The Children of Foster Parents - an untold story

The Foster Parent system is supposed to be a way to provide protection for children who are in danger.  At least that is the intent that is 'sold' to the public.  Stories abound with all the court cases, media reports, etc that describe a system that is dysfunctional, harmful, deadly, abusive with suicides and even abductions for profit in order to feed their adoption system.  

One story I've never heard was what it is like for the children of Foster Parents.  We often hear of the foster child and Mark Whittam is writing a brilliant series on his blog about his own experiences as a foster child.  But I've never heard a story being told from the point of view of the biological children of Foster Parents.  I've never written the story about what it was like for me, being a child of Foster Parents.  Mark inspired me to write my side of the story as I lived in a foster home for just over 10 years, but I was not a foster child as it was my own parents that opened their home to the state.

My parents started being foster parents when I was 6 (1973), my brother was 5 and my sister was 4.  Our first foster child was an indigenous boy about 14 - 15 years old.  His name was Leonard and I remember playing with him and having all kinds of fun.  He was like a big brother for me and I remember him taking me to school on the school bus and being with our family for a year or two.  Then he left.  I miss him dearly and as a grown man I now recognize the mourning that I failed to do as I started to withdraw inwards as a child. I was not mature enough at the time to recognize the pain and loss that I experienced.  Dee then joined our family and she was indigenous as well.  She was a teen and I absolutely adored her.  She stayed with us for a while and then left.  I realized early on in life that relationships are short and as a result I withdrew inward even more.  

My dad, brother, sister and me.  See the separation between me and them?

When we moved out onto the farm, my parents decided that they could help more by being a receiving home.  Back then a receiving home was a place the police or social services could use in order to put a child until a more permanent placement could be found.  They could show up at any time, even in the middle of the night.  It was not uncommon for me to go to bed and wake up with somebody new in the house.  

I would work hard to build a relationship with these kids, but it was tough as I knew that it could be a few hours, days or weeks and they would be gone again.  As my own protective barriers started to build I found it more and more difficult to communicate how I was feeling and my journey inwards progressed even further.  By the time I was 12, my parents were foster parents for 6 years and my withdraw inwards turned into depression.  I would literally lay on the couch with pillows over my head to block out life.  I was now completely unable to express my feelings as my pain hardened my heart and made it very difficult for me to build any kind of long term relationship.  

Leonard (family name unknown)  He is wearing a wig and drinking pop.  (~1973)

As a teen I then witnessed some of my school friends staying with us.  That was very uncomfortable and I had no idea how to process the shock or discomfort of knowing what was going on in their lives.  But what scared me was when some of the meanest bullies in the school suddenly showed up in our home.  Now I had to find a way to defend myself and I managed to avoid a few poundings because of my ability to run.  I was one of the fastest runners in the school out of necessity.  I lived in fear when ever the bullies were staying with us and I had no idea how to deal with it.  

Fred (foster child) helping clean seed for spring planting.  (~1982)

By the time I was 16 years old, my parents were awarded a 10 year plaque by social services for the dedication and service to the Province of Alberta.  At that point my brother, sister and I went to our parents and pleaded to no longer be a foster family.  They quit the next day, but the damage had already been done.  

My depression continued through into adult hood and by the time I got to my early 30's I was addicted to pharmaceutical drugs, computers, alcohol, sex and what ever else I could find to distract myself from the pain that I was holding in.  I was completely unable to forge a deep, meaningful relationship with anybody.  After a few failed suicide attempts I decided that I had to change or I'm going to die.  That is when I opened up and started exploring all the pain, sadness and other feelings that I bottled up inside of me since I was a young boy.  I've shared that story many times, including here on my blog.  In the end, I am now capable of holding deep, intimate relationships with people and I have my wife to thank for that.   

I don't blame my parents for what happened.  They did the best they could to help kids in trouble.  But I don't think they recognized what impact that choice would have on their own kids or what they were getting involved in with the state.  We saw over 300 kids go through our home in a period of 10 years, which is a staggering number.  I have fond memories of many of them and often wonder where they are and what they are doing.  I heard Di did very well and paid it forward within the community and raised her own family.  So there are some success stories.  I've also heard that some of them are dead as they did not make it through the system alive.  My heart aches deeply that we all failed these kids.  

I would estimate that 70 - 80% of the kids were indigenous and knowing what I know now brings great sadness to my heart.  I now know how to express my feelings as I've found a way to open up, dump all that past on the table and process it with emotional and mental maturity.  I can say that the process is very disruptive to the kids that are brought to the home AND the kids living in the home.  Parents receive training, but the kids are ignored.  The trauma being felt by all the kids is not addressed or considered through this political child abduction system.  

The state is not the tool to deal with broken families.  If anything, the state is responsible and the root cause for broken families.  A detailed exploration of my blog will outline the basis for that statement.  The solution is to remove the state and start rebuilding the multi-generational family and get the state out of our lives. But that also requires a lot of healing to take place to do that.  I've done that healing and I've advocated for change for over 10 years.  

@markwhittam, I applaud your courage to heal from your experience and share your story.  As the kid that was already there when you showed up, I stand in solidarity with you and all those who are trying to expose the violence, trauma and flawed system that does harm to children throughout the years.  This system is violent, abusive and destructive to the family and the children.  

I support @familyprotection and all others who are exposing the state and all those who hide behind the masks as they exercise authority and power over others.    Their participation makes them complicit to the violence.  I stood up to the state and made changes, so it is possible despite the threats, violence and intimidation.  To read more, here is my post from a few months ago.

https://steemit.com/ungrip/@wwf/confronting-alberta-child-protective-services

One man / woman can make a difference.  Don't ever think we are powerless.  We are indeed extremely powerful beings!