9 months

Maybe it's just me, but have you ever said "I will NEVER________" and then God or whatever you want to call It drops that exact same thing in you lap? One thing I really thought we would never, ever do was willingly sign up to be foster parents. Never will I ever. 

The kids placed with us have been here for a little over 9 months. It takes a little over 9 months to grow a child in a womb. The cells divide and multiply, little limbs are formed, personalities are born. I was able to watch and feel two of my children grow inside of me. My third child was placed in our arms at 8 months of age and I didn't put him down for another 9 months. I carried him and we learned each other's heart beats, smells, sounds, and touch. His first mom grew her beautiful boy inside and was unable to grow him more on the outside. So I took over, humbled to be chosen for this holy role. 

The pain that is just barely raging beneath the surface of a child in foster care can only be contained for so long. The removal from their first family typically happens because of heart wrenching circumstances and events that I won't pretend to understand. And then they enter into foster families who support them and care for them and love them, but for their own reasons cannot keep them forever. We wanted to be the family they landed on... their forever. 

And they did. They landed here, and so did their pain. The pain of losing their first family and the pain of leaving the family that had taken them in. They didn't understand. They still don't. The anger rages and then pierces my heart and I'm angry for them. On behalf of them. I can't fix it, I can't quiet the storm. They have to feel it. To live it. To be completely torn apart by what life has done to them. I want to scream at every person who has hurt them. I want to punish myself for bringing this pain into my family and my life. And then the storm starts to calm. Little by little the pain is released. It is softly (sometimes) and violently (other times) vaulted back into the universe where God can handle it. 

And we cheer. We embrace. We hold, we dry tears, we rock, we squeeze, we sing, we talk. We promise we are their forever. We get spontaneous "I love you Mommy" whispers and natural snuggles. The protective shell begins to crack and we get to see glimpses of the kids they are meant to be. I've been holding them for a little over 9 months. It's taken 9 months to grow them a little more on the outside. A little over 9 months. 9 months to unmask the beauty, and this is only the beginning. Never say never.