This story was originally shared by a mother who wishes to remain anonymous. It was told to Leah Sutterlin who shaped it for publication in Mother’s Day Magazine.
I have always had a heart for children. One of my earliest childhood friends was adopted and so I occasionally babysat for her younger foster and adopted siblings. I learned about foster care more through a church fair and I remember telling my mom that we could get a baby sibling this way.
I always thought that I would marry young, foster, and then birth biological children, but that didn’t happen. I got married later in life and faced infertility, so we explored adoption options and ultimately decided to foster.
When we first jumped into fostering, we underwent some training, but it was still a shock to find ourselves as first-time parents to three, all placed within three weeks of each other: an eight-year-old, an eighteen-month-old, and a newborn, who was exposed to drugs in utero. Everyone thought we were crazy, and we soon felt overwhelmed with the number of appointments with social workers and therapists. I was grateful to take two months off and ultimately I left my job to be a full-time parent for two years. My sister would sometimes take the kids to give me a break, but I do think we could have benefited from more support.
Fostering was not always easy. We fostered nine kids and we loved them as our own. It was heartbreaking when they moved on, but we were happy to see them reunified with their families or find kinship care.
The first girl who was placed with us lived with us for two and a half years. From the day we met her, we knew that she was fiercely loyal to her first family and feared adoption. We kept trying to tell her that her biological family would always be hers and we weren’t trying to take their place. She eventually aged out of foster care, but we stayed in touch and attended her high school graduation party. That was hard, as we were her fifth placement and she aged out after her eleventh placement. Not all situations have gone as we might have desired or hoped for, but we have tried to support reunification wherever possible (as much of a gap that can leave in our own hearts) and also listen to the kids in our care about their hopes and dreams for the future.
We ended up adopting a toddler girl and newborn boy when they became eligible for adoption, which opened up the path for permanent attachment to form, but even that journey had its ups and downs.
Given my adopted children’s background, they have struggled with developmental trauma. We have worked on trust-based relational intervention and Bryan Post’s love-based parenting. My kids have various mental health diagnoses, including depression, anxiety, PTSD, and ADHD, which causes behavioral challenges at school and home. I continue to do all I can to support my children, including reading, attending training seminars and participating in family support groups.
Both my kids see a therapist, and I see a therapist. So much of what I’ve learned is that parenting always, but especially when fostering and adopting, starts with us and so much of how I can show up depends on how I take care of myself. That’s all I have control over. I’ve learned how to breathe and calm myself down in stressful situations, so my kids who have experienced trauma can co-regulate and handle big feelings.
Parenting a child of a different race also presents unique challenges. People often look at our family longer than average as if trying to understand our story or how we fit together from our appearances. My son is black and my daughter has Native American roots. We ordered Chinese food last time, and the woman behind the counter asked, “Is that your son? His face looks different than yours.” And I replied, “I know—isn’t he so handsome?” She laughed and I talked to my son after. I told him, “We have so many different ways we could respond to that. We could ask her why she’s asking such personal questions. Or we could ignore and redirect it. But we chose to be kind and talk about it.”
As I think back to my journey as a foster and adoptive mom and later working for an organization that tries to support foster, adoptive, and biological families, I realize that parenting is the most rewarding part of life, but the loss, trial, and brokenness are real. The road is often lonely, and we need a support system to lean on.
Fostering isn’t like other types of parenting where you prepare for nine months and plan a baby shower. It just happens. We’ve loved kids who have suffered various kinds of abuse and opened our home to medically fragile babies. Even right now, I find myself struggling when my kids are struggling.
Faith and community have sustained me through dark times. Every day remains a testament to the fact that while this path is challenging, the investment in my children’s healing and growth is the most important work I will ever do.
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