I was talking with another foster-mom last week about some hard things we have to face and do as those with the privileged position of foster-parent, and we were talking about our families reactions to those hard things. And I realized, we, the foster-parents, signed up for every bit of joy and heartbreaking grief that comes our way in this journey, and we force a lot of people along for the ride, willingly or not.
The most common objection I hear from those who don't foster, is "I I'd get too attached." As foster parents we're okay with that. I honestly don't believe I'll love my biological children more than the little love sleeping 6 feet to my left right now, and I know that it's likely this child will leave me one day, and I may never see her again. It terrifies me to think about, but I keep going, keep loving, keep hoping and praying the best for her and her family even as it rips my heart out to think about the personal pain I will experience as an answer to those prayers. And I'm okay with that. I decided to be okay with that a long time ago. My parents, my siblings, my nieces and nephews, my in-laws, my closest friends, our church family, were never given the choice to be okay with it. We drop these precious child in their lives, who you can't help but ADORE, and they love them so, so well. And then our kids leave, and though as foster parents we bear the brunt of that grief, our family and friends bear it too, with no choice, and no training. They stand alongside us as we try to explain that it's okay and it's good, and it's freaking hard, as we all wrestle with the profound and uncomfortable dissonance of foster care and the unnaturalness of the relationships formed and torn apart by it.
Many foster-parents have little support from their friends and family when they tell them they are going to welcome foster children into their homes. Many people lose friends over it, and strain family relationships. Because foster care IS scary. Loss is scary. Trauma behaviors and poor mental health are scary. The unknown is scary. Staring deep, dark brokenness in the face is terrifying.
So I want to say thank you. To the foster-grandparents and foster-extended-family, for including and spoiling our children just like any other grandchild, for reading them bedtime stories over video chat, and sending clothes and books and toys, and snuggling every chance you get. To the foster-neighbors and foster-friends, who show up big every time we have a need, who are excited to meet our little ones regardless of how long they may stay, and for trying to understand the intricacies and commitments of foster care. To every single one of you who loves our babies, and fosters them alongside us knowing that doing so means you, too, will experience the heartache of goodbye, and who prays hard for their families anyway. To everyone who had no say in our decision to foster, but jumped in alongside us instead of turning away, we're blown away by you, we're grateful for you, and we couldn't do this without you. We love you and thank God for the blessing you are to us and to the children who we all have the privilege of caring for in our lives for a time, and treasuring in our hearts forever. We love y'all, thank you for loving us.
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