10 Things You Probably Shouldn't Say to a Foster Parent (And what you should say instead)

Soon after Little Man entered my life, one of my friends sent me a video that so perfectly captures something I would say most- if not all- foster parents experience.
The video is called “Stuff People Say to Foster Parents.” I’m assuming it was created when making videos about things specific groups of people say was really trendy. Remember that phase? Those videos were all over the place for a while.
But in any case, this particular one showcases some of the most frequent (and- from our perspective- some of the strangest) things people say to or ask foster parents.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I completely understand why people ask me questions about fostering. I didn’t know any foster parents until I became one, so it wasn’t a world I knew much about until I entered into it. I would imagine there are a lot of folks out there who are curious for that exact reason- they don’t have any real experience with the foster care system- so I’m not surprised when people want to know more. Or when they just want to comment on it.

Curiosity, I understand.

And I actually have a lot of experience with it.

As an identical twin, I became pretty familiar (and patient) with people’s strange questions at a young age. “Do you have the same birthday?” “Can you read each other’s minds?” “If I kick her, would you feel it?”

LL gets it.

(These questions also taught my sister and I to become a pretty adept and creative liars- once going so far as to convince a classmate we were twins separated at birth, a lie she believed for months- but that is neither here nor there.)

This patience for questions has served me well as a foster mom, because- just as I have as a twin- I’ve heard a handful of questions and statements repeatedly for the past 6 months.

Some are pretty basic, like, “When did you become a foster parent?”
Some have a little more depth, for instance, “Why did you decide to foster?”

But I have to confess- some questions and comments put my patience to the test.
Although I know they come from a positive place, many of the things people say come across as insensitive, nosy, or just obvious.

I’ve never lost my patience or been angry at a person for their comments- but, honestly, there some things you just shouldn’t ask a foster parent. (Unless you know her/him very well- or find a more sensitive way to phrase them.) Additionally, there are some statements you should probably avoid making- despite your good intentions.

In an effort to help you navigate your future conversations with foster parents, I’ve created a list.

    (**Important Note: The goal of this list is not to make anyone feel self-conscious about interactions with foster parents or guilty about things they have asked in the past- it is just to help inform future conversations and questions.
Also, if you have said any of these things to me in the past 6 months, please know I am not annoyed or angry with you. I can understand where these statements come from- plus I’ve heard them all so many times that I honestly have no clue who’s said them at this point.)

10. I could never do that!
This is one of the things I hear most often, and- fortunately- it is one of the things I understand most.
When people say this to me, I know they are trying to convey a sense of respect or admiration, which I can appreciate. I would imagine people say it as a compliment.
But nonetheless, sometimes hearing this makes me a little uncomfortable. It feels like I’m being forced on a pedestal I don’t really deserve to be on.
I am not a super human. I am not Jesus. Or Mother Teresa. Or Fred Rogers. What I am doing is not unimaginably difficult. It doesn’t require any special skills. Foster parenting basically just requires a desire to help kids and their families, some patience, some adaptability, and a solid support system. I would imagine these are pretty in-line with the qualifications that are beneficial to have as a biological parent.
Don’t get me wrong- I’m not trying to say what I’m doing isn’t important or (at times) challenging. It is definitely both of those things. But I don’t think it’s an extraordinary and noble act... It’s just something I felt passionate about doing.
And I guess that’s what bothers me. If we treat foster parenting as some remarkable, inconceivably difficult, astounding thing that only exceptional people can do, people will continue thinking it’s something they could “never” do. And I can assure you- chances are good that you could do this. It might be challenging, but you could do it.
So thank you for the compliment. I appreciate what you are trying to convey. But please remember- I am just an average person who recognized a need and felt she could do something about it.
What you should say instead: Rather than paying a compliment through self-doubt, try something direct, like- “There is such a need for foster parents- I really respect/thank you for your commitment to that role.”

9/8: How much money do you make?
How much does he cost, and do you have to pay for everything?

(I’m grouping these together because they are different but very similar- in what they’re asking and how inappropriate I think they are.)

Again- I can understand people’s curiosity here. I know they want to understand how fostering works. But, in my mind, this seems on par with asking someone how much money they make in their job. It’s not very polite.

When people ask this question (particularly the first one), it’s hard not to get a little defensive. The phrasing seems based in an assumption that fostering is just a way to earn some extra cash. And believe me- that is not the case. Much like teaching or social work, if someone became a foster parent for the money, he or she would be incredibly disappointed.
What you should say instead: Honestly, probably nothing. It’s best to just avoid this question. If you’re that curious, ask Google, instead.

In fact, here’s some general information about foster care reimbursements (which I’ve copy/pasted from a Google search) to assuage curiosity. Because- seriously- I get this questions a lot:

      “In the United States, states are charged with ensuring that children who have been removed from their homes due to abuse or neglect are well cared for in their out‐of‐home placements. Foster care providers are responsible for directly providing the shelter, food, clothing, supervision, educational necessities, and other personal incidentals required to promote the safety, permanency, and well‐ being of children in their care. To assist them in meeting the children’s needs, child welfare agencies offer a payment (or reimbursement) to the providers. Although the Federal government has certain requirements regarding the provision of foster care payments (if the state chooses to seek Federal reimbursement for some of the costs for children in care through the title IV‐E program), there are no national requirements regarding the specific payment structures or amounts provided.1 Rather, states have considerable discretion in designing and administering their own foster care payment systems. In some cases, the authority to establish the rates lies with the individual counties or localities across the state.”

“The basic family foster care rates in most states vary by a child’s age, and in most cases the rates increase incrementally by age.”

“The basic foster care rates in the majority of states fall below our estimate of the costs of caring for a child. A comparison of the basic rates for various age groups to a computed estimate (based on USDA data) of the cost of caring for a child of that age range in that region of the country show that only a small number of states have rates that meet or exceed this estimate. A number of states have rates that represent less than half of the estimated cost of care.”

(http://www.childtrends.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Foster-Care-Payment-Rate- Report.pdf)

7. So... what is he?

Alternate wording: “What’s he mixed with?” or “Is he (insert race/ethnicity here)?”
No joke- strangers ask me this question. To me, this seems obviously inappropriate. Maybe you wonder in your own mind, but you’d never actually ask aloud. Especially if you have no relationship with the person you’re asking. Is that just me??
I can tolerate close friends inquiring as to his ethnic background, but “What is he?” is too blunt for anyone to ask. The answer is, “a baby”.
What you should say instead: Again- nothing. Sorry. If you’re really good friends with a foster parent, you can maybe try to politely inquire. But if you don’t have a relationship, it’s probably best to just come up with your own answer.


6. Is this a new one?
Alternate wording: “Is this the same one you had before?”
Rule of thumb, never refer to a child with generic terms such as “this,” or “it.” At the very least- use a human-specific pronoun.
This question bothers me because it feels kind of dehumanizing- and not just because of the pronoun choice. Maybe some people assume foster parents have a constant rotation of children. For some foster parents, that may be true, I guess. 
As I continue fostering, I’d imagine I’ll have a number of children in and out of my home.

But I expect that- no matter how many children enter and leave my care- they will each be uniquely important to me. Each will have an impact on my life. Their stories will all matter to me- just as Little Man’s story matters to me.
“Is this a new one?” seems to brush over and minimize the relationships and stories connected with each child- however briefly they are in my home.
What you should say instead: If you are really curious and need to know this piece of information, try to get it in a different- more sensitive- way. Example: Comment on how much he’s grown (if you’ve never met him before, I’d just let you know and introduce you), or comment on how good it is to see him and ask how long he’s been with me now (again- I’d correct you if this is the first time you’ve met). You could also ask how many placements I’ve had as a foster parent.

5. Are you going to keep him?
The child I am holding is not, in fact, a stray animal I took in off the street. As such, his situation (as with every child in foster care) is much more complex than me simply deciding to “keep” him.
Every child placed in foster care is given a service plan- which includes details about long term plans for permanency. This could be returning to biological parents, being placed in the care of other relatives, or being placed with adoptive parents. It’s never up to the foster parent what that plan is, and in many cases, the plan could change over time. This is one of the challenges of foster parenting. (Remember how I said you have to be adaptable?)
Even if we did have a say, foster parents generally have very complicated- and sometimes conflicting- feelings about their children’s final placements. It’s not unheard of for foster parents to want their children to return to their biological family while dreading it at the same time. (More on this in an upcoming post.) This question- beyond assuming I have authority I don’t have- doesn’t acknowledge the complexities of my son’s situation or the hopes I have for him. (Also, if foster parents want to adopt but aren’t able to, hearing this question can be kind of painful.) 
What you should say instead: What does his service plan look like? (Just know- the response you get might be, “None of your business” if you don’t know the foster parent. Hopefully it would be phrased more politely, though.) You could also ask foster parents if they are fostering to adopt or simply fostering.

4. Is he a drug baby?

To me, this question is on par with “What is he?” I’m not sure what makes people think this is appropriate to ask- especially when the person you are asking is a stranger or even an acquaintance. And yet, I’ve heard this from random people on multiple occasions.
The problem I have with this question is that it never feels as if it’s coming from a place of true concern for my son’s health. Instead, it seems to come from a place of nosiness. Again, I know this probably isn’t the case, but it generally feels as if the person is kind of hoping my answer will be “yes, he is.”
What you should say instead: This is, once again, a question that is best to just let it stay in your mind. (Unless you are the child's doctor.)

(The final three all kind of tie for first place. They are the things people say to me that I find most tiresome, and I could rank them differently depending on the day.)

3. This will be such good practice when you have real kids!
Alternate wording: “This will be such good practice for when you have your own kids!”
I really hate it when people say this to me. I know that might seem extreme, but it’s true.
I feel that strongly for a few reasons. 1) Last time I checked, my foster son was a real child. I know we have some pretty convincing dolls out there these days, but I am fairly confident he’s the real deal. 2) Although my son may not be “mine” biologically, he is “mine” for the time being. 3) Because he is both a real child and my son, I would never consider caring for him “practice”- at least not any more than another parent would consider her/his first child practice.
He’s my son, not a high school homes economics flour bag project, and I will treat him just like I will treat any other children I have in the future. Sure, I will probably (hopefully) learn things along the way that will improve my parenting. (Such is the burden of a first child.) But Little Man is not a test run or an experiment. He is a real, flesh and blood child, and how I parent him right now matters for years to come.
Like most parents, I don’t take that responsibility lightly.
What you should say instead: Some variation of, “Oh, I learned so much as I raised my first child!” Then tell me something you learned, or ask me what lessons I’ve learned along the way. If you have never hand children, just stick with something like, “I bet you’re learning a lot as a new parent!” 

2. So... What’s his mom’s story?

Alternate wording: “What did his mom do??”

This is another question that- to me- never seems to be rooted in genuine concern. I always feel as if it’s coming from people’s fascination with tragedy. When people ask me that question, I first want to remind them that my son’s biological mom is (just like him) a real person. I have no desire to objectify her by sensationalizing her story. Also, because I care about my son, I care about her. She doesn’t deserve to be the object of anyone’s anger, pity, or hatred. Nor does she deserve to be judged and labeled as one of "those types of parents" by people who don't know her or her experiences.  I don’t want to reduce her or her story to a way of buying people’s sympathy for her son.
Additionally, foster parents have to abide by strict confidentiality laws, so- even if I wanted to tell you all the details of her life (and- really- I do not), I am not allowed to do so. (Also, in many cases, foster parents don’t know very many details themselves.)
What you should say instead: Instead of asking questions about biological families, try to empathize with them. Recognize how difficult it might be for them to be away from their child, and feel free to communicate that instead. I would much rather hear someone say, “I can’t imagine how difficult his absence is for his biological mom” over questions about what she “did.”

1. Don’t you get attached??

Nope. He keeps me up at night. This kid is the worst.
Of course I’m attached! I’ve spent the past 6 months with this guy- and look at how cute he is! (Man, I wish you could for real- he seriously is the cutest.) 

I recognize that this (like #10) is asked to convey some sort of respect and awe, but it frustrates me because it seems like a pretty obvious answer. And, while I doubt the ask-ers realize it, it’s also a little insensitive.
I know people ask because they’re trying to process how difficult it would be to build a relationship with a child only to (eventually) deal with separation. But while I appreciate the recognition of the heartache involved in foster care, I don’t really want to be reminded of it. Focusing on the possibility of future grief just makes it harder to soak up the joy I’m experiencing in the present. And while I certainly don’t want to be naïve or unprepared for what lies ahead, I also don’t want my fear of it to keep me from fully engaging right now.
So please- don’t ask foster parents this question. In all likelihood, you already know the answer.
What you should say instead: Empathize in a different way. Tell them you can- or can’t- imagine- all the complex things they’re feeling. Tell them they’re doing a good job. Remind them that what they’re doing is making a difference. Help them to soak up the time they have with their kids, because it’s precious. 


So that's my personal list. Other foster parents might read this and think, "None of these questions bother me at all." But, in my perspective, those are the top ten things that- as a foster parent- I'd be okay never hearing again.

But I'm sure I will.

I'm sure I'll continue to hear each of these over the months and years ahead. And- ultimately- I'm okay with it.

I may get tired of these questions and statements, but I always love when people care- and want to know more- about my experience as a foster parent. I love sharing this adventure with others. And- goodness knows- I love talking about Little Man. So I would rather people ask me a question I'm tired of hearing than ask me nothing at all. And I would imagine most foster parents feel the same way!

What kinds of questions would you want to ask a foster parent?

Or- if you are a foster parent- what questions do you enjoy/tire of hearing?

By the way, here is the video I mentioned- in case you want to watch it!

My Letter to Ellen

I can't remember where we were going this particular evening, but I was trying something new with my hair. Clearly it wasn't working.

Last weekend I survived the most challenging day of single parenthood I have experienced to date.

It started like most days- Little Man was fussing a little bit around 4AM, so I went in there to help him calm down. A few minutes later, I was walking back to my room when I realized something was not quite right. My stomach felt a bit off, but I thought I might be able to sleep it off, so I crawled back into bed and rolled around restlessly for a while.

Thirty minutes later, Little Man woke up again- this time to eat. I picked him up, walked to the kitchen to grab his bottle, and knew it was only a matter of minutes. 

It's always odd to me how accurately we can sense our impending fate when we experience that type of nausea. I go years without getting sick- at least this kind of sick- but even so, I can instantly tell when my nausea is not just nausea.

I did my best to breathe slowly as he sucked down his bottle, laid him back in his crib as quickly as I could, and then booked it to the bathroom- where whatever stomach virus I had hit in full force. (Can you tell I'm trying not to be too graphic?)

When Little Man woke up a few hours later, I managed to pull him out of his crib and lay him on his play mat before laying down next to him- a safe distance away. Being the super baby he is, he played contentedly for an hour or so (seriously- he's the best baby) while I tried not to move.

Me. That entire day.

To say it was miserable would be an incredible understatement. But- once again- I was saved my the kindness of friends. One friend saved the day and coordinated people to come help me. Those people came and played with/cared for Little Man while I tried to sleep. Another friend brought a miraculous anti-nausea medicine. Others brought ginger ale and very light foods. One friend even spent the night to help with J's nighttime feedings.

By the next morning, I was pretty much back to normal- hallelujah. But, man... I really am not sure I would have made it without those kind, wonderful people. They truly saved the day.

So thank you to all of those who came to our rescue last weekend. I really am #blessed.

Now, on to the subject of this blog post.

A while back, I was talking to my sister about foster motherhood, and I joked that I was going to write a letter to Ellen (whom I adore) suggesting she change her Mother's Day show this year.

For anyone who isn't a fan of Ellen, 1) you're crazy, 2) she hosts a Mother's Day show every year where first-time moms-to-be fill the audience. It's awesome. I mean, look at all these baby bumps:

As I laughed at my idea, my sister excitedly encouraged me to "do it!" A few other friends gave me the same feedback when I mentioned it to them, so I decided to go for it. I mean, what did I have to lose?

I sat down, wrote a lovely letter, and then went to Ellen's website to figure out how to send it.

It was then that I discovered that the only way to write to Ellen is by typing it into a box on her website (as opposed to sending a hand-written note or attaching a Word document). I also realized that the box had a strict character limit- one that was far below what I used on my letter.

I cut it down as best as I could, but doing so forced me to leave a lot of the heart behind my suggestion out.

It seems like a waste to just delete the full-length version, so I figured I'd post it here.

That way, if anyone who sees this knows Ellen, they can make sure she reads it. If I'm only seven degrees away from Kevin Bacon, I can't be more than 5 degrees away from Ellen. She interacts with a lot of people and is just the best- surely we have some friends in common. 

So, anyway, here's the unabridged letter:

Hi Ellen!

My name is Kaley. I’m a 27-year-old single lady living in Waco, TX. I currently work as a school social worker- a job that is challenging but wonderful.  In addition to your show, I love spending time with friends, playing the ukulele, baking, enjoying a good glass of wine or a good cup of coffee, and- like you- shaking it on the dance floor (aka- any floor that happens to be under my feet).

I am also a foster parent.

This is a pretty new adventure in my life, and I could probably give you a chapters-long narrative of what led up to it, but- in an effort to be brief(ish)- I’ll skip through that and get to the more exciting stuff.

After lots of interviews, trainings, and home inspections, I became a licensed foster parent in September. Within three hours of signing my license, I received a phone call about a potential placement, but the logistics didn’t work out and it fell through. I waited around anxiously for two weeks, making sure I always had my phone with me- just in case. On Tuesday, September 23^rd, I got another call. It was the program director of the child placement agency, who said there was a baby scheduled to be born in the next few days. The baby’s mom was incarcerated, so they needed to find a home for a few months until she was released. The director said she thought I’d be the perfect fit, but we needed to figure out childcare- and wait for the baby to be born- before things could be finalized. On Wednesday I found out the baby- a boy- arrived and was healthy, and on Thursday we confirmed details for childcare, which made it official: I was about to welcome a newborn into my home.

I was standing in Target’s baby aisle Thursday night- crying because I was so excited, overwhelmed, and confused by the number of almost-identical bottles (how do you know which one to choose??) when I received another phone call- this time asking if I could travel with the case manager to pick my foster son up the next morning- 12 hours from that moment.

I wasn’t expecting that, so I called my supervisor at work and left her a few frantic messages- which, in retrospect, were probably very confusing- and went home to try to prepare/rest. It was the first of many sleepless nights.

The drive to the hospital was about 4 hours long. I remember listening to a great 90s playlist and looking at people passing by- thinking about how we were probably heading to such vastly different places to do such vastly different things. Eventually, we arrived at the hospital and made our way to the Newborn Center. It was a zoo. Nurses were buzzing back and forth and babies were crying all around us. I had to wait at the front desk for what felt like hours while the case manager filled out paperwork. I kept trying to catch glimpses of all the babies as they were carried by- wondering which one was about to become my foster son. Finally a nurse led us over to two of those clear plastic newborn cribs, which were parked by the nurses’ desk out front. (As I type this, I’m realizing how odd that location was.) She pointed out my son, and I immediately knew he was the cutest and most wonderful boy in the world. The nurse then led us to the only empty room she could find- the circumcision room. It was the perfect setting for such a significant moment.

The nurse handed me a bottle and told me I could feed him while they waited for the doctor to sign off on his release, and then she left. I think she may have forgotten about us, because it was a solid two hours before anyone returned. I didn’t care too much, though, because it gave me time to stare at the precious baby in my arms and- of course- cry some more. Eventually a nurse returned with  a “Newborn Owner’s Manual” (that’s seriously what it’s called), which she summarized by telling me to always use a car seat and put him on his back to sleep. I wasn’t convinced that was all I needed to know to take care of a newborn, but she told us we could go home and left again. The case manager and I buckled the little guy into his car seat, prayed we did it correctly, and headed for the car. I was sure someone would recognize my incompetence and stop me as I walked to the elevator. I imagined alarms going off and a nurse running over to grab the car seat from us. “That was a close one!” she would announce to the staff as she turned to take him back to the nursery. I mean, seriously- what did I know about raising a newborn??

 Since then I’ve learned that what I knew is about on par with what most parents know when they leave the hospital- nothing. But in that moment, I felt terrified- and somehow, at the same time, very calm. The second I looked at him, I knew I was totally in love with this little boy. He became my son in that moment- surely I could just figure everything else out along the way.

To my amazement, the hospital staff didn’t stop us. We walked out of there, baby in tow, and, four months later, the little guy (who is not so little these days) is still living with me. He’s grown and changed so much, and I like to think I’ve grown- in different ways- right alongside him.

At this point, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be a little family- he’s supposed to return to his biological mom once she’s ready to take him back. It could be days or weeks or months from now, but I’m trying not to think too much about it so I can focus on just being grateful for the time we do have together.

I’ve gained so much respect and appreciation for foster and adoptive parents over the past several months. This work is so beautiful and rewarding, but it is also very challenging- emotionally, mentally, and even physically. (Hauling around an adorable, chunky baby is no joke- nor is waking up for feedings throughout the night and trying to survive eight hours of work the next day.)  As a foster parent, you open your heart up to so much love and joy, which inevitably leaves it open to a lot of grief and pain. I cannot imagine my life without this little guy- but I know I may have to accept it as reality before too long. If there is a way to love this child completely while still protecting my heart from the grief of losing him, I haven’t figured it out yet. But, despite the uncertainty and heartache, I plan to continue fostering children- as so many parents around the country do- because there is such a tremendous need, and I know this is one way I can do something about it.

Segue into the purpose of this letter (obviously I’m amazing at transitions): Every May, you have a wonderful Mother’s Day show where you celebrate women doing something incredible- bringing a life into the world. Your audience is filled with women who are proudly rocking their baby bumps; it’s one of the best shows of the year. But over the past few months my eyes have been opened to the many mothers out there whose stories aren’t always celebrated- or even shared. From women who are led to foster care because they are unable (or choose not) to have children biologically, to women who become foster moms just so children can experience safety and love before finding permanency with their biological or adoptive family- there are many mothers out there who don’t necessarily bring lives into the world, but they certainly work hard to make sure those lives thrive. Their stories are complex and challenging, but they are also beautiful and very much worth telling.

I think it would be amazing to host a Mother’s Day Show celebrating these women.  Not only because they deserve it, but because it would inform millions of your viewers about a really important issue. Did you know that in the United States, 397,122 children are living without permanent families in the foster care system? 101,666 of them are eligible for adoption, but over 30% will wait more than three years in foster care before finding a permanent home.* There are so many things- big and small- that your viewers can do about this, and they may not even be aware of them.  They could donate items to children in foster care, they could volunteer with an organization that supports biological families working toward reunification, they could register to provide respite care for foster families, or they could become foster parents themselves.

 I’ve been amazed by how little most people seem to know about the reality of fostering. Many people tell me, “I could never do that!” without having an accurate understanding of what it’s like. I’ve become pretty passionate about changing people’s misconceptions by being honest about my experience- both the joys and the challenges- in my conversations and writing (I have a blog that I sometimes update when I’m not busy or exhausted from caring for an infant). But I know your voice can carry a lot further than mine. I also know you choose to use it to make a positive impact in the world- it’s one of the many reasons I admire you. I know you can’t support every cause people point you toward, but I at least wanted to ask you to support this one. May is actually National Foster Care Awareness month, too, so it could be perfect!

I’m not sure if this will actually reach you, but, if it does, I’d be so grateful if you’d even just consider this. Whether you think about making a change to the Mother’s Day show (it might be too late for that; I honestly have no clue how far in advance you prepare for each episode) or share this information in some other way, I think it could make such a difference for the kids across the country in need of safe homes and loving families.

Regardless of whether or not this letter changes anything, I am thankful for all you do to make the world a better place. You bring so much joy to so many people, which is why you always make my list when I answer the question: “You’re hosting a dinner party; what five people- dead or alive- would you want to have at your table?” There’d be so much good conversation and so many great dance moves.

Thank you for choosing to make a positive impact.

All the best,

Kaley

(ps- I realize it may seem a little self-serving to make this suggestion given the fact that I am a foster mom myself, but I would be totally fine if you did this and I didn’t go- there are plenty of other foster moms out there who could fill an audience.)

(I mean, I wouldn’t complain if I was there, but I’d be completely happy to see others there, too.)

*Source: The AFCARS Reports No. 20: http://www.acf.hhs.gov/sites/default/files/cb/afcarsreport20.pdf