This was the post (from my other blog) that made me think about starting this one, I hope you enjoy it.
* * * * * *
Today I began the best, and the worst part of my job.
For those of you that don’t know me, I am a foster carer and today I got the news that my little baby bird will be flying my nest.
When people find this out they often ask “how can you let them go?” the answer is simple “because they are not mine to keep”
The next thing they say is “Oh, I couldn’t do it, because I’d get attached” This used to really hurt. Do people think I am a heartless witch? Hard as nails?
My babies have been hours old when they have joined my family. A precious, tiny newborn for us to care for.
I do everything that any new mother does. The night feeds, the walking the floor, not to mention the endless washing. But most of all I feel the overwhelming surge of love.
Then, after 6 months or maybe 2 years, you get the call I had today. A date for the final move. This call is never unexpected but when it arrives it hits you like a tonne for bricks. It’s like someone sucks all the life out of you and there is a physical pain that I can only describe as heartbreak.
Plans are made and there is much to be done to prepare for a move. The pain eases as you watch your baby transfer their affections to their new parents. When my baby looks to them instead of me I know I have done a good job. I know I can no longer call them “my baby”
To see a family created right in front of your eyes is a truly amazing experience, it is an honour to play a part.
As I watch them drive away the pain is unbearable, it’s time for a cup of tea and a good cry. Then you dry your eyes, take a deep breath and get on with your life, knowing that you have just been part of something incredible…
…and knowing that in a day or so, you will be doing it all again
So, fly baby bird, fly. Stay safe, be happy and remember that I will always love you xxx