Well it has been 3 weeks since our little boy went home. We miss him like crazy, but hey foster care. Thats what we signed up for.
There is something really profound about the grief of foster care. We loved this little boy like he was ours, yet always in the back of my mind I knew he wouldn’t be with us forever. I felt like part of me was ripped away when I handed him back to his biological mother in the parking lot of their complex. Knowing that would be the last time I got to hold this little miracle. With tears in my eyes I wished them good luck, and quickly got back into my van, I didn’t want them to see me falling apart.
I drove around the corner and sat there and cried for a few minutes. my daughters continually asking me why I was sad. Explaining to them that was the last time we would see him, they joined in on the cry fest. Then we all took some deep breaths and went on with the rest of our busy day.
That date was high lighted on my calendar and I had many sad moments leading up to it, but I also had some feelings of excitement because saying goodbye to him, meant opening up another spot in our home to our possible forever child.
Yes we are doing foster care to help kids, but we are also doing it to grow our family. Its very similar to the feelings I had when I was pregnant with both of our daughters. The anticipation of who that child might be, what they might look like, how they would fit into the family. I feel the same way every time I get a phone call from the agency. I think could this be it? Could this be the phone call that changes our lives forever? Is this the phone call that brings us our daughter or our son?
Some might say its a very strange way to grow your family, and it some ways I agree. We do not have infertility issues, why not just have another one, is a comment I hear often especially by my mother.
Well I truly believe that God has our other forever children out there just waiting for us to be together in the right timing. I don’t need to carry a child in my womb to feel that connection. To be their mom.
I still remember the first time I laid eyes on my children after delivery. Vividly. Brand new squishy faced babies. And just as vividly I remember the first time I saw our little boy in the hospital bed, spitting out his soother gazing at be blankly, I remember looking at a beautiful bright eyed, curly haired little girl being walked up to our door in the arms of a social worker. How she toddled over to our toy bin and made herself right at home, and just last week I have the vivid image of crossing the street to the socials workers vehicle, to meet out newest daughter, fast asleep in her infant seat in pink high top chucks. Wild hair and the most beautiful skin colour. The first time she opened her eyes and looked at me with a smile that lit up her whole face. Each of these moments were completely different yet one and the same. The moment I met my children.
We have had a lot of change these past 3 weeks. Packing up tiny blue clothes, and dealing with grief. Filling drawers with even more pink in a smaller size. Sleeping through the night again after 3 months of very little sleep. Carrying a big chubby baby in her carseat. Rejoicing that we have 4 amazing, beautiful daughters.