I saw this picture pop up in my memories recently and I can’t stop thinking about it. This picture is more than it looks like, and it’s a great example of how Instagram lies. This was one of the most difficult stretches our not so little family had ever been through. Look at Joben’s face, because that face is telling you the whole story.
We were on our third week with our first foster placement, 1 year old and 2 year old sisters. When we were going through the certification process, the question that came up the most from people who cared about us was “what about your kids?” (Meaning my biological children). I was determined that this would be a positive experience for my children, and for whatever reason (ignorance?) I thought that the way to accomplish this was to keep things exactly as they were before we were a foster family, only we’d be doing it with more kids. So here we were, on the patio at my kids’ favorite burger spot.
What you can’t see is that just outside the frame are two screaming girls. I’m pretty sure one of them had just thrown her entire plate of food on the ground. I’m sure there was plenty of scratching, hair pulling, spitting, and whatever other behavior you stare at “bad parents” for when their children “don’t know how to behave in a restaurant”. (If only I knew then what I know now about trauma). I promise they were always incredibly creative with their “misbehavior”, but for obvious reasons, we don’t walk around with a sign that says “please be patient, we’re new parents to traumatized children” or “please show grace, these children are doing their best to survive”.
I didn’t get much help from the girls’ social worker, and I really didn’t have much of a support system. I had no idea what resources were available for the girls or for our family. I didn’t ask for help during this time because 1) I really didn’t even know what to ask for and 2) I was so afraid to admit that I had made a mistake by forcing my kids into this wildly different, and honestly, unhealthy home dynamic. The problem is that we *weren’t* the same as we were before we were a foster family. We were entirely different. Our boat permanently rocked. We’ll never be that same type of steady again. I knew that the day I took this picture and I felt utterly stuck, lonely, and helpless. We almost gave up.
What I didn’t understand then was that there’s a different kind of steady. It’s kind of like riding a river. There’s a steadiness in the calm waters where the river is gentle. You have to paddle sometimes, and sure that gets kind of exhausting in its own way, but it’s slow and smooth and for the most part safe. You can even rest for a minute if you’re worn out.
But there’s another kind of steady, too. The kind where the water is fast and a little bit dangerous. You may have to take extra steps to prepare, but once you learn the river, you figure out how to get through the rapids. You move fast and react to surprises. It’s exciting! And when you get some experience under your belt, your boat stays steady. Not the same kind of steady as the calm water, but a wild, exciting, and demanding kind of steady. Once you’ve figured out the rapids, you aren’t really satisfied spending too much time in the calm water anymore.
If you’ve ever considered being a foster family, but you’re worried about the wild ride, let’s chat! It has been the wildest, craziest, most amazing thing I’ve ever had the privilege to be part of.
If you’re a foster family just starting your journey, needing help isn’t failing. We’ve all been drowning at some point. It’s ok to ask for what you need. If you don’t know what you need, it’s ok to say “I’m drowning but I don’t know what to ask for”. Share what you’re going through and I’ll be happy to help connect you to organizations, services, education, or support. I would hate for another family to stay in a state of overwhelm when there is so much help available! Don’t go through this alone!