Apparently the universe was feeling my insecurities and decided yesterday was my day of reassurance.
The therapist’s words have not left my mind since she said them: “He’s going to be okay.” They still bounce sharply off the fear in my heart and bring tears to my eyes.
He’s going to be okay.
Then, when the children arrived home from their visit, I found a note tucked into the diaper bag. Written by their mom. Our first connection.
It was kind and short. Said the visit went well and relayed what the kids ate for dinner (so appreciated – I always wonder). Mentioned that RB may have caught the pink eye that’s going through the family (I agree – ugh). She thanked me for sending nice pictures. And best of all, she said that the children’s hair looked very nice. Wow.
I haven’t mentioned it much, but Sprout’s hair has been a point of contention between the parties…mom wanted it to grow long and the department thought it looked unkept and unruly (not to mention Sprout wanted it short). We recently trimmed it at the order of the department and mom was not happy about the idea. We tried to be very respectful and kept it as long as we could while still looking neat. I’m so glad and surprised that she likes it. Maybe she could see our respect for her feelings in the trim.
Hair is such a funny thing in foster care world. It is often the last thing bio parents have control over so they cling tightly to that power. Then, of course, there’s also the concern over whether or not us white foster parents know what to do with the kids’ hair.
I always had the feeling that there was a mutual respect in our unusual relationship, but never really knew. Now I do. That thank you is one of the best I’ve ever gotten.