Not Really Noble

When I tell folks that I want to become a foster parent, some folks congratulate me. I've heard that I'm doing God's work. I've heard that I'm generous. What I'm undertaking is noble.

I always think to myself: "Who, me? No, really. Me?"

Those sentiments are sweet but actually misplaced. Too lofty.

My truth isn't noble. I want to be a parent. I think. But I don't want to be a single parent.

Foster parenting gives me the chance to practice and learn with someone else's child. The odds are good that I won't mess things up much more than the biological parent.

And it's temporary. Long-term, but temporary. I can get out at any time. There's safety with that knowledge.

Even better, there's a network of support: therapists, social worker, teachers and fellow adoptive parents. It's an unusual group, but still a circle of committed people for the child.

Oh, and there's a child support check too. So I'm not as noble as the act may seem.

I Was Fingerprinted

Two weeks ago, I was fingerprinted. Just reaching this point is an accomplishment.

I like how random and ominous the above sounds. But the truth is a lot less sinister: I’m on a journey to become a foster parent.

I’ve been celebrating and marking each step towards that goal as an accomplishment. I’m moving forward. Being fingerprinted means:

• Finally, my application packet was complete and accepted. (And it only took 7 submissions.)

• I can officially begin the parenting training workshops.

• Motherhood is impending and this thing that I’m doing is real.

• I am done with the minutiae and interaction with the rude scheduler in the county’s social services department.

• I have given the county the authority to run a criminal background check on me.

I won’t be nervous that I haven’t received notice that I’ve passed the check, despite the fact that my friend and backup caregiver has already received his notification.

I have absolutely no idea where this trip will take me. I’m excited and hopeful. Completely in denial about what may or may not happen. I feel blessed and loved and supported. I don’t have any fear.

I think I’m ready for this journey.