Beyond words ...

File this under to unbelievable to believe. If you've read this blog before, than you know I fostered a little girl, from the ages of 2 - 8, who I considered my own. At 8, she was returned to her bio-mom who she never really knew and, definately, never bonded with. But, as is the instructions to all ACS workers, reuniting the family is the first goal and the judge decided her going back was best. Skip ahead 5 years, my husband and I have our own runaway on our hands (the younger child's 17 year old sister). She apparently didn't like the idea of being grounded (without computer) after failing all her classes and skipping school to go get the pill. What were we thinking ... we should've have congratulated her (she said sarcastically) Anyway, that's not the unbelievable part. The unbelievable part is that after 5 years of having no word on the younger child, no contact, no speaking with, no nothing, she calls and says she's a runaway. Get's better, because ACS is already aware of our problem with the older child, we cannot let the younger one stay with us. They tried to place her in another home, but, apparently, she didn't like it and, now, she's run from there. Long story ... short, we're watching NY1 news late last night and, lo and behold, whose on the t.v. My youngest foster child (now 13) who is apparently missing and no one knows where she is. But, the best, the very best was the interview with her bio-mom, where she plays the victim and says how the child has done this many, many times and needs to be put in a lock-down sort of facility. There is no concern in her appearance, just annoyance that it has come to this. I'm sick ... no, really .... physically sick of this whole frickin' situation. The system screws these kids from top to bottom and than hides behind beuracracy and ignorance when something horrible happens. If you had seen this child, when she really was a child, my God, she was beutiful and vivacious and innocent and gentle and loving. All the things a child should be. Now, I don't know what she's dealing with and I'm afraid , honestly, to find out. So, I sit here, terrified, not knowing where she is, if she's alright and what will happen to her next. If she calls me, despite the little voice in my head saying, "don't get involved ... not again ... it will hurt all over", I know I'll go to her and do everything I can to help. What else can I do ... she's my kid.