And here I am now – a foster mom– no bulging belly, no swollen ankles, and no due date. But, with the same sense of urgency I am striving to accomplish all the same tasks I did before my daughter was born. Grocery shopping – because what if we get a placement and can’t make it to the store right away? Organizing….because once we get a placement I want to be able to focus on them and their needs rather than hunting for matching socks. Researching, reading, and keeping in touch….because we all know that’s going out the window when I have a hand to hold, a mouth to feed, or a baby to swaddle. I know our world is about to be rocked and I’m trying to prepare while I still have time. So, in some ways it feels very familiar.
And yet, in other
ways, I know the parallel is not there at all.
When we were expecting our daughter…the due date came and went, but
still we waited with eagerness to meet our little one, knowing her birth was inevitable
and her presence in our lives was all part of God’s perfect design for our
family. Relatives, friends, and coworkers all sent gifts, shared wisdom, and
gave encouragement as they awaited the new addition. They shared their hopes, willing to risk a committal
love because she was going to be ours…and in a way…theirs. We were all curious, excited, and
hopeful. We didn’t know when she was
coming, but we knew she was coming from the safety of my womb, to the safety of
my arms and she would stay forever.
As we await a foster placement, our eagerness is
bittersweet. We’re ready, we’re waiting,
we’re even excited to help…. But, we know that if we get a call, it is only
because a family has been broken in some way, a child’s life has been disrupted,
and God’s perfect design has been violated. An arrival won’t mean the miracle of birth. It
will mean a traumatic departing from the life they knew and a painful
separation from loved ones. This
scenario is not natural, familiar, or a reason to celebrate. So, as we hope for the phone to ring, we also
hope it never will.
Because we know when we meet a placement for the first time we'll want to scoop them up and shout, “We’re so glad you’re finally here!” But, instead I picture myself holding a terrified, frail little stranger and whispering, “I’m so sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”
Because we know when we meet a placement for the first time we'll want to scoop them up and shout, “We’re so glad you’re finally here!” But, instead I picture myself holding a terrified, frail little stranger and whispering, “I’m so sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”
We pray for courage as we face these unknowns. We share updates and
rally support, but we’re unsure about how much to ask of those around us,
knowing we can’t stop our battle from soon becoming theirs. Most of our friends and family are curious
and hopeful for us, but cautious. They aren’t
sure what to give, what to say, or how to help, even when they desire to show
their support. They express fears and concerns with honest
hearts and try to understand why we would risk the heartache. This is reasonable. Foster care is complicated and confusing…especially
from the outside. It doesn’t fit the
mold. When I stock up on baby bottles, onesies, crib sheets, and other supplies at garage sales and thrift shops, I get strange looks. They stare at where my baby bump should be and ask cautiously, "Are you expecting?"
YES. I am. I’m expecting a child to need
a refuge. I’m expecting to be that safe place. I’m expecting to give everything
I have during their stay. I’m expecting to say goodbye before I’m
ready. And I’m expecting the call will come “any day
now”.
