to earn one’s electronics privileges.
I urged the worker to please follow up on the mental health services Sean was or was not receiving in foster care. He needed his therapy and his medical appointments. We were familiar with the home he was placed in, with Marcus. The foster parent was very nice, but the agency was slow moving. We worried about why Sean would be angry enough to do and say these things. Was he majorly depressed? Was he delusional? Was he manipulating this situation? In the end, did it even matter? I refuse to believe he just hates us out of the blue. I think he is hurting and confused and conflicted. And yes, he is also highly manipulative.
Since Sean had a prior history of false allegations, since the children and my husband corroborated my story, and since the mental health professionals Sean worked with had serious concerns about his mental health, we were in no real danger of losing our Littles. The only thing Sean really accomplished with this unfathomable attempt at revenge (or possible delusion?) was to delay the finalization of adoption for his two younger siblings. National adoption day came and went, and poor Mary missed out on a birthday sleepover because it didn’t take place at a DCF licensed home. She couldn’t go, because she was technically still a “foster kid.”
Luke and I asked ourselves a million times a day why he would do this. He loved the Littles. Why would he jeopardize their permanency? What if his plan had actually worked? What if someone had believed him and taken Mary and Carl? They didn’t have the same bio dad. Where would they go? Luke worried over this for some time. Statistically speaking, “older” children, sibling groups, and children with behavioral health concerns, are hard to place. They have a heart-breakingly small percentage chance of ever getting adopted, even less so of being kept together. Carl and Mary came with all of these caveats. Plus, they were our children now. Who else could herd our little chickens to-and-fro on this crazy adventure called “family?” Why try and take that from them?
We may never know his motivations. Trauma, neglect, and maladaptive survival skills play a role. We forgave him. We moved on. We hoped he would come around eventually. We hoped DCF would get him the help he so desperately needs. He certainly wouldn’t participate when we provided it.
Fast forward to Thanksgiving weekend. We took a trip to the former foster home where Carl had been for a few months, and Sean and Mary had stayed for almost 2 years. This couple is called “Grandma” and “Grandpa” by all of their current and former foster youth. They are a friendly couple who have fostered over 500 children in their 40 years as foster parents.
We consider them extended family now. So do our children and hundreds of children before them. On this visit we learned that Sean had blocked his “Grandma” on Facebook. She had tried to reach out and check on him after the disruption, with no luck. He had, however, been in contact with other family members from Grandma and Grandpa’s house. They told us he was threatening to hurt himself because of the poor conditions in his new foster home. A few of the other children had seen on Facebook that he was making claims about how horrible his new placement is.
I can honestly say that we know this home and we know how sweet the foster mom is. She is religious, she is kind, and she strictly enforces house rules. She does not buy Sean electronics or art lessons as we had done. She does expect that chores are completed before dinner. In short, it’s a pretty normal foster home. But again, he is making allegations.
My first instinct was to run to him. Yes, it’s a nice foster home, but maybe he missed his real home. Maybe he missed us? Maybe he missed his bio dad? We had always provided those visits with bio dad so Luke and I assumed maybe he wasn’t getting them at all. Like I said, DCF can be slow to set things up. Visits, medical appointments, mental health services, can wait months and months if left solely to the department.
Luke and I dug a little deeper. We reached out to some contacts. It seems as if the real story is that bio dad is promising some material items, and fewer rules. DCF took until recently to approve overnight visits. Sean was looking for immediate reunification, and thus, he made the new allegations. I doubt he will hurt himself. I remember Sean threatening to tell others that he would hurt himself if I refused to buy him things or let him skip school, etc. But what if? What if this time it was for real?
But I was almost sucked back in. I was irrationally drawn to help him. I kept telling myself, he’s only 14. What if he is hurting? What if no one is noticing or caring about his serious depression? Maybe we should reach out. Who is going to take care of him? Then I realized he was still manipulating. Still surviving. It’s probably all he knows how to do.
I have to step away. I have to give up and throw in the towel. It seems easier for Luke, because Luke is so mad at all of the pain the teens have caused me. Until our Littles are finalized in court, we can’t even think about involving ourselves with the older boys. At this point I have to accept defeat. Sean doesn’t want our family. He doesn’t even want us to have our family.
If I hadn’t fought for those boys until the very end, I could never have forgiven myself. I would always have wondered the difference I could have made if I only reached out a little more. Proved my love a little more. My love won’t change but my involvement has to.
It’s over now. I’m throwing in the towel. I wish Sean the best. Out of the 4 siblings, the 2 youngest are thriving. I forgive Sean for surviving the only way he knew how. Now I have to forgive myself for surviving. I can’t maintain contact because I will always fall for his sweet words. I can’t anymore.
We notified DCF of our concerns and support for the new foster parent. But now I’m done. I hope he does well for himself. I may be throwing in the towel but I will never throw my title of “mom” away, no matter how briefly I held it for this boy. Although it is hard to remember sometimes, it isn’t us against the child. It’s us against his past. It’s us against his trauma. It’s us against his RAD. I just desperately hope that DCF or his bio-dad will take up that call to battle. After all, someone must fight for this boy. And it can no longer be us.
*Names have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved
**If you have ever considered foster or adoptive care I would STILL encourage you to get started on your own adventure
***Photo and quote courtesy of “Great Big World” Facebook page.