
May. If you’re a parent of school-aged children you know what May means. May = chaos. May = crazy. May = So. Many. Things. Just take my money! But May is also #fostercareawarenessmonth and somehow there are only 3 days left in this month for me to tell you something about foster care. Well, that something is going to be grief. I know, not a fun topic but one that is a very real part of foster care (and of my life currently).
My old friend Grief hasn’t visited me in quite some time. I’ve had a relatively grief-free several years…until a few weeks ago. I’m sitting under a heavy blanket of grief as I type this. I had forgotten what the weight of depression felt like. Grief is real. Grief is heavy. Grief is dark.
For me, my grief is rooted in loss. Although none of my losses were caused by a death, it sure can feel that way. Loss of a dream, a life imagined, a special person, a home, a purpose, a mission, or even loss of hope. Grief has stolen my light these last few weeks and I have no words to tell you how challenging it is to be a solo parent without my light. No one to tap in with their light so I can tap out…ever.
[This is Part 14 of The Story of J and X] I was seeing a therapist when I was transitioning the boys back to their biological parents. It was the first time I had ever been asked, “How are you going to grieve?” This thought had never entered my mind before. Do you mean sobbing on the bathroom floor is not grieving? I had no other frame of reference for grieving. But now I understand how important this phase is to recover from loss, heal, and move forward. We must sit in the grief, feel it, and process it in order to heal the wound. It is ok to be sad. And then it is ok to let it/them go and find your new normal.
Foster care contains immense amounts of grief no matter the outcome. At first, I was grieving the loss of two sweet boys that I loved like my own for 9 months. I would no longer be their mom, however, there was celebration for their return to their biological parents. A family restored and reunified is the goal (and one I was 110% on board with!). But even with a reunification there is grief that I, as foster parent, can no longer protect you. I no longer have any control over your safety and comfort. I am handing you over to an unknown, volatile situation. It is heart-wrenching.
In my case, one day I was grieving the loss of my children returning to their biological parents and the next day I was sling-shot into they are not going back to their biological parents and do you want to adopt them? And I ultimately decided I was not going to adopt them prompting a new, unfamiliar season of grief. The grief of saying no. The grief of being the cause of more trauma to my children. It was suffocating. All the while continuing to solo parent a 3.5yo and a 1.5yo. I honestly don’t have very many clear memories of this time because I was completely emotional and mentally spent for weeks that turned into months. The grief turned into anger. I was boiling with anger at the unfairness of the situation. Anger at the bio parents for not getting it together, anger at CPS for not moving my kids to the selected foster/adopt family when they said so, anger at CPS for allowing a relative who doesn’t even have a home to conduct a home study to delay their move, anger at the world, anger at God, and most of all anger AT MYSELF. We are so good at blaming ourselves, aren’t we?
But….GOD. And therapy. And my church community. My God knew this phase was necessary. My God had a purpose for this season. He grew my faith, strengthened my trust in Him, and even further shored up my foundation with Him. He is my rock. He knew I needed this struggle so that I would know with 100% certainty that He chose me for them. And I can stand on that promise…no matter what…never a shadow of a doubt.
And, yes, that grief turned to joy on adoption day (almost one year later!). But don’t let the word “adoption” fool you into thinking it is all joy. Yes, there is shining joy, but there is deep grief in the loss of a family ending. One family was broken apart for mine to be formed. That is a concept I never imagined would be a defining point of my life, nor one that I wanted. But this is God’s story, not mine.
Grief, my old friend, you may be here for a time but you will not stay. Not today, Satan! I may weep…A LOT. But Jesus wept. Jesus grieved. And I know my Jesus grieves with me so I am not alone in my grief. My light is coming back. It always does. He always does (well, not that He ever left, but you get the point). 🙂
#fostercareawarenessmonth #thisisfostercare #fosterlove #mamalisafosters











