Guests At My Table?

My Husband and I have been exploring the idea of becoming Foster Parents for about 10 years now.  A month ago, we decided to actually call the Foster Care Agency and find out more about their program.  We learned there were classes that were required in order to become licenced Foster Parents.  We would also have to go through background checks. 

Last Monday as we were on our way to attend the third installment of 8 four-hour long classes, I couldn't help but reflect upon the time I was pregnant with our first child.  My husband and I attended 12 once-a-week classes on Natural Childbirth and Infant Care in preparation of becoming parents.  Though the content of these Foster Care classes are immensely dissimilar to the childbirth classes we attended, the concept is the same.  To prepare ourselves for the caring of children. Except this time, it won't be for a new baby of ours, it will be someone else's child we will be bringing home, and it won't necessarily be a wonderful experience for all.

Sometimes, children that go into Foster Care are brought there after a drug raid and their parents have been arrested.  Sometimes, Social Workers remove a child from homes that are filthy and unsafe, or because parents are neglecting them.  Many times drugs and alcohol abuse are involved.  Many times these children have been abused.

My husband and I have anguished over this decision for weeks now.  Sometimes I feel like I can do it, then other times, I feel weak and unsure and think I can't.  I hear horror stories, then I hear amazing stories of change and hope. 

It only dawned on me during our third class that adoption was part of the Foster Care program if reunification with the biological parents were impossible.  I hadn't considered that at all and now I'm in turmoil.  These kids have been through a lot.  And they come with a lot of baggage, and I don't feel strong enough to deal with it.  I wonder if I expect too much of myself, as I try to wrap my brain around what it will be like caring for someone else's child 24/7 - or even adopting their child.  The closest thing I can compare it to (from descriptions given by other Foster Parents and Social Workers), is when I brought our dog home for the first time and spent 6 months dealing with very destructive behaviour from a dog that suffered from separation anxiety.  Our dog destroyed hundreds of dollars of our personal property before he finally figured out that we would always return home. 

I realize that comparing a dog to a child is a poor example, but if I can tolerate my book chewing, garden destroying, kid nibbling, pencil shredding dog, I can probably deal with a troubled kid. Hopefully.

And so, as I sit at my table, I realize that I need to pull it apart and add the extra leaf, and purchase a few more chairs. I'm going to have a few more guests at my table soon, and the stories that are shared across its marred and stained surface will be scary, sad, funny, and most likely change my life forever.