Foster Care and Pride Don't Mix

I've desperately wanted to give up foster care and parenting every single day over the past seven days. I've felt as though it just wasn't for me. That I was never cut out to be a mom.

I have missed my old life every day as well. I've longed for just two hours alone with my husband, for the chance to sit down at a restaurant and eat an entire meal and drink at least two glasses of wine. I've found myself easily frustrated and wondering why we even got into foster care. I've thought that I'm doing more harm than good in the three littles lives.

It's been a rough week. Not that any of the {almost} four weeks that we've had Baby T, Little C, and Little A have been easy. Because they haven't been anything but terribly difficult.

All mom's feel this way. At least that's what I've been told. Every mom feels inadequate and as though they aren't exactly cut out for guiding little people through the ups and downs of toddlerhood, childhood and adolescence. But it's been hard for me to truly believe that anyone really understands just how inadequate I feel.

I was talking venting to my mom about it all. And as I did so, I mentioned that it wasn't just up to me. That there was Justin to consider and how good he is with kids. Because he is an amazing dad and does so many things much better than I ever could.

He's the only reason we haven't given up. I'd be out the door and on my way to a life of fancy freeness if it weren't him to remind me, usually gently and sometimes not so gently, that we are here, in the midst of the struggle and the darkness, for a purpose and that we are not to run away.

We're realizing more and more, though, that we need help. And here's the thing... I hate to ask for help.

I know everyone says that. Just like everyone says they are terrible parents. But the truth of the matter is, asking for help is the most difficult thing for me. And when I do ask for help, if someone says no in a certain manner, I take it personally. That no tells me there is something wrong with me. It's not that that person doesn't really want to help; rather it's that that person doesn't want to help me.

It's pride. And a lot of other ugly things. And God is ripping it all to shreds.

I'm not at a place where I am ready {or able} to stay home and not work. I'm also not at a place where I am willing to give up graduate school. Because if I did either of those things, I would resent and regret it for the rest of my life. I refuse to let more resentment and regret infiltrate my life.

So I need help. Which means I need to get over myself and over this pride and suck it up when people say no (even when the way they do so hurts) and ask for more help.

The help we need is sometimes spur of the moment - like this past Friday when Baby C couldn't go to daycare due to a fever and rash.. All a product of his allergy to penicillin that we didn't know about. That's one thing that sucks about foster care; you have no real clue about any of the medical history.

Other times the help is tangible and something easily planned for. Like meals and laundry and cleaning our house.

Regardless of what kind of help it is, I can tell you that we need it all the time. Just this weekend, Justin and I began discussing how we might pay for someone to help us approximately 20 hours per week. We also, just tonight, began discussing having someone clean our house on a weekly or bi-weekly basis. We also need help with laundry.

There just isn't enough time to do everything. Having three littles, all with their specific needs, is time consuming and daunting and exhausting. Add into the three all the past traumas and you get a recipe for sleepness nights and more darkness than you could ever expect to see in such small people. And oh the laundry and toys everywhere. I am jealous of all the people who have just one child; they have no idea just how good {and easy} they have it.

Justin and I so appreciate all the prayers. We need those, too. We need them constantly. But our tangible needs are there, too. I'm just hopeful and prayerful that somehow those tangible needs will be met.

So please join us in praying for the following five specific items. There are more. When you're fostering kids and in the midst of the sort of life we are, there are always more, but I figure five is enough for now. And feel free to reach out to us with solutions for the things we need; I'm lying down my pride {and will remind myself to continue to do so - hourly} and reminding myself that God will meet us where we are and that it's good to ask for help.

1. Part-time help. Approximately 20 hours a week (maybe less) and preferably for cheap (or free!). Someone consistent so our littles don't have to experience too much change.
2. House cleaning. At least bi-weekly if not weekly. Preferably cheap (or, again, free!).
3. Laundry service. This is the bane of my existence and one of my least favorite things in the entire world.
4. Meals. It would be incredible to not always have to worry about cooking. This would also ensure that Justin and I actually ate dinner because most nights we take a few bites and give the rest to the littles.
5. A new car {no, but seriously...}. Preferably one that seats 7. Something like a GMC Arcadia.