Foster Babies

There is nothing that melts the heart like a little baby. The gruffest of burly men soften and become putty with a newborn baby in his arms. Women gather around a new baby like a mama hen with her chicks, clucking, ooooing and ahhhhing. Even grumpy people smile at the sight of a soft little baby. A new life brings hope of the future, but sometimes a new life is unwanted and seems hopeless.

• 

One day in 1967 there was a knock on the door. It was a lady with Family and Children Services. My parent’s names had been suggested as prospective foster parents and there was a desperate need for foster families to care for newborn babies. With four of us kids still at home, Mama didn’t have extra time, but she agreed to help them out until arrangements were made for adoption. 

• 

The case worker brought us a big baby boy straight from the hospital. All we knew about the little guy’s parents was they were professors at the University and a baby did not fit into their budget. You know, it doesn’t take much to get attached to a new little person. That little guy was very smart. His personality won the heart of everyone who saw him. He was cooing and smiling in no time. We kept him for at least six months. It was really hard to let him go, but it wasn’t long before we had another baby. Over a period of six years, we kept at least thirty babies for two and three months, some longer. Occasionally we would keep a toddler for a shorter period of time. One of the saddest situations was a little girl about two or three years old who had cigarette burns all over her body. When Mama put her in the crib to sleep, the little girl whimpered like a scared puppy. When she was lifted out of the crib, the little girl ran to the corner of the room and curled up on the floor. Mama made a bed for her in the corner. There is no telling what that little girl had lived through. She was sent back to her mom who promised to reform but it wasn’t long before the little girl came to us again. 

• 

All the babies we kept were unique with their own looks and personalities. One of the perks of keeping foster babies was that we got to name them. We took turns naming each new baby. Of course, the adoptive parents had names picked out for them but one of the babies kept the name we gave him. 

• 

The last baby we kept was a little boy. He was a ward of the state. We knew he would not be adopted. He was to stay with us until they found a place for him in a State institution. The little guy’s mother was a young teenager, a drug addict. The baby suffered from withdrawals and had epileptic seizures. He was born with a closed skull that had to be crushed in order for his brain to grow. Jagged edges of his crushed skull could be felt and seen under the skin on his head. He was legally deaf and practically blind. His eyes were glazed over and they darted back and forth almost continually. His cry was the sound of a wounded animal. He had no instinct to suck, so we got a cloth, dipped it in milk and taught him to suck so he would learn to take a bottle. It broke our hearts. The doctors said he would never respond to any stimulation, even to touch, but they were wrong. If he was whimpering or agitated, there were very few who could quieten him down. He responded to their touch and sensed if someone was comfortable with him. I was one of those he responded to. I think that is the reason that of all the babies we kept, he was my favorite. I figured he needed us more than any of the others. 

I have thought about those babies over the years and wondered what happened to all of them. I would like to think that somehow we made a difference and am thankful my parents were willing to open their home and their hearts to care for these little ones.