I can remember my social worker sitting in my living room, about two months into caring for my foster son, saying the words:
“Don’t get too attached, he will go soon.”
Okay, cool.
This child who has already suffered trauma, moved a bunch of times and is finally settling in and happy — but I’ll just make sure I don’t get attached.
Problem solved.
I appreciate the sentiment behind the words. As foster carers, we know that placements are typically temporary. We know that children can move on. We know that there is always the possibility that one day you might have to say goodbye to a child you’ve cared for.
But there’s a bit of a problem with the whole “don’t get attached” thing.
How the fuck are you supposed to do that?
I’m not a robot. I can’t just switch the emotions off because there’s a possibility that one day this child might not be living in my house anymore.
When you have a small human living in your house, you get attached.
You learn what they like for breakfast. You learn what makes them laugh. You know when they’re actually tired versus when they’re just being a little shit. You know which foods they’ll eat and which foods they’ll dramatically announce are disgusting despite having never actually tried them.
You worry when they’re sick. You celebrate when they do something they’re proud of. You get annoyed when they’ve left their shoes in the middle of the hallway for the 47th time. You learn their routines. Their quirks. Their little expressions. You start knowing what they’re going to say before they’ve even said it.
And somewhere along the way, without really noticing it happening, you become attached.
For me, there was never really a switch that flipped. There wasn’t some big moment where I thought “Right, I’m officially attached to this child now.”. It just happened.
I think that’s probably the part that people who haven’t been foster carers don’t always understand.
You’re not looking after a suitcase that might eventually need to be returned to someone.
You’re looking after a kid.
A kid who needs someone to be there when they’re having a shit day. Someone to make them dinner. Someone to listen to the completely random story they’ve decided is vitally important. Someone to tell them off when they’re being an arsehole and then still tuck them in afterwards.
And if you’re doing that day after day, you’re going to care. Deeply.
I would actually go as far as to say that not getting attached is near on impossible, especially when so often we are the ones picking up the pieces and putting the puzzle back together.
You see the hard days. You see the behaviours. You see the things that happen when a child doesn’t have the words to explain what they’re feeling.
But you also get to see the other stuff.
- The little wins.
- The moments where they suddenly do something that maybe seemed completely ordinary to everyone else, but you know just how far they’ve come to get there.
- The random hugs.
- The stupid jokes.
- The moments where they’re just being a kid.
- And those are the moments that get you.
Because despite everything they’ve been through, they’re still a kid.
And you’re still their carer.
You’re still the person they’re coming home to.
So yes, placements can end. Children can move. Foster carers sometimes have to say goodbye.
That’s the reality of foster care, and pretending otherwise doesn’t help anyone.
But I don’t think the answer is to tell carers not to get attached.
Maybe the better advice is to understand that you probably will get attached, and that if the placement does end, it will fucking hurt.
Because attachment isn’t necessarily a failure of fostering.
Maybe it’s part of the point.
These kids need people who care about them. They need someone who is going to worry when they’re sick, celebrate their little wins, get frustrated when things aren’t fair and be genuinely happy when they walk through the front door.
They need someone who doesn’t treat them like a temporary arrangement.
And honestly?
I’m pretty sure there was absolutely fuck-all I could do about getting attached anyway.
I was already gone.