Going from Childless to Child-full: Getting Our First Placement

Months of work finally worked out for us: we were now officially licensed foster parents. Now all we had to do was wait for them to place kids with us.

And wait.

Realistically it was only a month and a week or so after we got licensed that we finally got our first placement, but it felt a lot longer than that. Especially since things were gearing up for Christmas and were trying to decide if we needed to plan on having kids with us for Christmas or not.

It was just another ordinary day. I was working on a Christmas stocking for Andrew, it was my Christmas present for him that year, and I was hiding my crafting project at a friend's house so he wouldn't catch on. After taking Andrew to work, I drove to my friend's house to continue working on the stocking. We visited and then she and her toddler went to go do nap time and I went to get to work. Just as I was getting started, my phone started to ring. 

"Hello?"

I don't remember everything said, but we had been recommended to care for two little boys that were in need of a placement. The woman on the other line told me a bit about them and the case and I asked her if she minded if I called my husband to talk to him about it really quick. She said that was fine and I promised that I could call her right back to let her know either way.

I think I opened that phone call with "Hey, Andrew, do you want to have some kids?" I was breathless and my heart was racing and my mind was everywhere at once. Andrew slowed me down, I told him everything that I knew, and when neither of us felt bad about the decision, we decided "Why not?"

So I called her back. And she asked me, "Can you come right now?" So I left my sewing project, hurried upstairs to inform my friend that I was going to get two little boys RIGHT NOW. She gave me a box of fruit snacks for them and I got in my car (which I suddenly wished I had cleaned it out better the day before) and drove to go pick them up.

It was no longer just another ordinary day. Suddenly I was smiling at two little boys that were going to be living with me until they got to go back home, reassuring their grandmother that they were going to be alright, and getting booster seats from their case worker so I could take them home with me. They had a big bag full of stuff, I'd be getting more from their grandmother later. We packed it all in the car, buckled up two little boys, and I started driving home. 

With two kids in the back seats.

Weird.

When we got home, I helped them put their things away in the dresser, helped them make their beds, and soon it was time to go pick Andrew up from work. We went and got him. I thought how weird that must be for him, to come out to the car and see two kids in the back seat that weren't there when I dropped him off that morning.

We got pizza on our way home and watched a movie together that night until, around 8:11, the older of the two told us he was tired. They didn't have a normal bedtime routine before they came to  us, so I got to make it up on the spot and try to figure things out.

Then they were in bed and we were downstairs and THERE WERE KIDS IN OUR HOUSE. I went to bed happier that night than I had been in a long time. The next few weeks I enjoyed the honeymoon stage with the boys, feeling so fulfilled at the end of each day and warm and happy.

That was the day we went from childless to child-full all at once, in a whirlwind that left me breathless. I haven't caught my breath since, and I'm still just making things up as I go.

The case has been going pretty well, and although the honeymoon stage has worn off (I go to bed a little more exhausted now, and sometimes frustrated, sometimes hurt, sometimes sad, but sometimes still happy and sometimes still feeling very fulfilled) I still know that I am doing exactly what I need to be doing.

Isn't it crazy? How life can change everything in an instant like that?

I am a foster mom now, and Andrew is a foster dad now. We're parents.

And our lives will definitely never be the same again.