Birthday Aftermath

The few days, weeks, months, and even years (yes years) following the removal and placement into foster care were a bit chaotic, to say the least. For one, the day after the removal, Corynn was hosting an event for Tempe Police.

The event consisted of food, bouncy houses, carnival games, and of course tons of law enforcement officers and their families. Probably the safest place in the state at that time. Corynn commissioned Sadie and I to watch after our new little sister, Miranda, or as they so lovingly caller her, Moo. Moo is quite a rambunctious child full of energy and sass. At the time she was only two and she had more attitude in her little finger than Sadie and I had combined. Dazed, tired, and confused Sadie and I took Moo over to the playground where she refused to find anything even slightly entertaining. Somehow she managed to escape and find Corynn. I felt awful. I barely knew the woman and she had only asked me to do one thing: watch the dang child. However, Corynn seemed to know this was a large task for just about anyone and she swung Moo onto her hip as she continued to direct the troops. Let me be the first to tell you, Corynn is superwoman. I do not use that term lightly.

My lifetime best friend and her mom happened to know Corynn and came to sweep me off my feet to go shopping. Again. Yay for me.

Having nothing to say, I sat in the car staring out the window. This would soon turn into my signature move. I appreciated their attempts at making me feel welcome, but there is nothing anyone could do to make me forgo what had happened. I know that being placed in foster care is not the worst thing that can happen to a person. Especially considering that I was placed with my siblings in a loving home that just so happened to share my religion. But when a kid skids their knee, you don’t point out the fact that some people don’t have legs. You allow them to relish in their sorrow and remorse and then direct them to the path of healing and progress. For me, the remorse and sorrow process took more time than it would for something to scab over, and the path to healing was not as simple as a Spongebob band-aid and a kiss from mom. I did not have my mom to kiss my boo boo.

The only other thing that sticks out from that day of awkward reunions is our joint experience in the upscale thrift store. I sifted through most of the store pretty uninterested. As most teenage girls do, I had body image issues and trying on clothes did not improve that situation. Not to mention that most of the clothes were not in my style. Katie and I (the friend) did happen upon a rack of prom dresses. We were still freshmen so Prom wasn’t even a thought, but I suggested we try them on for fun. Much to the disgust of the store clerk. Katie grabbed a lacey pink one and I threw an awfully bright yellow one over my shoulder. A minute later it was my Tim Gunn moment as I showed off to Katie and her mother some dress I would normally not be caught dead in. Nonetheless, there I was in all of my Big Bird glory with a dorky smile and for a moment it was gone. The stress of losing everything less than 24 hours before. The thoughts of guilt for it having been my fault. And even the body image issues. I was just a fresh 15-year-old girl in a yellow dress.

Reflecting back on those first few days, I mainly recall vivid glimpses. I can’t tell you what I don’t remember. Now, I regret having been so caught up in myself. I can not imagine what must have raced through Sadie’s mind as she transitioned into yet another home that wasn’t hers. Or Corynn’s thoughts on her new court wards. Poor Corynn and Cameron went from one boy of their own to a total of five in only three months. Can you imagine? The funniest part being they weren’t even licensed to take that many or even my age group. It was Lauren who asked if they were willing, it was Cameron and Corynn who accepted the sacrifice, it was Jacob who had to give up his bedroom to other kids, and it was Moo who had to grow to accept more strangers in her new home. And there I was, caught up in myself and my own problems.

I can’t help but be eternally grateful for all of the sacrifices made by those people I didn’t even know yet. But they knew me. One of the first things Cameron said to me? “Oh, you’re 15 now. I’m going to have to get used to that.” The man knew about me. He knew my age and name and he knew of my love for Noah. He made the decision to be a father to me before it even had to take place. Every other father figure walked out on me. Whether it be divorce, a breakup, or a lack of character to take on children. Whatever it was they didn’t have, Cameron did. Cameron dedicated himself to my care and development. He stayed up late to read my silly English papers. He complimented my obviously atrocious baking skills as he devoured every bite of that silly Cinderella cake. He listened to me ramble on about boys, but not without his dorky grin and a warning to steer clear of the male gender till my forties. And so much more.

All in all, I can’t say that foster care was the worst thing that happened to me. In fact, it may have been the best thing. Now, I could have done without the court hearings, hours of therapy, heart-wrenching visitations, and we can’t forget the painfully long cab rides. Nonetheless, without foster care, I don’t think I would be where I am.

One, I have a large and ever-growing family who I adore. All of the silly cousins and their obsession with a college most of them didn’t even attend. Oh, and I can’t forget the time they ambushed me and a guy I was on a first date with all wearing costumes and later an interrogation involving potato soup.

Two, I would not have attended Mountain Pointe where I wasn’t exactly popular, but I can assure you I won’t be forgotten. There I found my passion, some lifelong friends, and a ton of insight into what I should do and who I should be.

Three, I would not have gotten into UCSD, my dream school. My absolutely perfect and even divinely appointed school which I know will project me into my future as a physician and proactive American.

Four, I would not have the relationship I do with my sister. Foster care left Sadie and I to each other. We gripped and griped as we took each turn hand in hand. Before, I wanted nothing to do with her, but now it’s hard for me not to have sat down as we laugh at “Office” memes every night.

Finally, I would not be myself without foster care. I came to realize a lot of passions, ideals, values, and strengths without my traditional family around. I had always been independent. Ask anyone. However, this was an entirely new source for independence. It was a time to seek out my identity before others pinned one on me. I came to be more confident in myself and my abilities. I came to be more assertive especially in matters close to my heart. And, I came to be more accepting. At the beginning of the experience, I was unflinchingly rigid in any routine I had. Before, it was all I had. But, I learned to accept change and view it as growth. And, I like growth. Though I could use some of it in the height department.

Eventually, I found a new rhythm with my new family. Even, now I am adjusting to an even newer rhythm. One with college, full-time jobs, and a family in another state. The aftermath of my removal was messy. It took a long time to recover not only for me or Sadie but for anyone and everyone involved.

That as it may, the scope gets bigger and the problems get smaller, minuscule even. Prom does not plague my thoughts nor college admission letters. Nope, now its just the future. What has been had its time. Now I devote my efforts to the what will be. What specialization will I choose in medical school? Will Sadie be on Broadway? Will Noah achieve his lifelong passion for being a tree?

My family, their endeavors, and endeavors of my own solely plague my thoughts. I don’t mind that keeping me up at night. What better to think of than a six-month-old baby sucking on her hands while watching The Office with her family? I don’t know. And, I don’t care.