Heart Sore

Fiona called tonight.  Later than usual, as Jane had accidently called my work number .I was ,of course not there,and she had to find the correct home number.  She said when she got on the phone that Fiona had some important things she wanted to share and that they were hard things.  I was glad for the warning.  The kids were drawing in the kitchen and happily occupied and I crept into the spare bedroom for a bit of marginal quiet. (quiet is rather relative at our house)

One of the things Jane does with Fiona is to work out a phone plan for each call.  They discuss topics, questions Fiona wants/needs to ask, what she hopes to get from the call, etc.  Fiona's voice was strained and very quiet.  She wanted to know why she couldn't come home.

I suppose at one level I should feel good that this is home for her.  She only physically lived here 5 weeks out of her young life.  But trying to explain the need to keep her safe, to keep others safe, that the Great School in the City has been doing such good work helping her to grow. . . it isn't an easy conversation.

The fact that she was removed from our home has been the elephant in the room in our relationship for 9 years.  I know it should have been addressed before this.  But there was never a situation where she was doing well and there was such strong therapy work taking place where it would have been even remotely wise to begin this dialogue. And so I think I let scabs grow over the hurts in my heart over that whole issue and thought rather naively that we could somehow just go forward.  Especially since she is 18 now and looking toward working to live in some type of semi independent, yet supported setting.

But the things this child has been thinking for 9 years.  That it was her fault. That it was our fault.  That we loved Robbie more.  That she was afraid of being alone.  That she was glad Robbie was happy and safe.  It is a tangled jumble of every emotion and fear you could imagine having.  I am glad it was a phone call, because I was crying.  She was crying.  I think even Jane was crying by the end of things.

Jane said that she had heard me call Fiona her foster daughter and that she thought that showed a lot of love.  I told Fiona that I really think of her as my daughter but that at 18 I felt it was her decision if I had the right and privilege to use that title.  She said she would like it very much.

We talked about how Rob is quiet and that doesn't mean he doesn't love her.  He just isn't a talker.  He is a do-er.  She said he used to talk a lot when he was little.  I said that was probably true but that sometimes little boys change when they become teens and are doing their own searching and deciding about things.

I really almost lost it when she said she was glad we were there because we were the only family she has left.  The abandonment feeling was so  palpable.  I said that we would always be family and that was true no matter where people wound up living.  And that she shouldn't forget that she didn't just have us and Robbie, but that she is a sister to KC and Lissa and they both refer to her as such.

It was a hard call.  A call that will hopefully help her travel a little further on the road to healing.  There are no scabs on my heart tonight.