There is a lot of trauma wrapped up in these kids that come out of the foster care system. Their losses are monumental, their lives a heap of rubble. All they've known has been ripped away.
Even if their home situation was unimaginable to us, even if it was abusive, even if they felt completely unloved, they want it back.
And nothing I can say or do can make that better. Not at first.
We acknowledge their loss. We grieve their loss. We pour our hearts out. Usually on the floor. Usually in tears. All of us together, supporting the one who feels helpless, lost and out of control.
And I say these words...
She won't believe it then. She'll think that day will never come.
But it will.
It has. Twice.
And the third time is just around the corner. I can almost see it.
When does that day happen? At what point do I know it's here?
I don't have a definite answer for that. Sorry. Wouldn't it be nice if I knew when the fighting against me was going to end and the cooperation was going to begin? Oh, how I wish I did!
But I don't. Story of my life.
I will say it's been past the two year mark and that it's not all of the sudden.
It's one day when you turn around and realize today wasn't so hard.
It's one day when she does something for someone else and doesn't benefit from it at all.
It's one day when she sits next to you on the couch, just because she wants to be near you.
That's the day you turn around and realize she feels like she's home.
That's a really good day.