About eighteen months ago my husband and I started talking about being foster parents. We had several reasons for this, but the most pressing on my mind was because I had always dreamt of having four children, but after my third was a near life and death experience, we opted to have my tubes tied. So I was thinking I could have a baby in the house without the pregnancy and delivery and possibly we could adopt to finish our family. I approached my husband with my thoughts and he was supportive. So our adventure began. We prayed about it and discussed it with our families. Everyone thought it was wonderful. We went ahead with the application and through the seemingly endless paperwork for clearances, physicals, backgrounds, and a multi visit home study. We found out we were approved and in the same breath the woman asked us if we would accept a placement of two little boys. I was hesitant, but knowing I had the room and feeling my heart soften to these boys, I agreed. Then there was the
"oh yeah, by the way, they have a five month old baby sister." We took them all in and asked for their removal two days later. I was a mess. Emotions took over and I didn't sleep even thought the baby never cried. I just was overwhelmed with the situation. Then, five months later I accepted another placement of a group of three siblings. Girl, boy, girl, same as mine and nearly identical ages. This situation sounded perfect. Playmates for each of them. That lasted 3 weeks. It was a lot of work, but the personalities of our kids and theirs didn't match. I felt bad, but they went to a foster home with no other children and that foster mom is more than happy to have them! Fast forward to yesterday when I received another call for a four year old girl and her ten month old baby sister. This is what we thought we wanted: a baby and a sibling. A chance to hold the family together. We discussed it and then said yes. I waited for that feeling of regret, but it didn't come. At least, not right away. I have just decided that I am not built for this. I want to help kids. I want to be a better person. I want to teach my kids good things. But, I cannot take another woman's children into my house for an indefinite period of time. Don't get me wrong, it's not the kids. This time is difficult because they cry for mommy. The older girl came with a binky permanently implanted in her mouth, and the baby expects to be held constantly. So yes, that is hard, but my emotions are eating me apart. I am physically ill, unable to eat or sleep with empathy for these girls and for their mom. I have cried in the bathroom and called out "God, please help me!" I have cried in the kitchen. I have taken ibuprofen. I have given my kids extra hugs and texted a veteran foster mom, and prayed without ceasing. I can't do it. I want to see this one out without asking for their removal because then I would be a failure. Then these kids would be uprooted again. But......then I could sleep. I could eat. I could stop crying (temporarily). I guess I thought my heart was bigger than this, but it's not. Honestly it is just not for me. Now what? Wait it out , or be a big wuss and giant disappointment? I feel like I would be judged just as harshly as the mom who let this happen in the first place. I would still be sad that I couldn't have that fourth baby, but an occasional sadness is better than a constant feeling of terror. God bless all the foster families out there.