This is the story of our first foster care encounter, and how the support and love of other people completely transformed what was a difficult and overwhelming experience into a beautiful blessing.
My husband and I have one beautiful daughter whom we adopted at birth through private adoption. During the years that followed, we felt a growing desire for more children. We took this desire to prayer and, after talking to several friends who were foster parents, decided to look into becoming foster parents.
First we contacted the Department of Children and Family (DCF). A social worker came out and interviewed us in our home. He asked about our budget, mental health history, substance abuse history, and criminal history. Next he set up a home study, sent us information to join nine weeks of online foster classes, and gave us access to the required independent online training modules.
The classes were very informative. During our first week we learned how difficult foster care can be, and that fewer than 50% of foster parents continue fostering after the first year. We discussed dealing with traumatized children, their families, and DCF workers. We learned about court appointed special advocates, guardianship, and our own legal responsibilities.
The classes also changed our minds about only fostering to adopt. In our state there is an option to be licensed for adoption only (meaning you take children whose birth parents’ rights are terminated), and you do not foster children who are eligible for reunification. After learning about the trauma many foster children experience, however, we decided to open our home to any child who was in need of a safe and loving environment regardless of their adoptability.
It took months to be licensed and, due to extenuating circumstances, even longer to become active foster parents. One week after our go-live date, the day after Easter Sunday, we received a text from the placement coordinator. She was looking for a home for a little girl who was six months younger than our daughter, and reportedly healthy, with some speech and motor delays. We agreed to take her, and the coordinator said she would connect us to the DCF worker in charge.
We scrambled to locate a crib (DCF requires a proper bed before placement) and car seat before the little girl, who I’ll call Gabby, arrived. I found a crib easily but I went to several stores without locating a crib mattress. Eventually I ended up borrowing one from my sister until we could order a new one.
We had the crib up by 6:30 and DCF arrived at 7pm. They brought Gabby (who was drooling into her bib, sucking on her pacifier, and emotionless) inside and placed her in my lap. Matter-of-factly they explained that she has severe food aversions and will only eat crunchy baby snacks and drink PediaSure (protein drink made with corn syrup). They said she always used her pacifier, wore a bib to catch drool, didn’t nap, and that she was likely autistic.
During the transfer, Gabby made no noise and no eye contact. Our own daughter had already gone to bed, so we decided to try and put Gabby down as well. My husband made her a bottle of PediaSure while I went through her bags looking for pajamas. She had multiple pairs, but not one set was even close to fitting her. I know, because I tried to put them on her before I realized they were too small! Instead of pajamas, I found a pair of soft pants and a t-shirt for her to sleep in and quickly changed her. I laid her down in the pack n’ play in our room instead of the crib we had worked so hard to prepare. I felt she would be better off near us. As soon as she was down, Gabby pulled the blanket over her own head and went to sleep.
Amazingly enough, Gabby slept through the first night. The next morning she chugged down a bottle of PediaSure and, though I made a plate full of different types of things to eat, she would only eat the puffs. There was no eye contact, no evidence she even recognized there were people around her. My husband went to work and I cried. When Gabby was done eating, she took her last piece of food and carried it with her. This is a sign of food insecurity. I could also see her teeth were deformed into the shape of the pacifier and her forehead protruded as is sometimes seen with an infant who has spent most of her life laying on her back.
It was then I called my dear friend and was completely honest about how I was feeling. I felt overwhelmed and completely unsure how I would care for a traumatized child who wouldn’t eat real food and who seemed closed off emotionally and cognitively from us. I also was feeling strong emotions about what she had possibly been through to end up with me. She came with very few diapers, clothing, or shoes that actually fit. Also, I had no idea how to care for her afro-textured hair. There were no hair care items in her bag, only a tube of Eucerin cream.
My friend listened and comforted me although she herself was uncomfortably pregnant and one day away from delivering a child. After we hung up, I received a message from her asking for a list of what I needed. I quickly thought and asked for a double stroller, summer clothing, church dresses, pajamas, and someone to show me how to care for her hair! Within 20 minutes she wrote back that her church’s family ministry was praying for us and wanted to donate a double stroller and clothing, and also send a woman who knew how to care for black hair to my house to teach me. My friend also provided dinner for us from a local restaurant. It’s hard to put into words how much her support and her church’s support meant to me in that moment.
A few days later, the woman who knew how to care for Gabby’s hair showed up. She had driven an hour with a 9-week-old baby and left her other two children at home with a baby sitter in order to help me take care of Gabby’s hair. Her kindness made me want to cry again! We turned on Ms. Rachel to distract Gabby, and the woman proceeded to go through all the steps that Gabby’s hair required (which believe me, are a lot compared to my own!). She also brought the double stroller, clothing including seven dresses, and all the hair supplies I would need. More importantly, she brought me Christ-like love, support and affirmation. She reminded me that what I was doing was a very good thing and that God was giving me the graces I needed to do it.
It was powerful seeing all the women from the family ministry reach out and support me in caring for Gabby. As the week went on, other friends contributed, and this was invaluable in helping us adjust to being foster parents. Several people brought us dinner, another person sent us a Walmart gift card, and my sister sent her daughter over to be a mother’s helper.
Even in the short time Gabby has lived with us, we have seen big improvements. For the first three days she wouldn’t make eye contact or respond to her name. I thought this was due to autism, but now she routinely makes eye contact, smiles and laughs. Yes, it is likely she has autism — but it is also likely some of her difficulties are related to trauma and her distrust of people. Teaching Gabby to trust is going to be the key to teaching her all the skills she needs to thrive.
When my daughter woke up this morning, she asked, even though the crib holding Gabby was literally visible from where she lay, “Where is Gabby?” Later in the day, I watched two little girls play side by side with a kitten following them around the house. I see God working in our lives through the people who generously gave to us these past few weeks. The outpouring of love, support, and grace we received enabled us to move beyond a very difficult beginning and instead focus on what God wanted: “And the King will answer them, I assure you: Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did for Me.” Mt 25:40
Celeste has been married to Patrick for almost five years and writes from southeastern Connecticut. They have privately adopted and fostered for reunification.
