My journey into foster care began back in 2011 at a nonprofit in Opelika, Alabama called Big House. They supported foster families in so many ways, clothes for kids, a holiday shop, even a family beach trip every summer. It was there that I first fell in love with the idea of having a house full of kids one day. It was also where I heard some of the hardest stories, stories that broke my heart but also showed me the kind of difference love and safety can make.
Fast forward eight years. I was teaching elementary school, single, twenty-eight years old, and in graduate school. I had every intention of becoming a single foster mom, but life shifted. In December of 2019, I met Nathan, and everything changed. We went from a first date to running together the next morning, and soon after we were planning a future. By February 2020, we were going through foster care training as a couple. By that summer we were engaged, and in August our home was certified to take in kids.
Our very first placement came after a last-minute phone call. We were buying a bunk bed at IKEA when we were told, “Kids are on the way.” Suddenly, we were foster parents. They arrived with almost nothing but the clothes they were wearing. That first night, lying in bed, Nathan and I just kept saying, “Wow, there are kids in our house.”
Since then, twelve children have come through our doors. Some stayed only a short while, some for much longer. We have learned how to rearrange bedrooms in record time, how to always keep toothbrushes for every age on hand, and how much laundry a house full of kids really creates. Foster care is both the hardest and the best thing you can ever do. It is love and it is loss, it is heartbreaking and heartwarming, it drains you and fills you up all at once.
One of our hardest cases was a little boy and girl who came to us very delayed after years of neglect. At two and four, they were both still in diapers, nonverbal, and living off bottles. We worked with them every day, playing outside, introducing real food, talking nonstop, and slowly they grew. The four-year-old began speaking, laughing, and showing her personality. The two-year-old grew stronger and learned to play with toys. They made so much progress, but in the end, the system sent them home to parents who hadn’t made the changes needed. Handing them over before Christmas, with no chance to even say goodbye, broke us in ways I still can’t explain.
And yet, even with the heartbreak, there are moments that make it all worth it. Like when a teenager who never thought college was possible gets accepted and texts you her letter. Like watching little ones learn to brush their teeth, run in the yard, or say “hi” for the first time. We have celebrated big milestones and small ones, and we’ve learned to celebrate everything.
Foster care teaches you that kids don’t want pity, they just want to be kids. They want to play, to laugh, to make a mess, and to feel safe. Our job is to give them structure, routines, and love. It also teaches you humility. You will hear harsh words, you will face judgment, and you will have hard days. But you also see incredible resilience, joy, and growth.
People often ask us when we will stop fostering. I don’t think foster care ever leaves you. Every child leaves a piece of themselves in your heart. Our garage is full of car seats and extra beds “just in case,” because you never know when the phone will ring again.
Foster care is truly a story of heartbreak and love. It stretches you, it changes you, and it fills your heart in ways you can’t explain. To anyone thinking about it, I can only say this: take the leap. Yes, you will get too attached. That’s the point. The kids deserve nothing less.
