"Ours."
I bypassed the grueling 9 months of growing a baby. I didn't experience that beautiful pregnancy glow or the ever expanding belly bump. I didn't have the time to fully prepare for a little life to be in my hands, nor was I completely confident in speaking about it. I was becoming a mom again, but it was in a way that I had never expected.
The title "foster mom" makes me cringe and puff up with joy all at the same time. It is a role I never thought I'd be in and it's a role that has completely made me question my ability to parent.
Our home was officially opened on a Wednesday afternoon. While waiting for our official number, we had already received a call about a baby. I wanted him. It felt right and it was now just a matter of time. Which would come first-the number or his placement somewhere else.
It was the latter.
I was upset. I knew that was the baby for us, so I struggled a little knowing he had gone somewhere else.
Thursday came. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Crickets. And I begin to wonder if we'd ever get a call. All I've heard since starting this entire journey is the need. The need is so great. There are so many children who need a home. You'll probably get placed immediately. You will have a child so quickly and I wasn't. I was feeling a little confused, but also knew that God had something in store for us. And he was whispering just wait.
Monday came and I had stopped obsessively checking my phone for a missed call. I had relaxed a little and wasn't so consumed with when we would get a baby. And then my phone rang. It was the call about a little baby girl. My heart knew this was our baby and my yes was a big yes. Ryan's yes was as big as mine.
We were doing this.
I was told to wait until 3 to call back if I hadn't heard anything. By 2:55, with no word, my anxiety was high. I prayed and asked God to calm my heart and mind. To know that he was faithful and that I knew he was taking care of us. Not a minute later, a number popped up on my phone from the county she was coming from. Thanking God, I answered that call and plans were made for her arrival.
I can't exactly describe the feelings I had when I laid eyes on her. Heartbreak, joy, excitement, devastation. The list goes on. I saw her and those big beautiful round eyes and instantly I felt like momma. I had wondered how I would feel. Would I truly feel like a mom to these children or would I simply be a caretaker. Would I love them? Would I be what they needed? Would God show me their needs?
God has been so faithful to us. He has opened doors in a way that make me say, God did that.
Our sweet baby girl changed us. We learned how to parent three children. We learned of the frustration of the foster care system. We received lessons on grace. We watched our kids love someone with so much passion. She reminded us that we have so much love inside of us and that is unbelievably easy to give.
Our time was precious with her. It was also short. 18 days. 18 days to love and to grow.
I was blindsided by the call that she was leaving us that day. Ryan was out of town, the kids were with Nana, and in the time frame given, there was no real way for them to make it home for a goodbye. It was solely on me. God did it that way for a reason. It was one of the hardest things of my life preparing for that goodbye. Sitting there playing with her knowing at any minute I would hear a knock at the door was almost paralyzing. But also, God prompted and pushed. He told me to not hold back. To love her fiercely until the end and I did. Strapping her in the car seat, telling her goodbye, and giving her that one last kiss caused a physical pain I didn't expect. Walking back into the house empty handed literally took my breath away. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. There nothing but sobs coming from me. And I was alone.
Lord, thank you for letting me be alone in that moment. I needed Him. I needed His arms wrapped around me. I needed His peace. I needed His comfort. And He delivered.
While there was a big hole missing in my heart that weekend and unexpected tears at any given time I accepted the fact that I was mourning. I was filled with so much grief that at times I wasn't sure I could open my heart up again. Did I want to do it again? Did I want to put my family through that again? Was it worth it?
But, we began to pray. We asked God to fix our hearts. To pick up the shattered pieces and put it back together. I didn't want my heart to be perfectly sewn back together. I needed those jagged marks as a reminder of that heartbreak that comes along with fostering.
I picture my heart like an old quilt. All the little sections. All the little pieces of scrap fabric that never seem worthy of something good. But the creator knows. They know the final outcome. When it's all sewn and perfectly put together, the end result is amazing. It's cohesive. It flows. It's beautiful. It's long-lasting. Yes, this is my heart. And after each goodbye, when God starts picking up those pieces and sewing it back together, he adds one extra section. This one just happens to be magenta.
