The hardest thing to do is to comfort a crying little girl who just wants to see her parents. Who is really confused. Who doesn’t understand all the newness or strangeness. Who is sad and angry. Who doesn’t want a hug from the strange lady but melts into it because it is all there is. Who really doesn’t want your comfort because you are a stranger.
I haven’t perfected my words in those moments. I always get caught off guard. Tonight I just told her it was my job to keep her safe and happy while things got figured out. That it was ok be sad and mad and scared and that she was not alone.
Today she saw two kiddos run up and hug me at daycare. The girls I had a couple of weeks ago are in her class. They asked to come home with me too. I said no, they were safe and I had girls who needed me now like they needed me then. It took everything I had inside of me to not cry right then.
My little tonight, she didn’t understand why I take care of kids and she was very confused.
All tonight she was snarky. She was withdrawn. Some would have seen this as defiance or ugliness. It wasn’t. She feels out of control. She was looking for ways to control her world.
I let it go.
I waited
And waited
Her sisters are asleep and I just left her side because 15 minutes earlier, I had wandered by their room and heard soft, pillow muffled cries. It broke my heart.
I clumsily explained that sometimes grownups need help to be the best grownups they can be. That parents sometimes need help. I didn’t have any other words
I let her cry. I didn’t leave her side until she was done. I breathed a sigh of relief because at least she was letting it out but it didn’t make it easier.
I tucked her in and told her tomorrow was another day and we can only take it one day at a time. She didn’t smile. She just laid her head down. She closed her eyes and pulled her raggedy teddy bear close to her heart.
I gently patted her back and told her that we would get through it all together. I stood up, said goodnight and didn’t expect a response.
Just as I walked out, I heard a whispered “goodnight”
I thanked her and told her I would see her in the morning.
And walked out of the room, made it exactly 1 inch and lost it.
This never gets easier. This is foster care. I hate every minute of it. But it is needed and for some reason, most kids like me. So i keep doing it.
Someday people will hopefully get their crap together. Because this is foster care and dammit we can do better for our children.
Parentingandwine 