I'll Always Be With You.....

A question I was recently asked keeps circling through my brain, it is a question any foster parent has been asked many times over. It's a question spoken with good intentions, from a place of general inquiry. However to you, the answer is so universally clear that you can't imagine the question having merit. 

How do you not get attached to these children?

I truly hate the title "foster parents", it is cold, distant and lacking of what we truly are - parents. I often feel that people look at us as specimens, you can see their brain doing calculations on ages, looking you and your children over, doing a mental inventory so it makes sense in their brain "curly hair (check), brown eyes (check), dark skin (no check), WAIT - where did this baby come from?" 

The inevitable questions begin right away, were we not able to have our own children (I have been asked many times if my eggs are bad), are you going to adopt, and how can we can stand to let them go. The last question really gets me, it insinuates that our heart does not ache like theirs would, that our tears must not flow as freely, that our family is simply made up of a boarding facility to which children siphon through. 

Nothing in my life has been as hard as being a foster parent, for me. It is not to say that others haven't had strife in their life, that their journey isn't filled with more struggles, despair and anguish. Don't get me wrong, I am truly lucky, my life is pretty comfortable - when I look through it with the rose colored glasses of optimism. But it is hard, it hurts and there is little appreciation for it. 

So the answer to the above mentioned question is simple. You must get attached, you can't help yourself from getting attached - it is your job to get attached. It is your job to kiss the ouches away, wipe the tears, hug tight, look under the bed for monsters, tell them you love them and let them call you whatever the hell they want to - mom, Nana, Mimi, or just Erin.

I fear the day they leave, I cry a lot over that moment - any foster parent does. But it doesn't make the daily joys less joyful. The moments when these amazing children realize food will always be available, hugs are limitless and love is unconditional. 

There is a quote I have in my kid's room, it truly sums up the journey perfectly. 

To my fellow foster parents - I know that look in your eyes. The look of court not going the right way, of case workers calling you "placements" one too many times and the fear that hides behind that slight smile. But years from now, when that child has grown, is strong, healthy and successful - at some point they will think "I was safe, I was cared for, I was loved." 

Can I get a witness?

I've spent much of my late teens and adult life attempting to avoid court. I cross at the crosswalk, refrain from selling drugs, pay way too much for cabs after a night of drinking, and always bring my shopping carts back to the return carousel. But when you are a foster parent court seems like a second home to you. A home where the lighting is dim, the decor is stale and the house guests haven't showered in days. 

Court is always nerve wracking and so much goes into it. Let me break it down for you:

• The outfit: Seriously, what to wear? You want to look cute but not too cute. You need to stand out from the low-life's who are there trying to right the wrongs of their past. God help you if you get mistaken for a defendant. You also want to appear that you aren't broke and give half a kidney a month to your student loan lender. Heels must be worn, but not too high, or too on trend. Makeup must be done, but not too done like you are hitting the club. It is a whole process. And frankly way too involved when I am already a nervous wreck.

• The walk-in: Without a doubt the bio parents will be sitting within an arms throw of the security desk. Which is always fun as you must pretend you don't see them and aren't wishing they lose custody of the amazing little one you spent your days/nights caring for. Now remember, look good while getting screened for explosives - smile but not too big as your face is huge already (theme of the blog). 

• Waiting: Who says things start on time, no one in juvenile court. Without a doubt there will be the sitting, waiting and pretending you aren't about to throw up your grande Americano with a few shakes of cinnamon. Talk weather, show pictures of their way-too-cute-to-have-come-from-them kid, look at your phone, smile, phone check again, smile, phone check, it goes on like this forever. 

• It's time: I am a cross my arms over my chest type of girl. It makes me feel better, but any manners freak will tell you it looks like you are closed off and aggressive, so I always sit demurely with my hands in my lap....which is never easy. And the hardest part, no phone for 60 minutes. I know, I almost faint from being cut off. 

• Walk-out: Without a doubt, if you are a foster parent court is never what you expect it to be. No matter what, you will be hurt in some way and it won't go in the direction any normal person would expect the world to turn. So the walk-out is always tricky. This is where I usually resort to a quick rush to the door, cover face if emotion is on it and head straight to the bar. Yesterday was definitely a double Jack & Coke type of day. 

I can't be too candid as to what actually goes on in the court room, but just know, we will fight and do what is right for the children we care for. We may not always be heard, but we do make a difference somewhere. 

So, until the next time I must appear in court - here is to getting through it without cursing, fainting or sitting next to a lawyer.