My Story Begins...

Just over a year ago, I was a single women living alone in a 3 bedroom house. One bedroom was a rarely used office. One bedroom was loosely prepared for the arrival of a child. My licensing worker told me that a toddler would be the easiest first placement. So I bought tiny pairs of underpants and toddler appropriate toys.
I had spent over 7 months trying to get certified as a foster parent. The home study had been written, but I never heard if my certification was approved. In the months of waiting, I had questioned over and over again whether I was crazy or not. Every step and hurdle along the way made me think it was God's way of showing me I was making a mistake. If someone found out I was trying to get certified, they would say, "Oh! That's great! I could never do that."
I imagined all the ways I would help a toddler deal with being separated from his/her parents. What they should call me. I eventually settled on "Aunt Katie." I shopped for tiny socks. I shampooed carpet. I waited. And waited.
When the call finally came, it was not at all what I expected. First, I didn't even know I was certified. Secondly, the social worker told me the child had been in foster care for over a year already. He was aggressive. They were separating him from his brother. He needs to be the only child for a while, she said.
So I called my mom.

"What do you think?"

"Yes. Tell her yes. Call her back and tell her yes."