We hadn’t followed the common paths to fostering. Neither of us were stay-at-home parents, we didn’t struggle with infertility, there was no moment where God whispered something to us. The world just seemed a harsh place to bring a child into when there are so many already here who need help. We chose to foster because we had capacity in our lives and knew that we could have some small impact in our community.
So when we told that acquaintance that they could do it, too, we really believed it — for a while.
Being inside the world of foster care, we would hear stories. We heard of one family who was scared about the impression their older foster child was having on their biological kids, and chose to have the child removed. We heard about a boy in a group home who was the only sibling not allowed to go back to his bio home because his behaviors were just too disruptive. We heard the story of the previous foster parent of our own kids, who was abusive beyond belief.
There were some crazy times in our own journey, especially early on. Big blow ups over small disagreements, running away, screaming matches over board games, fights at school, broken doors from slamming, and holes in walls. But because we were never even close to giving up, it would surprise us to hear things like, “If this was happening in another home, these kids would have been gone long ago.”
This was what we signed up for, we knew that. Over time, my feeling that anyone could do it changed.
I still don’t think you have to be an ‘amazing’ or ‘incredible’ person to be a foster parent, but I do think it takes a certain temperament, flexibility, and understanding. If you can be determined, empathetic, committed to learning, and willing to make sacrifices, that may be all you need to give a kid a home where they can feel safe.
I think there is a common misunderstanding, demonstrated by the number of people who want to foster babies and toddlers, that being a foster parent is like being a parent. In reality, these kids are looking for just an ounce of love, consistency, and advocacy.
It sometimes doesn’t feel like that, of course, because the second they get what they want they won’t believe it and then will do everything in their power to test its limits. Many don’t want a mom or a dad — they have one. They don’t want a new home — they had one. They don’t see the need to be taught or to augment their behavior — they’ve made it this far. You have to enter into this with the love and commitment of a parent, and no anticipation of the relationship being reciprocated. You have to give yourself wholly to the work and maintain the ability to disconnect yourself from the things being hurled at you. It’s hard.
Three years in, adopted and functioning as a family, we still hear from our girls that they are waiting for the other shoe to drop. We know it won’t, but we don’t know how long it will take for them to believe it. And that’s okay. Healing takes time, and it’s ugly, and it gets worse before it gets better.
This was originally supposed to be about encouraging others to consider becoming foster care parents. I hope that you will think about it, but I also hope you enter into the process with the understanding that chaos will come, again and again, and you have to stay determined because you made a commitment and for no other reason.
If you aren’t going to be a foster parent yourself, find somebody in your life who might be going through this process and be a support for them. Invite them to dinner, hang out with their kids. Families have family friends that see them through tough times and kids in the system need to see that to begin to have a sense of belonging.
I used to tell people “It’s actually pretty simple. You could do it, too.” I stand corrected.
It’s really hard. You could do it, too.
Marshall Weil is a Dayton resident and community advocate.
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