When Love Is Rejected. The Foster Parent Ache

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Last week, I talked about two boys that we had in our house and how I connected with both of them. One was exceptionally easy for me to connect with. The other, no matter what I tried, I couldn’t seem to ever figure out how to love him well. This week, we’re going to talk about showing up when loving hurts. (It’s going to be in 3 parts, because it seems that I’ve written a whole novel.) This takes it a step past “It’s hard to connect” and into painful territory. But, I have good news for you… It doesn’t have to stay painful! There are things that we can do - practical tools to add into our mental routines - that can help support us when loving a child (or another person) hurts.

(To clarify, I’m talking about relationships that fall under the bell curve of normal. If you’re in an abusive relationship, please stop reading and call someone to help you.)

Years ago, we had a teenager come into our home. When she came, she was 17, and we knew that we were the last stop. Our “yes” was a forever yes. In foster care, there’s a program called “Extended Foster Care” where once a child turns 18, they can practice independent living with the help of the county underneath them. In Florida, where we live, this looks like free housing, a monthly stipend, healthcare, and adult support as long as you’re in school part-time or working at least part-time. It’s a soft-launch, if you will. This program was suggested to our teen placement every 3 weeks, minimally, while she was in our home. She rejected it every time. She was done with the system, and she wanted to live with us. She wanted to be our daughter. We wanted her to be our daughter. Then, her father said that he was terminating his parental rights, and we could adopt her. Then, all hell broke loose. 

The relationship that had once been so effortless was suddenly ice-cold. We began walking on eggshells. One wrong answer and we’d get the silent treatment for days. She started staying in her room 90% of the time she was home. She came out for silent meals and then went right back in. I knew the source of the pain, and my heart broke with hers, but I couldn’t figure out a way to get past the wall. It didn’t stop me from trying. After about a month of this, it shifted from her getting space to her actively trying to hurt us as we attempted to love her. She taught me what an arrow dipped in poison could feel like as she shot it at my heart. I stood in the hallway, braced against the wall, propping myself up when she told me that I was replaceable with her math tutor. It was all the same to her. (Direct quote.) One day, we texted her asking what she’d like for dinner, Brad made the meal, we served dinner, and she stayed in her room. He knocked on her door several times, and she refused to even acknowledge him. I sat at the table waiting for her to come out. At 10 pm, I remove the plate from the table and throw the food in the trash. I burned with cold fury as he cried in our room that night. It’s the first time I ever knew what the term “ice in my veins” felt like. 

I am, of course, only telling you small details of what the rest of that placement looked like. Not because I need vindication, but because I want you to know that I know what this feels like. I know what it feels like when loving somebody rips your heart out. How do you show up? How do you keep showing up?

It’s a 3-part answer that balances the weight of responsibility of the relationship evenly between the two parties. You’re going to carry your load, and only your load.

Here are the categories: perception, boundaries, and control. 

Our next post will dive into those three categories.