The start of heart break

When Tyler and I got together, almost ten years ago. We were certain on thing. Children. We loved them. We wanted them to have the best future possible, whether they are our children or they belong to another. We knew we wanted two of our own. That way we always had the means to support two children and provide them with good, love fulfilled lives. Then once we were in a good position, we would adopt a child. With the hopes that we could provide them with a loving, supportive home that they may not have had.

That's when we started talking about the foster to adopt system. We knew we wanted to try to adopt locally if that was possible. It seemed the easiest, most affordable and most sensible way to bring a child a home. That way there would be a possibility of having a somewhat open relationship with their family, in case they ever wanted to venture to know where they came from.

This past fall we decided that we would start the process of fostering. We learned of the immense need for it in our area and couldn't hold back the care in our heart anymore. The length of the process went quickly, it wasn't more than three months from the time we filled out the paperwork to the day we had our first placement.

I wasn't prepared, and I'm not sure Tyler was either, for the intense heartbreak that comes with fostering.

After the license came in saying we were good to accept children into our home, I was anxious. Anxious for the day that I would get the phone call for a placement. Anxious that I wouldn't be a good enough foster parent. Anxious that my children were going to get hurt during the process. Anxious for the unknown.

Anxiety soon turned to hope. Hope that the community didn't need us. That the parents in the area were full of love, good decisions, and the well being of their children at the forefront of their hearts. Hope that God was being welcomed into more homes on a daily basis.

Then we got our phone call, and every emotion became scattered again. First I was excited, for something new, for change that we were about to ensue. Then I was furious. Angry. At the parents, how could they do this to a person whose entire being depends on you? I knew it happened but how could they endanger the life of child for their own pleasure? How could such a precious, defenseless baby get treated this way? Then it was panic. It had been two years since I'd taken care of a newborn for longer than a night. We didn't have anything for her, what was she coming with? Were they going to prep me on any medical issues? History? Then it was sadness that overwhelmed me. I grieved for this child that was going to be coming through my doors, I grieved for the children in the system that are unsure of their futures, but mostly I grieved for those who don't have a chance and aren't removed in time.

That's when my heart broke for the first time in this process.