Our first fostering experience was a baptism by fire into the world of child welfare. It was a NICU infant. It was an ICWA (Indian Child Welfare Act) case. The family had a lengthy history with the court system. There was a case plan and paperwork and visitation and court dates and that was all just in the first few weeks of our life adjusting to a preemie in the house. While we had had a hand in parenting lots of boys through our group home work and the adoption of our first child, we had never had an infant. There was a lot to learn, but in all of that, one thing became very clear to me.
This child was wanted.
I wanted to be his mom for today, for tomorrow, for as long as he needed me. He had a biological mother who wanted him. She was going to do what she could to convince the state she could parent him. He was wanted by the parents of his biological siblings and by his biological grandparents. Each of us had our role to play in his story and we knew the ending would mean only one of us could be his family, but there was no lack of “wanting” involved in his life.
I remember my first visit to the pediatrician with this five pound bundle in my arms. I was exceptionally proud of this little guy and absolutely in love with him. His future was very uncertain, but how much we cared for him was an established fact. The woman next to me in the pediatrician’s newborn waiting area leaned over to look at my swaddled baby (who I obviously didn’t birth) and began to ask what I would later find are the typical questions. This was my first time answering them and I wasn’t quite prepared for her response when she found out he was a foster child. She looked at the beautiful baby in my arms and said, “Oh! A foster child? That’s great! I have a friend who wants to have a baby, but it’s been taking awhile. I bet she’d take this one since nobody wants him.” To this day I have no idea what I said to her after that. My mind was spinning. What could I have possibly said to indicate that nobody wanted him? It was the furthest thing from the truth. I knew I would never say he wasn’t wanted, but the label FOSTER CHILD communicated more than my obvious love and care for him could.
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