I was sitting in my office at work when I got the call.
“Is this Karen?” It was our caseworker, James, on the other end of the line.
“Yes,” I answered quickly, impatient that a phone call was interrupting my work. Typically, James, from our foster care placement agency, called to request paperwork or ask questions related to our licensing.
But this call was different.
“I’m sorry to bother you at work,” James said, “But we’re wondering if you and your husband are willing to become foster parents to a 2 ½ year old little girl, Olivia Thomas*.”
My heart started racing. For seven long years, this had been the call my husband and I had been waiting for. We were exhausted from the pursuit of parenthood: the infertility treatments, the adoption classes, the foster parenting training, the truckloads of paper work. But most difficult of all was the relentless rollercoaster of soaring hope followed by crashing disappointment and grief. Now we were just numb.
“We need to know within the next few days,” James said on the other end of the line.
“Of course,” I croaked. “I’ll have to talk with my husband. But we’ll let you know as soon as possible.” He offered more details, including the fact that Olivia would be available for adoption soon, and then we hung up.
A few days later, we called James back and said, “Yes!”
Olivia moved into our house like a college coed moving into her first dorm room. She had a toy box, an impressive collection of dolls, a pink suitcase filled with tiny pink skirts and skinny jeans and pink socks, enough books to fill the Library of Congress, and the personality of a sorority house president.
We had to rearrange every piece of furniture in our small condo to make room for her and her “things.” And we had to rearrange our entire existence.
Both my husband and I were single long before we got married, and then we were childless for 7 years before we became foster parents. Pre-Olivia, our favorite pastimes were quietly reading together in front of a fireplace, going out to serene dinners with another couple, or watching movies.
After Olivia moved in, our lives were filled with sippy cups, potty training, stray Lego pieces, and Dora the Explorer. We spent the winter of 2013 surviving every illness known to mankind: sinus infections, a norovirus, fevers, colds, coughs. It’s all a blur, but I vaguely remember lying on the living room floor with Olivia in the middle of the night, her tiny body bent over her vomit bucket. Watching a three-year-old dry heave is the saddest thing in the world. Who knew that becoming a parent also means you’re living with your very own Petri dish of daycare viruses?
It hasn’t been an easy year. But here’s the thing: when Olivia stormed into our lives and took over, we soon realized we ended up with the most joyful child in the world. Olivia doesn’t walk– instead she bounces. She doesn’t just smile. She beams.
I wasn’t expecting this. If David and I had given birth to a child bearing our genes, there’s a good chance he or she would have been quiet, introverted, and prone to melancholy like us. Instead, we ended up with a giggling, bouncing, outgoing, joyful three-year-old. After years of disappointing setbacks and deferred dreams, Olivia has been a balm to our souls.
Olivia has endured a lot of loss in her short little life. She was born to parents who were too young, and later her father passed away. She also had to grieve the loss of her first foster family. One day, a few months after she came to live with us, we were eating lunch when she stopped, looked at me, and said, “Where is my home?”
“Your home is here,” I told her. I pointed to her bedroom. “You belong here.”
She looked at me and smiled. It took her awhile to understand that she wasn’t leaving. That she would be with us forever. But slowly she started calling us “Mommy” and “Daddy.”
“Everywhere a greater joy is preceded by a greater suffering,” said St. Augustine. We are a family forged out of grief and loss and disappointment. But Olivia is teaching us that now it is the season for joy.
“I’m so happy, Mommy,” Olivia told me recently.
“I am too,” I told her as I kissed her dimples. “I am too.”
QUESTION: What is your child teaching you about joy?
CHALLENGE: If you are going through a season of loss or grief, look for the treasures. The poet Rumi says, “Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure.”
*Name has been changed.
Image provided by Karen Beattie.
This is beautiful! I am a little teary this morning after reading it. What a beautiful, vibrant soul you were blessed with! She was also blessed to come to you as parents because of your commitment and live for her!
Thank you! You brought hope to my heart. I am foster mom (6 months now) to a 16 mo old boy. He is a delight and I love teaching him and watching him grow. It is so easy to love this child. We also know that in about 6 months they will probably start the reunification process and that probably in a year we will have to say goodbye. We spent 4 years dealing with infertility and recently at the conclusion of the last court hearing I realized that this means at least a year before we get to start looking again for the child who will be ours forever. I love the little guy we currently have and know he is attached to us. He is teaching us to live in this moment, to enjoy the love we share right now. It is hard to put off finding the child who will always be ours, to watch as he grows reattached to his biological parents and slowly draws away from us, to teach his mom about his unique needs. This is putting the needs of this child above our own needs, putting our own plans and dreams on hold for his good. In exchange we get the honor of making an impact on his life, even if he never remembers us and we never see him again. Being a foster parent is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do- harder than watching my own father pass away. These are lessons and growth I didn’t want and wasn’t looking for when I started this process. We just wanted our own child just as so many others do. Instead we are learning about sacrifice, the true nature of love and to never take for granted the precious moments we are given.
God bless you for taking in these children who need you so much, even at the expense of your heart ache!
What a gift you are giving to this little boy! Those first months / years are so crucial …. I’m so thankful for our daughter’s first foster family. She was with them for 2 years, and because of the love she experienced in that home, she has adjusted and attached to us very quickly.
I can identify with this: “…Instead we are learning about sacrifice, the true nature of love and to never take for granted the precious moments we are given.” Beautiful!
Blessings to you as you love this little one….and continue to wait for the child who will be yours permanently.
As an adoptive mother myself,my first response is, “Amen, sister!”
Thank you so much for sharing this! As the aunt to 4 adoptive children, I have to say that our family is so much better because of those 4 wonderful children! What a blessing they are (and what a blessing your daughter is to you!)!
This is so, so beautiful! That part about Olivia asking where her home was brought me to tears. We often don’t realize what a blessing it is to have a home–and to have children who know that that is their home. These reminders are precious–and your devotion to your daughter is inspiring. Thank you!
Thank you for sharing this beautiful, heartfelt story from your expereinces. I am touched deeply by your desire and love to have a child and to accept this little girl into your home. God bless you and your new family.
Thanks for sharing! What a wonderful post! I think your words highlight one of the best things about being a mom–how we are a blessing to our children and they are a blessing to us.
I am a mother of four beautiful children. Although they all share mine and my husbands genes they are all as different from us and from one another as can be. It’s like a big box of colored crayons and I’m so thankful we are all different. Together we make a beautiful rainbow!! I think the thing that helps me the most is knowing that all children are sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father and I’m thankful for the ones he has loaned to me to raise, teach, and love. When I remember they are His before they are mine it helps me be a better mother. Thank you for sharing your beautiful story!
This is wonderful! Thanks for sharing, thanks for loving Olivia, thanks for the sweet reminders!
Thanks everyone, for reading my story and for your beautiful comments!