We changed our world to foster Big D for seventeen months and his brother for nine. I quit my job (and luckily found a more flexible one). We put hobbies on hold and personal goals on the backburner.
Now, Big D is gone. And I’m finding my way amid the whiplash of what was and what is. Or what isn’t.
I thought I would jump right back in. Filling my weekends with projects and spare moments with plans. Staying busy to stay sane.
Instead I find myself doing an inordinate amount of very little. Holding hands with my husband. Walking around our little neighborhood. Watching birds in our backyard.
And it is good.
These few weeks my hands haven’t accomplished much. But my head has lived out more than a few lifetimes. Dreaming about adopting multiple siblings. Vowing to never parent again. Realizing neither is really my heart, but riding the emotional rollercoaster nonetheless.
Twisting and turning, I wait what will surely be many months until that rollercoaster settles and stays put. Because children come with their own rollercoasters and need a steady adult to hold their hand amid the ups and downs.
Rather than one screaming with eyes closed.
And so I’ll keep riding and resting. Not knowing who or when or if we will foster again.
But knowing deep down that more than one foster child has our hearts. Has changed our hearts.
And those hearts can’t imagine a world where we wouldn’t seek to love another somehow someway.