I just completed, literally, 27 pages of paperwork for Sammy to be transitioned to the treatment foster home on Friday. This does not include copies of insurance cards, birth certificates, social security cards, etc. Sammy's "file" in my home easily measures 12 inches.



I understand the necessity of all the papers, and the new home needing to know everything about my son, but some of this stuff is just plain repetitive. Three different places it asked me for the diagnoses of his mental illness along with the medications he takes.

Some of the questions are very vague, and hard to answer, especially when your choices are yes or no. How about this question?

Shows bizarre/severely disturbed behaviors/thoughts?

Well, yes, that’s why he’s been in residential placements, and is going to a treatment foster home, rather than returning home.

The problem with these forms, is that they’re the same for both regular foster care, and treatment foster care. The reason my son is entering care is completely different.

If someone “untrained” is reading these forms, it may appear that I don’t love my son. I have to list all of his negative traits, and it’s a fairly lengthy list. Stealing, chronic lying, food hoarding, explosive rages, property destruction, and on and on.

The one thing that really annoys me about these forms, and many forms that I have filled out in the past, is the box where I get to check my relationship to Sammy. There is always a box for “adoptive mom” as if it makes me less his mom than if I had given birth to him.

I understand the legal need to distinguish between mother, guardian, and foster mother. Those have different legal ramifications, but as his adoptive mother, I have full legal rights. Why do I have to distinguish myself as something in the “other” category?

When he is hurt or sick, I am the one there. When the school calls because there are problems, I am there. When there are court appearances to be made, I am there. I'm the one filling out all the paperwork here today. I make the medical decisions for him, all legal decisions for him, and I do not have to defer to anyone to make these decisions, but I am still not considered his mother by some people.

If I sound hurt or angry, it’s because I am. Believe me, I have worked harder on his life than he has, and certainly harder than his birth mother ever did. There was a point where Sammy and his birth mother were in jail together at the same time with her being in the adult portion, and him in juvenile. They had the same judge within a day of each other, and the same public defender.

To say that I am less than his mother because I didn’t give birth to him, just chaps my hide.