My wife and I just had a baby! Well, kind-of. As of the 28th we became parents. Well, parents again.

Kind-of.

So once again I’m a father…kind-of.

In some ways I feel like a father: I’m changing dirty diapers and not getting a lot of sleep. I’m buying lots of baby clothes and diapers and formula. I’m coming up with baby names and imagining a future for our little girl. And I would do anything for her, so I feel like a father. Kind-of.

On the other hand, one phone call and she could be gone. One knock at the door and we could lose her. We could be taking care of her and loving her and imagining a future for her one moment and the next moment a Social Worker could be taking her from our hands for the final time.

I’m an actor. I deal with emotions and feelings on a regular basis but even so sometimes I’m still not sure how to feel. I think that’s one of the most difficult things about this process.

We’ve received plenty of advice on the subject. We’ve been advised: “don’t get attached,” and “treat it like a practice child,” and “don’t get too close.” But here’s the truth, I have zero interest in having a child in my home and not getting attached. There is no way I’m going to go about the process of caring for the physical needs of a neglected baby while completely ignoring her emotional needs.

My wife recently showed me an article on social media written by a foster-mother. This mother told about how she found her former child’s toothbrush and broke down crying. She told about how people told her to stop fostering because of the pain it caused her. She told about how people couldn’t understand why she would put herself though all of pain and heartbreak. Then she said something that stuck with me. She said it wouldn’t be right of her to deny giving a child, who has never been held or loved, her love just because it would cause her pain. She wrote that she can handle the pain because she’s an adult and she can understand it. She said she can take the pain so a child who otherwise would never feel love can feel love.

Most people say they want to make a difference in the world. But if more people would actually love others enough to inconvenience themselves to help, then the world would already be a much better place.

Look at Mother Teresa. I’m sure most of the nuns in her convent wanted to make a difference. But Saint Teresa of Calcutta was the one who inconvenienced herself enough to help the children. She was the one who got dirty with the poor and dying.

So how does someone make a difference and show that type of love in a difficult world? I think that to get through the foster system, or any difficult system, you must have one thing: hope. You have to adopt an attitude of hope. You have to have the belief that things will get better and hold onto the hope that things will change. You have to have hope for yourself. And the belief that you are giving hope to someone else.

Anyone who is making a difference in the world has adopted hope.

Look who started the hospitals in America. During this foster care journey my wife and I have been through the doors of a lot of hospitals and I can tell you one thing: most of the hospitals were founded by the same people who founded the churches. The same people who started most of the universities and schools and libraries and community centers and orphanages. It’s the people who have adopted hope.

Hope is what it takes to make a difference in the life of someone who is hurting. Hope in their life and yours. Because if you have no hope yourself how can you share hope with others?

That’s what my wife and I have: Hope. Hope that this child will stay with us. Hope that we can make a difference in her life, no matter how much of it we might get to be part of. Hope that this little baby, who barely escaped being aborted and who spent her first three weeks of life in the ICU, can go on to make a difference in her world.

 

Click to read: How to Borrow Strength -A Foster Care Story