Real life: Foster care is hard.

Real life: Foster care is hard. It’s hard for reasons no one talks about. Everyone says, “I would love to be a foster parent, but I couldn’t give them back.” But we haven’t even gotten to that part yet. It’s hard during care, and it’s hard to know what care looks like.

 

It’s hard to look at my baby and see the physical signs of neglect. The pile of medications on the counter. The constant addition of diagnoses. The pain and discomfort and physical marks. The knowledge that this is preventable.

 

It’s hard to ask my little boy what he wants for dinner and receive either a blank stare or an echo in response. It’s hard not knowing who he really is.

 

It’s hard knowing that my holding baby is too much: sensory overload. It’s hard putting down a crying baby and accepting that that’s what she needs.

 

It’s hard to walk through the grocery store and not explain to curious and admiring strangers that I’m not the cause of the obvious bruises and scratches on baby’s body.

It’s hard when I’m angry– straight up pissed off–that someone failed these kids.

It’s hard when I understand. When I see that, at no fault of their own, these children are high needs and parenting them is hard. It’s hard knowing that she doesn’t have the same resources I do, and though I can’t bring myself to think that I would make those choices, “but for the grace of God go I.”

It’s hard calling them “my baby” and “my son” and “my littles” when they 100% are and 100% are not. Legally, no. Physically, yes. Biologically, no. In my heart, YES.

It’s hard. So very hard. Hard to understand, hard to guess, hard to manage. But it’s not hard to love. That’s the easy part. So, yes, it will be hard to give them back, but the loving in the interim is the best thing we have going for us.