We had been talking about reunification for some time now.
During the last foster care review, Jamie’s social worker shared her mother had been doing very well. Attending all her required AA meetings, participating in individual therapy, and starting a new job. I was so excited to learn that her mother was doing well and when Jamie started overnight visits, I slowly began to transition her things. Asking her mother if she needed any additional items and making sure to pack all of her beloved books. As I packed the books, I recall her tenth birthday theme Harry Potter. Throughout the years I’ve seen her escape into the magical worlds of Harry Potter, Beautiful Creatures, and so much more. Fond memories that I will hold close to my heart.
On the transition day I help Jamie pick out her outfit. We land on her favorite blouse and jeans. She wanted to be comfortable for the drive home, but also wanted to mark the special occasion by dressing nicely. She and her mother plan on going out to dinner at their favorite restaurant once she arrives.
The joy is radiating off of her, and I feel tears forming in my eyes. In this moment these tears are of happiness. Happiness to get to see how her dream of going home is coming true. Joy to know that her mother did the hard work of getting healthy in order to regain custody of her daughter. Contentment with the fact that I could play a small part in this young adult’s journey. Her mother and I have already exchanged numbers and have started talking about scheduling a day to visit during Jamie’s Christmas break.
I know this is not a goodbye forever, but a goodbye for now.
However, after the social worker has driven off and Jamie is safely on her way back to her mother’s home, I find a new set of tears coming to my eyes. And I’m ashamed to admit that they are tears of sadness. Sadness, because for the last 3 years Jamie has played a huge part in my family’s life. There were rough patches of course, but she has been woven into the fabric of our family. My children and I adore her and always will. I’ll miss the excitement she had around bringing a new book home. The way she enjoyed having dance parties with my kiddos. And when the kiddos were sad how she would simply sit by them and hold their hand, so they knew they were never alone.
This is the hard part about fostering, I’ll admit it, getting attached. However, what’s the alternative… not caring? If I lost the custody of my children, I would want to know that they were in a home filled with people who love them. People who will grieve their absence and celebrate their wins, even if it does not include them.
That’s the thing I think love and fostering have in common… it’s selfless. I know that as the days go on the sadness of not having Jamie in our home will slowly start to fade. However, the joy of seeing a family reunited wont.
