This is Fostering

Today, I followed my same routine.

I got ready. I woke two babies up, put them in coordinating jumpers and matching shoes. I put on their soft, gray bear-eared sweaters, and I drove them to school while talking to my mom.

Then I went to work and helped kids write about their lives, so they can get into college. I gave them advice and told them how much I love them. I tried to help one kid find a compass as a fatherless child.

In the afternoon, I watched one of the most difficult groups of seniors I have had limp across the graduation stage after a hard fought battle of a year. I hugged kids who changed my life for the better and wished them luck on their lives, knowing full well I will never see some of their faces again.

I picked up the boys from daycare and held their hands as we walked to the stroller and confirmed they had a visit with their mom today. I loaded them in the car and drove back across town while talking to one of my best people.

I got home, fed them, bathed them, put them in their dog jammies, and read them a story where a dog loves a baby and another where a mom loves a baby. I sang “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” 

I will do all of this again tomorrow and the next day until they tell me there are no more days. This is character. This is being an adult. This is living with your choices and seeing them through. This is true, pure love. This is memorizing moments. This is fostering. This is all I can do right now.

And that’s the kind of day it was…

Foster care is the worst. When in training, they tell us we’re going to pick up our children from visits each week, and it’s going to be like doing triage. To people who have older kids and worse family dynamics than mine, you are saints on earth. If you know anyone in the world who is doing foster care of older kids with tough situations, hug them, buy them a bottle of wine, get them massages, make yourself prostrate at their feet and grovel because the kind of constitution they have to go through that each week is for saints. They are beyond human; we mere mortals. 

Two days in a row, every week, my kids have visits with their bio mom who genuinely loves them and does her best. I do not begrudge her wanting every waking moment with them she can get and feeding them high concentrations of food people give their kids on special occasions. If anyone one of us had less than a work day total each week with our children we would be cramming ice cream in their mouths too, most likely.

Tonight, again, I picked them up from visits and they had diarrhea and diaper rash and no nap, and I drove them an hour across town in rush hour traffic while they screamed most of the way from upset stomachs and exhaustion. Eventually, they fell hard asleep. Unloading them into their cribs to nap while I made dinner, I tried to add greens and proteins and fruit to counter the piles of grease and sugars and white flour they consumed. I said a silent prayer that the hour of nap would act as a counter curse. I told myself it was relaxing to have some time to cook in spite of it creeping into the hour and a half I have with them to play each evening before they go to bed. I hoped it would be better than last night.

I woke them from hard sleeps, each of them sweating from still wearing their jackets because I didn’t want to jostle them too much when we first got home. They ate like it was their first meal ever, fistful after fistful, and I tried to ignore the looming glower on one little man’s face. Everything was going well. Everything was going fine.

I took them to their room, turned to grab diapers, and that’s when the screaming started. For any twin parent or parent of two little tinies, it hurts when they cry and you can only comfort them one at a time. Each wanted me to fully wrap my arms around him and soothe him and rub his back and comfort him, but I only have two arms and one nuzzly neck. Pick a baby up while the other one cries, soothe until he stops. Set him down, pick up the other one and start soothing. Other twin commence crying. Repeat. 

I sat on the ground with one calm dude and one inconsolable dude and had to concede I had to set him down to get them both ready for bed. As I started to change the calm one, while the other lay his head on my leg and sobbed, I unleashed a fiery red diaper rashed baby ass on the calm one as he began to scream. Some cream and calm later I wrestled him into his pajamas while the other twin continued to lay his head on my leg and cry. 

I picked up the sad guy and held him and rocked him and talked to him while he heaved against my chest. His brother sitting nearby and worriedly watching. I changed him and unleashed an even redder and angrier butt while he wracked in sobs the entire time. Finally, with diaper rash cream and jammies, he sat red eyed on the floor sucking his thumb long enough for me to comb their hair. 

As we sat there, the calm guy started to reach forward with his arms out towards his brother. Then he leaned forward and lay his head in his brother’s lap. His brother lay his head down and snuggled. Then calm brother sat up and held his brother and rubbed his back as sad brother leaned into him. It was the first time it ever happened that they intentionally hugged. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. 

I did everything I could not to cry because of how lovely it was because I didn’t want to worry them. I sat and complimented their kindness and love for one another. I marveled at one of the best moments of my entire life, and I thought how lucky I am to be part of their little tender hearted lives. 

This all could have been different. If they would have called someone who accepted before me, or I had chosen to say no to something so scary, this could not exist at all. If I let the hard get the best of me and stomped and raged at their hurt the way I want to sometimes, I may ruin their chances to open up into wonderful people. It could be totally different. I am so lucky. Foster care is the best thing in the world.