The Heater Cries

A plaintiff mewl issues from the hotel room heater each time the blower stops. The room is stifling warm despite the 64-degree setting and the outdoor temperature in the 30s.

As I lie in the rented king-sized bed, my husband snoring lightly beside me, my mind refuses to quiet and glide obediently into sleep. Instead it replays the many, many nights we were woken by either or both of our two former foster daughters during deep night. They both suffered from scary and confusing dreams, muddled remembrances of the many traumatic events they experienced filtered through their forming intellect, subconscious struggling to find sense.

Six months ago, after it became clear that neither of their parents would be able to provide a safe and stable environment, the children moved to a pre-adoptive home two plus hours distance from us. The young couple who hope to become their parents are wonderful people, knowledgeable about childhood trauma and more than willing and able to work with the girls. But they’re over two hours away and we worried about our ability to maintain contact with them. We do not want them to feel abandoned. We have driven there each month to spend time with them and video chat between in-person visits.

Now termination of parental rights looms. The initial hearing is less than two weeks away. And yesterday we were told that we will not be able to see the little girls for the next two months. These pending parents anticipate heightened emotional disregulation and subsequent behaviors as the three-year anniversary of the children’s removal from parental care approaches. So, they plan to keep their lives and activity levels as low-key as possible as a preemptive measure.

I get it. I really do. These children lived with us for two years and we are well aware of some of the behaviors that concern the new parents. However, my instincts tell me that remaining in contact with stable, caring people who love them will help them maintain a solid base from which to grow and bond with their new family structure, without overshadowing their authority but rather supporting it.

The heater cries again. I stare at the ceiling and wait for the light of dawn.