Behind the Scenes
When the kids' adoption was finalized, I realized that I would
officially lose the support of my social worker and the kids' social
worker. While both of them are amazing, wonderful people, they have a
community to serve, and can't be my first call for advice, questions,
etc. I was able to get a referral to something called "Post Adoption
Services".....basically an agency that continues supporting a new family
after the adoption is finalized. About a month ago, two women, both
social workers, came to my home, sat with me, and we talked through our
family, what's working, what needs improvement, and what kind of support
we think we'd still benefit from. When our meeting was over, I told
them I felt like I could breathe, knowing there was someone at the other
end of the phone if I felt like I was dealing with a situation out of
my league. It doesn't happen often, but I love having that safety net.
I think there is a preconceived notion that exists, in some cases, around social workers....they drive up in a sedan, have volumes of paperwork in tow, are beat down, not effective, and checking boxes. My experience has been the entire opposite. When my agency appointed a social worker to my case, she was lively, fun, a mother herself, and totally accessible. She laughed with me, assured me of my doubts, did paperwork with us over pizza. I met her kids. She called me at 9pm to see how I was. She was real, authentic, kind, and hardworking. Ultimately, her connection with a social worker in another county is the reason my family grew. The kids' social worker was similar...full of life, positivity, encouraging, and passionate to do right thing for Ciera and Isaiah. Now that the adoption is final, I still send photos of the kids to both women, in an effort to encourage them that while their caseload probably is heavy and their days long, their work is making a true difference. They are abundantly appreciative of this....and it's a bond that I hope lasts for the kids lives. They are part of our circle now.
All of the social workers with whom I have worked are funded by the government in one way or another. I mention this because I used to feel resentful when I reviewed my paycheck and saw the many taxes that I was paying to the government. I didn't understand where the dollars went, and imagined they were landing in an abyss never to be used appropriately. I haven't learned where they all go, but I know now about the thousands of children in the system, who would be truly lost without social workers. programs, and access to healthcare. If it weren't for these services, Isaiah and Ciera would never have become my children. They'd still be in the system, probably in poor health, and I can't say where they'd be living or who would be caring for them.
Because Isaiah and Ciera were adopted through a public adoption, they are entitled to Medicaid until they are eighteen. When I first heard that, I recoiled. My preconceived notions of Medicaid shadowed my ability to see through to the benefit they deserved. I was sure I'd enroll them onto my own insurance. However, after speaking with other families who had adopted publicly, I learned that if I enrolled the kids in private insurance, I would spend the next decade with Medicaid and the private insurer fighting-and debating each bill. So, I kept them on Medicaid.
The first time I went to the pediatrician's office for Isaiah-about 10 days after he moved in-I presented the Medicaid card, with embarrassment. I was sure the office staff was judging me, wondering why my kid had public assistance....I almost even turned my engagement ring around. I believe my insecurity was greater than any surprise from the receptionist, but I did feel very uncomfortable. I knew my insecurity was not unfounded when I enrolled my kids for summer camp at the YMCA. I presented their Medicaid cards as proof of insurance, and was immediately asked if I would like some financial assistance forms. When I replied no, I could tell the woman at the front desk was a bit confused....Medicaid, but can pay for specialty camp? What's with this woman?
I discussed this with the kids' former foster mom-who had Isaiah and Ciera before I took custody of them. She's an angel to children who need care, and has adopted multiple children from foster care. She had the most wonderful point of view on this that I now share. Isaiah and Ciera missed out on a lot. They were not treated like most kids. They missed things in their early childhood that most of us take for granted. The system didn't work for them.
Medicaid is a gift back from the government to them-and the thousands of children in foster care and public adoption-almost an "I'm so sorry that your life, and those around you, went wrong. The least we can do is now ensure your basic needs are met".
Today, I think of Medicaid very differently. Medicaid affords me to help play catch up on the college funds that are 7 years late in building. Medicaid allows me to take the kids to specialty camps, and experiences that they never had-so we can find out if they are interested in a sport, or activity that they were not afforded in their earlier years. It allows me to take them to an extra museum, quickly travel to meet their new adoptive family in other states, or buy a copy of a movie that they should have seen years ago.
I often wonder, what if Isaiah and Ciera's birth mom had my social workers help her when she was in crisis? What if someone had offered her child care, so she could work? What if people came around her the way my family and friends have come around me during this process? I wonder if someone had shared with her some of the resources the government provides, and agencies support.....would she have succeeded in caring for Isaiah and Ciera? Would they have been able to stay a family? It breaks my heart most days that that couldn't happen for them, the way it has for me.
There is no doubt the system is broken, and that often the people who really need help aren't getting it at all. However, I wanted to write this blog so that the next time you see your paycheck be reduced for Medicaid, or anything else, you might remember that you are helping the Isaiahs and Cieras of the world, some who are getting services, but may not have people to love them. Or the next time you see someone pull out a Medicaid card, you might think a bit. Everyone has their own, strange story....and there is so much more than you can see.
I think there is a preconceived notion that exists, in some cases, around social workers....they drive up in a sedan, have volumes of paperwork in tow, are beat down, not effective, and checking boxes. My experience has been the entire opposite. When my agency appointed a social worker to my case, she was lively, fun, a mother herself, and totally accessible. She laughed with me, assured me of my doubts, did paperwork with us over pizza. I met her kids. She called me at 9pm to see how I was. She was real, authentic, kind, and hardworking. Ultimately, her connection with a social worker in another county is the reason my family grew. The kids' social worker was similar...full of life, positivity, encouraging, and passionate to do right thing for Ciera and Isaiah. Now that the adoption is final, I still send photos of the kids to both women, in an effort to encourage them that while their caseload probably is heavy and their days long, their work is making a true difference. They are abundantly appreciative of this....and it's a bond that I hope lasts for the kids lives. They are part of our circle now.
All of the social workers with whom I have worked are funded by the government in one way or another. I mention this because I used to feel resentful when I reviewed my paycheck and saw the many taxes that I was paying to the government. I didn't understand where the dollars went, and imagined they were landing in an abyss never to be used appropriately. I haven't learned where they all go, but I know now about the thousands of children in the system, who would be truly lost without social workers. programs, and access to healthcare. If it weren't for these services, Isaiah and Ciera would never have become my children. They'd still be in the system, probably in poor health, and I can't say where they'd be living or who would be caring for them.
Because Isaiah and Ciera were adopted through a public adoption, they are entitled to Medicaid until they are eighteen. When I first heard that, I recoiled. My preconceived notions of Medicaid shadowed my ability to see through to the benefit they deserved. I was sure I'd enroll them onto my own insurance. However, after speaking with other families who had adopted publicly, I learned that if I enrolled the kids in private insurance, I would spend the next decade with Medicaid and the private insurer fighting-and debating each bill. So, I kept them on Medicaid.
The first time I went to the pediatrician's office for Isaiah-about 10 days after he moved in-I presented the Medicaid card, with embarrassment. I was sure the office staff was judging me, wondering why my kid had public assistance....I almost even turned my engagement ring around. I believe my insecurity was greater than any surprise from the receptionist, but I did feel very uncomfortable. I knew my insecurity was not unfounded when I enrolled my kids for summer camp at the YMCA. I presented their Medicaid cards as proof of insurance, and was immediately asked if I would like some financial assistance forms. When I replied no, I could tell the woman at the front desk was a bit confused....Medicaid, but can pay for specialty camp? What's with this woman?
I discussed this with the kids' former foster mom-who had Isaiah and Ciera before I took custody of them. She's an angel to children who need care, and has adopted multiple children from foster care. She had the most wonderful point of view on this that I now share. Isaiah and Ciera missed out on a lot. They were not treated like most kids. They missed things in their early childhood that most of us take for granted. The system didn't work for them.
Medicaid is a gift back from the government to them-and the thousands of children in foster care and public adoption-almost an "I'm so sorry that your life, and those around you, went wrong. The least we can do is now ensure your basic needs are met".
Today, I think of Medicaid very differently. Medicaid affords me to help play catch up on the college funds that are 7 years late in building. Medicaid allows me to take the kids to specialty camps, and experiences that they never had-so we can find out if they are interested in a sport, or activity that they were not afforded in their earlier years. It allows me to take them to an extra museum, quickly travel to meet their new adoptive family in other states, or buy a copy of a movie that they should have seen years ago.
I often wonder, what if Isaiah and Ciera's birth mom had my social workers help her when she was in crisis? What if someone had offered her child care, so she could work? What if people came around her the way my family and friends have come around me during this process? I wonder if someone had shared with her some of the resources the government provides, and agencies support.....would she have succeeded in caring for Isaiah and Ciera? Would they have been able to stay a family? It breaks my heart most days that that couldn't happen for them, the way it has for me.
There is no doubt the system is broken, and that often the people who really need help aren't getting it at all. However, I wanted to write this blog so that the next time you see your paycheck be reduced for Medicaid, or anything else, you might remember that you are helping the Isaiahs and Cieras of the world, some who are getting services, but may not have people to love them. Or the next time you see someone pull out a Medicaid card, you might think a bit. Everyone has their own, strange story....and there is so much more than you can see.
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