Waiting for Sadness

I was asked a while ago how long it took to process the end of our respite turned emergency placement. In our situation, we were waking up every day with the expectation that it would be decision day. We prepared each day to send the boys back to grandpa. Because we had spent a Sunday afternoon with him and knew how much he loved and watched over his grandsons, we really were at peace with them returning. 

It was our first foster placement, so even though I felt that the boys were in good hands with their kinship placement, I wasn't sure how I'd feel after we said goodbye. Sometimes my heart and my head don't see eye to eye. I came home that night and gathered the rest of the boys' belongings to return the next day. I washed bedding and gathered baby items. I washed sippy cups and stored them away. 

And I kept waiting to feel sad. 

But I didn't. I missed the business and the constant excitement around the house. I missed the cuddles of a toddler, missed someone relying on me so completely. I missed big brother bridging the gap between my littles and the way the three of them got along so much better than my two usually do. But I wasn't sad. 

I kept waiting for the sadness, for a week or more. And then I realized that there wasn't going to be a moment when the emotions I'd been holding back broke through. I realized that I didn't have any sadness about the boys leaving. They were loved and they were able to be with family. 

Organic wholesome diets and smoke-free homes are nothing compared to blood. 

The boys will have identity. They will have connections. The will have a little less loss. These are all huge blessings!

Finally, when enough time had passed to be confident that the brothers wouldn't be returning, I asked Amos to dismantle the crib. We returned toys that we'd borrowed from my cousin. And we all began to look forward to the next time we would be able to open our home and our hearts to kids who needed us.