As many of you know, my beautiful little girls went home this week. One of my sisters asked me the other day if I had blogged about it yet. I said no. The going home blog is one of the hardest to write. I knew I needed to write it, but I wasn't ready to put into words the pain I was experiencing. The time has come, though, I need to process their leaving.
Monday, late morning, I got a call from the case worker saying the signatures we had been waiting for had been received. She informed me that they would be going home Tuesday afternoon. I was holding back the tears during the conversation. Even though I knew this call was coming, my heart wasn't ready to hear it. That evening, I told the girls what was happening. We had a little make-your-own-pizza party with a friend and her little girl. I gave the girls a parting gift. At bed time, I was crying my eyes out as I was praying for them. Knowing this was the last night with them was breaking my heart.
Tuesday morning, I sent them to daycare. I wanted them to be able to say goodbye to their friends and teachers. My oldest girl didn't want to leave me. She wanted to spend every possible moment with me. However, I knew what she didn't. She needed to be able to say goodbye to her friends. She needed this closure. I picked them up after nap time. We went to my parent's house for a little bit so they could say goodbye to Grandma and Papa. My sweet daddy prayed over them. After that, we went back to our house where we played games and waited for the dreaded door bell to ring.
The oldest was getting excited about seeing her family. And yet, the excitement was followed with sadness over the fact that she was leaving me. As their belongings were put into the case worker's vehicle, I said goodbye to my babies. Tears were coming. Words were hard to say. I wanted to make sure that the oldest understood what was happening. (I knew the baby hadn't a clue as to what I was trying to tell her, poor thing.) My oldest girl told me that she was going to go live with her other mommy now, and she wouldn't see me any more. I told her that was right. But even though she was gone, I would always love her. She said she loved me too.
As I went back inside the house, the crying turned into deep soul-wrenching sobs. My heart felt like it was being torn apart. Breathing was becoming difficult. The strong emotions was causing true physical pain. I felt like my heart was literally breaking. In that moment, I didn't know how it was expected of me to live without my babies.
I realize that CPS views the fact that the girls went home as a win. They see a family being reunited, which is true. However, there is another family that is being ripped apart. The loss the foster family feels isn't a concern of theirs. I honestly think that they don't expect us to bond with our children. Minimum Standards of Care says nothing about loving your foster child. It all boils down to ensuring the child is safe, healthy, and happy. It seems to me that they are surprised when a foster parent is saddened by the children leaving. All I know is that I can't help but falling in love with the children that come into my home. Loving them, though, brings risk of heartache to me. I'm aware of this.
The last couple of days I've been in the denial stage of grief. I think deep down I'm thinking that if I ignore the pain or stay busy enough I won't have to deal with it. But that isn't true. The problem is that as soon as I let myself feel, the pain bubbles up and overwhelms me. Losing my babies is beyond painful. I keep wondering how they are doing. If they are adjusting. If the baby has realized that I'm not coming back yet. If they are sleeping. If they are using their words. If the bio family has any clue on what their needs really are. If I will ever know that they are ok. Their leaving is difficult, but the not knowing how they are doing is what drives me batty.
I miss them terribly already. I want to rock my baby to sleep in the worst way. I want to hear my oldest say she loves me one more time. I want to know that they are safe. I hope and pray that they don't feel like I abandoned them. Even as I'm typing this, the tears are coming. I hate not knowing. The thing is I probably will never know anything about them until Heaven.
I've been asked if I will take on more children. I will, eventually. For the next few months though, I will be taking a break. My heart needs time to heal. I need time to have a social life. There have been moments in the past 2-3 days where I have wondered if I can keep doing this. Until God releases me, I feel like I must continue.
I miss my babies.
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