Keeping it Civil While Fostering Self-Love
Respite seemed like a Godsend. Trained individuals coming to our home, helping with cleaning, feeding the sibs, introducing them to activities we wouldn't have thought of on our own? Yes, please! The best part of the whole arrangement is that we need to use the hours DSHS had allotted to the sibs; like, okay State, we'll take these moments to ourselves to make calls, run errands, or simply sneak a fast food snack that we haven't been able to have much of since becoming a family, if you insist, DSHS, we'll do you this solid. As life often works, however, this too-good-to-be-true situation, indeed, became too-good-to-be-true about a week into the process. Thanks, DSHS. I thought we could have been something.
Though we've finally found a balance with our caregivers, our first few weeks were definitely rough. We encountered two kinds of respite workers: the sloth and the savior. The beauty and downfall of Brother P and Sister S is that they're really easy-going. Their needs are not ones that are blaring, and for that reason, they can often fall through the cracks.
The Sloth was our first worker. She assumed because no one was bleeding, they were fine. She assumed that ramen was an adequate meal everyday, despite our fridge full of healthy alternatives and our warning that Brother P has digestive issues and needs a low salt, low carb diet. She proudly claimed that she wouldn't need to read their care plans because "they're easy." In sitting them in front of a Netflix movie each day, she taught us that no amount of training can teach compassion and an understanding of the complexities of working for populations who often aren't able to verbalize their needs. She scared us because we realized that had Brother P and Sister S been less able to recount their day to us, we would never know what was going on. We wouldn't know that Brother P walked in the hot sun for two hours without water or sunscreen. We wouldn't know that Sister S was denied the chance to go to the park because there "wasn't enough time left," despite there being three hours left in the respite shift. We questioned cancelling respite services altogether after the Sloth. We felt that this relief proved to be more stressful for us than not.
The Savior was a gem on a whole different level. She had come on a day when both J and I were off, so we were able to observe some interactions. In many ways, she serves as a big example of what not to do if you are ever in a caregiver position. Just a sprinkle of our experience with the Savior included:
There's a quote about becoming a parent and suddenly feeling like your heart is outside your body. Though I didn't give birth to the sibs, and one of them is actually older than me, with every ounce of me I feel this. Nothing brings me joy like Brother P getting more and more verbal with each day or Sister S becoming more comfortable with her body. With this, though, comes a fierce not-actually-a-mama mama bear identity. They're grown already; I know that they know that they're different, that they attract stares from children and adults alike. I even get that, realistically, few people will love the sibs like how I want them too. Only a handful will advocate for them, understand their quirks, and challenge them in ways J and I can. Yet, still, I often want to pounce. In having my heart outside of my body, I'm learning to walk the line between ferocious rage and a gentle simmer of indignation.
What sucked the most about these caregivers is that overall, Brother P and Sister S liked them. They enjoyed the attention, the enjoyed having someone home with them, and feeling like they were making a new friend. J and I struggled with this. For a while, we decided to talk in code or only keep our concerns to ourselves, as we didn't want to stress Brother P and Sister S out about the uncertainty and instability of their respite worker situation. Night time venting was where we aired our rage-filled concerns and plans to find new caregivers, but every other moment was diplomatic, bordering on positive. We felt like divorced parents, trying to keep it civil for the sake of the sibs. At some point, though, we decided that not only was this not working, this was also not the best route for the sibs.
The thing about this situation is that we've been forced to form our values around parenting in real time. To say we bypassed the "What to do when you're Expecting" series is an understatement. In the past week or so, we've come to decide that self-love and self-respect are values we hold dear for the sibs. In talking to them about caregivers, though never angry in tone, we talk about expectations of what a caregiver is supposed to be. We talk about how it makes them feel when people like The Savior say yucky things to them. We talk about what they deserve and how they should be treated. We talk about how though The Sloth and The Savior may be nice people, they do not give Brother P and Sister S what they need, and we want Brother P and Sister S to have the best experiences even when we are not with them.
We're making things up as we go. Sometimes we're hard on ourselves. Sometimes we fall asleep at 7 PM. But we're learning, and we're definitely loving.
Though we've finally found a balance with our caregivers, our first few weeks were definitely rough. We encountered two kinds of respite workers: the sloth and the savior. The beauty and downfall of Brother P and Sister S is that they're really easy-going. Their needs are not ones that are blaring, and for that reason, they can often fall through the cracks.
The Sloth was our first worker. She assumed because no one was bleeding, they were fine. She assumed that ramen was an adequate meal everyday, despite our fridge full of healthy alternatives and our warning that Brother P has digestive issues and needs a low salt, low carb diet. She proudly claimed that she wouldn't need to read their care plans because "they're easy." In sitting them in front of a Netflix movie each day, she taught us that no amount of training can teach compassion and an understanding of the complexities of working for populations who often aren't able to verbalize their needs. She scared us because we realized that had Brother P and Sister S been less able to recount their day to us, we would never know what was going on. We wouldn't know that Brother P walked in the hot sun for two hours without water or sunscreen. We wouldn't know that Sister S was denied the chance to go to the park because there "wasn't enough time left," despite there being three hours left in the respite shift. We questioned cancelling respite services altogether after the Sloth. We felt that this relief proved to be more stressful for us than not.
The Savior was a gem on a whole different level. She had come on a day when both J and I were off, so we were able to observe some interactions. In many ways, she serves as a big example of what not to do if you are ever in a caregiver position. Just a sprinkle of our experience with the Savior included:
- Constantly asking Sister S if she needed help with every single thing, and then saying with amazement each time, "wow, I can't believe you can do that all on your own!"
- Following Sister S as she scoots down stairs or uses her cane and exclaiming, "It's amazing to me how you can get around. Very inspirational!"
- Saying, "I'm very impressed with how well your speak English, I had a Cambodian client and I never understood a thing she said" after Sister S talked about moving to the US 15 years ago.
- Reflecting loudly to herself, "I just always so inspired when I see people like that, what a miracle!"
- Seeing Sister S struggle at a crocheting class we went to: "She's only got one hand, she can't do this" then resigning to her phone in the corner while one of us helps Sister S (our two-girl crochet work was amazing, btw)
 |
| Sibs showing off their homemade lasagna :) |
There's a quote about becoming a parent and suddenly feeling like your heart is outside your body. Though I didn't give birth to the sibs, and one of them is actually older than me, with every ounce of me I feel this. Nothing brings me joy like Brother P getting more and more verbal with each day or Sister S becoming more comfortable with her body. With this, though, comes a fierce not-actually-a-mama mama bear identity. They're grown already; I know that they know that they're different, that they attract stares from children and adults alike. I even get that, realistically, few people will love the sibs like how I want them too. Only a handful will advocate for them, understand their quirks, and challenge them in ways J and I can. Yet, still, I often want to pounce. In having my heart outside of my body, I'm learning to walk the line between ferocious rage and a gentle simmer of indignation.
What sucked the most about these caregivers is that overall, Brother P and Sister S liked them. They enjoyed the attention, the enjoyed having someone home with them, and feeling like they were making a new friend. J and I struggled with this. For a while, we decided to talk in code or only keep our concerns to ourselves, as we didn't want to stress Brother P and Sister S out about the uncertainty and instability of their respite worker situation. Night time venting was where we aired our rage-filled concerns and plans to find new caregivers, but every other moment was diplomatic, bordering on positive. We felt like divorced parents, trying to keep it civil for the sake of the sibs. At some point, though, we decided that not only was this not working, this was also not the best route for the sibs.
 |
| The fam at an outing to the lake |
The thing about this situation is that we've been forced to form our values around parenting in real time. To say we bypassed the "What to do when you're Expecting" series is an understatement. In the past week or so, we've come to decide that self-love and self-respect are values we hold dear for the sibs. In talking to them about caregivers, though never angry in tone, we talk about expectations of what a caregiver is supposed to be. We talk about how it makes them feel when people like The Savior say yucky things to them. We talk about what they deserve and how they should be treated. We talk about how though The Sloth and The Savior may be nice people, they do not give Brother P and Sister S what they need, and we want Brother P and Sister S to have the best experiences even when we are not with them.
We're making things up as we go. Sometimes we're hard on ourselves. Sometimes we fall asleep at 7 PM. But we're learning, and we're definitely loving.
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