A Dream Deferred

After my first experience with adoption fell through, a fire was lit within me. In my spirit it was confirmed that whether I was blessed with biological children or not, I would pursue the foster/ adoption process, and be a blessing to someone else. This could be attributed to my teacher heart, or perhaps my life’s purpose. Or maybe it is a combination of the two. 

 At the end of 2019, with the suggestion of a particular foster care agency, I began the process of training to become a foster parent. I made it through LOTS of paperwork and several courses. Then Covid hit. In addition to the emotional stress and fear of the unknown, my career had encountered a huge change. I immediately became a work-from-home employee, teaching students from my dining room table via Zoom. I continued with foster care courses until I realized that they would have to be renewed annually, and I was in no position at the time to take a child in. I didn't know what my work situation would be. I was unsure if I would be teaching from home when school started back that fall, or going into the actual school building. 

Feeling stressed and unstable, I chose to pause my journey to pursuing a foster care license. It was around that time that I started the second leg of my fertility journey. I figured while I awaited the announcement of how the school district would proceed during the pandemic , I would look into that thing I had set on the shelf. (See Blog entry “Single Mother By Choice, February 6.) 

Photo: Depositphotos.com

I restarted the process of becoming a licensed foster home in the fall of 2022, and was licensed by the spring of 2023. I began receiving calls for intake IMMEDIATELY, which was both shocking and overwhelming. I had no idea that the calls would start coming in the very next day.  Also, I had anticipated receiving my license a few months sooner than I did. So when the calls ensued, I was in the middle of one of the busiest times of year at work; preparing to facilitate state testing and administering my end of year assessments.  

In my mind, I thought I would get licensed, eventually accept a placement, and then take a week or so off from work to get adjusted and create a schedule. However, at the time I could not afford to do that. Turning down the first few calls because I wasn’t “ready”burdened me with a feeling of guilt. Of course there would be so many more opportunities, but still I felt like I was missing out on the child who needed me. 

I was already stressed and I hadn’t even started yet! LOL! I asked my newly assigned case manager to note my account with a date about a week out, to gather myself and get the house together. She agreed but I still continued to receive phone calls. So what did I do? I accepted the next placement that was presented. A five year old boy. The age range of preference I had listed for my file was 0-8 years old, but I was very hesitant to accept a child who could talk. It sounds crazy, but I was very serious. I didn’t want to deal with the possible back talk and attitude. My preference was newborn, but it made more logical sense to accept a placement who was of school age, since I actually worked in a school. Makes sense, right? 

 About a week into my first placement I was miserable. It wasn’t the child though. Thankfully he was mostly cooperative and easy to care for. I didn’t mind the work (except for having to wake up early on weekends). School days were fine, once we figured out our routine. But when that first weekend came I was distraught. I didn’t know what to do to keep him entertained and at the same time get some rest for myself. After this went on for a couple of weeks I still felt down and questioned if this was what I really wanted. I didn’t want to be selfish and just give it up, but I was really concerned . The bonding wasn’t happening. We were just going through the motions, and since it was my first placement I didn’t know that was normal. 

I started doing research, questioning if postpartum depression was a “thing”, even when not actually birthing a child. It was! That discovery made me feel a whole lot better. It reassured me that I wasn’t crazy, or a failure, and that things would improve. Early on, I definitely was not feeling it. Waking earlier every day, cooking or preparing food for someone other than me, a bathing and bedtime routine, disciplining by having to explain everything, and missing out on time with friends. Whew! I was in over my head. What was great though was having a very supportive village, my close family and friends, who were ready to step in whenever and wherever needed. The problem was that I was hesitant to ask for help. If you know me personally, you know that I don’t want to feel that I’m bothering anyone. I had the mindset that people would think, ‘You asked for this, so deal with it.’ My thinking was so far from what those who love and support me would have thought or said. 

Ironically, just one week into my first placement, Mother’s Day came. I received a few Happy Mother’s Day greetings and felt even more sad. I didn’t feel like a mother at all; just a long-term, glorified babysitter. As the weeks went on, I became creative in figuring out how to incorporate alone time with my friends. My mom was a huge help, taking in my little one when I wanted a night out or traveled with my cousins for a few days that summer. It really helped that the child was well behaved, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone dreading seeing him coming. LOL! (Yes, that was a concern.) He enjoyed playing with my niece, going to church with me, rolling around the city to and from our many functions and events, and the love and attention he received from my family and friends. 

 I was doing all the things…dentist appointments, doctor appointments, immunizations, back to school shopping, fire drills at home, hair appointments, etc. Most of the things listed were NOT great experiences. I was having to calm the child down and explain processes as best I could beforehand. I survived. And I was pretty good at it. 😊 

On the couple of occasions when there was a possibility that the child may return home I had mixed emotions. On one hand I was looking forward to it, so that I could have some normalcy back. I felt guilty for feeling that way; guilty for wanting him gone. On the other hand, I was sad because I knew that the time he spent with my family, friends, and me was very beneficial to him. I knew that he enjoyed them a lot. But there's no place like home. Reunification is the goal of foster care and I wanted that for him.

 Four months later, the end of his stay came abruptly and unexpectedly. I received a heads up call from my CPS case manager, with the possibility of a change in placement. I didn’t give it much consideration since the two times previous didn’t yield any change. Ohhhh but this time! I got a call, not even a week later, and had to have the child packed and ready to go in less than 24 hours. On a weeknight!! I talked with him that evening during dinner, in the midst of washing clothes and packing things up. I explained what was happening as best I could for a 5 year old to comprehend. As his brain processed the information, he looked puzzled and sad. He continuously said, “I’m not coming back to your house?” I would just re-explain every time that he asked, pointing out that he would be going to stay with a family member after school the next day. 

I was heartbroken, wondering if this would be a good placement for him, if he would soon get to return to his home with his parents, and if he would miss the routines we had developed and the playdates with my niece. I was also sad because I knew my niece would miss him. In the midst of the frantic events of the night before his departure, we took a moment to video chat with my niece (and brother and sister in law), and that made my heart happy. 

The next morning we went to school as normal, and that afternoon we were saying our goodbyes. The following few days were rough. I was glad to have some time to rest and recoup, reign in my feelings, gather my thoughts, and plan for the next opportunity. But also I worried about him, and I felt bad for putting this burden on my family and close friends. They had gotten to know and spend time with the child, so they would miss him too. But similar to me, they have hearts of gold. If they had known I was feeling sorry, they would have very quickly told me to think no such thoughts. 

I know they hesitate to speak about him to me, and tell me how much they miss him, but I know. (A few eventually told me, and I appreciated that.) One of my friends in a group chat summed up our experience perfectly. She said, “...the love and village you placed around him will be a memory he carries with him for the rest of his life. Thank you for letting us take this journey with you. I am praying for my friend. I am looking forward to the next child we get to love and spoil.” 

All is well. 🙂