“I’ve always wished to be a father. I believed this would happen in the next five years when I was 25 years old. But by the time I was 35 and had no children, I realized I was on a different path. This was fine with me because I’ve always been cautious about following the standard rules for starting a family.
This is why: My mother was treated as a second-class citizen by my father when I was a child. The abuse was the norm in my house; love and nurture were not. Because I was raised without a decent model, I was constantly concerned that I wouldn’t know how to be a good father or husband. I knew my life would be unusual and that I would have a family in an unconventional manner.
When I first arrived in the United States, I discovered that, despite not being married and having no children, I could still be a father. This is when I made the decision to foster. It’s been an unbelievable privilege to open my door and greet a little boy or girl who has never met me before but is eager to come into my home in search of safety. They are often terrified, but they want to be loved, and they hope that one day they will be able to return home and find the same love and safety.
When I first started this path, I thought that being a foster dad meant assisting children who needed a stable home while their parents tried to improve their children’s lives. I knew my job was to look after the babies while the parents took care of themselves, and when the parents were ready, I’d return the children to them faithfully. Over time, I’ve realized that it’s not just my role to foster the children, but also to foster the family as a whole.
As a foster parent, you develop attachments to your children. You adore each child, and as your feelings for them deepen, you want they could stay with you forever. You begin to hope that you could be their father in some way. However, after some time has passed, you receive a phone call from the parents, stating that they are ready to speak with their child. The calls become increasingly frequent, and the parents occasionally pay a visit. You’re well aware that your prospects of adopting this youngster are slim to none. You’re reminded of your responsibility, and you begin to reflect on the best method to return this youngster to their parents’ arms in a happy state. The best way to achieve this, I’ve discovered, is to embrace the parents with the same open heart I offer their children.
When you foster children, you love them all as if they were your own. You feed, clothe, and educate them. You sit with them as they sleep restlessly and have nightmares. You adore them even while they are in the midst of a traumatic event. On days when they’ve been at school and are just waiting to hug you, you rush to them. They seem to enjoy your attachment, despite the fact that you know you’ll only be able to adore them for a short time.
What’s the best way for me to deal with these contradictory emotions? At this moment, I adore my children. I accept their trauma, as well as their histories and family. When they’re in suffering, I care about them, and when they’re laughing, I care about them. When their parents fail to show up for a visit, I take care of them. When they wait all night for a phone call from their mother or father and don’t get it, I assure them that everything will be fine. I adore them so much that holding them back would be such a disservice to them. Knowing that I will soon have to let go of a child, and my attachment to them has become a daily battle for me.
I’ve been fostering a seven-year-old for the past ten months (he just turned eight). He’s one of three siblings. I couldn’t accept all three siblings at once, so the girls were taken by my closest friend, who is also a foster parent, and the boy was taken by me. Because of our near proximity, I’ve been able to provide respite care for the girls, and they’ve had plenty of opportunities to see their brother.
My foster kid has been visiting his parents every weekend for the past three months in preparation for his homecoming home. Every Friday night, I’d bid him farewell, knowing that he’d return on Sunday. It was always a pleasure to see him eager to return to me. He’d tell me what he missed about his parents and what he did with them. I enjoyed seeing him happy, but I couldn’t help but think that one of those weekends he wouldn’t come back.
You learn about the children’s parents and how their children ended up in foster care as foster parents. I never pass judgment. I realize that anything can happen to anyone at any time. We never know what motivates people to make particular choices. We have no idea what they are going through. It is not my responsibility to pass judgment on parents; rather, it is my role to assist them by caring for their children. While they’re in my care, I do everything I can to help them maintain their bond with their children. It’s always a good thing when parents want to be involved in their children’s lives, regardless of their history.
It was finally time to return the three youngsters to their parents last week. It was a challenging and bittersweet week for me. It’s been a joy to have them in my home, and it’s been equally difficult to let them go. When the big day arrived, I mustered as much optimism as I could. At various points throughout the morning, I went into my room to cry alone. We started the three-hour drive once I composed myself, loaded the kids and their luggage into the car. There were many stops and a few backseat disagreements, as with every family road trip. The kids told me about their plans with their parents and how much they would miss me. They inquired if I planned to pay them a visit. I vowed I’d keep my word.
When we eventually arrived at their home, seeing their parents so pleased and anxious to see them brought me delight, but it also reminded me that this was the last time I would be a father to these children. When they were hungry, they would no longer call out to me. They stopped coming up to me for hugs. I smiled as they took their luggage from the car to their rooms, but my heart ached beneath my smiles.
The children I have raised for the past year will now live in a different environment, eat differently, sleep differently, and live in a different town, but they will always have a mother and father who love them. Hearing children ask their parents to fulfill things I would typically fulfill made me cry. But, upon hearing this, I realized it was time for me to leave. Tears welled up in my eyes as I drove away. I felt relieved knowing that I had helped this family in some way. I’m hoping our friendship will last. It’s nice to know I can phone or visit them, and they might even come over for an overnight.
Something about this farewell has reinforced for me that as a foster parent, I am serving the entire family. I didn’t only foster one child; I also provided respite care for his sisters. I helped a family’s future by caring for the youngsters while their parents settled in.
Seeing them together again motivates me to foster more children and continue to create relationships with their parents. Part of loving my foster children is believing in their parents’ ability to overcome adversity. I have to trust their parents to be the best they can be when I return children I have loved and raised as my own. If not, I’ll always be here, arms and heart open.”