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Beyond Foster Care

By Joan Kinsey 

My husband, Roger, and I have been foster parents for 20 years. We have parented more than 80 children of all ages. Sometimes, in whatever walk of life we may choose, we are given opportunities that change us in many ways.

Four years ago we received a call for an infant foster placement. We’re at that age, where we had decided not to take young children for placements. This baby however, was the child of a former foster girl that my husband and I knew, and she asked if we would care for her 3-month-old infant.

I called Roger to arrange for him to stop at Children’s Hospital and visit the child on his way home from work, giving him little information. It was October 26, his birthday. He walked into her room and his heart melted when Sylena turned and smiled at him. The nurse asked if he wanted to hold her. He held and rocked her, this broken baby with a shunt in her swollen head to relieve pressure and help prevent seizures. This 12-pound baby, with breaks throughout her body and head, in various stages of healing starting at 6 weeks of age, would be a miracle of healing. Little Sylena captured his heart and would always be "papa’s little girl." We stocked up on baby supplies, got back into the routine of night feedings, hauling car seats and taking her for walks in her stroller and learned about the harsh realities of "Shaken Baby Syndrome." (Sylena’s father’s was found guilty of child abuse and is currently serving time in prison, but is anticipated to be released from prison this year.)

I drove the 60 miles to Omaha to take Sylena to the multiple specialists that were caring for her, this tiny bundle of healing. Faithfully, I administered her medications, rocked and read her stories. When I had panic attacks I would call my daughter, a physician, and asked questions. She would relieve my anxiety with her explanations and reassurances. At Christmas time, my adult children came home with gifts for Sylena. We invited the baby’s mother over for dinner and there were tense moments over who was going to have the privilege of holding little Sylena — everybody waiting their turn.

During this holiday break, while my son was still at home, the decision was made to wean Sylena off of her seizure medication. As I walked the floors, exhausted, trying to comfort her as her body was going through withdrawal, he offered to help. This 6’3" young man, who never held a baby, took this infant in his enormous hands and walked the floors, talking to her and comforting her as best he could. We took turns that week until the effects of the drug were gone and she was sleeping peacefully once again.

During the next 15 months, Amber, Sylena’s mother, became more involved. I invited her to drive with me to the doctor’s appointments. We would go out for lunch afterward, celebrating Sylena’s progress. Amber would send baby clothes, toys and various items back from their visits. Team meetings were at our house and I advocated for more time for mother and baby, and to expedite the legal process.

Amber began to come over to our house more and take a larger part in Sylena’s care, standing back and watching when she was uncomfortable bathing the baby, asking questions, letting me know what she was comfortable with and gradually taking over those tasks. Amber was able to continue to bond with her baby.

The day came when it was decided that Sylena could go back home to Amber. As I packed up the baby’s things and gave rapid instruction to an excited mother, I felt sadness and apprehension. After they left I cried to my friend, and listened to the pep talk and understanding that foster parents give each other, because I knew that she had once been in my shoes.

After an emotional pity-party, I picked up the phone and called Amber and asked how things were going. Amber confided that Sylena was really fussy, maybe she missed me. She was wondering if I would mind if they came over for a visit.

I was soon asked to babysit while Amber attended night classes and worked on week-ends. We helped Amber find an apartment within walking distance of our home, and often shared meals. We watched Sylena meet those developmental milestones with pride.

We are invited to Sylena’s family get togethers. Amber and Sylena in turn are invited to spend holidays with our family. Sylena travels with us; she’s learning to ski. I’ve sewn Halloween costumes for them, rediscovered cooking with an EasyBake oven, finger paints, sidewalk chalk and Barbies. We go shopping together, watch movies and brag about Sylena to whoever will listen. Our biological children follow Sylena’s progress and ask for pictures and updates. Sylena talks to them on the phone and looks forward to the times they come home. She calls us "Papa" and Joan. Amber and Sylena have become an extension of our family.

Sylena was a third generation foster child.

As I observe Amber with pride, this young mother who recently completed a bachelor’s degree, I see many changes not only in her, but in myself as well. Though an emotional experience, I have learned so much. It was difficult to trust that Sylena could be taken care of by someone other than me. I witnessed the important bond between the two of them and slowly learned to accept the roles that we all play in Sylena’s life.

As an outsider, it appears to me that Amber is slowly becoming the matriarch of her family. I witness subtle changes in the demeanor and appearances of her biological family members and their respect for Amber, the first to graduate from college in their family. As she prepares to go to graduate school, her growth and confidence as an individual, as well as caring mother, is obvious. a

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