I can remember the day like it was yesterday.

It was a Friday afternoon around 3 p.m. when I received a phone call that would forever change my life. The kind woman on the other end informed me that our home study was officially approved—and we were now open to accept placements.

I was overjoyed… but I didn’t have long to celebrate.

The next words out of her mouth were, “We have a placement ready for you.”

I listened carefully to the intake information and jotted down every detail. I already had a list of questions typed up to help me decide if a placement would be a good fit. I reviewed my notes with my mom, and right then and there, we decided: We’re doing this.

That night, we had a church event in a nearby town. And that’s where they met us—to hand me my very first foster daughter.

Did I mention I had never had a child living with me full-time, let alone one in my legal custody?

Talk about diving into the deep end—this girl was 17.

The next eleven months were an unforgettable rollercoaster.

She lived with us full-time for nine months until she turned 18. She was brilliant and artistic, kind but deeply guarded. I got to watch her slowly open up, and it was beautiful to witness the change in her.

Over the following months, I accepted three temporary placements. Each girl stayed for just four days, but each left her mark. One was 16, and the other two were 15.

At the very end of our journey, we welcomed a 14-year-old who stayed for a month. She tested me in more ways than I can count.

In total, I fostered five teenage girls. During that time, I went through two investigations due to false claims, several pregnancy tests, countless restless nights, and more than a few tears—shed by every person in the house at some point. I was tricked, yelled at, and lied to. But if you know anything about foster care, especially with teens, you know: that’s part of it.

So, do I regret it?

Not at all.

Because through it all, I grew. I learned patience. I learned how to protect myself while still extending grace. I learned how to be tough when needed—and soft when it mattered most. I made mistakes. A lot of them. But I loved those girls with my whole heart.

I wish I could tell you each story had a happy ending.

That each girl went home to a safe, loving environment—or was adopted by a family who saw how amazing they were. I wish I could tell you all five girls still keep in touch and we have a strong, unbreakable bond.

But that wouldn’t be true.

The three temporary placements moved on—either back to a previous foster home or to higher-level placements where they could get the help they needed. My first foster daughter moved out on her 18th birthday… and cut off all contact a month later.

Receiving love back from them was never guaranteed.

But I gave mine freely.

And I still love them.

With everything in me.