A Letter To My (foster) Baby
To My Sweet Little Boy,
The world got a little brighter sixteen months ago today. Because that was the day you were born. When I brought you home from the hospital at eight days old, I prepared for your quick departure. “Short term,” they said. I planned to love you for a couple of weeks, then say goodbye. By two weeks in, we were smitten. By four weeks in, we were in love. By two months, you had a forever piece of my heart.
I watched you grow from an underweight newborn to a joyful, happy baby. Your foster brothers took turns holding, feeding, and playing with you. The one who isn’t particularly good at befriending people was the first to make you laugh, and he still mentions it with pride. From then on, you were always laughing and spreading sunshine. Your giggle was contagious. Your smile radiated happiness straight to my soul. Your presence in my life healed me in ways I didn’t even know I was broken. When you laid your head against my shoulder every time I picked you up, my spirit felt a little lighter, strengthened by our bond and connection.
When you left us at eight months old, the part of my heart you captured was ripped out of my body; I watched as a social worker drove it an hour away, to a stranger you didn’t know. The aunt who now has had you for as many months as you cuddled on my shoulder has not wanted us – your first family – to be in your life. And today a judge ordered that you should stay there. Indefinitely. Maybe forever.
So that piece of my heart that’s out there, with you… Keep that close. When you’re sad, give it a squeeze and know that no matter where you are or how long it’s been, you are always close to me.
Your (foster) mom
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