When we were licensed as foster parents, we were approved for two placement spots, one infant and one child. We have a twin bed in the nursery in addition to the crib, so we technically have room for two. We agreed to this mostly because we thought if there was a sibling pair that needed a home, we would at  least consider taking two. After we took T in, both Missus Turtle and I had basically forgotten that we still had another open spot. A couple of weeks later, our social worker asked if we wanted to remain on their open list or if we wanted to close our home to new placements while T is with us. We agreed to stay on the list but told her that we were mostly interested in respite placements, not another long term placement right now.

Respite is short term relief for foster parents. Every foster family is entitled to a number of days each year of respite care. This basically means that if something comes up where you can’t take care of the child for a day or two, you can request that they go to another certified foster home for a short stay. It’s basically overnight babysitting. As I’ve mentioned before, our respite plan, should we ever want a night off, is my parents. They aren’t a certified foster home but they will be approved as alternate caregivers once they are background checked and fingerprinted. This way T will be able to stay with people who are familiar to him in a house that he already knows. If foster parents aren’t lucky enough to have generous relatives nearby, they have to rely on respite with other foster homes.

So this week we took in our first respite placement. And it’s breaking my heart. “K” is a beautiful 2 year old girl with light brown hair and big brown eyes. She has hearing deficits and wears a hearing aid, although she likes to play with it a lot so it is not working well at the moment. It’s hard to tell exactly how much she hears. We picked her up from her daycare program this afternoon and headed home, stopping for a brief walk at the park on the way home to enjoy the sunny, warm weather with T and one of our dogs. K’s been really easy, too easy I think. She’s agreeable, sweet and friendly. T is fascinated with her and she is very sweet with him. She doesn’t speak, so communication is challenging, but she is pretty good at nodding, shaking her head, pointing, and using other body language to get her point across. She hears some, so it is possible to ask her simple questions and get a response.

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The part that is breaking my heart is the fact that when I look at K there is a depth to her eyes, a sadness, that I just can’t ignore. She didn’t seem concerned that a stranger picked her up from daycare. She didn’t even seem uncomfortable in our house. I get the feeling that walking into a new house with new people is far too familiar for her at her young age. She seems to have already learned to cope in these situations, not making eye contact, not causing a fuss. She is the quietest two year old I’ve ever met and I just don’t believe it is because she can’t communicate.

Bedtime was hard. We tag teamed to get both kids ready for bed around the same time. I gave K a bath while Missus Turtle got T into his nighttime diaper and PJs. T went down for Missus Turtle pretty quickly, as usual. I pulled the shades, read books, and went to tuck K into bed. That’s when her brave face finally gave out and she fell apart. As soon as she realized what I was up to, she jumped out of bed and ran to the door, attempting to climb the baby gate to get out. The look on her face was complete devastation. I felt like she knew this moment was coming and she wanted to do everything she could to avoid bedtime in another strange bed in another strange house.

I picked her up and she wrapped her arms and legs around me, sobbing into my shoulder. I turned on the nightlight that projects stars onto the ceiling. We sat on the bed together and she started using her leg to rock us on the bed. I took her lead and moved the glider from our room back into the nursery. We rocked for about 30 minutes as she calmed down. It took about another 30 minutes for her to settle in her bed enough for me to leave the room. So far, she has stayed in bed and I believe she is asleep.

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I sit here at my computer struggling to put into words how I’m feeling about this whole situation. I feel stronger than ever that foster parenting is something we have to do. At the same time, my heart is just aching for this sweet little girl in the next room who is so overwhelmed and scared, and yet trying her heart out to be brave. No two year old should ever have to be so brave.