On the morning of January 6th, 2019, I was a parent to three children. Going to bed that night, we had one child in our home.
I still can’t….won’t….discuss the full events. It is still so painful and hard to think about.
We believed that would be our family. We had two beautiful girls and one tiny little boy. That was what we thought our family would be.
We made plans. We dreamed about vacations and soccer games. We hoped for the future. Together. In one day that was so out of no where, all of that was taken away from us, and from them.
The events of January 6th, 2019 weren’t fair. The two little girls that I loved so much had to leave and never came back. My heart was shattered. I was paralyzed in sadness. I cried a bucket of tears. I wasn’t ready to let them go. I hated foster care that day.
I still think about them. We still talk about them. I still miss them. Two years later, I wonder if they remember how much we loved them. I wonder if they think about us.
We probably will never have closure or a proper goodbye. This is the nasty and dark side of foster parenting. These situations that shouldn’t happen.
It was hard to move on from that. Truthfully, I probably still have not completely healed. In the days following that horrible day, I didn’t want to get out of bed or do anything. Had it not been for the 2 month old baby boy we had, I probably wouldn’t have moved for days. Baby Tripp needed me though, and that helped me to move on.
I would love to say that I am happy I went through all of that because I learned something. I can’t say that quite yet. I do believe that God’s plan is better than mine. I do believe that God is working even if I can’t see it, but two years later, I still don’t know why we had to experience that incredible and painful loss. Maybe I will one day. For today, my heart is still hurting.
I may never see those little girls again, but I hope they know they were deeply and sincerely loved. I have to trust that wherever they are they are loved and cared for.
Koko
