Survivors Guilt

The news of Blossom’s reunification was difficult for a number of reasons.  Sad for the foster family, worried for Blossom and bio mom, anticipating hurt and confusion for Sprout, fear about loosing touch with Blossom, and then there was something else.  Something deep and powerful that I couldn’t quite put my finger on for a while.

Well, I know what it is now.  Survivor’s guilt.  Such a strange feeling…tucking my children into bed every night.  MY children.  The ones I get to keep forever and ever.  My happy ending come true.

But why? Why us?

Right time, right circumstances.

It so easily could have been us with the broken hearts and home. Instead, it was someone else this time and I can’t help but think of their pain when I look into the faces of my joy.

Milestones

• It has been more than a year since the children last saw their mom.  We’ve heard from her a couple times since, but not nearly the contact I was hoping for.  Sprout has mostly stopped asking when he’ll see her again…
• Blossom celebrated her first birthday.  It was one year ago today that we learned of her and made a terribly hard decision.  Still not sure if it was the right one.  But on the other hand, she is still in foster care limbo with no indication of finalization any time soon…

And so it happens

Today, on the eve of National Adoption Day, I sat in a small room and had one of the most emotional conversations of my life.  I couldn’t help but think of all the people strengthening and growing their families on this special day while I discussed disassembling the one I’ve spent the past year building.  The reunification ball has been set in motion. 

Now is when my test truly begins.  I knew how to welcome them.  How to embrace and attach to them.  I knew how to parent them (mostly) and how to love them. 

Now I need to learn how to let them go. 

How to live the next few months of my life with a pit in my stomach and a lump in my throat with tears that fall with the slightest breeze.   How to miss a child that is in my arms.  How to fill them to the brim with love so that no matter the days, months, years that distance us, they will always know they are so very lovable.  How to celebrate the same thing that is breaking my heart.  How to have faith in a system that I generally have very little faith in.   How to have faith in a God that I’m rather angry with right now. 

Today I don’t know how to do any of those things, but I will figure it out. 

Because I am a foster parent.

This is what I do.  This is who I am.