by Hadassah Ryan

Created on: March 25, 2009

I was nine or ten when my parents sat myself and my younger brother down and proceeded to tell us about this "idea" they'd had. As a parent now, I would assume that the decision for them to become foster parents had already been made. This is a child's perspective on fostering: not as the foster child, but as a biological child of a foster family.

How did I feel about this "idea"? Absolutely thrilled. I was the oldest in the family, with one brother two years younger than myself. We had a typical sibling relationship: close when we were so inclined and scrapping like cats and dogs most of the rest of the time. My parents informed us that they would be taking some classes to learn more about being foster parents and I vaguely remember having a babysitter on the nights that they were gone.

Once the classes and home study were completed, we were ready to start taking children in. As a family with two young children already, we would only be accepting babies and toddlers. My mother explained in later years that they were not comfortable exposing my brother and I to older children that had been in the system for a while. They would likely know..things..that my brother and I didn't know yet. They would likely have been exposed to the more unfortunate side of life and my parents were not willing to take any chances that a damaged child might likewise damage us.

To me, the concept of being able to help children whose parents were unfit to care for them was a brilliant idea. My ten year old heart overwhelmed with compassion as the babies began arriving at our house. I quickly learned how to help my mom with diapering, feeding, comforting and keeping an eye on these precious little souls. As I learned the situations behind the removal of these tiny ones from their homes, my heart broke as quickly as my sense of indignation rose. The horrid stories, while shocking, also instilled in me a strong sense of social justice. I was proud to work alongside my parents to provide our foster children with a loving, secure home. I was big sister extraordinaire; this identity molded much of my personhood as I moved into my teens.

This "hands-on" education concerning the seedier side of life drove me to become an advocate for hurting children in any situation. It taught me that down at the basic level of survival, a child needs security, consistency and unconditional love. I won't say that I didn't have my moments of exasperation and annoyance; any pre-teen sharing a room with a two year

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