Lizzie….

Lizzie came to us on April 12th, 2010.  She was 4 months old and had been severely abused by her father.  We had Lizzie in our home for 16 months.  She will reside in my heart forever.  Lizzie’s story is a painful one, painful when she arrived with fractures bones and fractured trust, painful today because we love her so much and miss her deeply.  [It doesn't help that the beautiful calendar that my wife makes for me ever year has photos of her strewn throughout.]   But Lizzie’s story is more about hope and healing than it is about pain.

Our second weekend with her, my wife was so sick that she didn’t even leave the bed to say goodbye to a friend who was visiting for the weekend.  The responsibility for Lizzie and the rest of the kids fell to me.  It was my first time soloing since Lizzie arrived and I leaned heavily on my oldest daughter.  One thing that occurred that day was that I was unable to comfort her – it was her fussy time at the end of the day and she should have been sleeping.  I asked my daughter to hold her while I left to make a bottle.  When I returned she was quiet in my daughter’s arms.  That changed when I took her back and tried to feed her – she wasn’t hungry, she was just upset.

A few days later I attended a court hearing and met Lizzie’s grandmother.  One of our objectives as foster parents is to help the birth-family get through this experience, support them, and encourage them.  The grandmother asked me a myriad of questions, most of which I couldn’t answer since my wife took care of her during the day and my 1 day as solo parent was a blur.  But then she asked how Lizzie responded to me.  I first thought, “She cries and is fussy there is little I can do to calm her down” but I didn’t say that.  Instead I just told her she was fine and everything was okay.  Her reply stuck with me.  She said, “Well, your voice is not as deep as her father’s.”

I didn’t immediately make the connection.  But I later tested out my theory using my daughter – Lizzie was fine with her but not with me.  I was the representation of her father who did terrible things to her and broke the natural trust an infant has with her caregivers.

Now I understood my mission and I set out on it.  Lizzie had an early morning feeding and I used that event as well as some other normally fussy times with Lizzie to help her shape a new impression of a father.  As I fed her in the middle of the night I would hold her close to my chest and talk to her, saying just about anything – it didn’t matter what I said, I just wanted her to hear the deep sound of my voice and know that everything was okay.  When I burped her I would put her face up against my neck so she could smell my scent, experience my presence and my strength, and know that I was there to provide for her, to protect her, to love her.  I was dedicated to alter her experience of a father and I did.  It took about 2 solid weeks of early morning feedings but I didn’t stop there, I made sure I was just as big a part of her life as I could.

Lizzie became a daddy’s girl.  She was the apple of my eye and she knew it.  One trick she used to play on me, and did it even as we drove to drop her off the last time we saw her, was to call my name as we were driving along just to get me to turn around.  Her car seat was behind the driver’s seat.  As we were moving through traffic she would call out, “Dad … dad … dad …”  until I turned around and said, ” What?”  She would just smile and giggle.  Just smile and giggle at her dad.  That was me and now it is someone else.  And that someone else is now able to have a healthy, loving, protective, and fatherly relationship with this very special little girl.

I am thankful for Lizzie, despite the pain.  I am thankful that I was there for her when she needed me the most.  I am thankful for her grandmother for helping me understand exactly what I was supposed to do.

I would love to hear about your experiences as a father.  Please share them with us here.  And, for the record, Lizzie is not this child’s real name.

Failure

Tragedy

Several months ago we had a 16 year old join our family.  Five days ago he left and we decided that it was best that he not return to live with us.  We don’t want him out of our life.  In fact, we very much want him in our life.   We simply needed to redefine our boundaries with him – he can no longer live in our home.  This last move was his 28th move since he was placed with CPS in the past 11 years.  There have been 9 other foster/adoptive families and 7 other group homes.  The real tragedy is that none of the other families are still in his life.  Throughout all his moves in and out of peoples lives, he is still alone.  We have four other kids in our home, 3 are “ours”, 1 is another foster care placement.  We set ground rules early in the process so that he knew what he was getting into and he would know what success needed to look like.  We are not built for teenagers, all of our kids are young and high-need/high-energy kids.

Failure

I am coming to grips with the feeling of immense failure.  I know there are some close friends thinking that they knew this would happen.  We all had lingering doubts.  His track record gave us plenty to worry about.  (I need to clarify that we were never worried about the safety of us or our kids nor was that the reason that he is not returning to our home.)  There was so much I wanted to see from him, so much growth he had to accomplish, so much promise for a brighter future.  But it ended so suddenly when he left and when it happened my wife and I both knew it had to stay like this.  But the impression he made on our lives and our family was so great that his absence has created such a large void.  Leaving was his choice, although he thought it would be for only 24 hours.  We were all surprised that it ended up as a permanent move.  He actions were caused by legitimate needs brought on by other people – he did nothing to deserve his lot in life.  But he used illegitimate methods to scratch those legitimate needs.  I pleaded with him to make different choices, cautioning him that he was emptying out my wife – she was a shell of herself after a few months with him.  Those pleadings were ignored.  He made wrong choices.  And experts will tell you that he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop himself.  Perhaps.  But it shouldn’t matter and it didn’t matter.  I firmly believe we made the right choice and that true failure would have been to ignore him and suppress the desire to act on helping him.  Failure would have been to not give him another chance at having a family. Failure would have been to assume that someone else will take care of him because there was no one else.  We knew about him and his situation needed to change.  We had to do something.  We didn’t play 5 holes of golf on an 18 hole course, there were only 5 holes to play and we played them well.  He also deserves another chance – I hope there is another family out there for him. But what happened with us is not failure, not at all. We didn’t fail, he didn’t fail.

Promises

I have been working with kids who have been abused, abandoned, and neglected for over 20 years.  We have 20 kids come in and out of our home over the past 6 years.  I’ve spent countless summers working with hundreds of kids simply for the purpose of giving them positive childhood memories.  The urge to give these kids promises of a better life is strong.  Reading his file I saw that he’s had a lifetime of being over-promised and under-delivered.  I thankfully realized that early, as my first inclination was to give him verbal security that his future was secure.  At the camps, kids sheepishly walk off the bus, almost hiding within themselves from the immediate attention they receive from our welcoming party.  Our camp photographer summarized their experience the best: he noticed that on that first day kids shy away from the camera, on the morning of day 2 they tolerate getting their picture taken, by the afternoon of day 2 they are jumping in front of the camera.  But then suddenly, more quickly than their transformation from shyness to boldness, on the eve of their departure they shut down again.  The realization that “real life” is a bus trip away forces their self-protective inhibitions to resurface.  So I realized that the last thing I wanted to do was to promise him anything.  Instead, I gave him all the power.  I told him that his future – with us, without us, for adoption, his education – was up to him.  It hinged on the decisions he would make for himself.  We can’t force him to do anything.   We can only celebrate and encourage the great decisions made and enforce the consequences for the bad ones.  I let him know that he can’t allow the past 16 years of his life to affect the next 16 years of his life.  I read a quote the other day, it went something like this: Don’t look behind you unless you intend to go back.  So while his current situation is caused by other people that let him down, the choices he makes today are the only way for him to change his circumstance.

Chime in, please!!

This blog is too long and I didn’t chop it into paragraphs.  Forgive me.  I want to be encouraged – I want you to be encouraged.  We didn’t do this alone and we wouldn’t have made it this far without the support and love from our family and friends.  Deep love.  God has smiled on us.  I would like to hear about your stories and experiences, your thoughts and insights.  Please share.

His First Christmas

Last Thursday a 16 year old joined our family. I met “Jack” 2 summers ago at a camp I do with foster kids.  Jack was in a tough spot and his story laid heavy on my heart after this summer’s camp.

Below is an email my wife sent earlier tonight. Funny, I spent a lot of time writing about why I am a foster parent, my wonderful wife succinctly states it beautifully right here.

Hi special friends,
 
I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for helping to make Christmastime such a special time for Jack. We can celebrate the Jesus meaning of Christmas but there is no denying that Christmas can be a magical, special, family time whatever your faith might be. I have talked a lot to Jack about his Christmas memories and they all stink. He has NEVER had a ‘real’ or special Christmas. I knew that. And I’ve told him pieces of what we do to celebrate Christmas so he can be prepared, not overwhelmed, and know that he can ask to sit out if it is all too much for him. Tonight though, was touching. He started asking about Christmas with the excitement of a young child.

He says he can’t wait and he can’t believe it is almost here. He asked what our Christmas morning is like and wondered if it is what you see in the movies, presents under the tree, kids waking the parents in joyful anticipation. That stopped me in my tracks.

Yes. My life is perfect. Just like what you’d see in the movies (except the year Peter was so excited and woke the kids at 5am!!! We were all ready to kill him by 7am we were so tired!!). And every Christmas of my life has been like that. Fun, Meaningful, Beautiful decorations, presents under the tree, stockings with goodies, joyful anticipation even when I was old enough to know exactly what my parents had gotten me. Dinners with family and cousins and grandparents. Every year of my life. It caused me to stop and reflect on how much I have always loved Christmas because of my family (of origin and marriage), the fabulous memories (the smell of the ornaments when they came out of the attic, the smell of the real tree, all the garland my mom would hang, all of our childhood Christmas crafts, all of the cookies (Jack has never made homemade cookies before…until this week! My kids are begging to help, like always and I have to remind them that Jack has never measured the sugar, cracked the eggs, turned on the mixer, rolled the cookie dough, licked the spoon like they have hundreds of times), Christmas Eve at my aunt’s, the simple cardboard advent calendar with the doors that opened, the stockings that were hand made for my sister and I, the Teaberry gum my mom would give us every single year in our stockings (Of course I remember our 2 sad Christmases – when I was very young, about Sammy’s age, and my mom was in the hospital and then the first Christmas after she died; yet even then I was still with my family that I knew loved me so much). Since we’ve been married Christmas memories have been about collecting meaningful ornaments old and new, and seeing the joy in my kids eyes as we go through them every year and tell the same stories; The Nativity play my kids and their cousins put on every year, going to bed in Christmas PJs with Caleb and Mila to insure cute pictures in the morning (Jack wanted to get some red PJs since ‘that is what we do’-thank you God for reminding me to ask him about that!!!) , setting up the pewter Nativity set that my dad bought for me, still going to my aunt’s on Christmas Eve when we are back in PA, going to the Star of Wonder and crying every year, celebrating Advent. Gifts are important and fun at Christmas, right? Who doesn’t look forward to that?  But these memories, the smells that I can still remember from childhood, the people, the ornaments from my tree growing up and Peter’s tree growing up and all the special ones we’ve collected like the silver gift box that opens to a picture of Morgan and says “my first Christmas” from his 1st real Christmas when he was 4, and the glass Blue Balloon ornament that reminds us how adorable Sammy was in Durango as an 18 month old, the decorations I made as a kid that my mom saved for me and the ones I save for my kids are absolutely priceless. To me, that is what I love most about Christmas. The history. Jack is 16 and he has none of this. And he very excited for his 1st Christmas. Thank you for helping us to make this a special time for him!!!

Samisms – more crazy talk from Sam

Sam – Age 3, part 2

Again, I have to give my wife most of the credit for these – she wrote them down.  I get to take some credit because I helped teach him to talk.  Plus, DNA has to have some influence…

For more, see my previous post: http://peterbarto.wordpress.com/2010/11/10/samisms-the-crazy-stuff-that-came-out-of-sams-mouth/

“It is shiny morning time”

CousCo (CousCous)

Dinasaurus Rex (Tyranysaraurus Rex)

Make Noise and don’t open any doors (after months of Natalie saying at Bedtime –make noise, check on me and don’t open any doors)

On Sunday…(the day that never comes. When he wants to do or have something he knows he won’t get, he says, “Can I have it on Sunday”. My answer is always yes, and then that is the end of it). He never quite realizes that Sunday does come once a week. We could be in trouble soon!!!

I help ants go free. That’s my job.

Look at the ants, they’re adorable!

Sitting on the disgusting couch at PV mall, he says “this couch is beautiful”

I want a frog, a snail, and a bird in a cage … on Sunday.

Limp (Blimp)

I spy with my little eye, something….airplane!!! “Is it an airplane, Sammy?” Yes!!!

Old Hot-donald had a chicken nugget

Oh, Picks (short for pickles, when he is in a rush!)

Mommy I have broken teeth. (his front tooth is chipped). I need new teeth at the teeth store.

Keep Me Comp-ny.

Mommy, I want you.

I’m mak-ed (naked)

Babing suit

Mctober Fronteenth (October 13th,when his bday is)

Wait, wait mommy. Wait. – waving arms, trying to plead his case (when he is facing a consequence)

Can we have chicken bones for dinner? –he likes chicken drumsticks!!

Sammy was standing by Peter’s sink. I wasn’t really paying attention to him. When Peter walked in Sammy guiltily ran over to my sink with his hands behind his back and said, “Nothing…” before a probing question could even be asked.

“Snow train” – Peter took a picture of the train in Durango and with the sun and the smoke, it made it look rather white, which it definitely is not. Sammy called it his snow train and insisted Peter print him out a few copies which he carried around for days. This was in the middle of the summer.

Sammy, can you pick up that toy? He says, “el zippo” meaning no. Sammy, what does el zippo mean? “hamma nontana says el zippo”

“Why do we have ears?”  I said God gave us ears to hear. Sammy replied, “And he gave us hands to cover up our ears when the train is too loud”

“Leo has ‘my butt, my head, my butt, my head the movie” (The movie is really called Everyone’s Hero)

After Sammy got a spanking for running across a very busy street without permission he said “I see a lizard crossing the street without his mommy’s mission”

The sky is leaking (rain)

Is the table guy here? (cable)

Mommy, will you give me you? (wants me to sit with him)

When I was your age, mommy…

When I was Morgan’s age…

What time is it, Sammy? “It’s time o’clock”

Natalie spilled something on the floor and sammy cleaned it up. I thanked him for doing that and he said, “That’s what friends are for”.

The kids wanted to go to the zoo, not happening in the summer. Sammy was trying to think of the season we could go and he said, “we could go when that stuff is falling to eat and you stick out your tongue.” Natalie said, “Snowflakes!” Yes, Sammy, we can go in the winter!!

Can we watch that mommy show, ‘Kim and Aggie’?

I want to send a Halloween card to Leo for his birthday because he likes that.  And I want to send a batman card to me!

While holding out his hand as in “talk to the hand” he said ‘Talk to the sparkles, Nico’ (one of our former foster sons)

Whenever he opens mail he reads, “Dear Leo, your invited in my party”

With a big stick from the yard, he goes into my closet and uses the stick to press the ON button for the house alarm

Mommy, look at me playing basket ball. I look over to find him BOUNCING a cantelope.

Vivie and Livie rhyme (we were talking about grandma vivie)

Gently and Bentley rhyme (when I ask him to touch Nicholas gently)

This little piggie had ‘mosbey’ (roastbeef)

While eating a huge bowl of trader joe’s new multi grain chips he was humming twinkle twinkle little star. Each time he would get a chip he would say, “Do you want to listen? This chip is about…” then proceed to hum it in the style of what the chip was about…dinosaurs, scorpions, doors, sticks, refrigerator, crickets.

What’s the baby’s name, Sammy? “His first name is Nick. His last name is Olas” (When Nicholas was with us.)

‘Have fun in there!” to each piece of clothing as he puts them in the washing machine.

“THIS IS LOUD! And this is soft, when you are sad because Leo isn’t your best buddy boy anymore. But I’m happy!”

While waiting for the trash truck to come he said, “if I abracadabra him (while making the universal sign, waving his finger, for abracadabra) that will poof him into our neighborhood. That’s called magic.”

While holding a strainer with a wooden handle, “Momma, can you open the door so I can catch a butterfly when the wind stops on Sunday?”

“Big fish, momma! I caught a big fish!” he says while wrestling Nico to the floor.

“Is this jail?” as he walks past a store with the gate/bars closed in front of it.

Morgan left his water bottle on the bus. Sammy said, “When I get a loosen tooth I will go on the bus and look for Morgan’s water bottle. I will look this way (to the right) and this way (to the left).” He thinks you when your teeth start to fall off you get to ride the bus and go to Kindergarten, like Morgan.

Upon seeing his buddy Chase when I brought Chase to pick Sammy up at school, he yells, “Hey Chase, remember when we made butt prints???!!??” One warm summer day after playing in the sprinkler they slid across the sidewalk and proudly made butt prints. We then went to Costco and the 2 boys shouted BUTT PRINTS through the entire store and just laughed hysterically. At least 1 old man was amused and said there isn’t any better sound. I have to agree!

Comment as you like …any favorites … what did your kids say?  Come back for more…

Friday Morning Breakfast

One of the best pieces of parenting advice that I’ve received is to spend devoted and ongoing time with each of my kids, advice that I didn’t follow – until recently.  For the past 3 months I have been taking my kids out to breakfast on Friday morning, rotating each week with a different child.

When I began I had a few ideas about what I would want to cover and catch up on: who they are spending time with at school or if there anything they want to say to me without fear of recrimination (e.g. is there anything I am doing that is driving them nuts like the way I discipline them or talk to them).  I also wanted to use that time reminding them of the things that are important to me: the truisms that I hold dear like how we should treat other people.

After a few rotations it hit me that these are the moments that will have the greatest impact on my kids’ lives and behaviors.  Granted, it’s one thing to tell your kids how to act, it’s another to act that way so they see it lived out.  So as I discuss the truisms that are important to me, it’s a time to reflect about if that is really true in my life.  I often think that one of the greatest mistakes a parent will make is believing that there will be these watershed moments that will shape our kids.  But that’s not how it works. The Grand Canyon wasn’t formed in a single onrush of water, it was formed over countless years or constant erosion taking innumerable flows of water from the Colorado river.

It’s the same with our kids.  The constant example that we set, not just our words and reminders, are what shape our kids.  And it takes a lot of time to get those messages across.  I get a kick out of parents who are surprised when their kids do something stupid.  They say, “I’ve told them that a thousand times…” but it obviously hasn’t stuck yet.  I do that.  I do that a lot!!  I would love nothing more than for my kids to believe the same things I believe and become a better version of me than I am – just because I told them to.  Take religion as an example.  We take our kids to church, we tell them what we believe, we show them how those beliefs shape our actions, but I can’t demand my kids believe the same things about God that I do.  I hope someday that they will see for themselves the truth that we have encountered, that it’s held true in our life and gave life a richness that only comes from knowing God.  But the reality is they will have to come to those conclusions on their own.

So, I love my Friday mornings!  It is one of  the small moments that will make the big impact on my kids.  The chance to be purposeful and frame a conversation with my kids that will last our lifetime.

Samisms – the crazy stuff that came out of Sam’s mouth

I have to give my wife most of the credit for these – she wrote them down.  I get to take some credit because I helped teach him to talk.  Plus, DNA has to have some influence…

This is a small peak into how our young Sam saw the world at 3 years old.  Occasionally you will have to insert a slow whiny voice or a loud animated voice to get the full effect.

Sam – Age 3, part 1

Nan-o-lie

Nat-o-lie

Hot-donalds (McDonald’s) then Old McDonalds (3 ½ ) then New Old McDonalds (3 ¾ ) when we found a newly renovated really fun McDonald’s

Na-na you can’t get me (with fingers waving in ears)

I burted (burped)

Abracadabra-make you in jail

Town depot (Home Depot)

Driving up to the McDowell Aquatics center, or anyplace we haven’t seen for a while “mommy, you and me and Morgan and Natolie we live there!!!”

Hop Grasser (grass hopper)

Go-go-go-go (go Diego go)

Why we do this? (how do we do this?)

The thunder is laughing at me. I don’t like thunder to laugh at me. (when it is thundering outside)

Natolie – you share with Morgan’s brother!!!!

You crack me nuts!!! (the combo of “You crack me up” and “You drive me nuts”)

Upon seeing the empty nativity scene at church….  No Aminals, no camels, no fair!!!!

Aminals (animals)

N-O says NO

Clippard the big red dog

I belong to you and I belong to daddy and I never go to jail and I never get lost in a cave.

Can we Borrow Adam to our house? (can he come over to play?)/ Can Max Regan borrow us? (Can we go to his house to play)

Oh, Pickles! (complete with the hand motions too)

Will you Cuddle me?

Will you keep me comp-ny? (company)

Upon arriving to Bounce U he says “Natolie and Joey live there!” He remembered Peter dropping Natalie off for Joey’s party.

He calls Bounce U “Bounce Me”

“May I please have some gum? Over.” (he likes to say OVER at the end of a statement or question, like on the walkie-talkiea)

BuggaBum (bubble gum)

“I eat your spankings” upon getting a slap on the hand, he says this and then proceeds to lick it off. Perhaps the funniest thing ever.

“Inch turtles” teenage mutant ninja turtles/ Minja turtles about 6 months later

Rolling chickens –the rotisserie chickens at Costco

Comment as you like …any favorites … what did your kids say?  Come back for more.

Brother and Sister, Old and New

This is a photo of my sister and I in 1974, I think my parents staged this…

 

Here is Natalie and Sam in 2009, I didn’t stage this but made them do it again until I got a good photo…

Desert Photos

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Saint Barto

I am an admittedly lousy blogger.  You can look at my blog and it’s easy to see.  I haven’t figured out photos, colors, etc.  I tried to edit my profile a few weeks ago and it took me hours to find the right place in the WordPress  zone (not WordPress’s fault – it was right  under my nose).  As well, I don’t read a lot of blogs.  But I have found one blog that has captured my attention – Foster Parent Journey. It’s the story about a couple – Foster Mom and Foster Dad – as first time parents to a young foster daughter.

They had a great blog today.  Well, it wasn’t great like it made you think or let you see something for the first time.  It didn’t share new insights into mundane things that we pass by everyday.  Not that kind of great.  Instead, it was great because it spoke to the human condition.  Foster Mom shared “4 Secrets about My Role as a Foster Mom.”  It was gritty and transparent, raw and human.  She was struggling and exhaling online.  It was a little painful to read.

Her #2 secret was “I appreciate your nice words but I’m not a saint… not even close.”  Funny, I thought, I get that too.  I guess people don’t know how else to summarize taking in another parent’s child.  But it’s kind of a conversation stopper.

Later on in the day I was at football practice with my 2 boys and our 11 month old foster daughter.  One of the other dads was ogling over her.  I don’t like to bring up being a foster dad as it’s kind of like spurting out that you’re an ER doc and you brought 3 people back to life at work….  However, when someone starts to ask me questions about the child they assume to be mine and I don’t have all the answers, foster care comes up.  After a few exchanges he summarizes that my wife and I are saints.  And I don’t have a good recovery.  Because we are not.

We’ve had tough times brought on through foster care – and we will have tough times ahead.  But in many ways what we are doing right now is easy – our baby girl is easy, we already have kids and are used to life with kids.  I can change a diaper in my sleep (and in the dark).  Okay, I really can’t do either of those but I bet my wife can.  As well, we typically get babies and specify no younger than 3 months because

1) their personalities are appearing

2) they almost sleep through the night

3) they stay where you put them

We’re on the list for older kids but it just hasn’t worked out like that.  When/if she leaves us, it will be hard, very hard.  (See my Nov 1 post.)

We are not saints and I wish I had a good way to explain that I have more fun being a dad – to anyone’s child, doesn’t matter whose it is!  It’s not about doing something good, although it is.  And while I hear it a lot, I was a little surprised that this guy said it after he spent 2 hours flirting with our precious baby.  Who wouldn’t want to take care of her?

One more observation.  If our foster kids have any features that match my wife’s or mine, people comment that he or she looks just like us.  Our little girl has dark curly hair and people tell me she looks just like me.  I know it’s sincere because my bio-kids don’t look anything like me and my mom is the only person who’s ever said they did.  We aren’t the same ethnicity or even the same race.  It doesn’t matter though, because when people see us together they see a dad loving a daughter loving a dad.  If that’s what a saint is, then most every dad in the world is also a saint.

Miss You

Yesterday, a friend of ours said good bye to their foster daughter.  She was abandoned at the hospital at birth and, up until last night, knew only one family.  Some people need to ask,

“How long was she with them?”

like less time means less pain.  It doesn’t.  But since you’re curious, 1 year.  We’ve had our current placement for 6 months (who I can now hear is awake, squeaking in her crib for a morning escape).  She’s 11 months old and I am her favorite person in the world (except for Mrs. Barto…).  It didn’t take long to realize she was going to rip my heart out when she leaves.

Babies are easy but they are also tough.  They are easier than older kids to mesh into your family, usually easier to care for, but they are hard to say goodbye to.  No matter how long, you’ve already fallen in love.  (There was 1 exception, a 4 day old who cried all the time.  When CPS determined that her home situation was not as bad as they thought 4 days later - we thought they were making the right decision.)

The bottom line is it’s hard to say good bye.

David and Erin, sorry about your loss.  Thank you for loving that precious little girl.  I am praying for you and the kids.

There are 2 guarantees in foster care – it is painful when they leave, it is rewarding when they are with you.

The rewards do outweigh the pain.