It astounds me that circumstances can affect you in such a profound way that your don’t realize it till something is drastically changed. I didn’t realize how significantly our stressful situation was affecting us emotionally.

My husband and I had decided that our home may not be the best place for our youngest foster. He seemed to be having so much trouble adjusting. He was constantly provoking fights with his 5 year old older brother and my 11 and 7 year old biological kiddos. He would not follow the house rules and continued to wet the bed almost nightly (a minor issue in the grander scheme of things). One of our most important rules is to never intentionally hurt others. He kept lashing out physically at the two other boys. We let the social worker know we thought it would be best he be placed elsewhere; with a family with out small animals (he had been rough with our neighbors puppies more than once), and perhaps no other children so that he could get the attention he seemed to need so desperately – and that sadly I was unable to provide while caring for three other children. There were many other issues but I will not go into them now, please see previous posts for more details if you like.

Almost every day when my husband would come home, I would immediately vent to him on how much trouble the kids got into, how they had lost their desert and tech privileges and how things were not getting better. Finally he pointed out I always looked depressed, exhausted and stressed. Although I was dealing with a mysterious health issue, I certainly did not consider my self unhappy. In fact I was thrilled to be fulfilling God’s calling by fostering and excited for us to be working toward buying our own home. But I came to realize that the stressful situation had affected us all more than I thought; I was loosing myself – always yelling, refereeing arguments, taking away privileges. Home school was near impossible. My daughter was stressed and angry, my son was having almost daily emotional meltdowns, and our older foster, although appearing comfortable, spent most of his time fighting with and trying to correct his younger brother in attempts to keep him out of trouble.

So the next day after my husband and I spoke, I called the social worker to notify him the situation was not improving, and was in fact causing harm to our family. A little over a week after the call, and three weeks after initially expressing concern, little brother was placed with another family. I took all the children together to the office to drop him off, so that he could go home with the family ‘that would like him to come stay with them.’ Neither of the boys seemed surprised. There were no sad goodbyes, just hugs and ‘see ya next week’s. Big brother seemed understanding and calm.

That night, the change was palpable. There was very little arguing, no yelling. The difference was like night and day with a very peaceful atmosphere.

The next day we began to see a change in big brother. He began to act silly, always smiling. With in a couple days he was running up to both my husband and I for hugs and asking to be held. It seemed like he now felt permitted to be a kid with out the added burden of caring for and constantly fighting with his younger brother. The boys’ mother later informed me these two, out of a sibling group of five, fought the most.

Big brother and my son – my son two years older – get along famously. They will play for hours outside, they do argue now and then but it’s never physical. My son no longer has meltdowns.

We were concerned that having little brother placed in another home would only cause more emotional trauma. We hoped his next placement would be a better fit than our own home, so when we heard he was placed in a home with a litter of puppies and under the care of foster parents who run a daycare out of their home, we were very concerned. But we needed to care for our family so we trusted all would work out for the best. We learned the little guy is doing well and no longer wetting the bed every night. Perhaps he is no longer the youngest child in the home and no longer feeling the need to lash out and seek trouble to get attention. Whatever the reason, he seems happier when we see him at the weekly visits.

I have to be honest, I still feel a tremendous amount of guilt for ‘giving up on him’. I tell myself that we had to do what was best for our family, but that voice in the back of my head mockingly asks, ‘well, what did you expect, a perfect situation?’ I know many foster children are working through significant emotional trauma, and I pray to God our decision works out for the best for both the boys. I do know in my heart, it was a tough call that had to be made for the good of our family.