Loss and ‘The Day of Love.’

Posted by on Feb 14, 2018 in Uncategorized | 18 comments

I had it all planned out. I was going to wrap up the red “No. 1 Big Brother” shirt in heart-themed wrapping paper. It would sit propped up on the cherry-colored tablecloth, among the oversized chocolate shark and heart-shaped lollipops I’d also bought him for Valentine’s Day. I already have a propensity for going overboard on holidays, but this – this – was going to be epic. The timing would be perfect – I’d be one day past the 12-week mark of my pregnancy. When my belly started rounding out at just 7 weeks, though, we joked that it was...

read more

The privilege of bearing witness.

Posted by on Dec 8, 2017 in Uncategorized | 6 comments

I remember the day I changed my mind. It wasn’t after our foster son, James, left our home, as one might assume. It was before. Weeks before, in fact. The day it occurred to me that I did, in fact, want to have another baby, it wasn’t because I was looking to replace. It wasn’t because life as foster parents felt like it was coming crashing down around us yet again. It wasn’t because I was still – always – missing our first foster son, BlueJay – or because I wasn’t sure whether James would stay with us forever. It was because something...

read more

On pregnancy loss.

Posted by on Nov 13, 2017 in Uncategorized | 12 comments

“It’s nothing you did,” she tells me. “It’s nothing you did, and it’s nothing you didn’t do.” I nod because I know she’s supposed to say this. I nod because I know it’s true. I nod because I sense that I am supposed to respond, but I cannot yet speak. I wonder whether she’s said these words to anyone else today. I wonder how many times during an average week she has to look into eyes full of hope or resignation or agony and say, “I’m sorry. You’ve had a miscarriage.” I think there must be a lot of joy in her job, but also this. It makes me...

read more

Kids Book Review (and Giveaway!)

Posted by on Oct 13, 2017 in Uncategorized | 11 comments

This morning, Ryan turned to me and asked, “What do you call a hand that helps?” “I don’t know… what?” I replied, even though I could sort of tell where this joke was headed. “A helping hand,” he exclaimed, grinning and raising his eyebrows up and down in that mischievous way he does. Dude is really into jokes at the moment. He likes to learn them (or make them up) and then he works on perfecting his comedic timing and intonation. Because above all else, he likes to laugh and he likes to make others laugh. So when I got an email asking if I’d...

read more


Posted by on Sep 21, 2017 in Uncategorized | 2 comments

Dear Ryan, Today, you turned seven years old. I’ve been looking at baby and toddler pictures of you recently and sometimes I think you still look exactly the same, and other times I can’t believe how grown up you look now. I probably say this every year, but I love the stage you’re in right now. You are becoming more independent every day, which means you are also becoming more helpful. And not just in the we-pretend-you’re-being-helpful-to-teach-you-to-be-helpful sort of way, but really, truly helpful. The other morning, you woke up early...

read more

How One Man Went From Foster Care Advocate to Dad {HuffPost}

Posted by on Sep 6, 2017 in Uncategorized | 0 comments

The day that changed the course of Jon Cardoza’s life started out as a fairly ordinary one. He’d gotten in trouble at school – again – and was sitting down over sandwiches that afternoon to endure yet another lecture from his mentor. “That was the day he popped the question,” Jon recalls now, more than a year later. “He was like, ‘Oh my gosh, you are so frustrating; I should just adopt you.’” At 16 years old, Jon had given up on the idea that he would ever be adopted. He’d spent the first dozen years of his life enduring abuse and neglect...

read more

On failure.

Posted by on Aug 10, 2017 in Uncategorized | 18 comments

My cell phone rings, lighting up with a now-familiar phone number. I swallow hard, swipe the screen and answer: “Hey, kiddo.” The voice on the other end belongs to a 10-year-old boy. A boy who lived with us for three months. The boy we fully expected and intended to make an official part of our family. The one we were supposed to keep forever. There’s another term for this, and it is one that weighs heavy on my heart: Failed adoption. It’s not our first time caring for a foster child. Our first foster son was three years old when he came to...

read more

A Gift Guide for the Foster Parent in Your Life.

Posted by on Jul 26, 2017 in Uncategorized | 0 comments

When Mike and I first became foster parents to BlueJay more than two years ago – and it felt as though utter chaos descended upon our home – our village stepped up with support. One friend brought us a full dinner, complete with homemade bread. Another friend sent a gift card to the local ice cream shop. A group of friends banded together to purchase a family pack of tickets to the local – super expensive – amusement park. When we became foster parents a second time to James earlier this year, one friend hopped online to buy him a few new...

read more

The update I wish I didn’t have to write.

Posted by on Jun 26, 2017 in Uncategorized | 8 comments

There are moments in life that do more than test you. They strip you down to the core and make you examine exactly who you are, what you are made of, and — sometimes — what you can handle. Our newest foster son, 10-year-old James, was in our home for three months when we arrived at that moment. That moment often doesn’t happen over night. It’s a long and winding journey. At every turn, you might think, “Ok, now it will get better. Soon; we’ll be able to breathe again soon.” But one final hard turn to the right can make things clear even as...

read more

A letter to my foster son on his 10th birthday.

Posted by on Jun 6, 2017 in Uncategorized | 8 comments

Mr. Sparkles, I know, you hate that nickname, but you earned it the day you came home from school with your head so covered in glitter you looked like a disco ball. You’re not quite sure what inspired you to dip both hands into a tub of glitter during a class art project, or furthermore what prompted you to rub said glitter all over your head, but I could tell you were delighted that I laughed instead of cringed when you got home. Even the bus driver parked herself in the middle of our street to see my reaction. If all that glitter had washed...

read more