“What would you do if you knew exactly how long you have left with someone? Not just anyone. Someone who has spent every single day with you since they were born. How would you spend that time?
Twenty days. It’s all I have left with my beautiful baby girl.
As foster parents, we live to help other people’s children when there is a need. We take classes, attend training, transport kids back and forth to visits, and schedule numerous appointments with doctors, physical therapists, speech therapists, and WIC nurses.
We bring children into our entire life. They meet our children, our siblings, our parents, and our grandparents. We do our best to provide for them. But sometimes they leave.
We had three days to prepare for her arrival. The call came just before Thanksgiving.
We had been trying to get pregnant and had been unsuccessful. Unknowingly, we needed her just as much as she needed us.
She will have spent 227 days with us; she will be 7 months and 15 days old when she leaves.
We’ve experienced her first smile. Her first laugh. Her first time rolling over.
Her first time sleeping through the night. Her first time jumping in her jumperoo. Her first time eating from a spoon.
Her first time sitting up. Her first time swimming. We will miss her first time crawling.
Her first time standing. Her first time walking. Her first words, and every other milestone thereafter.
And, even though she won’t remember us, the time spent with her has been worth every single second.
But, how do I tell my family that our days with her are limited? How do I tell my three boys, who have formed an incredible bond with her, that their baby sister is leaving? And when?
When do I share this news? Do I wait until there are only a few days left? Or do I tell them now and give them time?
Won’t that just make it harder? How will I move forward? Will the sadness ever go away?
We try to find comfort in knowing that she will be transitioned into a new foster home with her siblings. We try and find comfort in knowing it is what is best for all of them. But it is still hard.
So, for twenty more days, we will hold her tight. Tell her how much we love her. Create more memories. Take lots of pictures. And try not to cry.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by a mother who wishes to remain anonymous. Join the Love What Matters family and subscribe to our newsletter.
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