Foster Care Month Challenge Post #2 - My Favorite Foster Parents

I actually had several wonderful foster homes... But if I had to pick only two, I'd pick the Henry family and the Ray family.

The Henry Family
I went to live with The Henry family shortly after I became a foster child, around the age of 7.

David and Deborah (Debbie) Henry and their infant daughter Abigail (Abby), lived in Tulsa, OK and were deeply religious; Pentacostals who were part of a small church in Jenks, OK called New Life Pentecostal. I mostly remember attending church with them. I found their church both frightening and intriguing. Sometimes, the "speaking in tongues" that happened every service (and especially during "Revival") scared me half to death... But mostly, I found myself disappointed, frustrated, and ashamed that I couldn't do it too, especially after my best friend Brandy Bible "spoke in tongues" one day.

David had to go to an out-of-state college for seminary school and they were not allowed to take me with them, even though they wanted to adopt me. I hated to leave them, but I had no choice and neither did they. I remember that for a while after I moved to my new home, I called them every night, refused to eat, and wet the bed. Eventually, of course, I settled in, but I never forgot them and never stopped missing them. Apparently they never forgot me or stopped missing me, either. When my father died a few years later, I got a card from them letting me know how sorry they were and how their life was going.

When it came time for my high school graduation, I sent them another letter and let them know I was joining the Army. I got an amazing letter back from all four of their children (Abby, Caanan, Hannah, and Anna) calling me their "sister" and wanting me to come home instead of going to the Army. Sadly, I haven't yet gotten the chance to visit with them in person since I left their home, but it makes me feel really good that they actually included me in their family life enough, talking about me and sharing photos of me with their children, that they considered me their "sister". I am friends with all of them on Facebook (except Caanan, who apparently doesn't "do" social media) and I enjoy being a part of their lives.

I've had several great talks with David and Debbie online regarding what happened and just how much they wanted me. I call David "Dad" and Debbie "Mom" now, and I really love being able to have that connection.

The Ray Family
Shortly after it was decided I would have to move, I was actually allowed to MEET my next foster family, which consisted of Diana Ray and her daughters Alexa and Daisha, and son Justin, before moving in. Daisha was only four and I enjoyed the thought of getting to be a big sister to a child old enough to actually play with me. I moved in just before my eighth birthday.

They lived on a huge property in Collinsville, OK and had all kinds of wonderful things to do; trees to climb, a sandbox to play in, tons of toys to play with and books to read, not to mention animals of all kinds - cats, horses, chickens, turkeys, and even peacocks later on. Diana also raised dogs for show, so we had a TON of dogs. Daisha and I loved to play together and even had our own playhouse. We had fresh vegetables and fruits from our garden, swam in horse troughs and ditches, played in the hayloft, caught tadpoles and crawdads, went on hayrides... It was WONDERFUL!

Diana wasn't the type of person to share here emotions easily, and wasn't "huggy", but I loved her anyways. I started to call her "Mom" shortly after I moved in there. I've always referred to this family as my family, even though they never formally adopted me.

Unfortunately, Diana's father, Gene Welna, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's around the time I was 10 or 11. After a particularly scary incident where he wandered down the mountain he lived on in Mesa, AR it was decided that he and her mother, Beth, would move in with us. Even though we had frequently visited her parents before this time, and I really enjoyed the visits (more about them in another post), having them live with us was incredibly different.

"Grandpa" was often rude, mean, and vulgar. On one occasion, he called me a "slut" and actually slapped me... At this point, I decided I'd had enough of it and called DHS myself to report it. They took me away immediately. I hated to leave this home, but I was scared and hurt and didn't know what else to do. It was probably better in the long run, as I'm sure Diana was overwhelmed trying to take care of her father and me at the same time.

But our connection didn't end there. I kept in touch with them and often came back for visits. I was welcomed back for holidays such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. Diana gave me my first real camera. I went back to live with them again at the age of 16, even though she had another daughter, Kaci by then - although that really didn't work out because of my own attitude and issues. But even then, they didn't give up on me. I was still welcome, still able to call Diana "Mom".

When I graduated from high school, she was the only one there, with Grandma, Daisha, and Kaci. When I was 20, pregnant, and my husband had abandoned me, I was able to call Mom and she took me in. She didn't agree with my choices, but even then she still supported me.

When I remarried, our connected grew even stronger. I was able to visit and we started having more of an adult mother/daughter relationship. She started to call me more often, and I her. Our relationship isn't perfect, but I love her, and I know she loves me too. My relationship with my sisters and brother is sometimes not as close as I would like, but I suppose that's true of all families, whether by birth, foster care, or adoption. And I know they love me even if we aren't as close as we used to be.

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Foster Care Month Challenge Post #1 - How I Became A Foster Child

The story of how I became a foster child is one that may never be fully known. Why? Because there are two different stories. One, is the one that I remember, and the one that child welfare (AKA Oklahoma Department Of Human Services or DHS) has recorded. The other is the one that my birth mother claims REALLY happened, and could be buried deep in my mind due to trauma, or it could be a story that only ever existed in my mother's confused mind.

Story #1 - The Story I Remember/Official Story In My File:
The details are a little fuzzy after all this time, so some of the story may be missing. If I remember anything more, I'll be sure to add it.

Before the day that I was taken away, there were several incidents that could have affected the outcome of THAT day. Some I remember, and some are stories I was told (whether true or false) by either my birth mother, my CASA worker, or one of the many DHS workers I had.

1. While living in California as a toddler, my mother got into a fight with another woman after the woman became jealous and thought they were having an affair. This ended with our house being violently vandalized, and my bedroom window being busted in while I lay in bed near it. I remember seeing a handprint in the glass, but little else.
2. I don't remember this, but apparently at some point I ate dog food and DHS investigated it. I must have been VERY little.
3. When my mother was working, I was babysat with some lady. At some point, this woman ended up burning me with cigarettes.
4. As a small child, I was molested by my birth sister one day while being babysat by my adopted grandmother, who had adopted my sister. My adopted grandmother scrubbed me raw and yelled at me all kinds of things like I was evil and disgusting for even saying such things, etc.
5. Apparently, I was also molested by someone as a toddler, although I don't remember that.
6. At one point, I told a neighbor that my mom "abused" me - she had spanked me. I don't remember this but when DHS came to investigate, I told the lady off for making my mother cry, renounced my claim of abuse, and told her to leave.
7. There was some investigation into whether or not I was a little girl who had been abducted when I was a small child. (This would come up again when I was a teenager).

Rainbow Brite (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My family and I lived in a small but adequate home in Sand Springs, Oklahoma the year that I was six. My mother's nephew (who was sixteen) needed a place to stay, so he moved into a trailer in our back yard, and in repayment for staying there, he helped my family with remodeling they were doing at the time.

I had a "boyfriend" named Clifford, who I would visit often. He had a cousin whose name I can't remember (We'll call her "Candy", but I remember going to her house and watching TV (usually "Barbie" or "My Little Pony" or "Rainbow Brite"). She had cancer.

The day that I was taken away from my family, I went to visit Clifford and "Candy", and they gave me something (I can't remember what - food I think) to give to my cousin. After visiting with my friends, I went back home and went to our backyard to give the item to my cousin. He invited me in while he opened it.
I don't really remember why, but at some point, he told me something about having freckles, and that he had a way to check for them. He meant on my vagina... He performed oral sex on me. At the time I remember thinking that it wasn't normal, but I didn't really know it was "wrong", per se.

I had gone back to my friend's house later that day, and for some reason, I told him what happened. He told his mother, and she called to report it. When the cops/DHS came to my home, they told me that I had two choices: go to foster care, or have my cousin go to jail. I loved my family and my cousin, and didn't want him to go to jail, so I opted for foster care. I didn't even know what that meant at the time. I learned later that he went to jail anyways... I wonder if I had chosen jail, would I have ended up in foster care anyhow?

Story #2 - The Story My Mother Told Me:
My mother claims that I was actually molested and beaten by my adopted aunt's brother-in-law after school one day, and threatened so convincingly that I concocted this OTHER story, which I suppose is possible. One reason this theory is so plausible (aside from the fact that this sort of thing happens all the time - children's minds are quite malleable) is that at the age of 16, I stayed with my adopted grandmother for a week or two, and this particular aunt was also there at the time with her husband and children... My uncle came to me one day while she was NOT there and tried to convince me to have sex with him. EWW!

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Casey Anthony NOT GUILTY?!

As a former foster child, each and every child that is murdered, whether by foster parents or biological parents, is like a sibling to me because either they were in foster care (effectively making them my sibling since all of us had the same "parent"-the government) or they SHOULD have been in foster care but weren't.

Today is a sad day for me.  I have been following the case ever since it was first announced (long before Caylee's body was found). I believe I've heard almost all of the evidence, at least enough to convince me that Casey either killed her daughter or is covering up for the person who DID.

When I heard that she had been cleared of all counts except for the one where she kept investigators from getting the real truth... I wanted to cry. Caylee deserved so much more than that. I can't understand why the jury came back with that response. If nothing else... I expected a hung jury. I can't believe they were so convinced of her innocence!

If she didn't kill Caylee or know who did... Why make up all the lies about the babysitter? What mother goes out and parties while her daughter is missing? The fact that she wasn't worried tells me she knew all to well that her daughter wasn't coming home.

I admit, I wasn't there to see Caylee killed at the hands of her mother, so I can't say 100% for certain that she was killed by her... But everyone I know feels it in their heart, that Casey Anthony killed that beautiful child.

My worst fear? Casey will get pregnant again, and will do one of two things: either kill this child, as well (I mean, after all-she got away with it before, right?) or abuse the child but leave no evidence, and make sure the child doesn't die, just in case they get her next time. I really HOPE neither situation happens, but it has been my observation that the ones who SHOULDN'T have children have children over and over again, while those who would care for and protect their children can't get pregnant no matter how hard they try.

Finding My BEST Friend Again!

I am so excited! This morning, I was on Facebook, and managed to find My BEST friend of all time, who I haven't seen or talked to in about TWELVE years! He was my source of strength and hope when I was in foster care. He would send me letters that would make me laugh, even when his own life was not going so well. Even though we lost touch so long ago, I NEVER forgot him, NEVER gave up on finding him, NEVER stopped wondering how he was and hoping his life was going well. I am so happy that we're back in touch:)

Reading About Other Foster Children Makes Me Emotional!

I just finished reading "Three Little Words" last night. It was really hard to read, because she had so many similar experiences to me, and also because she had several that were actually a lot WORSE than mine. I have the greatest admiration for her for all she's accomplished since being in care.

While reading the book, memories of my own life flooded out, and at one point I was in tears. As children in care, we had to take whatever we got, because we are at the mercy of our foster parents and workers, who didn't always have our best interests at heart.