Interracial Foster Care and Dealing with Racism

     [Mrs. Scott] said she hoped to goodness they would have no trouble with Indians.  Mr. Scott had heard rumors of trouble.  She said, "Land knows, they'd never do anything with this country themselves.  All they do is roam around over it like wild animals.  Treaties or no treaties, the land belongs to folks that'll farm it.  That's only common sense and justice." 

     She did not know why the government made treaties with Indians.  The only good Indian was a dead Indian.  

 - Little House on the Prairie, p. 211

My stomach did a literal flip-flop when I read those words out loud to my Native American foster kids.  The only good Indian was a dead Indian.  Seriously?!  What can you possibly say after your mouth pronounces those words that are written in a book.

My kids choose the nightly chapter book themselves, and each child eagerly follows along in their own copy.  They correct my error any time I might even mispronounce a word, let alone skip one; it's not like I could skim over an entire paragraph, or avoid a theme prevalent throughout an entire book.  They had chosen Little House on the Prairie after we had finished Matilda, even though I mildly tried to talk them out of it.  I'm not really into book censorship as long as it's age-appropriate, but I knew we were in for some early-1900's white thinking.

During the past few weeks I have awkwardly stumbled through sections where our protagonists react with hatred, fear, and even death towards those with perceived differences, while trying to create "thinking questions" as I read to help my kids work their way through tough topics.  The first few times Ma, Pa, and their racist neighbors made comments about the Native Americans, my kids didn't flinch because they didn't know how or if they were supposed to react.  Now, after having discussed hard topics throughout the book and having come to our own conclusions about them, they know that they can rightly express their indignation when the new settlers say things they have no idea about.  "Ma is holding a gun in her lap because she thinks the Natives are going to hurt her," one child interrupts, unprompted. "She doesn't know that they're just like her."

Another night, one of the children jumps up from bed, arms thrown out, practically yelling, "Natives know how to hunt just as good as them!  They even have better ways, like with a bow and arrow.  And they don't need to stay in one place because they know how to use all the land.  They talk bad about Natives and they have no clue.  It's because they don't read any books because they lived in a wagon."  

We have discussed how ignorance stems from not reading books and from not talking to people who look different from us or live differently than we do.  I smiled on the inside that my child mentioned lacking access to books as a reason the settlers showed prejudice.  Our conversations are working.

Losing Matteo & Rome

From my journal, 1/12/16: I have an undeniable, nagging feeling like Capri's sibling is right behind her.  I think it's a boy, but I would love for her to have a sister next.  But it's not even possible yet because I'm on birth control and I'm breastfeeding until at least 6 months (preferably a year) and I haven't gotten my period yet.  But man I think about it every day.  My baby is 2 1/2 months old!

Unbeknownst to me, I was two and a half weeks pregnant when I wrote that journal entry.

One day when Capri was 3 months old and being particularly quiet and good, I had a strange feeling that I should take a pregnancy test.  It didn't make sense since I had just had a baby, followed by an ambulance ride for a hemorrhage (and then a D&C procedure) because part of her placenta had stayed in my uterus, which led to a secondary hospital stay for heart and blood pressure problems due to losing too much blood.  In addition to the recurrent hospital visits, health complications, and birth control, I was also breast-feeding Capri, which also typically decreases the odds of getting pregnant.  But I had an extra pregnancy test from the first time, so I took it while getting ready one morning.  It had been about four and a half weeks since being released from the hospital.  When the pregnancy test came back positive and read 2-3 weeks since ovulation (meaning 4-5 weeks pregnant), I flipped out.  Uncharacteristically swearing up and down the hall--nearly hyperventilating--I struggled to get my shaking hands to call my husband at work.   We had wanted our kids close together, so we weren't upset that our goal of a 14-month gap had turned into an actual 11-month gap, but we were equally surprised and confused and excited.

Since I hadn't gotten a period since giving birth to my daughter, I was scheduled for a dating ultrasound to determine how far along I was.  One fetal pole was detected, and they guessed I was about 6 weeks along.  The technician said, "At this point, we can tell there is only one baby in there."  I saw a black blob next to the black sac with the fetal pole and asked what it was.  She said it was nothing; just part of my uterus.  (Spoiler alert: Turns out, it was another baby in a separate sac.)

A week later, I went back in for another ultrasound to make sure the baby was growing, since it was too early to see a heartbeat the week before.  The baby had grown and a heartbeat was visible on the screen, and she determined that I was 7 weeks along.  "There's definitely only one baby in there," the second technician said.  "You'd definitely be able to tell if there were two at this point."  The second tech was the more experienced one who we had seen with our daughter, so I took her word on it.

Early on, Cody said that he felt like we were having twins.  I assured him that it was impossible based on the words of both ultrasound technicians.  A few weeks later, while listening to the baby's heartbeat on our home doppler, we picked up two heartbeats about 4-6 inches apart, both in the 150's.  I reasoned that it must be the placenta, and Cody read online that it could be an echo.  I knew what the placenta sounded like compared to the heartbeat, and the beats didn't sound exactly the same, but there are only so many justifications you can make after being told twice that there is only one baby.

Cody continued to pester me that I was having twins, and I rolled my eyes and told him to stop each time.  I thought he was trying to scare me, since Capri and the new baby would be so close in age, and I didn't give it any thought that he honestly felt like there were twins.  Around 12 weeks, he told me about a dream he had where there were two babies.  "One was really ugly," he said, "and had a problem with it's neck.  The other one was normal."  He started saying, often, that we were having twin boys.  I felt from the beginning like it was a boy, but I had relied completely on the technicians' statements that it was impossible for there to be twins.  I even disregarded the two heartbeats, even though I double-checked a few times to see if I could still hear it in two places.  I could, as late as about 17 weeks, which was the last time I checked for two.

The only feeling I had during the entire pregnancy was that it was a boy.  During my first pregnancy I had been so convinced that I was having a girl that I didn't even look at boy names before our anatomy scan.  We had Capri's name picked out when we were about two months along with her, with no alternate boy's name.  During the second pregnancy, we went back and forth between "Matteo Rome" and "Rome Matteo" for our boy name, and couldn't settle on a single girl's name.  With Capri, I had been completely sick, too, with hyperemesis, so during my second pregnancy when I had only regular morning sickness, it reinforced my feeling that I was having a boy.  I went back and forth on my feeling, though, because I felt like they were going to tell me it was a girl at my anatomy scan.

We discussed it a lot, and each time Cody asked me what I thought we were having, I said, "I feel like it's a boy... but I think they're going to tell me it's a girl."  He didn't understand what I meant, but the only way I could explain it was that it felt like I was carrying a boy, but I didn't think they were going to tell me it was a boy at my ultrasound.  I even cried the day before our anatomy ultrasound (which we blamed on hormones) because I said, "I really feel like it's a boy! But what if they tell me it's not a boy?"  Cody reminded me, "But didn't you say you wanted a girl before you got pregnant?  Free hand-me-downs, a sister close in age?"  Which I really had wanted.  But I felt like it was a boy, and I was afraid that it wasn't going to be one.  Confusing, even to me, hence the crying.

The next day we videotaped our predictions.  We filmed Capri first.  She shook her head "no" when we asked if it was a girl, and looked away when we asked if it was a boy.  We laughed, because she happened to shake her head yes or no at the most random times when it actually synced up with what we were asking.  I filmed myself next, repeating how I felt like it was a boy but I was sure they were going to tell me it was a girl.  I filmed Cody last.  He said, "It's twins."  I laughed and said, "It's definitely, definitely not twins."  And then we went inside.

I was anxious to see the heartbeat.  After about three seconds, I noticed that there was no flickering on the monitor.  A couple seconds later, the second ultrasound technician, who also did our anatomy scan that day, told us that she had very bad news; that there had been two babies and that they had both passed away already.  I told her that I had heard a heartbeat two days earlier.  She told me that it wasn't possible (although both she and the doctor later said that they supposed it could have been possible).  I wanted to leave right then, but I knew that I would later want all the information possible, so I stayed through the excruciating exam where she identified two fetuses, both males.

The technician supposed that they had died from twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome (TTTS), which we later learned happens when one twin gets too much blood and the other twin doesn't get enough.  The smaller twin dies first from lack of blood and nutrients, and the larger twin then dies from getting too much blood which causes his heart to beat too fast.  There is an 85% success rate in stopping TTTS when it is caught early, by reducing the amount of amniotic fluid in the larger twin's sac, or by doing a minimal laser procedure to even out blood flow from the placenta to each twin.  When I asked the technician why they hadn't noticed the second twin during my first two ultrasounds, she became flustered.  She hadn't known (or remembered) that I had come in already, let alone twice.  There was no reason why they hadn't seen two babies, whether they were in the same sac or separate ones.

We were supposed to meet with our doctor after the ultrasound, but the extended wait time had given us too much time to reflect.  When we heard the nurses in the hallway say, "Yes, he's on his way; he knows about the situation," after we had already waited nearly an hour, I decided not to wait any longer and walked out.  The less-compassionate nurse called my phone numerous times, leaving messages about "needing to come in right away" to "have things taken care of" right then.  I figured that I had arbitrarily chosen that day for my ultrasound and could have scheduled my anatomy scan up to a week later, meaning that it was not actually vital for me to go in that day.  When the nurse finally spoke with my husband, she said, "You know you're gonna have to come in eventually, right?"  He assured her that we did know, and that we weren't going to avoid it indefinitely, but that we would like to have a minute to process things.  The doctor called us after that, offering to induce me the next morning.  I would have to deliver since I was so far along.

Cody, Capri, and I checked into the maternity ward by 9:00am on 05/03/16, and they started pitocin at 10:00am.  I predicted that I would deliver the babies by 4:00pm.  It's mostly a blur, but my first water broke fairly quickly (and very painfully, as the entire sac was bulging out of my body).  I delivered Matteo by myself after that, while sitting in the bathroom.  I caught him in my hand, and then called the nurse.  The doctor then tried to get the second baby out, but I told him that I thought I could do it better by myself.  He left after a few minutes, and my second water broke sometime after that.  I delivered Rome by myself, also sitting in the bathroom, where I also caught him in my hand.  Cody cut both cords.  I went back onto the delivery bed to have the placenta removed, which was the most painful part, and then we were done.  Capri slept through both births and woke up cheerfully towards the end.  Matteo was born at 3:14pm and Rome at 3:30pm.  On average, twins are born 17 minutes apart, I later learned.  The doctor and nurses were out of my room around 4:00pm, as I had predicted.

Rome measured 16 weeks 5 days, although I had heard the second heartbeat around 17 weeks the last time I had checked.  We suppose he died a few days before Matteo, although he was small.  Matteo measured 19 weeks 2 days, and I was exactly that far along when they were born.  I had heard Matteo's heartbeat three days before he was born, and he came out looking perfectly pink.  Rome had some physical problems due to his lack of nutrients, most evident in his underdeveloped neck, which looked exactly as I had envisioned it when Cody told me about his dream.  Matteo had excess fluid built up from TTTS, but was otherwise perfect.  He weighed half a pound and his body draped over my hand when I held him; Rome was a little smaller and weighed a little less.

My last pregnant picture before being induced

Trying to capture my immediate feelings after their birth

My view during most of the day.  The clock reads 4:30pm and everyone was gone. 

Capri and me with Rome and Matteo

Family picture