During lockdown, I was surfing Instagram while installed on my white couch. Living alone in a quiet bed sitter for two months had allowed them to get used to the abnormally slow pace of epidemic life. At that point, I came across a picture that a friend had collective of a man playing baseball with two new boys. I speculated why there were so many hearts on their expressions. When I snapped around, I exposed that the post was about Foster mindfulness Month and that they were in foster care.
Courtesy of Kate Rapier
I felt a rousing inside. *Could I do that?* I asked myself. I was 37, childless, and single, which was not what I had expected in my life. It was different, but not bad. I looked up “foster care Nashville” on Google that evening, found the section of Children’s Services website, and listed for an information session. I developed a certified stand in parent three months later.
Courtesy of Kate Rapier
I took in a 13-year-old boy for a twosome of nights of respite care around six weeks in. Then, two weeks later, the whole thing was different. At 2:30 p.m., I was at my desk working when I received a call. A baby girl, one week old, wanted a home. The caseworker texted six hours later to say she was down the stairs.
Courtesy of Kate Rapier
A cute baby girl, much too big for her, was enfolded in a yellow nightgown when I went down, trembling and nervous. She was in my arms after I rapidly signed some paperwork and took the diaper bag that a nearby ecclesiastical had prepared. I will always remember the day I walked her back into my room.
Courtesy of Kate Rapier
I gave her the moniker “Gigi,” which was derived from my grandmother. Foster parents frequently use nicknames for safety details, and her birth name began with a G. Since her floor belongs to her, I won’t tell it in its total.
Courtesy of Kate Rapier
The first few days were a blur, filled with caseworker conferences, doctor visits, and overnight classes on how to be a mother. Since reunion is always the aim in foster care, I was in favor of it. But regardless of how long she stayed, I knew the instant I laid eyes on her that I would love her forever.
Courtesy of Kate Rapier
I also learned to help her birth family. At one visit, another foster mother suggested that I give her mom a enclosed picture of Gigi. My heart was opened by that unimportant deed. There is frequently no one in these families. I would prefer to be preserved with kindness and consideration if the roles were uptown.
Courtesy of Kate Rapier
Reunification was unbearable nine months later. Gigi became lawfully mine in court when she was 11 months old. In spite of taking my last name, she captured my heart right away.
