A letter to the children we couldn't keep, and the carers who understand this heartbreak:
I feel like I failed. The kids are gone. I was supposed to protect them. I'm their mum after all, but they didn't stay. They went to a placement that isn't the best for them. I'm told they're okay. That they are getting used to it, but it still feels wrong. I still feel like I failed them. And the hardest part, I can't see them to know they are okay. I can't check in on them. I can't hug them. I can't do anything from 1400km away.
We loved deeply, we fought as hard as we could and we still lost. The outcome was not what we wanted. It was not what we believe is best for them.
I'm so sorry, I want to say to them. I'm sorry I'm now part of your trauma. I never wanted to be. One day we were your parents and the next we are gone. You will think we abandoned you, that we didn't want you. But we did. We wanted to be there forever, but we couldn't be. Those who get to make the decision believed something else was better for you.
I'm sorry we failed you. But we really did try.
The Question That Haunts Us:
If you're a foster carer reading this, you might recognise that crushing question: "Did I fail?" It's the question that keeps us awake at night when placements end unexpectedly. When children we've loved as our own are moved to situations we believe aren't in their best interests. When the system makes decisions that feel fundamentally wrong.
But here's what I'm learning in the aftermath of our own heartbreak: The question isn't whether we failed. The question is whether the system failed them.
When Love Isn't Enough:
We're told that love conquers all. That if we just love these children enough, fight hard enough, advocate loud enough, everything will work out. But foster care doesn't operate in fairy tales. It operates in a complex web of policies, procedures, and decisions made by people who often don't know our children the way we do.
Sometimes, despite our best efforts:
Court decisions go against what we believe is best
Distance becomes an insurmountable barrier
System priorities don't align with what we see as the child's needs
Politics and procedures override relationships and love
This doesn't mean we failed. It means we're operating within a system that sometimes fails all of us – carers, children, and families alike.
The Invisible Grief:
There's a unique grief that comes with foster care – one that's rarely acknowledged or understood. When biological parents lose children, the world recognises their loss. When adoptive placements don't work out, there's sympathy and support. But when foster children leave our care, especially when we believe it's not in their best interests, our grief often goes unrecognised.
We're expected to "move on," to "remember it was always temporary," to "focus on the next child who needs us." But how do you move on from children who called you Mum and Dad? How do you forget bedtime stories, scraped knees you kissed better, and the way they fit perfectly in your arms?
You don't. And you shouldn't have to.
To the Children We Couldn't Keep:
If I could speak to every child who's left our care under circumstances beyond our control, here's what I'd say:
You were not a burden. You were not too hard to love. You were not the reason things didn't work out the way we all hoped.
We didn't give up on you. We fought for you in ways you may never know. We advocated, we pleaded, we presented every argument we could think of. When the decision was made to move you, it wasn't because we didn't want you anymore.
You changed us. You made us better people. You taught us about resilience, about joy in small moments, about love that doesn't depend on biology or permanence. You will always be part of our story.
And one day, when you're older, I hope you'll understand that sometimes adults make decisions that don't feel right to any of us – including the adults who love you most.
To My Fellow Foster Carers:
If you're reading this through tears because you recognise this pain, please hear this:
You didn't fail.
You opened your home and heart to children who needed both. You provided safety, love, and stability for whatever time you had together. You fought battles others will never see. You became part of their story in ways that matter, even if the ending wasn't what any of you wanted.
The children in your care benefited from being loved by you, even if it was temporary. Research shows us that even brief periods of stable, loving care can have lasting positive impacts on children's development and future relationships.
Your love mattered. Your advocacy mattered. Your sleepless nights and fierce protection mattered. The fact that you're grieving proves how much you cared – and that caring was never a failure.
Moving Forward With Purpose:
This heartbreak – this feeling of failure when the system fails our children – it's exactly why I've founded this platform and The Hope and Transformation Initiative. It's why we need to keep sharing these stories, keep advocating for change, keep supporting each other through the impossible parts of this journey.
Every time we speak honestly about these experiences, we:
Validate other carers who feel alone in their grief
Highlight system gaps that need addressing
Advocate for children who deserve better
Build the community support that can sustain us through the hardest moments
The Truth About Success in Foster Care:
Success in foster care isn't measured by how many children stay forever. It's measured by how many children experience love, safety, and advocacy during their time with us. It's measured by the healing that happens in our homes, the skills children learn, the attachment they experience, and the knowledge that they are worthy of love and protection.
Sometimes success looks like adoption or long-term care. Sometimes it looks like children returning safely to family. And sometimes – the hardest times – success looks like children moving on to other placements, carrying with them the love and lessons they learned in our homes.
We Keep Going
So to the children 1400km away, and to all the children who've left our care when we weren't ready to let go: we're sorry the system couldn't keep us all together. We're sorry the decisions didn't go the way we hoped. But we're not sorry we loved you.
And we'll keep fighting – for you, for the children still in our homes, and for the ones yet to come. Because that's what love does. It doesn't give up, even when it has to let go.
If you're a foster carer struggling with similar feelings, you're not alone.
With Love Always,
Dani x
