I took 3 semesters of Psychology in college. The subject interested me so I approached it for understanding rather than to merely survive it for a passing grade. I have always been pretty nerdy and feel like I have relatively decent knowledge on the topic. That turned out to be a good thing.

Fostering is a strenuous exercise in dealing with people. Did I ace it? No! That would be impossible. I think I survived it, though, because of my ability to take in the information and, more often than not, accurately sort its components. That, and Hubby Guy was a masterful partner, gifted at knowing when I needed to be redirected, needed to slow down, or needed a whole time out. A strong relationship was a very necessary tool. That saved our bacon over and over again. We operate as a unit and that is a non-negotiable in all areas of life.

A very difficult component of fostering is knowing how to be what the child needs you to be. If you don’t know how to be, the desire to try to be is a must. We had two very different children. Though they lived in the same house, their experiences were different. They also processed being in foster care very differently. There are many stories that could be told. Those stories are theirs, but I want to share two as examples of the types of things that happen as part of the process.

As I said before, the little one didn’t talk much. There is much behind that. One of the reasons is because she was really in touch with her sadness about what was happening. Her behaviors were very hair trigger. We weren’t ever really sure when she would “go off”. Unfortunately for us, it seemed to always happen in public. One time we were out to dinner. We were at a place where kids got ice cream with their kids meal. The oldest finished her meal and they brought out her ice cream. The little one wanted hers immediately, though she hadn’t finished her meal, and we said no. That did it. Even though we assured her she could have it as soon as she finished, she started to wail. When I say wail, I mean the most literal version of that. Loud, loud crying and thrashing about. We had to pay the bill and evacuate. It was monstrously embarrassing. She continued to wail when we got in the car. She continued all the way home, at the very same decibel level. When we got home I picked her up and rocked her in the rocking chair until she slowly lost volume and eventually fell asleep. It took well over an hour. The next morning in the car on the way to school she told me she cried because she missed her parents. That happened over and over again. What I noticed though is that she let me hold her and rock her. Her issue wasn’t with me, it was with the circumstance.

The older one was a completely different animal. I know now that is because of her personality. She is a very in-the-moment person. She feels a lot, but she deals with each moment as it comes. That, in those days, was a blessing. Both girls could have justifiably cried all day every day. They suffered a HUGE loss. What happened at home was not OK but they lost their parents and their siblings in one fell swoop. That’s not OK either. Anyway, one day we were hanging out on the back porch. The scene is burned into my mind’s eye forever. The oldest was leaning against the back porch railing. She had her little foot popped up on the post. We were talking about life outlook, what she wanted to be like when she grew up, etc. Out of nowhere she said, “When I am older I will try drugs, my friends will want to, so I will too.” We were knocked back by that one. I remember us talking her though how dangerous drugs are, etc. I think I was a bit traumatized by that one because I don’t remember what happened next. It blows my mind that she would say that knowing that is the very thing that destroyed her biological family. She was thinking about it though. Even then.

I have story upon story just like those two. Fostering is hard. It is labor of love with NO GUARANTEE of a good outcome for you or the children. That is why it mattered to me how we dealt with things that came up. We both just wanted to be a stable force for them. We wanted to just love them and provide a healthy home and environment. That required a metric butt ton (as my friend Lisa would say) of swallowing emotions, pride, opinions, and druthers to just try to meet those kids where they were at any given moment. That is the crux of fostering…. and the biggest thing they don’t prepare you for.

I feel like over the years I have earned an honorary PhD in Psychology. I could probably come up with a few more fields where I should also have a PhD. Being successful at fostering requires a steep learning curve and a robust ability to get over yourself. In my opinion, that is why you hear so many horror stories from foster care. They don’t screen for mental stability. We weren’t perfect. We could have done better. We did hold it together, though. We crossed the foster care finish line basically intact. We then kept running right into adoptionville where a whole new set of adventures waited.