Apparently I'm Not Alone

My husband and I share Instagram reels back and forth with each other. They are often one of the following topics:

• Cute doodle dogs who love their human mamas more than their dads

• Wives being annoyed by the sound of their husband chewing

• Husbands who make their non-morning-person wives coffee

I was watching one of the reels he sent me the other day and it hit me: we aren’t that unique.

Not only did another couple make a reel that looks suspiciously like our life, but 10,000 other people liked it. Turns out I’m not the only woman with an adorable doodle puppy who absolutely loses her mind when her husband eats potato chips. Anyone else???

And it got me thinking about foster care. How often do we get inside our own heads and convince ourselves that we are the only person who feels a certain way? We think our situation is uniquely hard. Our grief is uniquely painful. Our guilt is uniquely ours. When our foster care journey ended, I wondered if I was the only person who felt like a failure. Spoiler alert: I was not.

In fact, I bet I could say any one of these things to a room full of current and former foster parents and see a whole lot of hands go up:

• I feel like I failed him.

• I was his biggest advocate.

• I feel guilty that he’s waking up in my house on his birthday…again.

• I’m so thankful I get to celebrate his birthday with him…again.

• I can’t believe we got another court extension.

• I’m actually relieved we got another court extension.

• I know I need to say “yes,” but we are so busy right now.

• I want to say yes so badly, but I don’t know if our family can handle it.

• I’m exhausted.

• I feel guilty for being exhausted.

• I’m counting down the days until this case is over.

• I’m terrified of what happens when this case is over.

• I love this child so much.

• I’m afraid I love this child too much.

• I’m angry at the system.

• I feel guilty for being angry at the system.

• I’m grieving a child who is still alive.

• I’m celebrating reunification while simultaneously feeling completely heartbroken.

• I’m happy for them.

• I’m devastated for me.

• I feel selfish for being devastated.

• I wonder if anyone else feels this way.

There. I said it for all of you so you don’t have to feel guilty or ashamed for feeling it.

Because you aren't the only one. And maybe that's the bigger lesson—not just for foster care, but for all of us. We are much more alike than we realize.

We may have different stories, different families, different circumstances and different reasons for being on this journey. But underneath all of that, we have a remarkable amount in common. We worry. We grieve. We celebrate. We get tired. We question ourselves. We love fiercely. We have thoughts we aren't sure we're supposed to say out loud.

Sometimes what we need most isn't someone to fix it. We just need someone to say,

“Me too." That is why connection matters so much in foster care. You shouldn't have to wonder if you're the only one. And if you are feeling like you are?

Find your people. ASAP.

Because somewhere out there is another foster parent who has thought the exact same thing—and would probably really like to know they're not the only one either.

Thanks for being a part of the SQUAD,

Traci

P.S. I can't start by mentioning my adorable dog and not show him off! Meet Dug Schermerhorn.