Kinship Care: The "F" Word

Hey you all! I am back!! This is my last week of graduate school. Hopefully by this time next week I will be 100% done with all my school work. I have missed being here, telling you my stories of kinship care. I want to thank you all for being patient with me. It was a grind – but we did it!!!

I have been thinking a lot lately about the “F” words – you know the ones, FAIR and FEAR. Today I will talk about fair.

It does not seem fair that I take so much responsibility for a child I love so much, but never imagined would be my responsibility to raise, to keep safe, to handle all the hurts, the tears, and the confusion he feels. Granted, I do get the good stuff too – all the hugs, the “I love you grandma” and just plain laughter.

I will tell you the truth that I believe many kinship caregivers face – we get days when it is so incredibly difficult to not feel very angry at the parents. I have written about some of those days.

My third grandson was born in March. I was so happy for my son and his wife. Everything went perfect, with no complications. My grandson and I drove to the hospital excited to see our newest family member. Of course, Murphy’s Law would happen. The moment I parked my car, my cell phone rang. I saw the number and knew it was my daughter. Here’s the dilemma – should I answer? When she calls, it’s usually a request to drop whatever I am doing and do something for her.

Out of respect for my son, I had not discussed they were expecting a baby. She knew they were, but I just didn’t talk about it with her. It’s complicated – like most decisions are with kinship care. My daughter asked to speak with her son and he told his mom he was going to see his uncles’ baby. He was excited. He gave the phone back to me. My daughter asked me to take some photos with my phone and send her some pictures. I told her I would not because her brother would not appreciate that. She hissed back, “Well, it’s only fair since I can’t see him”.

I think my brain exploded. Fair! Did she really say “fair”? I mean seriously!

I think every kinship caregiver who is raising a relative because the parents are either addicts, alcoholics, or in jail – which is the large majority of us – would all feel the same shock. It seems like the last person to talk about fairness would be the parent.

I know drug and alcohol addiction makes it impossible for her to see the truth. That’s how I coped with her statement – and continue to always remind myself. She is sick – physically, mentally and spiritually. She doesn’t understand because she is sick and can’t understand.

It’s not fair. Nobody said being a kinship caregiver would be fair, feel fair, or look fair. In fact, it’s not fair. That is the reality of kinship care and we see the reality every time we look at our child relative.

Let’s face it. Things weren’t fair when we were a kid and whined to our parents, “it’s not fair!”. Maybe that feeling of injustice carries into adulthood. However, by now we have the sense to know that even though something may not feel fair, it can still be the right thing to do. It’s time to get over the, “it’s not fair!”

I am a grandma raising my grandson. It’s all good. And I am glad to be back.

Just a reminder:  please come visit me at my website - which is where I will be moving this blog to:  www.raisingkin.com. 

Kinship Caring: Missing Mom Moments

Being a kinship caregiver has some heartbreaking moments.  It’s always a dilemma for me to figure out the best way to comfort my grandson when he misses his mom.  Thank God for other kinship caregivers who share their wisdom and stories.

This past week, my grandson heard me talking on the phone with his grandfather.  When the phone call ended, I looked at him and could see he was troubled.  He asked me what we were talking about.

I told him that his grandpa called because he was worried about his mom and wanted to know if we had heard from her. 

“Grandma, can I say a bad word?” he asked.  I wanted to know what his five-year old mind was thinking about, so I said, “Yes, you can say a bad word this one time”.

His voice got soft and quiet.  He whispered, “This is not nice, but I have to say it.  I hate mom.” And then he put his head in my chest, as if to cover his face.  I held him.  Then he said, “I love my mom”.

I told my grandson, “You know what? Sometimes I miss your mom so much. Sometimes I am so angry with your mom because I want her to come home.  I love you, buddy. We just miss your mom.”  

He stayed in my arms for a few minutes.  We didn’t talk.  We didn’t need to.  We just sat in the kitchen, hugging each other and missing mom. 

Then it was time to color pictures and be five.

It is not easy to have these conversations.  It breaks my heart to see him hurting.

I know it is not good to stay focused on what is wrong in life.  When I do that, I feel angry and bitter which doesn’t solve anything or make anything any easier. I miss out on life’s good stuff if I stay angry and bitter.

When I look for the good, I can find it.  When I look for bad, I can find it.  I am going to look for the good.  I was able to help my grandson when he was sad.  That’s a good thing. 

I am a grandma raising my grandson.  Yes, it’s all good.

Shame, shame, shame

Sometimes I feel ashamed I am raising my grandson. After all, there is that saying, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”.  Ouch.

Sometimes I think it’s my “fault” that my daughter is an addict and not raising her son.

Maybe I didn’t do enough or did too much.  Maybe I should have tried harder or prayed more.  Maybe, because I had my own issues to deal with in life, I created her problems. All the maybe’s……

I was not a fabulous parent.  I sure wasn’t Betty Crocker.  But I did not neglect my children, never provide for them or ever stop loving them.  I also know when it comes to trying to be a good parent, I did do my best with what I knew how to do at the time. 

When my daughter was just a toddler I knew there was something not quite right with her behavior.  I didn’t know what that something was, but I tried my hardest to figure it out and get her help.  By the time she was five years old, I was driving two hours away for her to see a child psychologist.  It didn’t help.

This was back in the late 80’s.  Therapists were not diagnosing kids with ADD, ADHD, oppositional defiance, or obsessive/compulsive behavior.  Yet, by the time she was into her “tweens”, she was diagnosed (labeled) with all of these, plus depressed, anxious, bipolar, borderline personality disorder and more.  By the time she was 18 she qualified for government disability payments.

By the time she was 18, she was already an addict.

My daughter has an addiction – not a parenting problem.  Alanon has a saying that I tell myself often:  I didn’t cause it, can’t control it, and can’t cure it.  Sometimes I have to replay that statement over and over in my mind.

Shakespeare suggested, “There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.”  I practice watching my thoughts and choose to focus on what is right rather than what is wrong. When I get down, I get a piece of paper and write out what I am grateful for.  This action of purposeful redirection of my thoughts helps me. It only takes only a couple minutes to jot down a list. Making a list stops my anxieties from getting the best of me.

Today I am not concerned if “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”.  I am a good tree!

I am a grandma raising my grandson.  It’s all good.

Accepting the Seemingly Unacceptable

In a fellowship I belong to, there is a saying “acceptance is key to everything”.  The longer we fight accepting something, the longer we stay stuck or miserable. I find it is so hard to accept things I just don’t want to accept.  The past three years were very difficult raising my grandson.  I could not or would not accept the situation was not a temporary situation.

I thought when I got my grandson surely it would be my daughter’s “bottom” and she would go to treatment, get well and he would go back to her.  That’s what a “good” parent does, right? It didn’t happen.

I next thought that surely his dad would raise him since he has been actively “involved” with his son since I got him.  That didn’t happen and he doesn’t want to fulltime parent.

A year ago I finally went to see a counselor.  She has been a big help, guiding me through my feelings.  I have finally come to true acceptance.  I am a permanent “parent” and will be raising my grandson. 

It is good to come to peace with this.  I don’t know why it took three years to get here.  I suppose in my selfishness, I wanted MY life back.  I didn’t want to deal with developmental delays, occupational therapies, speech therapies, physical therapies, high daycare bills, doctor appointments, meltdowns, bedtimes, potty training.  It felt like I was going backwards with my life instead of forward.

Finally I am at peace with the situation.  I can let myself enjoy the moments, instead of waiting for the moments to end and have my life back.  I laugh again more instead of cry.

One thing my counselor told me is that it will get easier as my grandson gets older.  She is right.  Now that he is five, can talk in a way I can understand, it is easier.  Sometimes he regresses in his behavior, like after his mom left again.  Yet, when he does, I know it’s just a temporary situation.  I can finally truly enjoy him.  Yes, he still has delays in his development, but he has come so far.

How nice it feels to accept what I thought I would never be able to accept – I am raising my grandson.  I am one of over two million other relatives raising a relative.  We are so brave and courageous.  We are loyal to our families.  I feel good about that now, and at peace.  Finally.

Acceptance is key to everything.  Acceptance is not saying you like something, agree with something.  It is just saying I am okay with this.

Remember the saying “it takes a village to raise a child”?  I think it takes a family to raise a child.  I am grateful today for my family. 

I am a grandparent raising my grandson.  It’s all good.