I am Okay

It has been three weeks since we sent our foster baby to his new family.  Some days it feels like longer, and on others it seems like just yesterday.  Time is funny that way.

I can see that my family is settling into a “new” normal, and that makes me glad.

We are okay.

For the first two weeks I buried myself in genealogy.  It’s a hobby I enjoy and it helped to keep my mind busy so I wouldn't be able to focus so much on my heart.  I slept a lot too.  Not at night, but during the day.  I felt listless and empty.  I was also sick for a solid week, and that sickness cycled through my children and my husband.  Taking care of them helped me to push the heartache back, but it snuck out at unexpected times.

One morning, about a week after he left, my two year old daughter wandered around the house looking for him and asking where he was.  That brought the pain back, sharp and new.  I have been worried about how this will affect her.  She is so young and there is so much that she  doesn't understand.  Every once in a while she asks about him, but she doesn't seem emotionally or psychologically damaged.  She seems secure and happy, despite losing her baby brother, and I am grateful that she is handling this so well.

She is okay.

A few days later, my two older children went into my room to get something and my son reminded his sister to keep the light off in case the baby was sleeping.  But there was no need.  There was no baby in my room.  Ouch again.

My older son has always been able to articulate his feelings well.  He was the youngest for eight years before we became a foster family.  I worried about him and how he would handle the transition from being the youngest to being the middle child.  When we brought our first foster baby home 4 ½ years ago, he told me, “Mom, I don’t know where I fit in our family anymore.”  He was not the oldest and not the youngest.  He was not the baby, nor did he want to be treated like one, but he wanted to know where he fit.  I told him that he had the unique position of sharing “oldest sibling status” with his sister, since they were only two years apart and so much older than our foster baby.  We talked about what he could do to help our foster baby and he was excited to have the title of “big brother.”  Of my four children, he is the one that wears his heart on his sleeve.  His emotions are very much near the surface and his heart is tender.  I have worried about how fostering would affect him and his sense of belonging in our family.  I have worried that dividing my attention between more children would be detrimental for him.  I have cried with him as we have given our foster babies away.  I have been watching him these past weeks to make sure he is dealing with his feelings in a healthy way.  I can see that he is starting to shake off the gloom that has settled on our family since the baby left, and I am relieved. 

He is okay.

Aside from my husband and myself, my older daughter bears much of the burden that comes from caring for little ones.  She changes many diapers, gives baths, puts babies to bed, feeds them, and has fully enjoyed the God-given gift of womanhood and motherhood that is within her.  She cares for and loves these little ones and I know she weeps when they go.  Even though letting go of them is heartbreaking, she is willing to love them and care for them regardless of the pain.  Watching her with them makes my heart happy.

She is okay.

I wondered how our young son would handle the disruption in our family life that would come from bringing in another baby and then having to give the baby away.  He is developmentally behind and I’m not sure all that he understands.  He has many doctor and therapy appointments and needs much of my attention.  I worried that I wouldn't be able to give him the time that he needed each day.  It was difficult to try to make it to appointments with a three year old who couldn't walk, a two year old who loved to run, and an infant, but with the help of wonderful family and neighbors, I was able to do it.  The weeks before and after we gave the baby away were difficult for everyone and I know he felt that something was different.  He wanted to be held and cuddled and wanted almost constant attention.  I know it didn't help much that I was sick, and then he was sick.  But he seems to have settled back into a routine and is his happy self again, for which I am thankful. 

He is okay.

My dear husband, though he tries to hold back his emotions, as is expected in our society, is very tenderhearted when it comes to our children, whether biological, adopted, or foster.  He gives his whole heart to the children that come into our home.  He shares in the time and effort it takes to care for these babies as best as he can.  He makes sure he is able to provide for our family and works hard for us all.  He loves to sit and hold the babies when he gets home from work and he even takes a turn or two with nighttime feedings.  I rarely see him cry, but we have sobbed together each time we send a foster baby on to another home.  It breaks my heart to see him weep, but it also swells with love and admiration for the man I married.  He has not been immune to the gloom that has settled in our home the past month, and my heart has ached as I have watched him struggle with his emotions.  But over the past week or so, I have noticed that he seems happier.  We have been working together to help the kids cope with this loss and I am so lucky to have this wonderful man by my side.

He is okay.

I have finally started to make regular meals and tidy the house again.  I struggle with depression daily, and although I work on keeping myself level, these emotionally charged events always throw me off balance for a while.  It has been a difficult month, and it is so nice to feel happy again.  During these dark times, I try to remember to lean on my Heavenly Father and ask Him to help carry my burden.  I am still learning how to do that, and I struggle to let His love help me heal, but I like to think that I am getting better at it.  Time helps to lessen the pain, but it is always there, somewhere.  Last night as I was going through the massive pile of toys that have taken over the corner of my living room, I found two that were his.  They had gotten missed as I had packed up his things.  My eyes burned a little as I set them aside.  

We have done this before and we will do it again.  It will be difficult then too, but I know I will be okay.

I have come to better understand the scripture that talks about mourning with those who mourn and comforting those who stand in need of comfort.  I am so very grateful for the love and support we have received from our family, friends, and neighbors.  I am so grateful for those who have mourned with us.  To you, who have accompanied us on this journey, I want you to know:

We are okay.