Our first little love left Bithiah's a couple of weeks ago. She went to a new (maybe forever) family. It was good. It was so sad. Many tears were shed as our staff said their goodbyes. Her things were packed, her scrapbook finished, her new mommy got all the information (and then some!) she would need on her medical care. It was time.
Bithiah's did exactly what it was created to do. We felt confident that the love given to her will carry her throughout her life. Even though she stayed just a few short months, she will always have a special place in our hearts, and we hope we will always have a special place in hers as well.
The sadness is good. It means she was loved like our own. If we did not grieve, then we did not attach. Attachment is so important, even if it's for a limited time.
For the other little loves, there is transition and grief as well. The sweet babe that left had a special bond with the other littles at Bithiah's. We are sensitive to their transition and adjustment.
Foster care is this big blend of messy and beautiful. Trauma, transition, uncertainty, and grief, coupled with healing, growth, new beginnings and hope. Glimmers of light during dark days. Children in foster care are warriors. They hang on and adjust even at a very young age. They shouldn't have to be this strong, but they are. No child should ever have to be moved from home to home, meeting new caregivers to act as their mommy until the next one arrives. A family should not be a luxury that is only afforded or awarded to certain children. Children should not have to hope for a family, or hope that the new foster home loves them enough to adopt them. Broken families, abuse and loss shouldn't be a part of a child's story. But for some, it is.
At Bithiah's, we pray that the time that each child spends there is a time of healing, love, happiness and hope. We love them and care for them as if they were staying forever. We grief them when they leave as if they were our own. Hellos and Goodbyes.
With each goodbye, we will get better at it, but it will never get easier. That is the good thing. Hard goodbyes mean we loved well. And that is the most important thing of all.
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Thursday, February 23, 2017
A Whirlwind
"She's ready to be picked up."
Words that I've heard a hundred times. As a foster parent of almost nine years, this phrase is nothing new to me. It's what we do. There's a call, there's a need, we can fill it, we pick them up. However, this was so different. This was for Bithiah's House. This would be our very first Bithiah's House resident. Trying to sound calm and confident, certain the social worker could hear my heart thumping through the phone, I cheerfully said, "You got it!".
As we drove down to get the baby, my head was a movie reel of the past two years. Fundraisers, interviews, frustrations, answers to prayers, support from strangers, waiting, questioning, preparing, and more waiting. This was it. This sweet babe that we were about to pick up was the culmination of years of preparation. We were more than ready.
As we headed back to the facility, my heart swelled with gratitude. And brokenness. It shouldn't be this way, Bithiah's House shouldn't have to exist. Foster care shouldn't have to exist. Although so thankful that the baby was safe and would be so loved on and spoiled by the staff, my heart was broken for her that she even had to arrive there in the first place. It seemed so unfair.
The first week of officially being open was a whirlwind of appointments, paperwork, calls, and scheduling. Our staff has been the rockstars we knew they would be.
Exactly a week after little miss arrived, Bithiah's House added another sweet little resident. His story is much different than hers and our staff has done an incredible job at navigating through his trauma to make him feel safe and loved.
This weekend brings another little to the house. Bithiah's House is steadily filling up. We are starting our therapies, and settling into our routines. Though still very much a whirlwind, we can see that there is greater purpose to the chaos. Little fingerprints on the table, sweet babies falling asleep while being rocked, and nightmares being calmed. This is it.
Though we should not have to exist, I'm so glad we do.
Words that I've heard a hundred times. As a foster parent of almost nine years, this phrase is nothing new to me. It's what we do. There's a call, there's a need, we can fill it, we pick them up. However, this was so different. This was for Bithiah's House. This would be our very first Bithiah's House resident. Trying to sound calm and confident, certain the social worker could hear my heart thumping through the phone, I cheerfully said, "You got it!".
As we drove down to get the baby, my head was a movie reel of the past two years. Fundraisers, interviews, frustrations, answers to prayers, support from strangers, waiting, questioning, preparing, and more waiting. This was it. This sweet babe that we were about to pick up was the culmination of years of preparation. We were more than ready.
As we headed back to the facility, my heart swelled with gratitude. And brokenness. It shouldn't be this way, Bithiah's House shouldn't have to exist. Foster care shouldn't have to exist. Although so thankful that the baby was safe and would be so loved on and spoiled by the staff, my heart was broken for her that she even had to arrive there in the first place. It seemed so unfair.
The first week of officially being open was a whirlwind of appointments, paperwork, calls, and scheduling. Our staff has been the rockstars we knew they would be.
Exactly a week after little miss arrived, Bithiah's House added another sweet little resident. His story is much different than hers and our staff has done an incredible job at navigating through his trauma to make him feel safe and loved.
This weekend brings another little to the house. Bithiah's House is steadily filling up. We are starting our therapies, and settling into our routines. Though still very much a whirlwind, we can see that there is greater purpose to the chaos. Little fingerprints on the table, sweet babies falling asleep while being rocked, and nightmares being calmed. This is it.
Though we should not have to exist, I'm so glad we do.
Monday, January 2, 2017
Light at the End of the World's Longest Tunnel
Ok that title might be a tad dramatic. In the scheme of things, 18 months is not terribly long. In fact, it's pretty fast considering all that was accomplished. A nonprofit started, a house found and furnished, a staff of 20 hired and trained, a program established, support gained from LA county, licensure and certification with the state, and license approval is quite a lot for a measly year and a half.
Over a month ago, we received our license. We were beyond overjoyed. Words cannot express our relief that the long wait with the state was over. We were ready and waiting to start taking the precious babies that we have worked so hard for. After all, they were our sole motivator throughout this entire process. They were worth every frustration and delay. Nothing could stop us now. Our intake cell phone started ringing off the hook with possible placements. This was it! It was time!
Suddenly another snag. We were discouraged, stressed, and worried. Another hold up that wasn't our fault? We hustled, prayed, emailed and did all we could to clear everything up. We spent every waking hour of the last two weeks doing everything possible. Last Wednesday, we received the most amazing news. We were licensed AND we could start taking babies! The relief was unexplainable.
We are so ready for 6 little loves to come to Bithiah's. We can't wait to meet them, hold them, and love on them for the short time that they stay. This is the week. The light at the end of the tunnel.
We truly feel like Bithiah's House is a result of a community coming together. We have been completely overwhelmed with everyone's generosity. Friends and strangers have worked, donated, cleaned, prayed and walked with us every step of this journey. We have never felt so loved and supported. Not only are the babies going to be loved and cared for in amazing ways by our staff, they are loved and prayed for by hundreds of people who will never even meet them. They will be wrapped in blankets sewn for them, wearing beanies knitted for them, sleeping in nurseries with art that was painted for them, eating food from a garden that was planted for them, and experiencing care and therapy from people who truly love them.
So while our eagerness and excitement occupies our mind, we are keenly aware of the tragedy and brokenness that occurred for them to come to us in the first place. We are excited to welcome them in, yet mindful of the depth of the hurt. We will not stop fighting for the ones that have no voice. We would travel the world's longest tunnel over and over if it meant that we could make a difference for just one of the many. This week is a week like no other.
Over a month ago, we received our license. We were beyond overjoyed. Words cannot express our relief that the long wait with the state was over. We were ready and waiting to start taking the precious babies that we have worked so hard for. After all, they were our sole motivator throughout this entire process. They were worth every frustration and delay. Nothing could stop us now. Our intake cell phone started ringing off the hook with possible placements. This was it! It was time!
Suddenly another snag. We were discouraged, stressed, and worried. Another hold up that wasn't our fault? We hustled, prayed, emailed and did all we could to clear everything up. We spent every waking hour of the last two weeks doing everything possible. Last Wednesday, we received the most amazing news. We were licensed AND we could start taking babies! The relief was unexplainable.
We are so ready for 6 little loves to come to Bithiah's. We can't wait to meet them, hold them, and love on them for the short time that they stay. This is the week. The light at the end of the tunnel.
We truly feel like Bithiah's House is a result of a community coming together. We have been completely overwhelmed with everyone's generosity. Friends and strangers have worked, donated, cleaned, prayed and walked with us every step of this journey. We have never felt so loved and supported. Not only are the babies going to be loved and cared for in amazing ways by our staff, they are loved and prayed for by hundreds of people who will never even meet them. They will be wrapped in blankets sewn for them, wearing beanies knitted for them, sleeping in nurseries with art that was painted for them, eating food from a garden that was planted for them, and experiencing care and therapy from people who truly love them.
So while our eagerness and excitement occupies our mind, we are keenly aware of the tragedy and brokenness that occurred for them to come to us in the first place. We are excited to welcome them in, yet mindful of the depth of the hurt. We will not stop fighting for the ones that have no voice. We would travel the world's longest tunnel over and over if it meant that we could make a difference for just one of the many. This week is a week like no other.
Subscribe to:
Posts
(
Atom
)