I expect that in about three months our son will be gone—reunited with his biological family. I ‘m not sure what this means for our family. For now, we turn again to our beloved little four year-old and begin the process of thinking about how to help him make this transition. It’s time for his foster parents to put away sorrow for the moment and have adult conversations about the next few months.
We are about to enter into the unknown world of heroism. We will do what we have to do to re-integrate our fabulous foster son into a family life that will be largely unfamiliar to him. It is an uncharted and frightening world for us as it will be for him also. It is our job to make it less so—for him. I have no idea of how big the hole that will be ripped into our family. I have no idea of how it will ever heal. I have no idea what it will be like to function in a world where he is not.
The things we do and say will all be very heroic. As we set aside our pain and pass our suffering alone and out of sight, because it is not something that we will want to share with him—at least not the depths of it. We will spin the story in a most positive manner so that the strangeness of going off to live another life might not be so disturbing. We will imagine and then employ the most creative things we can to help him. People will pat us on the back. They will call us amazing. We too will someday.
It is certain heroism with a price that I cannot begin to calculate. We will never be the same as he goes or after he is gone. We will never fully recover. I don’t wish this kind of heroism on anyone, nor do I want it for myself. It comes no matter. Look out here it comes.
Somehow, I wish we had had a say in all of this. I would never have chosen this path for myself. I would never have suggested to my beloved partner that we take in a child, expend all that we have as parents on him and then give him back after more than three years. I’m sorry to disappoint but I am not that type of super-hero. I would never have done this thing, no matter how brilliant, no matter how fabulous, no matter how beautiful the child. It was the trap that was laid for us—we unwitting, desperate-to-be-dad, dads.
I still remember the words that the placement worker used when we got the call back in October 2007. When I asked how long the placement might last, the response was, “Oh, this baby isn’t going home.” I realized then, as I do now, that no one could make such a promise. Given the circumstances in which our foster son was brought into care, the better part of me though, believed her. I had no idea of what I was getting us into. I had no idea of just what it takes for a child to be removed permanently. I dived into the pool of the foster care system, not realizing that someday it might drown us.
Perhaps it was destined to be—the two people who would raise the fragile baby to become a beautiful little boy would then have the wherewithal to help him through this bewildering change of life. Were we part of the design for this boy, destined for heroism? Thinking back, I wonder what his life would have been like had his foster care experience been very different as so many are—multiple placements, unattended health needs, indifferent or unengaged foster parents. And the solace is that, that we made a difference, a very big difference in his little life.
As much as I do not look forward to this thing that the two of us face, I realize that we’re not facing it alone. There are many who love our son, love his spirit and his humor and many that will feel the sense of loss. We should all be thankful that Darrow and I were made to do this thing; that we were not given the choice, that we were destined for certain heroism.
14 comments
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January 24, 2011 at 6:33 pm
Dan
Be strong. If he goes home, he will always know the love and HOME you gave him during his time with you.
January 24, 2011 at 6:37 pm
Jennifer
As someone whose own father was taken from her at age two, who was told the most horrific lies about her father, only to be reunited with him 28 years later, I can tell you T will never forget the love you have given him. And I truely believe, in my heart of hearts, he will one day return to you.
January 24, 2011 at 8:29 pm
Knot
No matter how easy you try to make the transition for him, be ready, because there will be confusion and feelings he doesn’t know how to express, even if you try to be upbeat and positive about the whole thing. We found the behavior associated with reunification disturbing, and ended up begging them to speed up the process to benefit the child (but, they didn’t).
You are not alone in your loss, however much you keep your grief from him, or hide it on the exterior! I have experienced what you are going through, and I know how hard it is. I have to admit I didn’t handle it with much grace. By the time it was all over, I had choice words for DSS, and I didn’t hold back much when interacting with them. It is a confusing jumble of emotions, and it’s so hard to process it all. But, no matter what, you are not alone in your sorrow! You have each other, and there are others like you in the world, who have also endured this unprecedented loss and grieving for a child that, by all accounts, isn’t “yours”. DSS and many others often show no compassion for the foster parents. Shoulders are shrugged and eyebrows are raised when love and concern is expressed for the children. As if they didn’t tell you to love them like they were your own. As if they didn’t tell you there was no way they were going back.
You will never forget him or stop loving him. Never. But, this too shall pass. Life does move on. I know. I’m there.
January 24, 2011 at 8:38 pm
Auntie Lou
I have no brave words of promises or miracles. I no longer trust the strong opinions of what should be or look over the past as some example of what the future might hold. I have learned only one thing about this path we have all walked down with this sweet, silly, brillant and endearing boy; that love grows when you take the risk to lose your heart. That fear doesn’t win because love is always stronger….and real. I see only two souls who have risked their hearts, yes their very souls, for love. And even now you are willing to rise up against all your fears of loss and the soul wretching sorrow that may wait in the dark moments between assuring smiles at your little boy while you instill the confidence in him to take this walk. The blessing is love, the pain is love, the integratity is love, the truth is love. And when the clock ticks softly after that day, know that you have given the ultimate gift, Love …. and love is eternal and it remains when all else fails.
January 24, 2011 at 9:44 pm
Nancy and Uncle Pop
You will feel alone in your sorrow but you are not alone. You will feel as if you will never get to the other side of grief but you will. You are brave. I am so sorry.
January 24, 2011 at 11:57 pm
Jeanette
I’m terribly, terribly sorry. Both for you two, and also for T.
January 25, 2011 at 11:44 am
Frances & Dad
You gave LOVE when it was truly needed. Ty is blessed to have been in your loving care for these past few years. He is a stronger and loving child because of your love and strength. We are happy that he was with you and passed around in the system. God’s LOVE be with all of you.
January 25, 2011 at 11:45 am
Frances & Dad
That should have read….and NOT passed around in the system.
January 25, 2011 at 9:36 pm
lindsey
i hurt so much for the four of you. i pray that there will be divine intervention and he will stay where he belongs. regardless, you have prepared this little boy to become a man and no matter what the future holds for him, no one can take away what you have vested in him. they say when you give away your heart you never get it all back. there will always be a place in your heart for your lil man. i wish i could understand the *system*. i wish i could make it all better. i wish your littlest man was old enough to be able to remember all of the moments with his older brother. i wish nothing but peace, understanding and love on your family.
January 26, 2011 at 7:41 am
jade
big hug to all you heroes, and that is including T & L
January 27, 2011 at 11:39 am
Suzanne
My heart breaks for you: total strangers, but in the bigger picture, not.
You recognized a need and you filled it, and that was for him, for you and ultimately for all of us.
You loved him with all of your hearts. The alternative would have produced an entirely different child. You changed his path in life. You changed your own path, too, and I can’t even to begin to imagine what that means for you.
I feel like this is a bad story line in Philip K. Dick novel. How does one implant an idea; a memory that must prevail. You are preparing a tiny soldier for a battle that he doesn’t understand or know is about to occur. How to impress upon him that your love (and ours) continues on, even without reminders?
God forgive us all for our (collective) failure, and for every bit of suffering…
February 16, 2011 at 7:51 pm
Glen
I applaud you as well for doing what you have to do. I think that you need to do whatever you can to remain a part of his life. This string of attachment will help him and you through the transition. I have learned a lot about the intricacies of attachment issues and the problems that arise from them. He may need a play therapist through the transition, and/or a transitional object that he knows is his. The things that you have put into him have formed him and will direct his life. Those first years are the most important, and you can take comfort in the fact that what you have done, has altered the course of his life for the better. As well, what he has given you has changed the direction of your life. Don’t ever forget the moments that you shared.
February 24, 2011 at 10:20 pm
sis Jennifer
I have kept imagining the superhero in the form of a clear, informed, wise decision on the part of a judge. Instead, it’s been left in your hands & hearts. Very capable and human ones. We love you all. I cannot imagine not seeing T. again. Please let us know if there is some way/good time to do so.
July 28, 2011 at 3:13 am
bb888
I was lying in bed in tears about losing my foster son soon. I found this blog and I feel so much better that all of your feelings are the same things I’m feeling right now. “oh, he’s not going home…” that is what we kept hearing.
Then, “parental rights are going to be terminated so you will be able to adopt him.”
Then the night before the termination of parental rights hearing as we are preparing for maybe one of the best days of our lives, we got a phone call that changed everything. “there is a bio family member that wants him, and we have no reason NOT to send him there.”
NO REASON? What about the bonding he has done with my partner and I over the last two years, our parents who are his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, stability, health… I could go on and on.
He doesn’t know this person. He’s moving to a different state and will have a different life. He was so little when we got him, and now he’s 4. Since he learned the news, he has been angry, confused and acting out. If I leave the house, he is constantly asking me if I’m coming back. He does this when I drop him off at day care too. My answer is always “yes.” But one day soon it won’t be.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m scared to death for him. I’m scared that he is going to think I wanted to give him away, and I’m scared that he will go down the wrong path in life due to his grief. He calls me Mommy, and he knows he is a foster child, but that I wanted him so I took him home to be in my family. He has so many questions. It’s hard to answer them. I just want to yell, “I don’t know why in the hell this is happening. I wanted you forever. I love you, and I always will. I will never be at peace with this.”
Instead of that, I have to say, “you are going to have so much fun. Your family members love you, and they will take care of you just like I do.”
I’m just broken…