I’m sure by now you know not to expect any kind of consistent blogging from me. At least, I hope you do. I love to write and blogging is honestly more therapeutic for me than anything else. When I first started this blog (or stole it from hubby) I had high hopes of being “discovered” and earning tons of money just by sharing our stories. I was sure it would lead to something, anything, that would help ease the immense guilt I felt for “just staying home with the kids” while hubby worked his tail off to provide for us.
Well, a lot has changed since then. We have THREE kids now, for one. And I don’t have nearly as much time to write as I did when we were just parenting a small baby who couldn’t move around independently. I don’t expect my blog to take off and make us independently wealthy, and I sure as heck don’t have nearly as much guilt for staying home – it is hard work!
We weren’t supposed to have any more kids. The county told us that in our first year of fostering they didn’t want us to increase our capacity, and even though we moved to a bigger house in December, they wanted us to stick with one child until we had been fostering for a year. I argued with God (and the county) about that a lot – didn’t they see that we could handle it?! I grew up in a foster family, we are capable parents, I stay home full-time, and we are actually nice people who want to help!! How in the world could they deny us??? And yet they did. Multiple times.
Then in March we got a call to take a sibling set, a brother and sister. We told the social worker that we would love to help out, but the county wouldn’t let us take in another child – let alone two! This social worker saw the absurdity of the rule (finally, someone agreed with me!!) and decided to see what he could do to have an exception made. Hubby and I prayed about it and decided that if God wanted to move this mountain and have these kids placed with us, it would have to be a miracle because it seemed impossible.
It wasn’t until June that we finally got our capacity increased, but the county had decided to only let us take in one more child, not two. At this point the kids that we were supposed to take had already been reunified with their parents and we never met them.
Then 2 weeks later, Boo moved in. When we first got the call for him, we were asked to take him and his younger brother, but we had to say no. I asked the worker to try to find a home for them together before we accepted placement. We waited a few hours and got a call back saying they were unable to place the brothers together and had to split them up. That was a Saturday, and on Monday morning I was on the phone trying to get our license changed to take 3 so we could get the boys back together. We were denied, and yet we kept trying. For two months we waited and prayed and did everything we could to get them together – quite aware that it could mean losing Boo if they found another home who could take them both. Then suddenly, some things happened that lead the social worker to start pushing to get little brother moved here. Monday morning the process began and all week we prayed and hoped and waited ever so impatiently.
Then, Friday at 3:30 we finally got approval and by 8:00 we were signing placement paperwork and loading three kids into our car.
In foster care, life can change that quickly.
We fought for this, prayed for this, and trusted that if this was going to happen it would require a miracle, and it would obviously be God’s plan for our family in this season.
Here’s the thing about walking out God’s plan and call for your life – it isn’t easy, it’s rarely glamorous and is often painful. And if I’m going to be brutally honest, and I am, that’s exactly what this new season has looked like. It’s only been two weeks and we all have a lot of adjusting to do. The kids suddenly outnumber us, we’ve got three in carseats and two of them in diapers. Whenever I take them out by myself I need to wear Princess in the carrier and have one hand for each boy. It can be overwhelming and exhausting and every single day I am reminded that maybe the fact that I grew up in a foster family, we are capable parents, I stay home full-time, and we are actually nice people who want to help isn’t always enough. Every single day I question all my life choices that lead to this point and wonder what the heck we are doing. But every single day I see two brothers going through the hardest thing that has ever happened to them, yet they are together. Laughing, playing, running around and ruining my house…together. I listen to their shared laughter and their quiet whispers before bed, I watch the way they depend on one another and love each other, and I am reminded why we do this. I am reminded of all the life choices that lead to me this point, and I wouldn’t change a single one of them.