Last updated on November 26, 2023
Parenting comes with anxiety and stress. Those are part of the bargain when you decide to bring children into your life.
Susan and I are natural worriers. We hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
We have emergency kits in the cars. We keep a stocked pantry. We bought a chest freezer earlier in the COVID-19 pandemic. Emergency numbers are posted on a bulletin board.
Our girls see us practice a scouting slogan: Be prepared!
This preparedness influences our approach to parenting.
On our phones, we each have the medial information for our daughters. We make sure they know our phone numbers, address, and other important information.
One of my friends, an incredible mother who “goes with the flow” and never (outwardly) seems stressed, asked if we might be transferring our anxieties to the girls. Of course, that question left me anxious.
What if we’re raising the girls to be hyper-vigilant and anxious? What if we’re contributing to their stress?
Foster Parenting is Stressful
From wanting a family to adopting our daughters, the start of parenthood was stressful. It always is, yes, but it feels like our journey was extra eventful. Maybe it wasn’t.
We began our journey into parenthood with stress and anxiety.
Susan had two pregnancies that didn’t reach term. I worried a lot during both, and I’m certain she was at least as worried as I was.
When we debated adoption, the anxiety and self-doubt made me wonder if being childless was just the way things would be. I know many couples who either chose or accepted lives without children. That wasn’t really what I wanted, but I also recognized that if Susan said I was enough stress in our lives, then that would have been the decision.
Private adoption was too expensive. There are benefits, and those were difficult to ignore. It might take a few months, but private adoption or direct-placement adoptions are quickly resolved. You can adopt an infant or even a newborn more readily via direct-placement. You’d alway be Mommy and Daddy. (Maybe not, but there was a better chance of bonding.)
The foster-adopt path demands a lot of patience. I doubt anyone could be a foster parent without frustration, anger, disgust, and disappointment. Children are in foster care because something sad, something bad, maybe something outright evil, happened to them. Some event or some person did something horrible.
“Leigh” and “Anne” arrived, along with an older brother, in October 2015.
My grandmother died the next month. Only a few months later, Susan had cancer surgery.
The stress seemed to be the only constant in our lives.
This isn’t going to be a post about the foster years specifically, but I wanted to remind readers that our journey wasn’t simple.
Bubble-Wrapping Isn’t Allowed
How can some people seem so nonchalant, even relaxed, in the face of one challenge after another?
I’ve always admired (and envied) relaxed, easy-going parents. I doubt we would have been those parents to biological children. We are who we are, though we do need to keep improving.
I wish I could be the parent who laughs off spills. I wish broken toys and damaged clothes didn’t upset me so much. That’s just not who I am. Little things going wrong upset me a lot.
A protective bubble might help one set of anxieties for Susan and me, but then we’d worry about the girls learning to be independent.
We want the girls to take chances and try new things. I want them to feel safe and secure enough to know that we will always be there for them when things do go wrong. We are protective in the proactive sense. It’s not like we don’t want the girls climbing, running, jumping, skateboarding, skating, and riding bikes. We expect them to be active and energetic. We know there will be scrapes and scratches.
They have played league soccer, attended gymnastics, took swimming lessons, and are in Girl Scouts.
You can learn to be safe while being active. Pads, helmets, shin guards? We’re ready.
We’re the parents with bandaids and antibacterial ointment on hand.
Under the constant supervision of caseworkers and the courts, we had to consider our choices carefully. We had to make some choices we might not have. Everything had to be logged, for example. Give an aspirin? Record it. Any possible illness or injury had to be checked and treated.
Now that we’re a forever family? There’s a medication log for each girl. Both girls are Neurodiverse and we found that logs help us communicate their needs to doctors and therapists. We can explain which medications, therapies, and strategies have been tried. We know what hasn’t worked. We also know what has worked. When we stopped a medication for Anne she became a Tasmanian Devil. When Leigh ran out of her ADHD medication, she spent the day bouncing. We logged those results.
We have a daily schedule. We track their schoolwork. We obsessively log and file a lot of data and physical papers.
Their Homework Stresses Us
We set high expectations because we’re anxious about their academic success. We’re not trying to raise “A+” students destined for Ivy League universities. We’re aiming to keep the girls on track, despite the delays they experienced as infants and toddlers.
We have bins for homework. Someday, most of the work will be shredded. We’re keeping it for now because we want to be able to demonstrate that we followed state and national standards while homeschooling.
I constantly wonder if we’re giving the girls too much or too little schoolwork. We’re following guided lesson units, keeping pace with a traditional 180-day school year.
We emphasize doing things, like reading aloud, making things, and taking walks to discuss nature. Are we doing the best we can?
After the pandemic, should the girls return to school? Should we send one back, but not the other? What is the “right” approach that’s best for them?
The girls need to develop social skills. Can activities meet that need or is school better for social skills? I know many homeschool families. Their children have gone on to college and done well. Maybe I worry too much about the social aspects of school.
Love and Affection
We’re likely not as affectionate as we should be, because we’re very serious people.
Caseworkers have said we need to be comfortable being affectionate around Anne and Leigh. We should let them see a healthy couple showing affection. But what is the right amount of affection and what’s too much? The girls began life surrounded by unhealthy relationships.
Anne will tell you, “I’m a huggy person.” Leigh is distant. “I don’t like to be touched,” she’ll let people know.
Should Susan and I hug and hold hands? What should we say or not say? What’s the best example to be, as a couple? As a mother and father?
We want to do what’s best for the girls, so they have healthy and respectful relationships later in life.
Accepting Anxiety
Anxiety accompanies parenthood. We will worry about social skills, academics, physical health, and mental health. We will worry at least once a day if what we’re doing as parents is right.
Susan and I read books and articles, which sometimes increase my anxiety. We compare the girls’ progress to other children, trying to determine what we need to be doing better.
Always trying to be better parents. Our insecurities and anxieties at least make us want to be better, every day. I apologize to the girls when I make a mistake. I remind them we’re learning about being parents. We want them to know, we’re not perfect and that’s okay. What matters is that we try our best.
Every good parent wants to be a better parent.
[Note: Anne and Leigh are pseudonyms, chosen with our daughters.]