Testimonials

Foster Mom's Love Story
That’s why I foster.

There comes a time in everyone’s fostering careers when the question hits us, "Why do I bother to foster?" – depending on the day, what kind of news or decision that has been made about a child in your care, or how many temper tantrums you have endured. Or perhaps maybe you have been called a bad name or, the worst of the worst, perhaps and your home comes under investigation.

Well, yesterday was one of those days for me. It was not the first time, nor do I believe it will be the last, that I have asked this to myself, to my support worker, my husband and my friends. The day started out like any other day but news from the social worker confirming a court battle was going to happen over a child in my home and that I would be expected to testify. A case conference that has been set up three times earlier had been cancelled yet again with no set date determined. To clinch the day, I felt gross from a cold I had caught and it seemed to me that every child and teen in my home was in a cranky mood. (Gee, could my mood be to blame for that?)

I crawled into bed feeling somewhat sorry for myself, and just a tad guilty for snapping at several people when the phone rang. Whom could be calling at 11:30 at night, and wow, it had better be good, I thought to myself. The voice on the other end of the line was timid and shy.

"Hi Barb. Do you have time to talk with me?"

I knew that voice so well! I had to fight back the tears. (That voice belonged to the first teen girl placed in my home – almost 5 years ago now. I took the girl as a favor to my support worker. She assured me that I could handle teens and, after doing this one favor, I could go back to taking little ones again.)

Anyway, back to the voice. "I was at my parenting course tonight Barb and we were talking about people who made a difference in our lives, and -- well -- you kept popping into my head."

My mind was asking a thousand questions, but most of them were lost in the lump in my throat. Memories flooded me and the pain of not hearing and not knowing what had become of her was suddenly gone. All that was left was the joy of hearing that voice again.

"Barb do you remember the letter you wrote me when I left your house?" she said.

"Uh -- Huh -- sure I do," I managed to sputter.

"Well," she continued, "you told me if I followed my dreams and worked hard I could be anything I wanted to be. You also said that you believed in me and loved me. I just wanted to tell you how much you meant to me and to thank you for making me go to school. Thanks to you, I am going to graduate this year. Will you and foster dad please come and watch me get my diploma? I will be doing some upgrading next year and then it’s off to college and when I am done I am going to be a systems analyst.

WOW!

The conversation lasted for almost two hours. "Well Barb I need to go to bed. The baby and I need to be up by 6:00 am for me to be able to drop her off at daycare and get to school on time again. Barb thanks. And Barb . . ."

"Yes?"

"I love you and always will."

It’s been five years since that first girl came to stay with us, and there have been many more since. But you never forget the first -- and well, maybe, they never forget you.

That’s why I foster. That phone call was worth more than any paycheck. . . .

Foster Mom
"Barb"