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“What about our girls?”: About loving and letting go of foster children

I called the therapist. I was crying so hard that I could barely talk. “I want to keep her,” I said.

“I need to listen to you, but you won’t like what I’m about to say,” she said. “The best and most enlightened action to take vigorously and emotionally is to hope and pray that the baby’s real mother can bring her life together and bring her back back.”

I wanted, wanted, and prayed for her to disappear.

“She shows her desire to raise this child and change her life,” my therapist said. “We have to take root for that. If we don’t support it, we will do harm to others. And we do what we want. You can’t harm others to get it. It’s not who we are. “

“But what if it was me?” I asked.

“You have to go high, or you will perish,” my therapist said. “You need to change your mind. You need to start cheering for her, for this man who is so suffering. Then, if she accomplishes it, she will get her child back. Then you will leave cleanly. Are you sad? Yes. But you are not sad and mean. “

I couldn’t speak.

“Think this way,” she added. “This child may save this mother’s life, and you don’t have to save your life.”

A few months before I took my baby home, when I was still on this tour of “Draw Your Weapons”, I asked about art and war how to respond to the image of suffering people. It was a book. Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Levinas. His family was killed in the Holocaust, and Levinas devoted his life to developing an ethical system that made another genocide impossible.

This was his suggestion: when you are in front of others, strangers, people you don’t understand, people who scare you, people you think you might kill, you are others They may not count as their lives when they feel very different from you, then it is a sign that you are in front of God. The lives of others must be protected at all costs, even at the expense of your own.

When I became a foster parent, I thought the stranger I was asked to take care of, the other person, was a baby. But the stranger wasn’t a baby. The stranger was her mother.

“What about our girls?”: About loving and letting go of foster children

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