I used to think the worst thing about having an infant foster child would be waking up when he cries at 3 in the morning.
Now I know the worst part is not knowing if anyone will wake up when the 5-month-old wants his early morning bottle.
On Saturday, we handed our two new friends off to their great-grandmother. A family member will care for them now instead of these complete strangers assigned by Children Services in a nearby county.
It was our first trip through the system, from the anxiety of waiting for a child, the struggles to learn about and care for children you’ve never met, and now saying goodbye to them.
The 3-year-old boy in our care desperately wanted to leave. When he was with us, he was a beloved part of our family. Still, he longed to be with his natural family, especially his mother as she recovers from an addiction and lives with the consequences of her decisions.
He knew he was safe at our house. He knew we’d have fun at our house. He knew there were rules at our house, including a firm bedtime, eating the foods you chose, and caring about the other people in the house.
Still, he wanted to go back to his family. It was our job to keep him safe and loved until then.
That’s what we kept reminding ourselves. This is why we got into foster parenting. Our role is to love and care for children who need it. We’re an interim solution until the system finds someone who can do it permanently.
We’re ridiculously open to being that permanent solution, but that’s not how it works. Everyone wants to envision that family reunion at the end of the process, where everyone involved is so happy.
In this case, the children seem happy about it. The birth family seems happy about it. As for us, we’re as sad as you’d expect you’d be when you love someone and have to let them leave.
We console ourselves with knowing we’ve changed the trajectory of their lives. We felt called to do this. We had room in our home and our hearts to help. The baby, who came to us in poor health, is stronger and more active. The 3-year-old has perfected saying “please” and “thank you.”
We don’t know what their tomorrows look like. That’s tough on a parent to imagine.
From the day your child is born, you envision the future. You cheer them along to walking and talking. You look forward to the first day of kindergarten, of middle school, of high school, of college. You envision who they’ll be when they’re grown.
With foster children, you’re only given today. I’ll never hear the baby’s first word or know if the 3-year-old keeps using some of the phrases I know he learned from me. I never expected to, either. No one promised me tomorrow. All I know is I gave them the best today I knew how to give them, full of life lessons, fun and safety.
And I’d do it again.
As we await our next turn through the system, finding the right child that fits into our happy home, I’m reminded that I should live more of my days with our original three children that way. We’re not really promised anything beyond today, so we should make today as wonderful as possible, full of life lessons, fun and safety.
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