Disjointed Morning

I left with a coworker this morning to head to the airport to sign placement paperwork for a sibling group arriving from another state. We got 20 miles out of town to only be called and told that they had missed their flight. Now it is inconvenient for me to have to head home for 3 hours only to head back to the airport, but I tell you what, I'd rather be me than that social worker stuck in an airport for an extra 4 hours wth five kids under 10.... but anyway.

We have found Mike, and since Bart always tells things best, and this time was here to write it first, you can read about it here.

In contemplating our journey with MIke, I am satisfied with only one thing. We never gave up. When so many families are choosing disruption as their option of choice, we hung in there. We may have not done things well or right, but he is not aging out of the system without anyone who loves him. WIthin minutes of finding out where he was, Bart had already written him a long letter. He is sending an envelope and paper and a stamp so Mike can write back. He will probably visit him and eventually maybe even I will. I will write to him as well. Our commitment to him did not stop when he turned 18, but we now have to protect ourselves and our other children. OUr commitment will have to be from afar, but it will still be there.

When I look at some of our other friends who are parenting young children with FASD, I both envy them and mourn for them. I envy them because they have more knowledge, more training, and more support than we did. I envy them because they know to focus on attachment more than behavior, so when their child is in trouble they will listen to them. But I mourn for them, because the future, no matter how hard they work at it, is bleak at best. I am not being a pessimist, that isn't my nature, but I am being realistic.

So when Mike is safe in jail, that is comforting, in an odd sort of way. And we will hope and pray for miracles. But whether or not they come, he is still our son.