It happened today. The official word, the one I was hoping to never have to hear but by the very nature of my job I deep down knew I would hear those words over and over in the course of a year. But the first time always hurts the most and I am not sure it will ever get any better or easier or at least I hope it won’t. To hear someone actually say “their leaving and their last day is Friday”. Wow, it was like a dagger in my heart. For a moment I choked back the tears for seven little children we had all become so attached to. It was our first real placement and was the very type of placement I had prayed for. A large sibling group needing safety, comfort and most importantly a place they felt love, compassion and acceptance.
Tonight as I reflect on the last two months with these seven little guys I remembered the first two weeks. Wow how difficult those were. The two year old was withdrawing from methamphetamines he could not settle down and screamed for two to three hours every night. I remembered a baby unable to sit, crawl and who never really smiled. I see a three year old so terrified he could not let his siblings out of his sight not knowing who was going to provide for him. For the seven year old I saw a shy, emotional and apprehensive little girl terrified she would again have to take care of her siblings and fail as she had done time and time before. For the 11 year old, 15 and 16 year old I saw them looking at this place and wondering what just happened, what did they do wrong and if they were just better none of this would have happened.
Now two months later I see two toddlers on a schedule attached to their primary child care specialists eager to see them arrive and sad to see them go each day. I see two confident three and four year old boys ready for the world and ready to try new things having total trust in the adults around them. I see a eight month old with two new teeth ( ok genetics did most of the work) where staff comforted and waited patiently as he fussed and cried and had many sleepless nights. I see him sitting up, and now crawling, eating baby food and now munching on cheerios. I see him laugh and smile and feeling safe enough to leave the arms of his caregivers ready and confident to see and test the world on his own knowing a caring attentive adult would be their to support him. I see a seven year old little girl happy, content and proud of herself and who can now fold her own clothes and turn on the bath water all by herself. I see an 11, 15 and 16 year old no longer questioning what they did wrong but rather questioning what went wrong. I see them holding adults responsible for their actions and having confidence to ask the tough questions all now realizing they have a say in what happens in their lives and they alone can change the track their lives are on and take responsibility for it and making it happen. No matter what “it” might be.
So when I was asked the question today by a child care specialist “do you worry about where they are going and what will happen”. I cannot lie so I say “yes”. But I worry more about who will run the bubble bath, dance in the hall, model please and thank you, encourage broccoli, making sure the water is not too hot, read the book over and over, race with cars and trucks around the family room, put on the bicycle helmet and bake cookies out of multi-colored play dough.
I know I would worry more if I did not make sure that in the brief moments I had with them I made every moment count and I can only hope they will forever know they can count on me and many other adults.
So on Friday when I say “good morning” for the last time to the four year old and he runs over to me and grabs me around my knees like he does every morning and in his little voice says ” good morning Patsy” like only he can. Just like for the past two months I will say back to him “it is a good morning---- indeed”.
No comments:
Post a Comment