When Jamie welcomed a new foster child into her home, the young girl already knew the drill: meet the family, check out the new house, and maybe play with some dolls.
In the Facebook post, Jamie wrote that the little girl lived in four different homes in five months before coming under her care.
The foster mom got emotional by the fact that the girl was already conditioned to live in a foster home and had never known what a real home or a real mother was.
She realized this when the girl said something only a few minutes after meeting Jamie for the first time. She called her, “mommy,” which surprised Jamie because then she realized that the girl never really knew what a real mother was like.
She wrote in her post that for the little girl, “mommy” was just a female adult in the house who could “reach something you couldn’t and refilled your juice.”
“She walks in confidently and with a smile. She knows the drill,” she wrote about the girl in her Facebook post.
Jamie wrote about the experience in a post that was shared on the Love What Matters Facebook page:
I get down on my knees and say, “Hi, sweetie. My name is Jamie. I’m so glad you’ve come to stay with us. Do you want to go meet the kids?”
The other kids are the welcoming committee, the tour guides, and the concierge service for our little residence (“You’re here! Want to see your bed? Want a baby doll? Want a snack? I love you!”). They’re the key to a new child feeling at home.
Nothing makes me feel prouder of my bios than watching them do this. Nothing makes my fosters feel more like “mine” than watching them follow suit.
She wanders around with the other kids for approximately 11 minutes before she runs into the room with a smile and says, “Look, mommy!” To me. The woman she met 11 minutes before.
To this little girl, “mommy” meant the female adult of the house, the lady who reached something you couldn’t and refilled your juice. Having five “mommies” in five months, she hadn’t yet had the chance to learn what mommy meant.
Mommy meant falling asleep on shoulders, kissing skinned knees, teaching ABCs. Mommy meant helping homework, whispering about friends, sitting outside dressing rooms. Mommy meant taking pictures at graduation, hugging on wedding day, cuddling grandchildren. Mommy meant security. Mommy meant commitment. Mommy meant life-long love.
She was only two years old, though, with a biological mom working hard to get her back and a foster mom willing to step in if she couldn’t. This little girl had the hope of learning that mommy isn’t just what you call a female who helps you, of forgetting that mommy could ever be just a name. This little girl would know what mommy meant. This little girl would have a mommy.
Sources: OpposingViews, HealthyPage, Love What Matters/Facebook