Foster Care Perspective: “Best” and “Worst”

“It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.” If there was ever an opening sentence to a novel that succinctly described what foster and adoption was like, Dickens nailed it. 

I have never felt simultaneously like I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing and I’m failing everyone as I do as a parent (especially as an adoptive parent). If f it wasn’t for the fact my kids needed to be in foster care and their birth parents had their parental rights severed, I wouldn’t be their mom.

I would have never met the children that occupy 90 percent of my waking thoughts. I would never have known the joy of little feet scrambling to race each other to meet me to get the first hug. I would never have known the deepest heartache or the greatest joy from people who aren’t my spouse or closest friends. I would not be me if it was not for them. 

But, oh, how I wish it was different, for their sake. I wish they had been born to parents who were willing and able to do all the things they needed to do to parent well. I wish foster care and adoption didn’t bring such conflicted feelings to so many people. I want it to be simple: they needed a family and we provided that family. The truth is so much more complex.

And so, here we are. Had things not happened the way they happened when they happened, everything would be different. Had things proceeded the way they should, in an ideal world, my family as I know it wouldn’t exist. 

If that’s a difficult thing for me as an adult to grapple with, I struggle to imagine how hard it will be for my kids as they age. While we strive to be open and honest about the facts of our children’s lives before they were adopted, there are only so many details we have. Furthermore, even information I have given to them is easily forgotten as their brains grow and change. 

I was startled at the most recent counseling session of one of my younger kids. We were going over family history with the counselor and my kid reacted to the information I shared as if she had never heard it before.

It reminded me that even with the best of my intentions and my desire for openness with communication I sometimes miss important things. It made it more clear to me how parents of adult adoptees are horrified to learn the children they adored felt their childhood was terrible. Children who were so sorely wanted felt unwanted and confused. Things adoptive parents did to try and make a child feel included made them feel excluded and othered. 

I was reminded that even though some things are simply facts to me, they are building blocks to my kids’ identity sometimes. It doesn’t matter to them what I felt in a situation, it matters how they felt. Of course, I want them to share if they feel upset. Of course, I want them to ask questions about their parents and their foster placement even if I don’t have all the answers or I start to feel uncomfortable. 

Basically, I was reminded that two people can see the exact same situation and view it an entirely different way. My favorite fictional example of this is in Prince Caspian by C.S.Lewis. Eustace, a cousin to the Pevensie children, was unwittingly dragged along on an ocean adventure. The surly youth, furious at having been brought along against his will, kept a journal during a voyage. The narrator described the lovely days at sea and all the fun the other children were having. Eustace wrote in his journal how miserable he was and how everyone was ignoring him. He refused to see things their way but also they neglected to try and see things from Eustace’s point of view. 

This is an account of a fictional story, but I find the same things happening around my house daily. One sister is happily singing to herself and brushing her doll’s hair. Another sister is trying to do homework and is furious that her sister has none— and also finds everything everyone else is doing offensive. She thinks everyone is rubbing her face in the fact she has homework and they don’t. 

For the others, they are simply enjoying their free time. They aren’t (usually) actively trying to upset their sister, truly. But the sister doing homework feels targeted. Instead of sharing their feelings and clearing the air, things are said that are untrue and unkind and feelings end up getting hurt. 

Similarly, I think being a mom is one of the greatest privileges I’ve ever had. There are people on the internet who hate me simply as a concept. They cannot abide the fact that I or any other foster parent would find joy in a situation that was brought about by another family suffering. And, sincerely, I need to point out it is despite the situation not because of it that I find joy. I hate that birth parents did or experience what they did. I hate that they didn’t or couldn’t provide where they needed to provide. If I had a time machine, I’d go back and beg them to try harder or seek out resources. But, I do not. So, I’m working actively to make things as good for these children I love as I can. Do I wish for their sakes things were different? Yes. Do I consider them the best thing that has ever happened to me? Also yes. 

Adoption can be sad and painful. There are people involved. People always complicate things. It can also be, and often is, the most fulfilling thing that I’ve ever had the privilege to be a part of.