After escaping domestic violence, my children and I went to foster care

While my children slept soundly in the next room, I was lying in my own bed when a wave of calm washed over me.

I had just spent the evening with my new foster carer; I knew I could trust her, and she me.

Then I realized—for the first time in a long time since escaping domestic violence at age 23—that I was finally free and able to be myself.

You see, foster carers can be for adults too. They are there for you – the parent – ​​as much as they are for the children. They can act as role models for parents, helping them heal from the past and guiding them towards a better future.

Domestic violence is a tricky one, because it’s only when you’re away from the person and the situation that you can finally see what’s going on with you.

I met my ex-partner through mutual friends at the age of 17. I was a train wreck teenager, with no ambition or motivation, and no idea what I wanted out of life. When we first met, I thought how nice it was to just have someone to listen to me. I loved the feeling that someone cared and wanted me.

I fell in love, almost instantly. Here was a man who wanted to take care of me; he listened to my problems, my past and my experiences.

What I didn’t realize until years later was that there were already the first signs of abuse from the very beginning. It started almost immediately, but it was so subtle that I and the people around me didn’t even notice.

Soon, however, it began to accelerate rapidly. What started as a seemingly “perfect” relationship quickly led to me losing control of my finances, being constantly belittled and monitored. He was never physically abusive, but my emotions, self-esteem, confidence – they took the biggest blow.

I stopped leaving my house, stopped talking to people and generally lived my life.

I became pregnant with my first child, my son, at the age of 19. It wasn’t a planned pregnancy, but I was happy – we seemed happy as a couple. But our relationship remained fleeting. Some days were good, and some days were terrible.

When I became pregnant with my second child at age 22, the abuse only got worse. Every day there was constant name calling, arguing and aggression. I felt worthless and slowly became isolated from my friends.

But my kids kept me going. My two beautiful children depended on me for every little thing. I knew they needed me no matter how I was treated or how I felt inside myself. Every day I would get up and be ‘Mommy’ to them – that’s one thing I always did right.

I felt connected to my partner through trauma and our children. It was hard, but it also felt strangely safe. I was at a complete low.

My foster carer became my friend and family, and I started to feel accepted for who I was

Ultimately, social services were called in after an incident of physical violence at our home address. Although not directed against me, me and my children witnessed the incident. At the time, my son was two years old and my daughter only five or six months old.

Social services told me that I was in a domestic abusive relationship and that my children were not safe. They told me to leave my partner but in denial I refused.

This is because I believed every word my partner told me at the time. When he told me everything would be fine, I believed him. His words were gospel to me.

Soon I found myself in the family courts. I had no choice. Sitting there, I was given the ultimatum – the kids, or him. I chose my children. I was afraid to end it, but I knew I couldn’t lose my kids.

That was not an option. So reluctantly I agreed. A no-molecular order was issued to make sure he couldn’t contact me and that was it. We were done.

However, the process of freeing myself from that trauma bond and relationship was not that simple and easy. After so many years I found that I had to completely rebuild myself and my life.

I left my partner and within 24 hours myself and my children – now two years old and nine months old – became five hours away from everything we knew, towards a parent and foster care arrangement. It was just five days before my son’s third birthday and a few weeks before Christmas.

The first days of foster care were the craziest time for me. I had never lived without a partner or parents. I had been pulled away from what I had always known, out of my comfort zone, placed in a stranger’s house. I was in a city I didn’t know, without family or friends, without a partner. I wanted to leave so badly and I cried a lot of tears the first few days.

I remember thinking that this lady, my foster carer, must have thought I was a terrible mother – because everyone seemed to be doing that at the time.

But I also knew I had to make this work. I knew that as long as the kids had me, everything would be fine. But who did I have? What about me?

Things got better when I stopped fighting the change. It wasn’t so scary anymore. My foster carer became my friend and family, and I started to feel accepted for who I was.

My foster carer was (and is) the kindest, most caring soul. Straight to the point, with a hard face, but really wanting to get the best out of people.

Every day I was there, we grew closer, sharing stories from our past that we could both identify with. Talking to her was therapeutic; I felt like I could finally talk about my feelings, trauma, hopes and dreams – all without judgment.

Her support was unparalleled and I felt she believed in me. I knew I could tell her anything.

My children and I were in foster care from December 2018 to April 2019. Just five months changed the course of my whole life

Her house started to feel like my home. She had older children of her own and a family dog, but as time went on, we just seemed to fall into place there.

I started training my brain again. I said affirmations every day and taught myself by taking courses aimed at victims of abuse. I watched YouTube videos and documentaries about the effects of trauma and abuse on the brain. I also signed up for parenting courses to help me become the mother I desperately wanted to be.

Soon I connected with my children on a deeper level and understood their little minds and how they learn and process things.

I’ve always found it easy to meet their basic needs such as food, warmth and cleanliness – but taking the time to play with them, talk to them and understand them as people was something I missed. But over time, I began to learn how to be a mother who is present in thought, not just in person.

I also started to find my independence. I realized I was in control; that I could make my own plans and my own decisions after such a long time was empowering. Finally I started to heal.

Healing is a journey. It’s one of the hardest journeys I’ve ever taken – it’s a long process and I’m still healing. But in foster care, I realized there was power in turning my pain into success.

Nothing ever worth doing comes easy and in my case it certainly wasn’t easy. My life almost slipped through my fingers so many times, but I never lost sight of what I wanted: my children.

Foster care was meant to happen to me, and I now know that it had to get bad before it could get better. My children and I were in foster care from December 2018 to April 2019. Just five months changed the course of my whole life.

We then moved into assisted living for nine months from our placement and eventually moved into our own forever home.

Everything that has happened has shaped me into the person I am today. A strong, independent mother, who runs a tight ship with two beautiful children. A woman who can take care of herself and her family, who can speak up, who can set boundaries—who is now sharing her raw, real, emotional rollercoaster of a story in the hopes it will help others going through similar things.

My life is beautiful now. Our new home is content, filled with love and laughter. We are settled and we are happy.