When I became a parent for the first time, my only focus was keeping my baby safe and making sure she had everything she needed.
That’s why stories of child neglect and abuse leave me shocked, heartbroken, and angry. While some parents may face personal struggles, there’s no excuse for endangering a child’s life through neglect.
Thankfully, there are incredible foster parents who step in when biological parents fail.
LeAnne and Eric’s story moved me to tears — and I don’t think anyone could read what they went through without feeling deeply touched.
LeAnne and Eric opened their hearts to a little boy named Easton Matthew, a survivor of shaken baby syndrome. His biological parents had cruelly neglected him, choosing sleep and work over even feeding their own child.
Thankfully, LeAnne and Eric stepped in — beginning a difficult, emotional journey that would become a powerful example of unconditional love.
We’ve been granted permission to share their heartbreaking yet inspiring story. I truly hope you read it to the end — it’s a story that will stay with you. ❤️
“The doctor handed me a frail, blue, 2-month-old baby boy weighing just over 7 pounds and said, ‘Take him home, love him, and feed him—because in a few days, this could be a very different story.’ For the first time in my life, I was afraid to take a baby home.”
It all began on a crisp fall day in 1996 when Eric and I said “I do,” full of excitement for our life ahead. We moved into our newly renovated home and planned for two children—just two. And by 2000, that dream came true: a beautiful baby boy, then a baby girl. We were a happy little family living our suburban fairy tale.
But a few years later, everything changed. Eric was listening to Focus on the Family, a radio show discussing raising children with special needs. Something stirred in his heart. He felt we were meant to grow our family again.
So in 2005, we welcomed another beautiful baby boy—and just over a year later, a baby girl. Our hearts were full, and we felt complete once again.
Eventually, we left the suburbs behind and moved to the countryside—a smaller home with wide-open land for the kids to explore. Life was full and busy, but our hearts began to feel pulled toward a new purpose: foster care.
We saw the need in our community—children removed from everything they knew, through no fault of their own. Still, I hesitated. My parents had been foster parents, and I remembered the emotional toll it took on us as biological kids. Foster children need deep care and attention, and I worried what that might mean for the children God had already blessed us with.
For two years, we prayed, talked, and researched. We learned just how many children were entering the system—far more than there were foster families to take them in. The drug epidemic had only made things worse.
After discussing it with our kids, we said yes. In 2014, we became licensed for Foster to Adopt. That very same day, we welcomed our first placement: two children who needed us.
Ready or not, we were foster parents.
By February 2017, we’d welcomed many foster children into our home and were considered seasoned by the caseworkers at Children Services. They knew us well and understood which children would thrive in our family. Not every placement is the right fit, and matching a child with the right foster family can make all the difference.
One evening, we were finishing dinner, still heartbroken after saying goodbye to a baby girl we had loved for over a year, reunited with her biological family. That’s when the phone rang.
“LeAnne, we have a 2-month-old baby boy—failure to thrive. He’s in the hospital. Can you take him?”
Without hesitation, I replied, “Yes, of course.”
The caseworker promised to call when he was ready to be released. But we couldn’t wait—we headed straight to the hospital.
When we arrived, a caseworker was in the room holding him. I’ll never forget the moment I saw him.
He was blue. Not pink like most babies, but a bluish-gray. His tiny body showed every vein, with no fat to hide them. His head looked far too big for his body, the soft spots sunken and the skull’s sutures painfully visible. He was motionless, frail, and heartbreakingly fragile. I know it sounds harsh, but he didn’t look human—he looked alien. It was the only word that came to mind.
I was afraid to hold him. But the moment I did, I knew: Eric and I were going to fight with everything we had to keep this little boy safe.
My strong, steady husband had tears in his eyes as the caseworker began explaining the baby’s story. He was starving.
His biological parents had simply chosen not to feed him — they claimed they had “better things to do,” like sleep or go to work. It was unthinkable.
He had just spent 10 days at one of the country’s top children’s hospitals, where doctors diagnosed him with Non-Organic Failure to Thrive (NOFTT) — meaning there was no medical reason he wasn’t gaining weight. In fact, during his hospital stay, he gained 11 ounces, proof that all he needed was proper care.
But once he was discharged, things got worse.
A visiting nurse was assigned to check in every other day. On her very first visit, she found him asleep in a bouncy seat—filthy, covered in pet hair, with a heavily soiled diaper. The feeding chart meant to track his nutrition was incomplete.
When the nurse asked for a bottle to feed him, the mother casually pulled a cold one from the fridge and handed it over. The nurse explained it needed to be warmed. With attitude, the mother replied, “If he’s hungry, he’ll eat it.”
So the nurse gave him the cold bottle—because even cold nourishment was better than nothing. He drank.
As soon as she left, she went to her car and immediately called the authorities.
What she didn’t know was that the baby’s nurse practitioner had already done the same.
