Tonight, You Belong to Me: The Ballad of a Foster Mother
We had just finished attending my spouse’s grandmother’s funeral when the woman approached. She was wearing what appeared to be a genuine Christian Dior scarf and sat down before us on the ottoman in my mother-in-law’s living room, eyes wide with faux concern. “So, what are you going to do?” she asked in a sing-song voice.
“About what?” I asked, glancing over at my spouse, Ash.
“About the baby?” she asked again, her tone high-pitched and frustrating. “I know you don’t have her anymore.”
I had never met this woman in my entire life.
“Well, we still see her…” Ash started, taking a note from the look in my eyes that I was not willing to engage this stranger in a conversation about my former foster daughter.
“But, that won’t last forever,” she quickly replied. “You know that won’t last. What are you going to do? Are you going to try for another one? You want one of your own.”
My heart was beginning to race with a feeling that I couldn’t quite place. Fury? Incredulity?
“She’s mine to me,” I said strongly.
This conversation was inappropriate. None of this was her business. If she had wanted to ask questions about our former foster daughter, then she could have done so with a little more tact and a lot more empathy. To top it all off, she was choosing to ask these questions and make these comments after a funeral. I was grateful that I was wearing a pandemic mask because my expression was completely agape. Ash’s eyes looked hurt. This had already been such a hurtful day.
“But, you can’t keep her,” the stranger continued, not getting the hint. “You can’t have her.”
She sighed dramatically. “I just see so many couples able to adopt. It’s so sad that a nice couple like you two don’t get to have one. I mean, it’s horrible to say, but at the same time, don’t you kind of wish her mother would get back into trouble?” She laughed.
I stared back at her, speechless. I thought back to all the adoptee voices resources that I’d been reading to prepare me in case we ever did adopt one day. I realized I was witnessing exactly what they were talking about. “No,” I said after a breath. “No, her mother is doing really well, and we’re happy for her.”
She tilted her head quizzically. “Oh. Good.”
“You know,” I continued. “I see now that we never should have done foster care in the hopes of adopting. That was wrong of us. Instead, we should do it just to help someone. We helped the baby when she needed someone to care for her. We were able to help her family, too. We were able to foster the family. Now, the mom is doing well. I hope she continues to do well. We did something nice for someone. We gave the baby a good start, and we helped her family…Her birthday is tomorrow.”
“That’s a good perspective,” she said in this weird, fake sympathy voice. At the same time, she nodded with a look that said she couldn’t quite believe what I was saying.
“Her mom is a really good person,” Ash said softly. “I think she’s really empathetic. She lets us see her all the time. She said it would be selfish of her not to let us see her. We just saw her yesterday…”
“You actually get to spend time with her?” she asked as though she hadn’t heard us say this the first time. I guess she didn’t quite grasp what we meant. “Wow. Well.”
“Yeah. She stays overnight sometimes and hangs out…”
“Wow,” she repeated. “That’s…rare.” She stood awkwardly, clearly confused by our reactions. “Well, good luck to you all.”
“Thank you so much,” I said in a sickeningly sweet voice before turning to Ash and asking, quite frankly, WTF was that?
This stranger was obviously so out-of-touch that I knew I shouldn’t let it get to me. If anything, the rudeness of her questions was impressive. Still, as we left the gathering, I felt tears reach my eyes. I miss Jessy (not her real name) more deeply than I will ever be able to express.
I don’t know what will happen with Jessy; I don’t know what our future looks like together. I don’t know if my spouse and I will adopt eventually or if I’ll become pregnant one day or if we’ll decide to just be foster parents that are happy to spoil the kids in (and out) of our care. All I know is this: I have had to find peace where I can find it. For me, that peace comes in knowing that we reunited a family. We offered support. We raised a baby for nearly two years. We gave love. One day, when Jessy is 15, I hope she’ll understand. I hope she’ll say a quote I saw months ago: I know how much you loved me, because you never gave up on my mom.
The other day, I gave her a Bitty Baby doll from American Girl for her birthday. I used to dream of having my own as a child, but Jessy was gifted one by the age of 2. What a lucky girl. I hope that she’ll always feel lucky. I hope that she’ll always feel loved.
Whenever anything difficult has happened to me, I’ve turned to music to get me through. When Jessy was in our home, we played music constantly. I wanted to be an actress as a teenager, and that part of me still loves to sing and perform. Many of the songs that I loved to play for our girl came from the Songs for Carmella album by Christina Perri. I always found the album so fitting for our relationship with our foster daughter.
I know
You belong to somebody new
But, tonight, you belong to me
Although we’re apart
You’re a part of my heart
And, tonight you belong to me
Wait down by the stream
How sweet it will seem
Once more, just to dream
In the moonlight
My honey, I know
With the dawn that you will be gone
But, tonight, you belong to me
At Christmas, another song that strangely held me through the first holiday season without her was a classic Mariah Carey song:
You’ll always be a part of me
I am part of you, indefinitely
Don’t you know you can’t escape me?
Oh, darling, ‘cause you’ll always be my baby
And, we’ll linger on
Leaving the hospital with a newborn in my arms. Colic. RSV. Covid quarantine. First day of toddler school. Check-ups. Weekly visits. Family gatherings. Vacations. Walks in the park. Laughter. Tears. First steps. All of the music. We did it all together. She’ll always be my baby.
And, she’ll linger on…
