Please, Be Gentle

Be gentle with me today.

My heart is broken and the pain is so sharp.

My baby boy is gone.

I know he wasn't really "mine," but try telling that to my heart.  I've known for a few months that this day would come, but my arms just feel so empty.  And I knew they would.  

The bassinet is empty and his blanket, which I couldn't bear to part with, seems to mourn the loss of his little body, all snuggly and warm.  Some of his clothes are in the hamper, waiting to be washed and folded and put in his drawer.  My shirt still smells like baby, from cuddling him and feeding him when he woke up this morning.  

I am the mother he knows and loves, and even though his memories of me will fade as the weeks and months march on, I hold on to the hope that some small part of him will remember how very much he was loved while he was in my care.

We are a foster family.  This is not our first time caring for a child we would not keep.  But, knowing we had to give him away didn't make doing it any easier.

Being a foster family is bittersweet.  

Well, more like a two edge sword.  

We do everything in our power to provide a happy home, a safe haven for the children we take in.  We treat them as our own and provide for their needs so they can grow and develop and have stability and a sense of security.  We love them and worry about them and pray for them and ache for them, as much as we do for our own children.  

When we get a new little one in our home, my heart can't seem to tell the difference between foster, biological, or adopted.  And while they are a part of our family in every way, the reality is that they are not ours.  

The day will come, as it always does, when we will have to say goodbye.

It may seem that fostering children is like a long term babysitting gig, but nothing could be further from the truth.  While they are in our home, they are ours. And, when they leave, the loss is real. 

Sometimes I wonder if my pain is justified.  After all, if you sign up for a broken heart, can you really complain when you get what you asked for?  I have never lost one of my own children, so I can’t know fully what that must feel like.  But I know what it is to love a child and then have to let them go. 

It is not all doom and gloom though.  We have gotten to know the family he went to.  We love them and we see the love they have for "our" baby.  We see how excited they are to have him in their family.  We see the direction they are taking in their lives and we are excited for his future in their home. 

I know he is supposed to be with them.  I knew it the moment I met them.  So, even though I am mourning the loss of this child, I rejoice for him and the happiness he is bringing to his new family.

The rest of the world doesn't stop, even when it feels like my world has ended.  My littles still need caring for, and my husband and big kids need me too.  Dinner needs to be made and the chores are waiting to be done.  Life will move on, and we will miss him and his happy little spirit.

I know that it won’t always hurt like this, but today it is close to unbearable.

Through the mercy of my Savior, I know I will find peace.

But for now, please be gentle with me.