Foster Relationships Novels & Stories

Because she deliberately wanted to get to know them. Her foster mother used to say that we should maintain good relationships and be polite to everyone, as we never know who might help us in the future. Cutting off ties is akin to cutting off blessings, while strengthening connections leads to expanding one's network. That's what her foster mother used to tell her.

For a moment, I simply stared at the words, waiting for them to rearrange themselves into something less dangerous. They did not. Downgrade. Such an innocent word for something so surgical. I expanded the file. Subject to be reassigned to controlled developmental guardianship. Maternal proximity no longer recommended. Emotional variables deemed destabilizing. A foster parent. They were giving my son to strangers. My jaw tightened so hard it hurt. Tristan would live but he would not belong to Abigail anymore. And if he did not belong to Abigail… He would eventually belong to them. A slow, suffocating rage filled my chest.

Emily's POV; Mr Hamilton said, "At eleven, I was sent to a foster care after my parents passed away. Even though my family is pretty big, no one took me and I was left to fend for myself in foster care. After six months of being on my own, I saw you. You looked lost and someone took advantage of it and bullied you. Colton and his friends. I saw and walked away. But one night, I saw you looking at the moon like it's the only thing in the world with you. The next day, I stood for you against Colton to make you realise that there's another person in this world too. Since then, you started tagging along with me wherever I go. We started eating and playing together. The orphanage which felt like

"I thought you had to be married to be a foster parent? Isn't it a requirement or something?" "Nope," she says shaking her head back and forth. "There are too many kids in foster care and not enough homes for them. At this point, as long as you aren't a pedophile, child protective services welcomes just about anyone to foster. Plus, you'd be surprised how many little girls are so afraid of men because of the abuse they've gone through that they can't live with one."

The rest would stay and get to experience the cycle again. My foster sister ran away and I didn't know why. Not at first. A year had passed now and my foster parents had become Sober again. Smiling faces, kind words, never missing church. Two more kids came to join us, making four. Two girls this time. The period of peace lasted longer, maybe four months, during which another kid was adopted. And then the cycle began again.

“I’m so sorry. That must have been hard, losing another parental figure.” “It was.” I sniff. “Bas and I were worried they might send us back. I mean, our foster brothers have all moved out, and suddenly our foster dad was left with two teenagers to care for. But he’s been amazing. His sister and her daughter moved in to help, and we’re an even bigger family now. It’s better than I ever imagined it could be.” “When Bas and I both got accepted here, they decided to come too, to use it as an excuse to have a fresh start.” I shrug.

But we were separated to different foster homes because I was too young to raise my siblings, and Effie couldn't live with our aunt in the Philippines because of her tantrums. I lived with a lovely old couple, John and Addy Ferguson. They are around their seventies, and their children already have their own life. They feel lonely sometimes. So when social services planted me in Ferguson's home, they welcomed me with open arms. I was skeptical at first because the Fergusons are strangers to me, and I learned from too many dramas that living in foster homes can be scary. They tried to open up to me by being kind and gentle, but I still didn't trust them. Over sometimes, while doubting they wer

~ Memories~ It was the first year of high school, I got a new foster family. In the beginning, I was distanced, most caregivers take children just to get paid and they never cared about the children. Bill and Georgia were different, they were an old married couple. They had three children, but they all moved out and after settling out of the state they rarely came to visit. They wanted to take care of the child and give them a love that they could not give to their grandchildren who were too far away.

I guess, also, I’ve had siblings in my previous foster homes, but most of the time they were much younger or much older than me, and with how often I moved families, I never really had much time to form any sort of bond with them. I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me. I know that my life is different and maybe even weird to someone who has grown up in one home with a complete family. But this is my normal. This is what I’m used to. I’ll admit, though, that I really hope I don’t have to leave Jack and Shirley soon. Those are the names of my foster parents, if you couldn’t figure that out. It’s really nice being the only foster kid in their home. This is the first time that’s h

I’d accepted that a long time ago. My life was a blur of one foster home after another. I bounced from house to house. They called me problematic. Not all of my foster families were bad though. Some of them were high on a daily basis. Those were my favorite because they didn’t give a damn what I did, just as long as they got their next hit. I’d been expelled from a list of schools in the local area, but when I finally graduated, I didn’t have to worry about it anymore. I was happy when that part of my life was over, when I was free from the daily grind of classes, lectures, and homework. But then, I got transferred again. Another foster family. Again.