How did I get here from there?
I decided to be a foster parent when I was 8 years old. No, really. I read Little Men by Louisa May Alcott the summer before 3rd grade (Little Men is the sequel to Little Women – if you’re on the fence about fostering, go download this book, RIGHT NOW) When school started in the fall, we had a new classmate – one who lived in the Catholic Children’s Home on the edge of town. Mandy shared with me the details of her life in foster care and orphanages (we still called them that then – at least in my little tiny hometown). She was also 8 years old, and had already lived in over a dozen foster homes before landing in the Children’s Home. That’s when I decided that I would have a foster home when I grew up and take in dozens of kids that didn’t have anywhere else to go.
Mandy lived in my hometown for only half of our 3rd-grade year – and I not only still remember her name, I can clearly see her face in my mind. I don’t know what ever happened to Mandy, but she has been a critical guide star on my journey through infertility and into foster care.
Because I’ve known -practically forever- that I wanted to be a foster parent, when we realized that we’d gone as far as were willing with fertility treatments, getting licensed for foster care was the obvious next step. At least, it was for me – the husband, not so much. But like so many hare-brained schemes I’ve hatched over the years, he was game.