I am not exactly sure how to start this one. Usually I would wait until the thoughts have processed themselves; words form themselves then.
I rang one of the Foster Care agencies this morning. We had played phone tag for most of Friday afternoon. I was excited about the prospect of being able to support and help provide opportunity for young children. And that was probably my first mistake. Actually, getting up this morning was probably my first mistake today. This, a close second.
I knew it wouldn’t be an easy process. Any process that entrusts children in to a stranger’s care can’t be too easy. But I didn’t anticipate how difficult it would be for me. I was a bit too honest and as a result, the lady doesn’t think I should apply now to be a foster carer. I’ll explain …
She asked some basic questions relating to age, health, smoking status, occupation, marital status, other children, housing … and this is where I cam unstuck. Rather than saying, plain and simple, that I was renting, I was honest and outlined my plans for the next two years. I thought I should be honest about it.
I wish I hadn’t been. I feel like such a dick now.
Kids in care need stability. The process takes six months. If I were to move in the next two years, I would not be able to offer a stable environment.
I have no idea how I managed to continue the conversation. Tears were streaming down my face well before I hung up the phone.
It’s just not fair.
She is still sending me the information package but has said that she wouldn’t start the process until I was in a stable, long term home.
I am thinking of arguing my case further.
But man, today I am just going to cry until I have no tears left.