Loss and Gain: The Musings of a Foster Mother

A little more than two and a half years ago, MiMi came into my life and my foster home. She was a six month old baby with a load of sensory problems. Her parent's drug use caused her to be removed, and although it wasn't in her records that she had been exposed in the womb, her emotional problems seemed to indicate it was possible.

For the next 20 months, MiMi was mine. I spent a lot of time working with her, trying to help her learn to live life without screaming. Early Childhood Intervention came out for a few months and gave me pointers, which helped, if in nothing else, at least in identifying that there really was a problem, and validating my concerns.

Although MiMi's screams made it harder for some people around her to bond with her, she and I bonded in a big way. I was her rock. She loved me, and I loved her.

But CPS is not an adoption agency, although adoptions certainly do happen, and our own family has adopted two of our foster children. But MiMi's extended family finally came through for her when her parents couldn't make it, and when she was 26 months old, she went to live with her great aunt in another state.

Many times people will tell me they could never do what I do, because they are too sensitive and would get too attached. I wonder if they really 'get it'. Foster parents get attached also, they are just willing to put their hearts on the railroad track, because little children are sensitive too, they hurt and sometimes they are in desperate situations where someone has to step in and take care of them. I wonder sometimes what would have happened to MiMi, with all her problems, if she had gotten a foster mother who wasn't 'sensitive, and didn't get attached'?

But attached we got, and we had to part. It was hard on both of us. I heard she cried for me until she would throw up. And I cried for her. I didn't know if I would make it through losing her with my sanity intact. It hurt so much, and those first few weeks I felt like I was living in a walking nightmare. There were certain 'pictures' in my mind: how when she came out of visits with her family at the CPS office, she would run to me with her head through back and a grin covering her whole face. How all I had to do was hint at a hug, and she would fall into my arms. How she followed me everywhere I went, and hung onto the hem of my skirt to keep me near her. How she 'helped' me take the clothes out of the dryer, and also 'helped' by sometimes throwing the dirty clothes in, which I would have to quickly remove so the clean and dirty clothes wouldn't get mixed up. These 'pictures' haunted me. I dreamed them; I saw them at the oddest moments. They brought crying jags for months.

In the months just before MiMi left, a baby brother was born to the birth parents of our adopted daughter Angel-Leah. Although we would have liked to have taken him, a family member stepped forward, and he went to live with them. As we tried to prepare MiMi to leave us, I began to hear from this birth family. It seemed the birth parents were not making it once again in their struggle against addiction, and the birth family was thinking of relinquishing baby brother if we would agree to adopt him so that he could grow up with his sister, our daughter. They were struggling with the decision, and we had several talks. Finally, the time came for MiMi to leave. We were planning to leave for a skiing trip the day she left, hoping that would help me over those first few days. I told the family I would take the month of January off from fostering, and save the spot for the baby, if they decided to let him go. After that, I would put myself back on the placement list.

I dropped MiMi off on a very cold January morning, and watched as she drove away in the social workers car. It was the hardest thing I have done so far in my life.

I came home, and we left for our trip. That night, in a hotel room, I woke up, thinking I heard her crying. I prayed desperately to God, asking if I shouldn't quit foster care, my heart was broken and I couldn't stand the pain, did I really have to keep on doing this? In answer, in my half asleep state, I saw my arms open, and a baby being placed in them. I felt the warmth and weight of his heavy body. I knew God was telling me He and I were not quite done.

Five days later, we returned home from our trip, and the next day, six days after MiMi left, I got an email from the case worker. The family had decided to place baby brother with us. Were we still willing, and if so, would I call and comfort the relative who had been caring for him? And I had to understand, she could not promise me an adoption, as the birth parents might still pull through at the last moment, and do what they needed to do to have him returned. They still had about six months of their one year allotment to get their lives together.

So, still reeling from MiMi's loss, we began the transition for baby brother to move in. I remember the first time I saw him, standing in my doorway as the relative took him out of the car. My first thought was "My son." He was cute, very fat, and looked just like his sister Angel-Leah, whose adoption was final, and who I love very much. One day less than a month after MiMi left, and one day less than his six month birthday, baby brother moved in with us.

I was ready to love him, but baby brother had problems, just like MiMi did. He was born withdrawing from the drugs he had been exposed to in the womb, and in his less than six short months of life, we were his third home, and that's not counting his time in the hospital. He had attachment problems, something that is fairly common in foster children. When I tried to hold him, he stiffened his arms and held me away from him. He would not let me rock him. The only way I could hold him with any degree of comfort, because of his pulling away, was to have his back against my chest. Once more, Early Childhood Intervention came out, and helped me learn how to deal with attachment issues. My own mothering instinct came into play, too. If I couldn't hold him, I could pat him and rub his hair. If I couldn't rock him to sleep, I could rub his back while he lay in his bed. I could feed him bites of food off my plate. Soon, he began to come around. All little boys need a mommy, don't they? He learned to trust me as the lady who had his meals and bottles on time. He learned I was the one who bathed him and kept him warm and dry. My face was over his crib when he cried during the night. I was always, always there. Little by little, he began to trust me. After a few weeks, he would grudgingly let me rock him if he was sleepy enough or hurt. Once, sick with a fever, he laid his head on my chest for a long time, and we rocked, and I sang to him. Soon, he said his first word, "Momma."

One day, he got into the pantry, and ran back to me with his big find: an empty bottle and a nipple ring - no nipple, just the ring. A crushing memory hit me of a little girl named MiMi who used to do that. A sweet, sad memory. Baby brother got his bottle. As he learned to walk, he began to follow me all over the house, hanging onto the hem of my skirt, bringing more sweet, sad memories. One day, he came running across the room to me, head thrown back, huge grin covering his whole face. As I caught him in a hug, tears came to my eyes, remembering another little girl who did that.

This past month, baby brother has become free for adoption, and we are moving forward at a fast pace. We've had our adoption update; we have the HESGH and the case study. I'm hoping for a 'Christmas baby'. It's been exciting, once again.

This morning, I was doing the laundry, with a little boy by my side instead of a little girl. As I took clean clothes out of the dryer, he threw dirty ones in. He thought he was pretty big, helping me like that. When we finally got that done, he toddled off, then suddenly, he turned around and looked at me. I said, "I love you, big boy," and help out my hands. He flew into my arms for a hug, head thrown back, big grin on his face. Suddenly, I saw God's whole plan. MiMi is safe and secure in her home with her biological family. Baby Brother lives here with his full sibling sister, and we see both sets of his biological grandparents, and several others of his relatives. MiMi only needed a home for a short time. Baby brother and his sister needed a 'forever home.' I guess I will always miss MiMi. And I guess I'll always be glad to be the mother of baby brother. Jeremiah 29:11 says: "For I knew the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

God never meant harm to either me or MiMi, and he didn't make a mistake. We trust him. He has plans for a future and a hope for us, and for MiMi and for baby brother. Everything works out, as we walk in faith!