The state gives you all the information they have, but sometimes information is scarce, and you have to become your own private detective. You study your child for clues about their past. You look for trigger situations. You have to figure out if they have any allergies or major food aversions or favorite traditions.
Sometimes you have to go hunting, too. Since so much of life is lived online these days, you actually have a pretty good chance of finding something useful. I’ve learned a lot about L.’s past this way. I’ve seen pictures of his biological family. I know what kind of music they listen to. I know their speech patterns.
I’ve even seen L.’s baby pictures.
When I look at the pictures, my mom heart aches over all of the things I missed. I missed his first smile. I missed falling asleep with baby L. on my chest. I missed his first steps and first words. I missed rocking him to sleep. I missed his first Christmas. I missed teaching him his ABCs and how to count. (Okay, I’m not really sorry I missed potty training.)
I’m getting to enjoy lots of other things now though. I get to listen to his reading improve. I get to hear to him count by tens. I get to see his absolute joy in doing silly things like slide down the stairs or build a blanket fort in the living room. Then I think about his biological mother, and my mom heart hurts that she is missing those things.
I think about her and pray for her a lot. She may have made mistakes, but she’s just as loved and important to God as L. is. I pray that she is able to regain control of her life with God’s help. I want that for her. I want her to be redeemed. I want their relationship to be redeemed, and I pray for that.
I usually cry when I do. It’s mixed up tears of pain for her mom heart and my own. It’s difficult to pray for something when you know that if God does what you’re asking Him to do, it will shred your own heart. If God puts L.’s biological family back together, it will tear a hole in mine.
Not only did I miss out on the beginning of L.’s life, I might miss most of the rest of it, too. Or I might not, but either way, somebody’s heart will be broken. I don’t know how God will choose to redeem this situation and make it beautiful, but I know that He can, and I cling to that.
Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. Psalm 43:5
K. Faith Morgan
I am a dyslexic writer, asthmatic singer, world traveler with a rotten sense of direction, and single foster mom learning how to parent by God’s grace. I am foster mom to one and aunt to quadruplets. I am a southern girl, but design is my football. I can’t follow X’s on a football field, but John Singer Sargent’s portrait of Madame X makes my heart skip a beat. I believe great design can change lives, and life is too short for beige. Free is my favorite word, clearance is my second favorite word, and sesquipedalian is my third favorite word. Learn more about my fostering journey at my blog, momunprepared.