Saying Goodbye to Foster Siblings

Last week your sister for the past nine months left our home. It was not sudden. In fact, we had three weeks to plan and think about it. She had longer visits with her family on the weekends to prepare for the move. And each weekend we talked about where she was. You would inform our friends, “Baby with her mommy.”

You understood.

Yet we recognized that you did not fully know what that meant.

So, Mom and Dad worried about how her move would affect you.

Prior to her joining our family, you had shared the house with three other foster siblings. You enjoyed kissing the infants and playing with mobile ones, but you did not seem to miss them much when they were gone. You were too young to remember or care, we reasoned. However, this time, we were not sure what your response would be like. As a 30-month-old, you are old enough to understand that she’s not coming back.

Frequent goodbyes are part of foster care — both for the kids in care and the families they are staying with. Dad and Mom knew that fact when we signed up. We weighed the (personal) risks and decided it was worth it.

But we did not have kids back then.

We want you to have a permanent sibling because we believe you need consistency at home just like any other kid. However, we cannot guarantee when you will have a permanent sibling (if ever).

When families open themselves to the possibilities, we are also opening up to the pain.

This week, as the house was quieter and you were lonely for a playmate, you repeatedly said, “You my mommy.” At first, I thought this was the game that you play often: you will declare that I am Daddy or Nana or Sammy (really, anyone I’m clearly not) and giggle and encourage me to rename you, too. However, it took a few days for us to notice that this time it was not a statement but, rather, a question. As in, “You are my mommy forever, right? Not like with Baby. Because I thought you were her mom, but you aren’t.”

That is heartbreaking.

So, we have spent the last several days reassuring you that you are staying. That we are staying. Even when you aren’t asking, we are telling you.

We simply did not anticipate this.

Looking back, it’s obvious that we could have coached you better. For a 2-year-old, it needs to be crystal clear what is happening.

Goodbyes are difficult for us, too. And they probably will not get easier with time. When you truly love someone and care about their future, it often hurts when they leave your life. I want you to know that Dad and Mom are very sad that Baby is gone, too.

We love her — and her family. We want them all to be healthy and whole.

We accepted her into our home, but we did not choose for her to leave.

We pray for all our children. We do not know what they are experiencing now, but the Sovereign One cares deeply for the weak and vulnerable. He is El Roi who sees them living in this broken, cursed world. We pray He sheds light onto anything that is happening in the dark. We pray for early intervention.

We cried the night before Baby left as we anticipated our final hours with her. We prayed that God would protect and save her parents, because true hope is only found in the gospel of Jesus Christ. He alone brings new life and change.

Moreover, Christ alone gives our family the ability to love as we ought.

For that reason we will continue to love people who are struggling. Although it may seem painful for our family, including you (in the short term), we pray it will increase your capacity to show compassion and to love without hesitation (in the long term).

Another adoptive parent said it this way: “Some of the most painful things in life are the things that give us the greatest opportunities to grow (change) and become more loving and gracious.”

We love you, dear girl. You are a gift from God for your brief childhood. As we raise you, we rely on God to provide and to meet us where our inadequacies begin. We are seeking to train you to be an adult who is sensitive to His will.

Recently we have set up new parameters and “preferences” with Children Services to protect your heart as best we can, while still allowing the opportunity to welcome new children in our home. Hopefully one of those new children will stay forever, just like you.

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Elaine and her husband are licensed as an adoptive family and foster home.

 

What’s in a name?

“Sing, O barren woman,
you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy,
you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman
than of her who has a husband,” says the LORD.     -Isaiah 54

Infertility can seem like a lonely place. I’ve been there. I have felt joy mixed with heartache as a friend shares that she is pregnant. I’ve experienced sorrow after another person unknowingly jokes, “So, when are you and your husband having kids?” I know that, for some, the halls of a church building can be a painful place on Mother’s Day. And, yet, I also know that God used this suffering in my life to teach me more about Himself.

My journey began early-Summer 2010 when I learned that a routine test had shown abnormal results. Anxiety set in as we prepared for the biopsy. When that exam was negative, testing continued for six months. And so did my uncertainty.

I quietly struggled with God as I waited. I clearly remember one particular Sunday, I cried through the entire morning worship service as song lyrics rang in my head: “…In the chaos, in confusion I know You’re sovereign still / In the moment of my weakness You give me grace to do Your will… .” At that moment, I vowed to rehearse the truth of God’s sovereignty when I started to waver: All things are under God’s rule and control, and nothing happens without His direction or permission.

Finally, a blood test revealed a hormonal disorder called Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). It is the most common cause of infertility among women. PCOS is estimated to affect up to 10 percent of women of reproductive age. Yet, infertility can seem like a lonely place.

Following the diagnosis, I did two things. First, I mourned. At times I wept over the loss. This was critical to my healing; I took time to truly grieve. Second, my husband and I determined to pursue God’s will rather than to merely pursue a baby. This gave me peace in our decisions. Additionally, for us, it led to the decision not to use fertility medication. Although this might not be the right option for other couples, it was for us.

Instead, God used infertility to stir up a greater passion to raise spiritual children (Isaiah 54:1). He deepened my understanding in His purpose for spiritual parenthood. Pastor John Piper says:

God’s purpose in making marriage the place to have children was never merely to fill the earth with people, but to fill the earth with worshipers of the true God. One way for a marriage to fill the earth with worshipers of the true God is to procreate and bring the children up in the Lord. But that’s not the only way. When the focus of marriage becomes, “Make children disciples of Jesus,” the meaning of marriage in relation to children is not mainly, “Make them,” but, “Make them disciples.” And the latter can happen, even where the former doesn’t.

At the same time, in His great mercy, God placed me in a Bible study group where I connected with other women who were in various places in life. These relationships were further part of His plan to teach me. These women were sensitive enough to really listen and mature enough in their faith to help me see God working. Moreover, I was being held accountable to study God’s Word. Although I was not deliberately seeking to share my story with other ladies (in fact, quite the opposite!) or even to grow closer to God, HE PUT ME THERE. He gently moved me to that group to get my focus off myself.

When a person is suffering, she can forget that pain is part of every person’s life. Sharing prayer requests with another woman of God can help her regain a proper perspective. In fact, God designed Biblical Womanhood to work that way — women helping other women (Titus 2). My struggle was no longer a lonely place.

Different women need to learn different things through their infertility journey. For me, it was grasping that God alone is enough. My journey is like that of Abraham when he was told to sacrifice his child — the son for whom he had waited and waited (Genesis 22). “Then God said, ‘Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about.’” Abraham obeyed. And he told Isaac, “God himself will provide… .”

And God did provide a substitute. In fact, because Abraham did not withhold his son, God blessed Abraham and promised to make his “descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore.”

As I have learned to submit in new ways this past year, I have been blessed as well. I had to give up my own ideas of my future family and wait for God to work. He provides.

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Elaine and her husband are licensed as an adoptive family and foster home.

 

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