My husband and I were eager to start a family, and we were open to every path that might lead us there. Adoption and surrogacy were possibilities, but they are so expensive—and we knew there were children out there who needed exactly what we could offer: love, stability, and a home. Not long after we got married, we began taking foster care classes. Our hope was for a newborn, but we knew the chances were slim, and that many couples were already ahead of us on the list. Craig, my husband, wanted to experience all those firsts—the first smile, the first steps—with a baby that would be ours.
The classes were emotionally intense. Foster children are in the system for heartbreaking reasons, and it was gut-wrenching to confront that reality. At the same time, it was frustrating to navigate so many hoops when other couples could start families on their own terms.
Then COVID hit, slowing our training and home visits, but we didn’t give up. By March 2020, we were almost ready on the back end, putting everything in place. I was furloughed, which gave me the push I needed to finish the kids’ bedrooms in record time. Foster care is unpredictable, so we prepared a gender-neutral room for up to two children, and a nursery as well. We hoped for a newborn, but we were open to an older child too. I painted murals in both rooms, assembled furniture, and watched our home transform into a space for children. And then came the waiting. Months went by without word, and at times it felt like our social worker had forgotten about us.
On June 15th, I was texting Craig about dinner plans when our social worker called. Three children had been removed from their mother’s care and were temporarily in a safe house. My first instinct was panic. Three at once? How would we manage? But we were told we were the only individual home in the county cleared to take three. Otherwise, the children would have gone to a group home. No pressure at all, right?
We wanted to say yes immediately. We had been waiting for months, and if the call had been about a group of wild hogs who needed a home, we probably would have said yes to that too. We were mentally ready—or at least we thought we were. I asked our social worker for some time to respond. She was gracious but emphasized urgency. I called Craig immediately, and we went over what little information we had. At first, we were told it was two boys and a baby girl, but the details kept changing throughout the morning. S, the little girl, was almost two, not an infant. There were concerns about drug exposure and the challenges of caring for three young children, but we knew this could be a rare opportunity to make a difference in their lives.
We asked each other repeatedly, almost testing our own resolve: “Are we really doing this?” In the end, the answer was clear. These kids didn’t have anyone else. Opportunities like this don’t come around often. We were nervous, excited, and completely committed. Once the decision was made, the rest of the call was just logistics: “We’re doing this. What do we need?”
Looking around our home, reality hit. We didn’t have clothes, diapers, toys, or even basic supplies. Even with the bedrooms ready, we spent over $1,000 at Target just on the first day. I ran errands for essentials: car seats, a stroller, diapers, and more. I don’t even remember fully processing the idea of having three kids under six in the house. My focus was on getting them out of their unsafe situation. By 3 p.m., three little children were running into our home for the very first time.
J had just turned five, our little class clown and social butterfly. L was three, smart and full of sass. And S, not yet two, radiated sweetness and light. None of them had shoes, and the only clothes they had were what they wore that day.
The first day was a whirlwind: doors flying open, kids jumping on couches, me holding a toddler who didn’t want to be held, our three dogs trying to keep up. Craig had to run out for more supplies because we quickly realized that even if we thought we had everything, we didn’t. The first month was exhausting—just me and the kids all day long. God bless iPads, nap times, and Cheerios.
People thought we were crazy to take three children at once, and maybe we were. I had experience with kids, as a Sunday School teacher and an aunt, but wrangling three energetic, traumatized kids was a whole new challenge. And yet, it has been incredibly rewarding. Over the months, J has learned to read, S has started talking more and showing her personality, and L has flourished in her own ways.
Learning to love them was natural. They are full of love themselves, and being around them brightens my days. But their trauma runs deep, and it’s a challenge to know when meltdowns are typical behavior or reactions to past neglect. We’ve been sworn at, locked out of rooms, had to drill door knobs, and seen broken lamps, picture frames, and bumps and bruises accumulate. L was bitten by a dog, stung by a bee, and once had a minor injury to her toe during play. In many ways, we’ve been incredibly fortunate—they are resilient, intelligent, and relatively well-adjusted. Their parents are working hard to reunite with them, and we support that journey fully.
We don’t know how long they will stay with us, and that uncertainty is the hardest part. Balancing attachment and professional distance isn’t possible—I’m all in. If they return to their parents, I will be heartbroken, even as I celebrate their safety.
Our weekends are filled with beach trips, dentist visits, grocery store adventures (some successful, some chaotic), first plane rides, hotel stays, swimming lessons, and holiday celebrations. We’ve learned about math, curly hair care, gardening, and stranger danger—all while watching endless video game tutorials.
If our time with them ends, we may never take on three children at once again. But I will always encourage others to foster. I am so grateful we could be there for these children during a critical time in their lives. My hope is that when they look back, they remember not the fear or uncertainty, but the love, stability, and normalcy we tried to give them.
