At the end of April, my wife and I placed, Bill, our foster son of almost three years, into his new forever home. It was tough, it was painful, and a big chunk of our hearts went with him. It is tough not to fall in love with someone that has been a big part of your life for such a long time.
We decided that we needed a short break from being foster parents. The wound was too raw. Everything in our house reminded us of him. We realized that we were going through the grieving process as if he had died. We knew that he was okay, it was just trying to convince our hearts of it.
By the end of September, we decided that we would, again, open our home to babies. We informed our agency that we were ready, and we waited. A month or so went by and we were offered children two separate times, but decided that they would not be a good fit. The care that we would need to provide went beyond our training and abilities. Don’t get me wrong, both babies had medical problems severe enough where they would be unable to leave the house or ever be able to lead a normal life. Chances that either one would ever be adopted was slim, therefore taking either child would obligate us for a much longer time that we wanted.
So we abided our time and waited. We were starting to come to the conclusion that our time of being foster parents was coming to an end. Neither of us are that young any more, so we started planning for the holidays. We opened our home for a big family gathering. Thanksgiving was going to be crowded. We had thirty-two people on the list that were planning to be there for lunch. (I don’t know which is harder, newborns or thirty-some people for a holiday meal!)
On Tuesday, two days before Thanksgiving, we received a call from our agency, and they wanted to know if we were open to take a newly born little girl. She had been born the day before. Of course, we agreed. On Wednesday, we received a call that they were leaving the hospital and on the way to our house.
Allie, our eight-year-old, was so excited that she couldn’t sit still. She was desperately ready to be a big sister again. She traveled to and from the front door about every five minutes. After each trip, she would ask how much longer until they got here.
Finally, the social worker arrived. Allie was jumping up and down. We finally got to meet our new little girl, and her name was Callie (not her real name). She was two-days-old and weighed a little over six and a half pounds. What a way to restart our fostering adventure.
Callie loved to snuggle and only cried when she was hungry. She was the only baby we have ever had that did not spit-up or have reflux. Normally, if you removed the bottle before she had emptied it, she might lose a drop, but that was it. She had a very gentle personality and it was a real pleasure to have her here. We fell head-over-hills in love the moment our eyes met hers.
Callie was placed in her new forever home after almost three weeks. Her new parents were so excited to meet their new daughter. My wife said that all they could do was cry.
If we had given up on foster parenting, we would have never had to the pleasure of taking care of this tiny treasure. I can’t imagine not having her in my life.
Maybe God’s plan for us to foster is not over quiet yet. God is good.
***John E. Stack is the author of Cody’s Almost Trip to the Zoo, Olivia’s Sweet Adventure, and Cody’s Rescue Adventure at the Zoo.
Hey, by the way, if you enjoy reading my thoughts, like and share with friends. They might like this also. Every author is always looking for greater exposure. Also, new foster parents are always needed and our love for these special children may influence someone else to take that step out of the their comfortable world and become foster or adoptive parents.