Today I decided to start a blog. It's been something I've been considering for a while now. I've been a foster momma for less than three months. In this short period of time I have been exposed to a lot of crazy stuff. So writing about it just seems nesessary.
I have a nine year old foster child. For privacy reasons I can't give you a lot of her personal details, including her name.
I want to tell you about the night I picked her up, because I still can't get over it.
My husband and I had finally been approved as foster parents, which was a process in itself, and I may talk about it in a later post. Anyhow, we were ready to go and waiting for the call that there was a child needing a temporary home. I had done the Ikea trips and set up an adorable gender-neutral room. I was dying for a kid to put in it. I was hoping for a girl, school aged- but we told the workers we were open to either gender because we didn't want to mess with fate or anything.
My huband was working out of town when I got the call. I was in my car just pulling out of the driveway on a dark January evening. I was supposed to be heading to a family dinner but when I saw the unfamiliar number I stopped. Sure enough it was the crisis unit. They told me a family of children had been taken into care and was wondering if I could take one. We are only liscenced for one child at this point. I asked if there was a girl- and was given basic details for my future kid.
I drove out to pick her up. She was on the ground floor of a building I had never been in before. The whole main floor was full of well dressed younger woman at desks and on the phone, and screaming children. One of the ladies led me to a smaller group of kids. A toddler was on the knee of one of the social workers crying. The social worker warned me not to look at him as he was having social anxiety. Another lady went to get my girl for me. When she finally came out- she was tiny. I had to double check that she really was nine. She was had something yellow smeared on her cheek and she only glanced up at me briefly before running off to play with the other kids. They got me a boxed lice kit- the cheap "Life" brand, and someone else picked out a pair of pyjamas that they thoguht would fit (they did). My future foster child had no other possessions with her. Then they gathered her up, gave her a home made toque, gave me paperwork, and sent us off.
She seemed hesitant to get into my car and I thought I was in for a struggle. Then she seemed to change her mind and I helped her buckle in. Just as we were about to leave she asked "why do I have to go?". I had no idea what to say. So I said brightly"well we can't stay here all night". I felt cowardly. How do you respond to that question? I took her to her future home, my home.
