Our quaint little home containing our family of four abruptly changed that day. We were young and green completely ready to save the world.
The call for placement of a large sibling set came with urgency. 12 eyes looked into ours with hope and fear battling for first place in their little hearts. They couldn't have been more adorable! Surely my mothers love could "save" them - right? Their stories each resembling the others yet holding mountain sized differences in emotional effects. We were in instant love with these little treasures.
 Becoming quickly comfortable we entered in to our pseudo-normal temporary life. With all my magical mom powers I made a sensible monster sized breakfast of oatmeal their first morning. Well they did like me. You should have seen their faces as they tried so hard to eat the mess of paste I proudly put before them. Finally breaking the silence at the table one says "please, we were put in foster care to keep us safe, not to kill us". We laughed so hard we about fell off our chairs. I never made them oatmeal again! This being a perfect example of the lasting memories made during our time together.
 Every morning one of the littles would take my husbands hand and stare up at him silently and not move. This began an ever so amazing routine where he would say "has anyone told you yet this morning they love you" a sweet little voice from a smiling face would reply "noooo" giving hint to his next line of "well I love you" she would reply with "really?" and the final line being "really, really". This became a daily gem that not only those two loved but that the rest of us enjoyed watching.
 Answering a call from the social worker led to one of the most painful experiences of our lives. It was time to return the kiddos. My husband was to bring them to the county building. I remember it like it was yesterday with the pain still fresh. That little smiley voice that held his hand and looked desperately and trustingly up at him now was pleading with him not to bring her back. Those faces were filled with tears and anger as he walked them into the building. That little voice still pleading eventually having to be pried off of him.
 He walked back in our house in nearly convulsive weeping. No words. With all the love we had for them we could not save them. Our hearts felt shattered. Had we done enough? Did we just cause yet another wound in their fragile hearts? Those questions, unbeknownst to us were to be reoccurring and follow us with every young life that blessed ours.