The image of a packed backpack can stir various feelings. If it signifies a small adventure, it may invoke excitement and joyful anticipation. If it signals a productive day ahead, it might bring about readiness. However, for some, a backpack can be a source of dread.
For children who have spent their formative years in foster care, a backpack can mean something entirely different. It can be a painful reminder of instability and trauma, a symbol of being shuffled from one home to another with no real sense of security. For them, a zipped-up backpack might trigger overwhelming fear.
When we first prepared a backpack for Zoe, she had been with us for eight weeks. My maternity leave was ending, and I needed to pack her essentials for daycare. Her brightly colored backpack, filled with extra clothes, pull-ups, and a cozy blanket, sat innocently among the other bags in our home. Yet, when she saw it, she erupted in terror.
Zoe frantically unzipped the backpack, scattering clothing everywhere, and in a fit of panic, she threw herself backward, slamming her head against the floor in distress. At just 32 months old, her limited vocabulary made it impossible to explain that daycare was just for a few hours, not a permanent departure. She thrashed and screamed, unable to comprehend the situation.
Fast forward to eleven months later, we took a short trip to a hotel in New Hampshire. The idea was simply to escape the long Maine winter and enjoy some family time. We spent days preparing her for this “hotel” experience, emphasizing that it would be temporary and fun, with all of us together.
When we arrived, the sight of the hotel sent her into a panic. “Are you leaving me? This is my home! You’re abandoning me!” Her deep-seated fears were evident. Her time in foster care had ingrained a fear of strangers, unfamiliar places, and constantly packing up and leaving with no explanation.
Now, Zoe is older and can grasp concepts of time better, but her anxiety remains a hurdle. This makes travel challenging for us, contrasting sharply with my lifelong passion for exploring new places. While my biological children grew up associating backpacks with adventure, Zoe’s experiences have been rooted in fear and uncertainty.
Recently, I took Zoe to meet other moms and their children, which she initially resisted with a flood of anxious questions. I tried to coach her on expressing her feelings, but calming her down was a struggle. After 20 frustrating minutes, she turned to a bag of cereal to distract herself as we drove.
During the ride, I attempted to recapture the thrill of exploration, but Zoe’s anxiety loomed large. Even when she seemed calm, it was always just a moment away from chaos. When we arrived at our destination, she enjoyed some time playing but eventually succumbed to overwhelming emotions, leading to a meltdown.
I rushed her back to the car, where she unleashed her frustration at me, calling me names and kicking the seat. Despite my efforts to soothe her, we spent the ride home in anger and confusion. In a fleeting moment, she exclaimed, “I AM FINALLY IN MAINE AGAIN!” highlighting her disorientation.
I often reflect on how I could have handled these situations better. It’s challenging to remain calm when faced with such intense emotions. I wish for a day when those moments of peace and excitement can replace the chaos that often accompanies them. One can only hope that one day Zoe will find joy in a packed backpack rather than fear.
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In summary, the seemingly innocuous act of packing a backpack can be a daunting experience for a foster child, filled with anxiety and fear associated with their past. Understanding and patience are essential in helping them navigate these feelings.