“She’s ready to be picked up.”
Words that I’ve heard a hundred times. As a foster parent of almost nine years, this phrase is nothing new to me. It’s what we do. There’s a call, there’s a need, we can fill it, we pick them up. However, this was so different. This was for Bithiah’s House. This would be our very first Bithiah’s House resident. Trying to sound calm and confident, certain the social worker could hear my heart thumping through the phone, I cheerfully said, “You got it!”.
As we drove down to get the baby, my head was a movie reel of the past two years. Fundraisers, interviews, frustrations, answers to prayers, support from strangers, waiting, questioning, preparing, and more waiting. This was it. This sweet babe that we were about to pick up was the culmination of years of preparation. We were more than ready.
As we headed back to the facility, my heart swelled with gratitude. And brokenness. It shouldn’t be this way, Bithiah’s House shouldn’t have to exist. Foster care shouldn’t have to exist. Although so thankful that the baby was safe and would be so loved on and spoiled by the staff, my heart was broken for her that she even had to arrive there in the first place. It seemed so unfair.
The first week of officially being open was a whirlwind of appointments, paperwork, calls, and scheduling. Our staff has been the rockstars we knew they would be.
Exactly a week after little miss arrived, Bithiah’s House added another sweet little resident. His story is much different than hers and our staff has done an incredible job at navigating through his trauma to make him feel safe and loved.
This weekend brings another little to the house. Bithiah’s House is steadily filling up. We are starting our therapies, and settling into our routines. Though still very much a whirlwind, we can see that there is greater purpose to the chaos. Little fingerprints on the table, sweet babies falling asleep while being rocked, and nightmares being calmed. This is it.
Though we should not have to exist, I’m so glad we do.