Five years. Twenty foster babies. My heart is full as I am recalling all of their little faces , one by one.
The loss is there too. I can feel it, still after fifteen years.
We had thirteen boys and seven girls come into our lives, most of them were under three years old. Each one touched my life simply by their own.
Lessons in reality had me struggling to cope with emotions that I had never experienced.
Fear. Even stronger than joy or love. Fear was present at all times. First I had fears about the child's circumstances, their health, birth family, and the ultimate fear~ the separation in the end. All of which consumed me. Fear would creep up on me even in my sleep.
I am strong enough not to give up but know I will suffer.
Joy. Love. They compliment each other, one brings the other. A baby brings them both. In foster care joy means a healthy check up at the pediatrician, a child that will finally look me in the eye, one that will let me comfort him after weeks of pushing me away.
Love in foster care, is everything that leads up to the separation. Love is forming a bond even though I know it will be shattered to pieces. Embracing the child's family and finding empathy even if I have to dig deep to find it.
The chapters in my life have increased by ten fold because of them. Their lessons will carry on within me for all my life.
The four babies that came into our lives without a family unification plan are ours now. A sibling group of three and one more.
The future holds far too many questions. There can't possibly be any harder job to do in life than to raise children. I will continue on even if I struggle, to move forward in my trying life to raise responsible children.
