On a Thursday afternoon in early June my phone rang and the caller ID said 'DJFS' (Department of Job and Family Services) and I swallowed hard. My caller ID has not said 'DJFS' for over a year and in many ways I was glad of that. We are in the middle of trying to adopt from China, we still babysit every week for our first foster baby J, our summer has been crazy, etc. For a split second I considered not answering, but curiosity (which we all know killed the cat) got the better of me.
The social worker on the other end of the line told me that they had a newborn who needed temporary placement for about 10 days starting tomorrow and asked if we would take her. Since she had me at the word newborn I said yes immediately, and I called Jason right away and told him. I was excited because this was a newborn, and it was only temporary, and I knew everything up front so it should be so much easier, and this would be a nice distraction from the adoption waiting, and the kids would love a newborn, and on and on.
That night when I got home I started getting things ready, dragging baby stuff out of the crawl space, setting up the pack 'n play, stopping at Walmart to get a few things, and basically running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I worried over what to do with the baby Friday night when Jordan had her drama camp performance and finally decided to just take her with us.
Friday morning I rush around running errands and trying to get everything done before the baby arrives and at lunch my phone rings and it is DJFS. I answer expecting the social worker to tell me what time they will be bringing the baby, but instead she says that other arrangements have been made for the baby and they don't need us to take her. I am really disappointed, but I say OK and work on getting over it. I continue with the rest of my day until my phone rings again at about 3:30pm and I see DJFS on the caller ID. I feel a little spark of hope. The social worker tells me that the other arrangements are not going to work and asks if we can take the baby after all. I say yes and she says she will be there with the baby hopefully within the hour.
A little while later the social worker arrives with a sweet and tiny baby who is just over a week old. My niece was a tiny 5 pounds and this little one is about the same. I should have known right then that baby A would steal my heart, but I still thought that since I knew up front that it was only temporary that somehow it would make things easier.
Baby A is a little darling and such a good baby. The kids become smitten with her and can't stop talking about how cute she is, how soft her hair is, and how fun it is having a baby. They ask lots of questions and are all super helpers, and even though I know better I start hoping and dreaming impossible scenarios.
But the day of her departure is quickly approaching and I try to keep reminding them that we will only have her for a few more days. I don't know the exact day she will be leaving, but I do know that it will be within the next 1-2 days. Day 1 comes and goes with no call and we settle in for the night. Day 2 dawns and by lunch I still have not heard anything and I begin to hope a little more. Then, a couple of hours later the phone rings and it is DJFS and my heart sinks. I answer and the social worker tells me that they are ready for the baby, but that she is leaving work early that day and could I bring the baby to the DJFS offices right then. It takes every ounce of strength I have to say yes and then I hang up. I say a quick prayer, "Lord, I need you now," get the baby in the car seat, gather her things, and load her and Jordan into the van. On the drive to JFS I call Jason and ask him to pick Corinne up from camp (Carson is at another camp) because with this extra stop I won't make it there in time.
I fight tears the whole way and when we arrive at DJFS and I open the door to get her out I start sobbing and that gets Jordan crying as well. I try to say something encouraging for Jordan and work at reigning in my emotions. We head into the office and I go up to the window to have them tell the caseworker we are there. The receptionist takes one look at my face and immediately her face softens and I can see sympathy in her eyes. The CW comes out with a car seat, looks at me, and gives me a pat on the back. I busy myself with getting baby A into the car seat and babble to try to keep myself under control. But it doesn't work and by the time I have her in the seat I am crying. The nice receptionist brings me out a tissue and Jordan and I high tail it out of there.
I manage to push my emotions down through meeting Jason to get Corinne, picking up Carson at camp, and driving home. Once we get home though I am a ball of raw emotions and I send the kids downstairs to watch a movie while I start throwing/slamming baby items into trash bags, tubs, anything I can get my hands on to get the stuff out of my sight. The stuff that is ripping my heart out - again. I'm not proud of how angry I was, but I'm being real here people. Being a foster parent is HARD and it is not for the faint of heart. I know in my head all the reasons good foster parents are needed and I've said the Matthew 25:40 verse to myself at least a thousand times, but it doesn't make the heart wrenching part any easier. It doesn't make the frustration with a broken system any easier to deal with and work within. Good foster parents love their foster children and when they have to say goodbye it tears their hearts out! But what does make it worth it is knowing that you have given a child love and a family when they needed it most, and you can't put a price on love. Love is always worth it 'even when it hurts, even when its hard, even when it all just falls apart' (lyrics from Steady My Heart by Kari Jobe); just ask our Heavenly Father who "loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life" (John 3:16). It is hard every single time, but I can honestly say that I have learned something about myself, God, and love every time.
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