My Journey in Foster Care–the Beginning

I will be releasing the second book to the book series, The Innocent Eyes of a Child, Pink Elephants Dancing in the Room…

I was a foster child a few times before it became permanent. The first time, I was 6 months old in Missouri and I was taken away–then the second I was three years old Chicago and the last and permanent time I was five years old, Chicago again. I guess three strikes–you’re just trapped in this system. In Illinois, it’s called DCFS. I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I thought I was being rescued. I actually thought this for a while. It was a difficult journey, I just felt lost from the beginning. Feeling like I was stuck in someone’s web right from the start. Being so young at the time when I entered the system, I just dreamed about a family that would adopt me. I would just sit there and daydream about my new family. This was around the first time I would draw picture books about me and my dream family. I was so eager, loving, trusting, and I had hope this would happen. I didn’t really realize where I was or that I was a foster child. I just knew I was away from the crazy life; a life I thought was a normal cycle of abuse. I ended up at a shelter with a lot of other children–all waiting to find homes, I was with Catholic Charities. I went to seven pre-placement visits. These are visits in which you would visit the family and if everything worked out then you maybe would go back to stay. These were foster homes not usually adoptive homes. But I was young and I had hope. I didn’t realize the harshness off what this was or where I really was. Like many children my age, we were just taken away from one bad situation and had hope that some family would want you, one family actually did want me, but the people at the courts would not let them keep me. I remember going to court a lot and then early one morning my stuff was thrown into a bag and I was rushed off, back to the shelter. This was a repetitive pattern, and the frustration and anxiety started to build. Within the first six months i went to twelve homes, none of which I would stay longer than the weekend. I was so disappointed and I don’t mean the I didn’t get my way type of disappointment either. I was different, I didn’t have a home, and I didn’t like wanted or loved. I just didn’t understand what I had to do for the parents to want me. This was the moment I started to copy by flying away. This is how I coped in the beginning especially.