The Gift of Permanence

I’ve been chewing on the idea of permanence – and what that means for him and for us. He is fully a Snyder, fully our son. No one can take that away from him. There are no lingering questions or waiting periods. No more random documents we have to get notarized right away. No more home visits. No more wondering what could happen or thinking through eventualities. No more explaining to the airline why we don’t have a birth certificate. We get to use permanent words without any hesitation – ones we hadn’t previously used in our only-child home – words like: brother, sister, children, kids, son. Though, I wonder at some point if TJ will need to mourn the idea that a relationship with his bio family won’t be possible for him. Because of his situation, he will never know his biological parents’ identity. Permanence, then, allows us to walk through that process with him, to be fully present and available over the course of decades, and provide him with the resources to form and claim his identity, his story.

Position

TJ’s position is forever changed; during his adoption hearing, the judge declared it is now “as if he was born to us biologically.” His name is changed – from an assigned alias to his given name, the one we’ve been using all along, the one he adorably turns his head to when called. He has all the rights and obligations of a biological child. He has a birthright – he can fully claim his inheritance and identity. He’s entitled to take part in what it means to be a Snyder, a Futrell, a member of the Center Point Community Church family, and a part of the Naples Christian Academy community. He will certainly continue to be immersed in all those cultural realities: family camping at Caloosahatchee Regional Park, hiking in Acadia, listening to the Lord of the Rings trilogy on family road trips, AWANA and family dinner on Wednesday nights, mountain biking trips, staying after school for staff meetings, cheering on his sister at track meets, playing in the cul-de-sac with neighbor kids before dinner, sneaking extra donuts on Sunday mornings between church services, Christmas Eve in Victoria Park, and countless other rhythms.

His position is clear, but he may need to grapple with our family culture and grow into it as he gets older. He is – and is becoming – a Snyder; it’s the now and the not yet working hand in hand. We see that with biological children, certainly – they assume family culture and identity, and they help form it. With foster and adopted children (depending on the age and situation), it may take more time, it may involve fight or flight response loops, and a level of questioning and processing. We’re here for it.

We don’t get to choose our children’s talents, abilities, or passions. We get to discover them in the context of family culture. It’s exciting and nerve-wracking. As a parent, I want to encourage my children to discover and develop their gifts. As they mature, I want them to be able to answer questions like: “Where do my heart’s passions meet the world’s need?” or “What doesn’t feel like hard work, even though it really, really is?” One of the secrets of being a great parent is sharing my kids’ passions. You’re suddenly into sharks? “Let’s check out all the books we can about them and learn together!” Interested in chess? “Okay, let’s play every afternoon!” When we demonstrate interest, we weave trust and relationship and excitement and joy into the fabric of our homes. My goal is to make our home the place our kids love the most – a place they want to be more than anywhere else.

When we thought and prayed about becoming a foster family a little over a year ago, our ultimate goal was to open our home and invite vulnerable children in; we want to use our resources, live with open hands, and hold nothing back. To provide safety and joy, to meet the needs of our community, and to demonstrate – in tangible ways – the love of God. Even though we have no open beds right now and aren’t able to take any foster placements for the next few years, we still have these same goals. When we open our home to others, we want them to feel comfortable and safe so that they can set their burdens aside, eat delicious food, and take joy in relationships. So, adopting our son isn’t the end of the road. It’s a continuation of who we’ve been all along. And it’s just the beginning for him. If only you knew, dear TJ, all the rejoicing to welcome you! Happy Adoption Day!

Read the other installments in Anna’s fostering journey here.

The post Fostering Journey Final Chapter: Celebrating Adopting Our Son appeared first on SWFL Family.

Our Fostering Journey Statistics

• Number of placements: 3 (2 respite placements and 1 permanent placement)
• Number of ER visits navigating the intersection of Medicaid and assigned aliases: 2
• Cross-country flights with a foster placement (and the associated nerves of traveling with a non-related child): 3
• Licensure and post-placement home visits: 7
• Number of placement requests (calls, texts, emails): too many – and corresponding agencies requesting placement of children/teens: approximately 5
• Months it took to become a licensed foster family: 4-ish
• Number of months we have been a licensed foster family able to accept placements: 9-ish
• Number of times we have second-guessed our decisions as foster parents: innumerable
• Number of blessings we’ve experienced because of the decision to open our home to children in crisis: infinite

The numbers represent a dichotomous reality. Our ability to help and support is vastly disproportionate to the need for supportive care in Southwest Florida. But, we wanted to open our home and use our resources to honor God and support people experiencing hurt and trauma. And, if we can do that in even one case, I would call our journey successful.

Questions and Comments Received

I continue to hear the comment almost daily: “Wow! You started over at the beginning.” Yes, we took in a baby. Yes, I understand the comment – “He is blessed (lucky) to be with your family.” We still consider ourselves the blessed ones: to experience his growth and development; to figure out what makes him laugh; to understand his favorite foods and his various cries; even to wake up with him in the middle of the night. We recognize that as he grows up, he may need to mourn the trauma he has experienced. He may need to mourn the fact that he is still with us instead of his bio family. We want to understand how his brain processes all the information about his unique story – as well as the comments he’s sure to receive.

A friend asked me a couple months ago: “Are you happy now (that you have this permanent placement)?” The person knew my desire for more children and our years of infertility. I didn’t know how to respond, exactly, because I hadn’t really considered her question. Does my happiness and joy in this new life cure the pain of years of infertility? Because it’s true: I’m over the moon to be stepping in and raising this thriving baby boy. But it doesn’t take away the hurt of infertility, exactly. Some part of me will always feel the pain of bearing fewer children than I thought I would. The years of being able to give birth are over for me, theoretically. It’s okay that I mourn that reality, even with a 7-month-old little man giving me impossibly big, toothless smiles. Overwhelming gratitude and loss can co-exist.

It’s difficult to understand and respond to comments like: “It’s great that he didn’t experience the neglect or abuse that older children in care have experienced.” I understand the heart behind comments like that. But, I can’t see his situation in those terms; I don’t want to be too hard on anyone, but comments like the above diminish and discount the pain experienced by adoptive and foster children. Everyone who walks this earth experiences pain, heartache, and trauma – it’s part of being a human. By now, we collectively know and understand the danger of comparing financial success, material possessions, personal blessings/situations, etc. with others. There is danger, too, in comparing trauma and pain when children can’t be with their biological families for various reasons. When I look at our baby, and I count the number of days I’ve spent with him (205, to be exact), I feel privileged, honored, blessed. I don’t see myself or our family as preventing trauma, just stepping in and saying “yes” when asked.

The Truth

A friend asked us: “What will you tell him?” Meaning: what parts of his story will we tell him and when? I answered, simply: “The truth.” We never want to lie or shy away from the difficult parts. We want to share his story in a way that he can understand and is appropriate to his developmental level. We will likely have to share it again and again, and his reactions to the story may change with time. But I don’t know how much yet and when.

We thank God for our permanent placement. Every new day with my sweet family is a gift – one that wasn’t promised to me and one that I want to do my best to cherish. New challenges and joys abound, and I’m so thankful for this journey, and for the chance to share it with each of you.

Read the other installments in Anna’s fostering journey here.

The post Our Foster Parenting Journey: Summer Reflections appeared first on SWFL Family.

Our sweet, cuddly bundle of joy loves tummy time; our baby smiles impossibly wide, kicking legs and flailing arms so ferociously; strength and vitality that demonstrate new life and growth. Though I admittedly ask, “What have we done?” when greeted with a sink full of dirty bottles and a screaming baby at 3 a.m., God faithfully reminds me to ask a different question – King David’s prayer from the Bible – “Who am I, God, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?”

I’m also reminded of a word coined by British fantasy author J.R.R Tolkien, whose notable works include The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings series. The word is “eucatastrophe” – eu is a Greek prefix, meaning good. Attached to the word catastrophe, eucatastrophe signifies a sudden, unexpected, surprising turn of events that ensures characters in the story do not meet some impending doom or traumatic end. I’m reminded of the main characters at the very end of Toy Story 3, descending together into the garbage incinerator on a wave of trash, holding hands and facing certain death. At the last possible moment, The Claw, manned by the plastic toy aliens, descends and scoops them out. Eucatastrophe.

I desire eucatastrophe – the happiest of endings – for all neglected and vulnerable children in Southwest Florida, including those reunified with a parent or kin, those in foster care, and those living in group homes. I desire unexpected safety and security for them. I desire a surprising turn of events such that they receive unending, unconditional love and provision for basic needs. I desire their biological parents to be equipped and empowered to parent properly and advocate for them. I desire permanence for their home lives and successful outcomes for their therapies, healthcare, and educational accommodations. I desire eucatastrophe.

Our baby’s story, though still fraught with unknowns, is representative of this concept, certainly. And, for my family, just when we thought we knew what our direction and outcome would be, we’re experiencing this good and miraculous catastrophe of newborn snuggles and struggle, discomfort and joy all wrapped up together. Who am I – and what is my family – that God has brought us this far and given us a story of eucatastrophe to share with our community?

Our story

Our journey of becoming a foster family opened our eyes to the frequent occurrence of catastrophe. Order often descends to chaos (entropy) in this world, and eucatastrophe, while present, isn’t a guarantee for many children in Southwest Florida. Eucatastrophe happens often in fictional narratives, but we get only fleeting glimpses of it in the here and now. And, one child’s eucatastrophe so often accompanies another person’s tragedy.

Before we progressed through our training last summer with One More Child, I didn’t understand how a child’s story included the phrase: “I was in and out of foster homes.” The child welfare system in Florida prioritizes reunification with biological families, and placement agencies fully recognize the need to simultaneously prioritize permanence. So, then, how do children get moved from one home to another? The reasons are mulit-faceted and complex, too many to list, but here are a few:

• When children enter the system, their complete background and needs are often unknown at that time; foster families may require a placement change because they are unequipped for various needs.
• Circumstances in any given licensed foster family’s lives may change, requiring placement change or respite care.
• Children may reunify with a parent or other family members. The child welfare system’s investigation may continue, and the state may call that reunification into question based upon the investigation.

How can we respond to this chaos? How can we uphold vulnerable children in SWFL? How can we provide for glimmers of hope in the lives of children? I would ask that you research involvement in the following programs and organizations. You don’t have to become a foster family to help!

• One More Child (licensure and advocacy)
• Guardian Ad Litem Program – Florida (relational and legal advocacy)
• Foster Village of Southwest Florida (meeting practical needs for foster families and children)
• Lutheran Services (licensure and placement)
• Children’s Network of Southwest Florida (licensure and placement)

Each of these organizations advocates and provides for vulnerable children in various ways, and they need our help. Summer is a great time to consider new opportunities. It’s when we took our foster care class and started down a road of embracing blessing in struggle, joy in the unknown, and learning through discomfort and heartache. And it’s the means through which we’ve experienced our own crazy story of eucatastrophe. So, in the words of my friend and fellow foster mom, Laura Wells, “Why not dive in? Why not open your home? Now is the time!” Happy summer!

The post Five Months into Our Fostering Journey: Eucatastrophe appeared first on SWFL Family.

We Celebrate

We celebrate growth. We’ve cycled through a few sizes of baby clothes, progressing through newborn and 0-3 month clothing. I didn’t think I’d be emotional about our baby outgrowing clothing. But witnessing onesies pulling off our baby’s tiny shoulders and being unable to zip up that 0-3 month dino sleeper brought me to tears. I want to be a mom who celebrates growth, though, as I joyfully bag up the piles of tiny clothing for the next bundle of new life.

We celebrate sleep. Our baby is sleeping through the night (mostly). Every night is a bit different, but we’re thrilled for stretches of sleep and a seemingly consistent routine.
We celebrate a sense of permanence. We know our baby, and our baby knows us. We feel connected as a family of four. Though we are still unsure of the future, we experience a deeply rooted peace as we hold our children with open hands.

We celebrate smiles and laughter. Our baby smiles readily and giggles every day. Silly songs, friendly greetings, cheek cuddles, and happy words incite big smiles and laughter from our little one. Our hearts are full.

We celebrate a settled sister. Our sweet daughter brings us so much comfort, even as she’s had to release her hold on her “only child identity”. Though she’s first to share that having a baby is not always easy or comfortable, she praises God consistently for the opportunity to demonstrate unconditional love and care for a vulnerable baby.

We celebrate our family and our community. My in-laws take the kids once a week for a couple of hours so Jim and I can have a weekly date night. Our church community continues to support our family in so many ways with babysitting, groceries, baked goods, and hand-me-down baby clothing and supplies.

We Respond

I’ve shared various comments we have received from others, which I believe can inform and encourage the process of becoming a foster family. Opening our homes to vulnerable children is often accompanied by hurt and heartache, but it’s ultimately a holy calling to unconditional love, and to building our community here in Southwest Florida. When people comment that any given child is “lucky to be with us,” my response is always and very quickly, “We are the lucky ones. We are the blessed ones.” There is great blessing – far beyond what we pour out – in adding to our family. We receive far more than we give. I know many of my fellow foster parents, and those who have adopted children, would agree wholeheartedly.

Recently, when we share our story of welcoming a newborn into our home, we have fielded the comments: “Wow, you started back at the beginning,” and “I can’t imagine starting over.” Yes, we are a couple in our 40s, with a 10 year old and a newborn. We weren’t planning this. We weren’t expecting this. But we welcome and celebrate the new life in our home.

Others may not be able to imagine it, but praise God we got the chance to start over. What a privilege, honor, and joy! I understand what they mean, of course. When I had my 10 year old back in 2014, it felt so incredibly hard – discombobulated, uncomfortable, exhausting, torturous. For the first three months of her little life, I thought to myself “How has the human race continued on? Why would anyone do this more than once?” Now, 10 years later, I understand how short that newborn season really is, and how quickly the little years fly by. I regret those thoughts in light of infertility, and we delight in the chance to start over again.

I’ve released any expectations I’ve had in this life of what the decades will bring. My grandma always said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” She and my grandpa lived very simply and humbly in a small farming community in rural Illinois and though not remotely wealthy, they lived like the richest of kings, giving generously and opening their home often to whomever needed fellowship or a place to eat or stay. We may make plans, but we’ve found that true life, true joy, true success is embracing the simplicity of the unexpected and holding our resources with open hands.

And so, I consider myself among the most richly blessed this spring season of 2025, and no matter what tomorrow brings, I’m so thankful for it all. I treasure it all up and store it in my heart – all the newborn cuddles, the wide smiles, the feedings, the growth, the celebrations, and the unexpected. Happy Mother’s Day!

This is the latest article I’ve written about our journey as a foster family. Here are the previous installments:

• The Learning and Chaos as the Fostering Journey Continues
• Fielding Questions as a Foster Parent
• Navigating Foster Care in Naples: A Family’s Continuing Journey
• Navigating the Challenges of Becoming Foster Parents

The post Finding Joy in the Unexpected: Celebrating Foster Motherhood in Southwest Florida appeared first on SWFL Family.

It’s been almost three months since we took our first permanent placement as a foster family – a newborn. Healthy, thriving, and smiley, our baby represents a tremendous blessing to our family. Struggles abound, but blessings do too. We’re learning, growing, and changing as a family, and we count it all as pure joy.

The Learning

Asking for help.

Heather Finocchiaro of Foster Village reminded me at church one Sunday that her organization delivers welcome packs the day after placement. Foster Village maintains a resource center in North Naples to get families what they need to care for foster placements. About a month in, I realized that we needed meals, which our church also sets up for families through the Meal Train platform. I’ve texted neighbors when a fussy baby prevents me from fixing dinner, which is simultaneously humbling and life-giving. I understand in a new way that self-sufficiency only works in the context of community; I’ve had to learn that it’s okay to ask for help when we need it.

Navigating change alongside our daughter. Every routine/normal activity or event now feels different for my family, and especially for my 10-year-old daughter. Going to my parents’ pool, a sleepover with her grandparents, her spring break – now with our sweet baby. For her, the baby (often) represents an intrusion, and she expresses the accompanying angst by grasping for control. The baby also represents a change in identity. She spent 10 years as an only child and now she has – for all intents and purposes – a sibling, who arrived without (much) warning. Emotions tied to value statements abounded the first eight weeks for her (e.g. “I t’s horrible that the baby’s coming with us camping.”). But, the other day, she commented, “I’ve decided to think of [the baby] as my [sibling].” We’ll take it.

Saying “no.”

Like many women, I hate saying “no.” I’m a do-whatever-it-takes, burn-the-3 a.m.-oil, make-everyone-happy Yes Mom (and Yes Employee). Now, I can’t always drop whatever I’m doing and make chocolate chip cookies. I can’t attend training events, and I can’t say yes to every meeting maker or insert myself into every project. And, I’ve started saying no to workouts in favor of naptime on the couch. It’s not hard caring for a baby. But, it is hard to care for a baby AND do anything else.

The questions and comments I’ve considered.

Last month, I mentioned some questions and comments I get often as I’m out and about. Our modus operandi is this: we don’t get offended, and we respond as best as we can while protecting our family and our baby.

Every day, I’m reminded of how fascinated Southwest Floridians are by new life. People love babies – they love to ask questions about babies, and they love to talk about the babies in their own life. When we share a bit about our baby, we’ve heard the comment a couple of times: “Your baby’s so lucky.” I smile and nod and often respond with, “We’re the ones who are blessed.” I think they mean something like: the baby’s lucky to be at our home, to be placed with us, to not be exposed to possible neglect or mistreatment. But, we don’t believe luck factors into the equation, and we also believe the best about parents in SWFL – that they love their children deeply and often experience extenuating circumstances that don’t allow them to parent appropriately. And, we do believe we are deeply blessed to have this baby in our home. We don’t take it for granted, even with fussy witching hours, endless bottle sanitization routines, and sleepless nights. We pray often: “Thank you,” and “Help!”

I mentioned last month the question one friend asked – with honesty and humility: “How can you love a baby that isn’t yours?” He really wanted to know how we could love without condition, without promise of tomorrow, with an uncertain future. Over the last few weeks, I’ve realized that I love that question. It’s a question that truly considers the gravitas of the situation. A tiny bundle of vulnerability lives in our home, depends on us for everything, learns about the world through our rhythms and routines, through our family culture. It’s serious business with long-term consequences. As we navigated infertility, I used to get the question from time to time: “Why don’t you just adopt?” It’s an honest question; one that didn’t offend. But it’s not as easy as that. Adoption requires a significant investment of time, money, and a passionate commitment to the outcome – not to mention the continuous asking of the question: “How will I love a baby that isn’t mine?”

It’s true, we chose this life, this path, this chaos, knowing one thing: We’re responsible for loving, nurturing, teaching, and caring for our babies without knowing or understanding what the outcome of their lives will be, and often prior to knowing their unique needs or struggles. So, we relinquish control, opening our hands, all the while recognizing that most of what they’re learning, they are learning from my husband and me. We demonstrate sacrificial love daily, mostly unconsciously, performing menial tasks and making thousands of decisions while our hearts (our kids) just dance around – exposed and vulnerable – outside our bodies. They scream and cry, they destroy our furniture, they go to school, play with friends, win awards and fail at sports, make mistakes, chew their nails, defend the weak, refuse to eat the food in front of them, and then they grow up before our eyes. It’s inevitable, and yet it shocks us. We rip out our hair and then shed a tear; we (at times) wish it away and simultaneously wish it wouldn’t end so quickly. All that to say, the journey of parenting doesn’t discriminate between bio and foster and adoption; we’re all in this chaos together.

Read the other installments in Anna’s fostering journey here.

The post The Learning and Chaos as the Fostering Journey Continues appeared first on SWFL Family.

Over the past weeks/months since we received our first permanent placement as a foster family, we have fielded questions, faced challenges, and experienced countless joys. After years of infertility, though, I’m reminding myself constantly to count it all as pure joy. I spent many hours frustrated for various reasons after the birth of my daughter in 2014, and my mind takes me back to those days now that we’re again traveling through the stages of newborn development. I regret my perspective now – if only I’d known it’d be my first and last bio baby, I might have revelled in the sleepless nights, mysterious runny noses, or the fussy witching hours, rather than wishing and worrying those difficult days away. So, I’m approaching this baby a bit differently. And, the situation commands that we hold our baby with open hands – that we walk through each day in enjoyment and love rather than in frustration and worry.

The Questions

We get lots of questions about our baby; I think people of all ages are fascinated by new life. It’s hard to know how to respond to: “Is that baby yours?” Perhaps it’s because our baby looks a bit different from us, or perhaps it’s because I don’t look like I’ve just given birth. For those who know our family, I think they are simply surprised at the baby’s presence.

In becoming a licensed foster family through One More Child, one of our teachers, Laura Wells, trained us on how to answer these types of questions. “Simply say ‘Yes, this is my family!’ when asked potentially awkward and uncomfortable questions like ‘Are all those children yours?’ We’re collectively responsible for vulnerable children, and as foster parents, we are particularly responsible to defend and advocate for the children placed in our homes,” Laura advised during our class. “Responding with a clear and simple statement such as: ‘This child – or these children – joined our family’ is also a great response.” I called Laura this past week to get more insight. “I look at every awkward question as a chance to educate and encourage – to get the word out about foster care and One More Child.” She also shared about a time when someone asked that question of her at a recent event. She had three siblings who joined her family. “Before I could respond, our 9-year-old placement declared: ‘We’re her foster kids.’ He didn’t explain the situation; he said it matter-of-factly. The woman responded by sharing that she couldn’t live with her bio parents and was adopted. It was a sweet moment of connection that we could have approached defensively and didn’t.”

It’s not hard for us to show our baby the same love we would show for our biological children, but we’ve gotten that question too. “ “How can you love a baby that isn’t yours?”” Our response to that question is more nuanced. My first thought is: “This is our baby. We’re appointed, responsible, and fully present each day this child is in our home.” Loving children and seeking their best is our calling. And, when I look into our little one’s eyes, I think a better question is: “How could I not love this baby?”

The Challenges

Age difference.

Our daughter is 10, and we have a newborn. My husband and I are in our 40s. We were years removed from sleep deprivation, baby screams, diaper blowouts, and boiling bottles. The change was abrupt and jarring.

My sister-in-law had a baby when my niece was 10. “The hard part is that by age 10 kids are independent, and you’ve gotten into a comfortable routine where you’re not constantly intervening. Your world flips upside down and suddenly, you have someone who is 100% dependent on you for everything,” she shared.

Loss of control for our bio daughter.

After becoming a foster family, our daughter doesn’t get to decide as much about our family’s routines or activities anymore. Mostly, my husband and I make unilateral decisions about feeding times for the baby, when the baby needs to be comforted, and who will change the baby’s diaper. Her frustrations permeate as she attempts to take back control over some aspects of baby care and daily life

An unsettled future.

We don’t know what will happen from one day to the next – our baby’s future isn’t known. We’re in a holding pattern that feels unsettling.

The Joys

Babies slow us down in the best possible way. Everything is deliberate and monumental. I sing the simple kids songs I had forgotten about like Father Abraham and He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands and silly little melodies we created when we had our daughter: “It’s time for a diapy changey. Are you ready for a diapy changey?”

We take great joy in the head-back “curly” stretches, the first smiles, the cooing, the little clothes, the snuggles, the cheeks that’ve suddenly filled out. It’s a time of wonder, and I don’t want to miss any of it. Jim, Winnie, and I revel and delight in all things newborn baby, “fighting” over who gets the next hold or feeding.

We see our bio daughter learn and grow, stepping outside of the comfort of routine and grappling with new rhythms. She is maturing as she cares for the baby and opens her heart. She takes great delight in the baby’s “firsts.”

I’ve found joy, too, in using the plural words “kids” and “children.” It’s a new happiness to text friends sentences I never thought I’d write like: “I’ll have both kids with me.”

And we’re constantly reminded to live one day at a time, counting it all as pure joy (even the difficult questions and challenges). We soak in the snuggles and parent our children with love, grace, and gratitude, remembering that they don’t really belong to us – but to a God who holds the whole world in His hands.

Previous Articles in this Series

Choosing Foster Care: Our Journey from Only Child Dreams to Opening Our Home for Healing

Navigating the Challenges of Becoming Foster Parents

Navigating Foster Care in Naples: A Family’s Continuing Journey

The post Fielding Questions as a Foster Parent appeared first on SWFL Family.

Our family’s first foster care placement – two toddlers for respite care – was both joyful and exhausting (read more about that experience at neafamily.com). Then, just one week later, I traveled to my parents’ house to help them through a monumental transition in their lives. The few days I spent with them were emotional, tense, and, in the end, bittersweet and beautiful. Weary, I returned home, facing a stacked schedule and an overwhelming to-do list. 

The call 

Soon after my return, we received a call to foster a baby, and we said yes. “Yes” to upend our lives and schedules, “yes” to a litany of unknowns, “yes” to sleepless nights, “yes” to endless formula mixing and bottle sanitization, “yes” to a vulnerable, tiny little one, “yes” to being cozied up at home, “yes” to gazing at awe-inspiring newborn yawns and stretches, “yes” to wonder and delight. This would be our first “permanent placement” since becoming a foster family. We continue to learn about the situation; it’s nebulous and abnormal. And this sweet and vulnerable “placement” is a squishy, cuddly baby. 

This phrase from the Bible popped into my head – “Unto us is born this day,” a baby. The baby in our home (and all the other vulnerable, abused, neglected children) is born to all of us – we are all collectively responsible for defending and providing for them. Individuals, families, and organizations (like One More Child, Lutheran Services, Foster the Family, Friends of Foster of Southwest Florida, and many others) carry out amazing and necessary work supporting and upholding children and their families in our community. 

And for us, returning to the infant stage has meant countless visits from friends and family. Diapers, shipments of non-alcoholic beer, dinners, Target runs, a growler of cold brew from a local coffee shop, visitors rocking a fussy baby to sleep, newborn zippered footie pajamas, playdates for my older child – more support than we ever anticipated. My theory is this: my friends who are parents of older children in their late teens or twenties have their sights set on grandparenthood. They miss babies in a way they may not have 10 years ago. Take my friend Monica – her oldest is 16, and her youngest is 9. Thus, that next phase of life is in sight; she craves holding a baby in a new way. And we reap the benefit! 

What will happen? 

Daily, we release control over this child’s future, and we remember that we never really had control over our family in the first place. As parents, we acknowledge that any child in our home belongs to God. We also recognize that our children’s stories don’t wholly belong to us either. In her book Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott states it this way: “You own what happened to you.” For children who spend time in foster care and who are reunified with their family or who are adopted, I would think this reality provides some semblance of comfort. Research shows that different people process the same traumas in vastly different ways, proving Lamott’s point. Thus, every person’s story is so unique – every outcome is unique – and it is impossible to generalize foster care outcomes.  

Still, I have so many questions. Does the child welfare system work, even if it isn’t efficient? Do children placed in foster homes flourish long-term? When they age out, how do they function in life? How does adoption change the course of foster children’s lives, and is permanence with non-related adults the best outcome?

These questions are too big to answer with data points; the answers are anecdotal, individualized, and nuanced. And isn’t protecting and fighting for children our calling and responsibility, regardless of the result? 

A fellow One More Child foster parent, Mercy Betts, shared a bit of her story of growing up in the foster care system: “I was in foster care from the age of 2 to 16 years old. At 16, I was adopted. Growing up in the system, I lived in foster homes and group homes. There were some good ones and some not-so-good ones. I always knew that I wanted to open up my home and help children in need – to provide a safe and loving space for them. I especially felt called to provide for and mentor older children.”

I asked Mercy about her adoption: “I met my adoptive family when I lived in the One More Child group home in Fort Myers. At the time, they had three bio kids of their own, so when I moved in, it felt like a true family. Teens don’t usually get adopted, so I was very blessed to have that opportunity at 16 years old.” 

My neighbor, Juliana, is an adoptee and shared some valuable truths with me: “There is no perfect picture. There will be pain or confusion for adoptees, foster/adoptive parents, and biological parents. All that matters is for the child to know: ‘I am chosen.’ I know I was placed into the perfect home for me. While my experience has been somewhat painful, I wouldn’t change it for the world. It has taught me how lucky I am to have been placed into my parents’ arms – into a healthy and safe home and a new pattern for my family’s legacy.”  

Our foster baby’s story isn’t necessarily mine to tell. We don’t know what will happen at this stage, so we cherish every day. Our call is to love for a moment, however long that moment lasts. We don’t know what this baby’s talents, favorite foods, passions, or tendencies will be. My mom often reminds me: “Isn’t it comforting that we don’t have to cultivate our children’s passions or joys? We get to watch them discover that for themselves!” Will this baby struggle with fractions, hate broccoli, laugh at peek-a-boo, and learn to sign “more” and “yes?” Will this baby run high fevers or love to cuddle during movie night? Will this baby crave mountain biking trips, learn to sight-fish snook, and enjoy reading The Hobbit? 

We don’t know the answers to those questions – and we may never know – but we do know how to love deeply with consistency and without condition. For today, that must be enough.   

The post Navigating Foster Care in Naples: A Family’s Continuing Journey appeared first on SWFL Family.

Interestingly, we’re almost six weeks into being officially approved by all organizations involved in the foster care licensing process and we have yet to welcome any children into our home. Much of this is circumstantial, certainly. We’ve gotten plenty of requests – phone calls, texts, and emails – about children in need of a safe home for a time. Here are a few key issues I didn’t really understand prior to becoming a foster family. 

Complex and fluid situations. It is possible to say yes to a placement request and not actually welcome that child into our home. This happens for several reasons: a social worker may be able to find a foster family closer in proximity to where the child lives and attends daycare/school/etc. after they request placement from me. A social worker may find kinship or family care for the child. A social worker may also be able to find a placement for an entire sibling group, and agencies rightly prioritize keeping sibling groups together.

An overworked and burdened system. Child welfare workers and social workers are extremely busy and may not be able to answer emails, phone calls, or texts on my timeframe. This means I may not find out what happened in terms of a placement to whom we said “yes” initially.

Subsidized daycare constraints and difficult financial realities. The Early Learning Coalition (ELC) is yet another government-funded organization present in this process, which subsidizes daycare for foster children. Not every daycare facility accepts these funds. Additionally, there can be a two-week lag between applying for ELC funding and funding approval. During that time lag, foster families may need to provide private care for children not old enough for school.

Foster care placement regulations. If my family lives in a mandatory hurricane evacuation zone, and we have a foster child living in our home, we must evacuate.

A confusing web of many agencies. Our licensing agency (One More Child) does not place foster children. We receive requests for placement from a more centralized agency called Lutheran Services. It’s taken a bit of time to get a sense for the Lutheran Services team and how they process placements, and I’m still learning every day! 

Impact on my child and managing disappointment and heartache. We now understand the difficult reality that we can’t necessarily tell our daughter about children who may be placed in our home until they show up at our door. 

The Need is Great

If these feel like reasons not to foster, please understand the need continues to grow. And the realities of life – of trauma – in a broken and hurting world demand our attention. There are at-risk and vulnerable children in need of compassion in our community. And even though we’ve experienced disappointment and frustration with the process, we’re still encouraged, still thrilled, still nervous to welcome children into our home. Our little family is learning and processing all these realities together, praying and growing along the way.

Emanise Joseph, a placement specialist at Lutheran Services, encourages families to get involved in the system. “There is an urgent and growing need for foster homes in our community. Many children are waiting for loving families to welcome them, and the situation is becoming increasingly critical. These children are not just statistics; they are individuals who require care, support, and stability.” She challenges families in Southwest Florida: “Your home could provide the safe haven these children desperately need. The demand for foster families is rising, and we are in dire need of compassionate individuals who can make a real difference. If you can open your home to a child or sibling group, it could profoundly change their lives. Together, we could help these children find the love and support they deserve.”

A Way Forward: Foster Village SWFL

Perhaps you – like me – are overwhelmed by logistics and schedules, work, and child care. The licensing process, placement system, and the realities of the ELC certainly contribute to the overwhelm, especially in the beginning stages of figuring out the child welfare system. There are people who want to help!

Heather Finocchiaro, a Southwest Floridian, started an organization designed to provide resources to foster families, alleviating burdens and enabling them to continue caring for “the least of these.” Foster Village SWFL’s mission is to come alongside children and families who are experiencing the foster care system to show them they are not alone. Finocchiaro points to burnout and lack of support: “Over 50% of foster parents will quit in their first year. We exist to bridge the gap between these families and the local community that wants to help. Having a village of support can be a sustaining factor for foster families. We provide for tangible needs, host fun family events, and offer birthday parties for children in their care.”

I asked Heather what she might say to someone reticent to becoming a foster family because of the financial realities and tangible needs (diapers, car seats, food, beds, daycare application fees, etc.). “The tangible needs can be a large burden, and families are often not equipped and need tangible support to be able to care for these children. Foster Village SWFL is here to make sure you have everything you need once a child is placed in your care. We aim to remove as many barriers as possible to saying yes to kids who need a home.”

Finocchiaro’s passion for supporting foster families stems from her personal experience. “My husband and I were foster parents when our children were younger. We learned firsthand how isolating and lonely the journey can be. We felt like no one understood our family’s unique struggles or sacrifices. Amidst a cross-country move, our adoption of two teenagers fell apart. However, it was because of that move that we found Foster Village and wondered how different our experience would have been if we had the support of an organization like this.”

Finocchiaro’s story and insight reminds me that “foster” is both a verb and an adjective. Yes, the word denotes an intentional relationship with non-related, vulnerable children in need of compassion and care. However, the verb “to foster” involves the development of something far greater than the sum of its parts. “Families who step up to foster children quickly learn their calling is to foster a family,” Finocchiaro shares. “These children are connected to a biological family of their own, and parents whose children enter the system often lack support. Seventy percent of child removal from homes is not due to abuse but from neglect. These biological parents are often struggling to navigate child rearing on their own, and foster families often bridge this gap, stepping in to help broaden the support available to struggling parents. It’s a beautiful thing when children can go home, which about half do, and not lose more people that love them, but gain an extended family. Everyone wins.”

I’d love for you to keep following along as I share about our first placement and stories from the child welfare system. 

Neapolitan Family contributing writer Anna Snyder is sharing her family’s foster parenting journey. The first installment in this series is available here.

The post Navigating the Challenges of Becoming Foster Parents appeared first on SWFL Family.

There is value in waiting, praying, discussing, considering, and drawing nearer to one another. It’s okay to mourn regularly while counting our blessings. Life in a broken, hurting world demands this rhythm – this balancing act. My husband and I are choosing more often to look up and say: “Thank you” instead of looking around, comparing ourselves to others, and asking: “why?”

If we did humbly ask “why,” though, one of the answers may be foster care. Over the past four months, we have gone through the process of becoming a licensed foster care family through One More Child. I’ve learned so much about the need for families to come alongside hurting parents and children and be a resource and support for healing. Over the years, my husband and I talked about adoption and foster care – and finally made the decision to get licensed after a month of praying and research as a family. The ultimate goal of foster care starts with reunification, as research shows it is best for children to be with biological family or close friends/kin with whom they already have a relationship. The process of opening our home was significant and uncomfortable, though it has already been accompanied by great blessing. 

As we sifted through mounds of paperwork and began our classwork, we were encouraged by a One More Child trainer and foster parent, Laura Wells. The Wells have been a foster family for six years and have had 24 children placed in their care. They have had children for as little as one night to as long as 18 months. The Wells family recently moved into the One More Child home in Fort Myers to be able to take in more sibling groups, as the space was originally designed to serve as a group home. Laura shared her story with us. “My dad was a foster child, and he didn’t get to stay with his sibling. His story is one of continued abuse, dysfunction, and neglect. But from ages 5-10, he was in a functional foster home, which profoundly impacted the trajectory of his life. Because of foster care, my dad met and married my mom. Foster care saved me from generational dysfunction, and now we’re a foster family.”

I asked Laura when she and her husband decided to become a licensed foster family. “We have five biological children. When we were in the hospital for my third, I asked my husband, ‘Why are we waiting? There’s never going to be a perfect time to start.’ And we started the process. Foster care is such an important part of my story. It’s always been in me to be a foster parent. I look at how my dad was welcomed by a woman who didn’t know him. I’m saying yes to my dad and his siblings every time I welcome a child into my home.”

Our training opened my eyes to the idea of trauma-informed care. As we enter situations and assess behaviors of children joining our family, we must ask, “What happened to you?” and “What do you need?” instead of “What’s wrong with you?” Laura shared with me about the need for trust-based relational intervention, which was a focus of our training. “Physiological change happens because of trauma. Children have to feel safe; we can’t just tell them they’re safe. It takes time and quick thinking. Our biological kids can handle small disappointments, but we must recognize that children coming into our homes are fragile. And so, we demonstrate consistency and fill their buckets with drops of love and consistency. A lot of behaviors are helped through tiny routines; traumatized children require slow healing over time.”

Janelle Hanaburgh directed our training sessions and continues to serve as a resource for us at One More Child. Thankfully, because of the pandemic, the entire foster care training process takes place online now, which theoretically makes it easier for families to obtain licensure. Hanaburgh noted the immense need for families to pursue licensure. “In the month of August alone, there were nearly 17,000 children placed outside of their homes in the state of Florida due to abuse, abandonment, or neglect. Fostering children from your local community makes a huge impact on the children’s ability to stay in their school, keep important connections with teachers, friends, and family, and have access to other familiar parts of their life, only improving their academic, mental, and emotional outlook, and overall wellbeing during their time in care. Becoming a safe home for a child in crisis can truly save a life and allow you to be a part of putting families back together whenever safe and possible.” 

As we completed the training, we were often reminded about the goal of foster care: reunification. Foster families provide necessary care while biological parents complete court-mandated activities and receive support. “Most biological parents DO love their children,” Hanaburgh reiterated. “Their ability to care for their children and meet their needs in a way that would be considered safe and satisfactory to the Department of Children and Families has been impeded often due to substance abuse issues, mental health challenges, not having had proper and safe parenting modeled for them, or lack of resources and support. Foster parents can encourage, cheer on, and model proper parenting for biological parents.”

Unfortunately, though the process of becoming a foster family is easier and more seamless now, there has been a significant drop in the number of licensed families since the pandemic in 2020. “We lost families during COVID due to their valid concerns about the virus and children or workers being in and out of the home, possibly increasing the risk of exposure,” Hanaburgh explained. “Some foster parents were impacted personally and significantly by the virus – either through illness or loss of a loved one, requiring them to shift their focus and efforts. Others still were impacted financially by loss of jobs or wages through direct or indirect fallout. Now, fewer people think about stepping into the space of fostering for these same reasons. With so many other stressors, both from COVID and other challenges, such as economic downturn and [hurricane damage], it can be hard for families that would have otherwise considered fostering to imagine spreading themselves, their resources, and their families even thinner.”

Laura and I talked about the decrease in the number of foster families – and the growing need for foster families. “I hear it a lot,” she shared, “people say things like, ‘I would do it, but the system is so bad. I would have a hard time letting them go back to a bad situation.’ My response is to remind them that our call is to love them for a moment, to show them what a healthy family looks like, and to get them involved and help them discover their gifts and abilities.” 

The need is so great. Laura encourages families, “If you have a spare room, take someone in. The impact on your own children, to foster children, to people you meet along the way is so great – it’s a ripple effect. You can change the whole trajectory of someone’s life. My foster grandma had no idea the harvest that would come from caring for others in their time of need. There are generations beyond what we see today in which we are investing.”

Becoming licensed took a greater investment of time and energy that we originally anticipated, but our file has finally been approved by One More Child, Children’s Network of Southwest Florida, and DCF. And, the training was also much more informative and valuable than I ever thought possible. I’ll be sharing monthly about our journey as a foster family in the magazine and on neafamily.com. For more information on becoming a licensed foster family, visit onemorechild.org.  

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