This post was written by Kylee Rucinski. Kylee and Garrett Rucinski are one of our Columbia foster families.
Last night, a funny memory popped into my head. In early 2024, my husband and I had just signed up for foster parent training through Coyote Hill. When I realized it was a 10-week course made up of 3-hour Zoom classes, I panicked. How was I going to keep our kids entertained for that long? Did I need to buy activity kits? Plan crafts? Build an obstacle course in the living room? I felt overwhelmed before we’d even started.
We’ve come a long way since then.
This month marks one year since we officially became licensed foster parents. Since October, we’ve had the privilege of caring for two brothers who are close in age to our own kids. As I thought back to those early worries, it hit me how much we’ve grown—individually and as a family—in ways I never could have predicted and am so grateful for.
So I decided to write a few things down. These are lessons we’ve learned—lessons that stretched us, shaped us, and might just encourage another family starting this beautiful and hard journey.
1. The parenting isn’t the hard part.
Sure, the boys came with their share of “hard things” to work on and through—and they’ve come a long way. But that’s not what I would call the hardest part. The hardest part is witnessing the loss behind their story. Lost friends. Lost routines. Lost toys. Lost family. They have siblings they rarely get to see now, extended family whose names they’re beginning to forget. We can’t undo that pain. We can’t rewrite their memories. We can’t fix what brought them into care. And we don’t have clear answers for what comes next. That’s the weight of foster care—holding space for a child’s grief when you can’t take it away.
2. We can accept help.
I grew up believing I needed to be strong and self-sufficient. But when your family size doubles overnight, you learn to let go of that idea real fast. Family offered free babysitting. Friends dropped off meals, clothes, toys. Even my boss took the kids out for a movie and ice cream once. We said yes to all of it. Because this work is beautiful—but it’s also hard. And when people see the hard and want to support you? Let them. We’ve learned fostering isn’t something you can do alone—and thankfully, we haven’t had to.
3. Our kids can handle it.
People love to say “kids are resilient,” but then bubble-wrap them from anything that might cause discomfort. My Zoom-class panic? Classic example. Turns out, my kids were fine. More than fine, actually. They’ve made space in their hearts and home for two more kids. They’ve learned to share their parents, their stuff, and their routines. They’ve had to stretch, to compromise, to speak up—and they’re thriving. Sure, we have hard moments. But our kids have learned to be empathetic, flexible, and inclusive. They’ve grown in maturity, communication, and self-awareness. And honestly? It’s brought the four of us closer.
I’m so incredibly proud of them. Watching them step up, love big, and grow through this has been one of the most rewarding parts of the journey.
4. We have to be a team.
No one warns you about the laundry. Seriously—how is there so much laundry? When it was just the four of us, we managed. But once we had six, the old systems collapsed. We were drowning in dishes and socks. So we made a change. We sat the kids down and said, “We can’t do this alone. We need your help. We’re a team.” We’ve found that treating our kids (bio and foster) as part of the team works. They’re learning life skills and we’re getting things done—together.
5. We’ve learned to lean on the experts.
One of the unexpected gifts of this journey has been our foster care team. We know that not every family is as fortunate, and we don’t take it for granted, but we’ve had an incredible support system. Our caseworker and GAL have stayed the same from the very beginning, which has given us much-needed consistency. The boys have a wonderful play therapist and doctor. And our family advocate at Coyote Hill—Lorenzo—is the kind of steady presence every foster parent needs. Except when he tells us things are “case specific” . . . I would like him to be better at predicting the future. When we started this process, we thought we had to figure it all out ourselves. But we’ve learned the importance of asking questions, looping in the professionals, and leaning on their wisdom. They’ve helped us navigate the complexities of trauma, paperwork, visits, medical needs, legal updates—you name it. Foster care isn’t something you’re meant to do alone. When the system works well—and the people in it are compassionate, consistent, and communicative—it makes all the difference.
6. We are more capable than we knew.
Every family starts this journey with doubts. Can I handle it? Can I love kids who aren’t mine? What if the behaviors are hard? What if reunification is painful? We had those doubts too—and for a long time they held us back. But I’m so glad we finally said yes. I’ve learned I can juggle a million things and (mostly) keep my head on straight. I’ve learned I can be fierce and soft, structured and nurturing. My husband and I have learned to communicate better, support each other more intentionally, and stay grounded in the chaos. We are stronger, more resilient, and more equipped than we ever imagined. This journey has taught us about parenting, about pain, about joy, about God, about the world—and we wouldn’t trade it for anything. If you’re just starting out or even just considering it, I hope these reflections offer a little encouragement. Foster care will stretch you—but it will also grow you in the best ways. And when you look back, you might just laugh at the things you once worried about, like how to survive a 3-hour Zoom.
To learn more about becoming a foster parent, visit coyotehill.org/become-a-foster-parent-in-missouri.
