Introduction
For over 20 years, I’ve been working in the early childhood field, and my career journey has provided me with a deep understanding of children’s developmental needs and the systems meant to support them. Currently, I am a senior research associate at the Butler Institute for Families, where much of our work has historically focused on child welfare. While my professional experiences have greatly informed my worldview, becoming a foster parent has yielded insights that extend much further.
To process some of the thoughts and emotions that came with fostering, I began blogging. When I shared my post on my personal Facebook page, I was shocked by the overwhelming response; people were encouraging, compassionate, and wanted to learn more about my experiences. Given the reaction, I thought sharing my blog more widely — including here at Butler — might help others going through this feel some support, connection, or even encouragement to move forward with fostering.
My Foster Journey
My husband and I have been fostering a 10-year-old girl (Bella) for about 8 months now, and it has been one of the most challenging, yet transformative, experiences of my life. We obtained our state license a couple of years ago, but we had been feeling compelled to foster for several years before moving forward with the licensing process.
We are limited in terms of who we can foster because we have three daughters and we live in a four-bedroom house. So, when the state called asking if we would be open to fostering a 10-year-old girl, it seemed feasible. Our two oldest daughters now share our big bedroom upstairs. Our youngest daughter kept her own room, and our foster daughter, Bella, moved into the third bedroom.
During these past 8 months, I have learned so much and gained so many complex insights into systems, structure, attachment, timing, and the dynamics of having multiple children. In today’s blog, I wanted to share some of my thoughts on the unnatural reality of fostering.
The Unnatural Reality
There is something inherently unnatural about a child being uprooted from their home and placed with a family they’ve never met. As a foster parent, I often pause to think about how terrifying that must be. But when a child’s home isn't safe, we don't currently have a better alternative... so we just do the best we can.
It’s messy and exhausting, and it can feel like you’re running on a treadmill that you can’t turn off. Sometimes the pace is a manageable 6.0 mph, but even that feels grueling after you’ve been running for hours. You have to keep showing up, though — consistently and without fail — and you will have small moments of breakthrough that you can hold onto.
Like the day we all went to the beach and the four of them got along so well, being kind to one another in a way that brought tears to my eyes. Or the day she offered her shoes to my middle daughter, completely unprompted, simply because she knew she liked them.
My professional background taught me the importance of consistency in developing attachments, but fostering has given this knowledge a new weight.
The Gift of Boundaries
One of the most counterintuitive lessons I learned early on came from the state social workers. They told us to treat Bella just like our own children — same rules, same expectations, same discipline.
That felt so strange to me at first. I felt like a stranger overstepping — who was I to tell this poor little girl that she would lose her electronics if she didn't take a shower? (She always fought me on showers in the beginning.)
But I'm so glad we established those boundaries from day one. Without that framework, I think we'd be even more worn down than we are now (which is very much) and unable to give her our best over time.
Living Without a Timeline
One of the most difficult things for me about this “unnatural reality” is the lack of a timeline. I'm constantly reminded that I don't know how long she will be with us. This is hard for me because amid all the chaos, I’ve grown to love her, and I’m attached to her. It’s also difficult because I’m unable to plan for next month, let alone next year.
But it also forces me to make the most of each day. It’s an exhausting, unnatural way to live, but it pushes me to invest in Bella, to give her opportunities that help her grow as a person, and to show her I love her, so that no matter what, she can remember this time in her life as safe, stable, and loving.
That's why I signed up for this.
