Tag: adopting from foster care

Getting Caught Up in Our Own Stories

It is easy to get caught up in our own stories; stories of overcoming something seemingly so strong, so encompassing that it envelopes most of our lives. I’ve been guilty of this with my own story of barrenness. Yet, it took one moment with my child to change my thinking. My story of barrenness will never nullify my children’s stories of adoption.

“Do you know where my Mom is?” I heard this question while driving. I knew what “mom” meant. “No. I don’t but if I did, I would tell you,” I said to my child. “Oh…”. Stillness. No other questions.

As we drove to our destination, the silence was thick. My mind swirled with emotions – wanting to grill my child where this question was coming from. I didn’t, though. Instead, I filled my own head with an internal conversation. “Why does it matter? I’m “mom”. I mean, I KNOW it matters, but I matter as well, right?“

Then, the thought hit me,

“Your story of barrenness is not more important than your children’s stories.”

That’s it. A huge pill to swallow. While I believe that a part of my testimony and refinement as a child of God relates directly to barrenness and that there is power in it, I also believe that the script of my life will never supersede the ones belonging to my children. I refuse to dismiss their histories, their need for knowledge, and the grief they feel now or may feel in the future. I refuse to be someone who is constantly getting caught up in my own story.

As an parent through adoption who has overcome barrenness, here are a few things I won’t forget:

  1. I won’t forget that my children have a voice. They have a right to express their feelings about adoption – regardless if it hurts my feelings or causes a measure of doubt and confusion.
  2. I won’t forget that they have histories before coming into my life. Whether that was 9-months in the womb only or a few months in other families, they still have a history that doesn’t include me.
  3. I won’t forget that they may always long for their biological parents. This truth breaks my heart – not because I’m jealous or anything like that. It breaks my heart because I love my children so much and will never know what it is like to be in their shoes.
  4. While illness and subsequent barrenness came like a rushing wind into my life and it took years to find my wings and fly with it, I won’t forget that none of this compares to the sadness and disruption that caused my children to become mine.
  5. I won’t forget that my children are not “door prizes” for infertility and barrenness. I didn’t earn them because of the hardship I endured. They are far more valuable than that and each have their own personalities and struggles. Kids are not meant to be put on pedestals like some kind of trophy – regardless of how long it took or the avenue to which they came into our lives.
  6. I won’t forget that my children are not really mine. I’m just borrowing them for this lifetime. I’ve been given the task of raising them, but honestly, they belong to the Lord. My desire for their lives will never compare to what the Lord desires for them. His will before mine. Can’t forget that.

Sure, the way the Lord weaved the tapestries of our lives with loss, joy, trauma and relief resonates with others. It may even propel people with similar stories to seek healing and resolution. This is all a truth that cannot be denied.

Still, though. When an adoptive parent (like myself) has a story full of pitfalls and long roads, it can seem like our personal narratives have greater value – like we are some kind of broken-hearted saviors for our children. This thinking can be a trap. It can fool us into believing that our struggles have more weight than the struggles of others.

As we make our way through the years (far removed from the days my children were legally declared mine), I’m becoming more fully aware that when we get caught up in our own stories, we miss the evolution and unfolding of the stories around us – sometimes even within our own families.

I don’t want to forget this.

When We Said Yes to Adoption

When we said yes to adoption, we chose YOU.

We said yes…

to laughter and tears,

to delight and heartbreak,

to gifts and losses,

to sweet words and eye-rolls,

to the past and the future,

to hardship and grace,

to love.

Happy Adoption Anniversary Day, Sweetie.

Note: Our daughter’s adoption anniversary was on Monday but due to the flu bug (YUCK) hitting our home, I’m just now getting around to posting this on the blog.

the “broken” system – it’s been one of those days

His information came to me in an email.  I opened it up, read the narrative, clicked on a video and my heart sank.  The 9-year old, Harry Potter look-a-like little boy, who my husband and I met at a birthday party over the summer, is in need of a family. My heart dropped as I thought, “The broken system…it’s been one of those days.”

“Watch me do this!”, he said to my husband.  He giggled and played and just soaked up my husband’s attention.  We were there for another boy who was in foster care and now has his forever family.  We met this little guy by chance.

I called my husband and said, “Remember that little boy at the birthday party?  The one with the glasses?”  My husband knew immediately who I was talking about.  “He needs an adoptive family.  He absolutely adored you.”

“You are making me sad.  It’s just one of those days”, my husband said.

My husband also works in child welfare.  “One of those days” is a phrase that we have often said to each other.  I wish I could give you an exact count of the number of profiles of children in need of an adoptive family that I’ve read through the years.  A profile is a synopsis about a child in need of adoption.  One part of my job is to send out adoption profiles to my staff who, in turn, send them out to foster and adoptive families.

It breaks my heart to see repeat profiles – ones of kids whose profile is sent out multiple times in hopes of just one family that might show interest.  The majority of these kids are over the age of five, have significant trauma, and are a handful, to say the least.  However, behind their age, their behaviors and their histories, they are children.  They play dress-up.  They love Lego’s.  They still believe in Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny.

They yearn for a Mommy and Daddy who won’t leave.

I have worked in child welfare for over seventeen years now and I still fight back tears when I fully ponder what is going on with children.  I get angry.  I threaten to walk away.  I fight cynicism.  Yet, I remain.

Having worked in the system for so long, I have heard “the system is broken” more times than I can count.  Yes, there are many things about the system that needs to be fixed.  Yes, we have a lot of work to do.  I agree with all of this.  However, when I sign people up for foster care classes knowing that they really just want a baby or I see profiles of kids in need of a family sent out over and over again, I find myself wondering if it really is the system that is broken, or if it is just us. 

Maybe what is broken is our perception of child abuse and neglect, our vision of how good we think adoption should feel and our systematic way of turning our heads away from the problems at hand.  It’s easy for us to say, “Someone will step up or someone might adopt that child.”  It’s much harder for us to say, “We will step up.  We will adopt that child.”

First, let me state that there is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to foster a baby.  My husband and I did this and we are glad that we did.  We got to experience the precious love of babies.  We watched them as they walked for the first time, called us “Mommy and Daddy” and began to explore the world.  We were also blessed to be able to adopt them.

Now that my kids are older and I walk every day in the struggles of their lives, I recognize that if they were in need of an adoptive home right now, their chances of getting adopted would be slim.  That reality breaks my heart.

Is the system broken?  Sure, in some way it is.  Are we broken?  Yes.  I wish that every single child and youth in need of a permanent family would find one.  I wish that more people would step up and say “yes”.  I so wish that people understood trauma better, age didn’t make a difference, adoption was understood as being hard and not rosy, and that each kid was given a chance at experiencing what it truly means to belong.

If we want to fix the broken system, then we need to take a hard look at our expectations and desires.  The kids in it are not perfect (no kid is).  They have experienced things that a lot of us haven’t.  Their brains have literally been changed by trauma (scientific fact).  They can’t change overnight.  They can’t undo what’s been done to them.  They cope the best they can.  They are often in survival mode.  They may not even realize any of this.  We can, though.

We can accept non-perfect kids.  We can learn how trauma changes the brain.  We can change our expectations of adoption.  We can empathize with children who have been forgotten and given back by too many people who promised forever.

We can understand that it won’t feel good all of the time and that a child’s history matters, but their futures matter more.

Their futures matter more.

I don’t believe for one second that God intends for children to be without families; not for one minute.  This is why after all of these years I still have days like this.  I know that Jesus leaves the ninety-nine to seek out the one.  I pray that we do this as well.  I still have hope, though.  I know that nothing is impossible and as long as there are children who need families, there are those of us who wake up day in and day out and do our best to end the scourge of abuse, neglect and children without families.

The broken system… It’s been one of those days,

but it will pass…until it happens again.

Replacing The Mom I Thought I Would Be With The Mom My Children Need

Replacing The Mom I Thought I Would Be With The Mom My Children Need…

This thought has raced through my mind this week. I’ve sat on my bed, saddened, throwing my hands up in the air and said (to my husband), “This is not what it’s supposed to feel like. This is not normal. I want to do normal things with my kids. I want to be able to take them to a late night event without worrying about giving medication or some medication wearing off, or some crazy, impulsive act, or some reaction from an attempt to grow closer.”

Following several rough days in a row that accumulated into a punch to the chest by one of my children, my first reaction was to lash out (which I did not do). My second reaction was to consider why the whole event happened in the first place.

Maybe, it is my child. 

Maybe, it is me.

Going backwards in my mind to before I chose to become a parent through adoption, I always believed I would be the kind of mom that embraced every single soft moment with my children. I wanted so desperately to pass on the tender moments that my mother passed on to me; those moments that will always be cemented in my psyche and so treasured in my heart.

Yes, of course, I do treasure these moments that I have with my kiddos but honestly, the soft moments are not as common as the hard ones. The mere fact that I am even having to come to grips with losing my idea of what motherhood means, and replacing it with the kind of motherhood my children need, does not fall lightly on my heart.

Sometimes, I feel like anything but a mom, but instead, like a bit of a drill sergeant. Even after all of these years, it doesn’t feel natural or good or anything like what I wanted or what I envisioned parenting would be like.

Don’t get me wrong, though. My love for my children is fierce. I know that children are not perfect. Parents are not perfect. I get it. However, when one chooses to embrace the call to adopt children who come from difficult and hard places, it is no longer about perfection. It cannot be. To believe this is to believe a lie.

Forget the bubbly, rose-colored glasses, sweet moments. Forget the tender moments you recall as a child with your mother. Forget what you thought motherhood would be.

Instead, replace the mom you thought you would be with the mom your children need. 

To be honest, it is heart-breaking. It is frustrating. It completely consumes you. To worry about behavioral issues, impulsiveness, attachment issues, developmental delays, poor self-esteem, aggressive tendencies, appointments with doctor after doctor, meetings at school, appointments with counselors, and medication management, the Mamma you thought you would be seems to disappear.

However, do you want to know what keeps me going? It is the intrinsic belief that it is up to me to be the kind of mother my children need…to replace the mom I thought I would be with the mom my children need. It is the belief that every single moment of my life leading up to the moment I became the mother of my children was not a mistake. In many ways, all of those moments prepared me for it.

My children need me to be steadfast, an advocate, understanding of trauma and various other issues, gentle with adoption, humble when it comes to getting that I won’t truly understand it all, and never, ever giving up. One of my favorite quotes about the adoption experience is this,

“Adoption is a beautiful picture of redemption. It is the Gospel in my living room.” -Katie J. Davis

That is how I see it.

Redemptive.

Understanding that it is only by grace that any of us get up each day and keep moving forward.

Not throwing in the towel when it gets hard and it hurts.

Looking at your child and knowing how much he or she means to the Lord.

It will never be easy  – ever. It will break your heart more times than you can count, but it is truly living out the message of the Gospel while also dwelling in the awareness of our own adoption story.

Replacing The Mom I Thought I Would Be With The Mom My Children Need…

Yes. It’s a work-in-progress and I suspect it will be until they are all adults and beyond. I am also a work-in-progress; a Mamma who is far from perfect but one who absolutely would lay down her life for her children.

One who is need of redemption on a daily basis.

One who gets that the best way to help her children is to heal herself and replace the fantasy of what she thought it would be like and replace it with the mamma who knows what it is to raise kiddos with extra needs.  

Yes.  I am saying good-bye to the Mom I thought I would be.

I am saying hello to the one my children need.

A Letter to My Daughter on Our Adoption Anniversary

Happy Adoption Anniversary, Sweetie!  It’s been eight years since we were declared your forever parents; the ones who would walk you through the rough times and celebrate with you in the good ones.

There has been some rough times, hasn’t there?  There has also been some incredible times.  I know this.  You do, too.

I watch you.  I see the way you watch my every move, as well.  There is great pressure raising a girl in this world; raising one who is strong enough to be fierce when it matters and soft enough to be empathetic when no one else will.  Well, I’m here to proclaim that you are both of these things.  You’re fierce when you need to be and you are soft when it is necessary.  (Although, Mommy wishes you were a little more soft with me…especially when our shared strong-wills clash.)

It’s different raising a daughter.  Not bad, just different.  Us girls are complicated.  We feel every ounce of emotion that enters our psyches.  We over think and overthink until our brains are just done.  We love big and we grieve big.  Often, we are our worse critics.

It’s because of this that I want to tell you to never underestimate yourself.  Allow those strong emotions to come but do so in a way that will always respect yourself and those in your life who matter.  Don’t stop grieving for the homeless and others who are in a bad place.  That kind of empathy may not be rewarded on this Earth, but I believe it will be in Heaven.

Stick to your guns.  Stand up for what you believe in.  Don’t shy away from expressing your opinion (even when it’s not how others think you should feel).  Don’t give yourself away; to a job, to men, to anyone.  It’s hard to get yourself back once you do.

You, by far, have challenged me more than your brothers.  However, you, by far, have taught me more about myself and about this parenting life.  You question everything.  I mean EVERYTHING.  Don’t stop doing that.

You leave me nearly exhausted each day but you also give me the gumption to get up at each new dawn and try harder.  This, sweetie.  This is what it is like to watch your heart dance and prance around in the form of a little girl.  This is both challenging and incredible all at the same time.

It’s been eight years since the Judge declared you to be our forever daughter; although you were always “ours” from the minute you were brought to our home.  I need you to know that I’m constantly thinking of you.  I’m constantly considering how I can make a positive impact in your life and how I can protect you from the harshness of this world.

Yes, it’s been eight years since the Judge declared you to be ours forever, but to me, time is sifting by at too quick of a pace.  If there is anything I can teach you, it is this.

What you are right now is not who you will be in the future.  You will grow and stretch and sometimes, it won’t feel good, but it will be good for you.  Life is neither easy or hard.  It is both at the same time.

There will be times when you feel less than the girl sitting next to you.  There will be other times when you feel that you can climb the highest of mountains with ease.  Both are relevant, but both are fleeting. 

No matter what, always remember that as much as we love you, you have a Heavenly Father who loves you more.  Our love will never compare to His.  While we are your parents, you belong to Him.  He knew you before we did.  He knew you when you were in your birth mother’s womb.  He was present when you were born.  (We were not and that is something that has always grieved my own heart.)  You are wanted and you are cherished by us and by the Lord.  Don’t ever forget that.

It’s been eight years since the Judge declared us as your forever parents; eight years of laughter and tears.  Eight years of talking-back and saying “I’m sorry”.  I literally cannot imagine my life without you.  These years seem to have come and gone so fast.

Eight years from now…well…I don’t even want to think about that, yet.

Happy Adoption Anniversary, Sweetie.

We love you.

We always have.

We always will.

Eightisgreat

 

Could YOU adopt a teen?

The is a great need for families to foster and adopt older youth.  It is a constant challenge that those of us in child welfare deal with.  During various recruitment events and other types of meetings, we often speak about how long too many kiddos, age 12+, are lingering in the system.  The challenge is to get people to understand that older youth in the system are just as “adoptable” as young children.

I get it.  My husband and I fostered infants.  This was our desire.  There’s nothing wrong with it.  It still fulfills a need.  However, as we get older and as our children age, IF we were to ever foster again or adopt, we would absolutely consider older youth.

Could YOU adopt a teen?  Maybe so.  Here’s an article I wrote for Adoption.com regarding this very subject.  Click this link to read more:  Could YOU adopt a teen?

Blessings,

Caroline

Teens Need Families, No Matter What

Hi there!  November is almost over with and Christmas is on its way, but we still have a few days left for National Adoption Awareness Month.  This year’s theme is “Teens Need Families, No Matter What”.  It is such an important theme and speaks of the reality of older youth in the system who are waiting for their permanent families.

To learn more, click this link for an article I wrote about this subject:  Teens Need Families, No Matter What

Wishing you all well!

Blessings,

Caroline

Foster Kids Are Not Unwanted Kids {Adoption.com Article}

Foster Care Awareness month has come and gone but the need for a better understanding of the foster care system, and the children in it, never goes away. There are lots of misperceptions and myths circling around about kids in the foster care system; troubled, unwanted.

While some kids in the system struggle with emotional and behavioral issues (given the impact of trauma on a developing child), it is extremely rare to find a foster child that is not wanted by someone. Here’s the link to an article I wrote about this subject:  Foster Kids are not Unwanted Kids

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this subject!

Blessings,

Caroline

Why We Don’t Celebrate Adoption Anniversaries as “Gotcha Day”

pexels-photo-256807

Adoption anniversaries are widely known as “Gotcha Day”; however, my husband and I made a decision very early on in our foster care and adoption journey to not use this term when celebrating our adoption anniversaries.

Before I go any further, I do want to say that I don’t judge others who use the term “Gotcha Day”.  Not at all.  Every adoptive family is unique and chooses to celebrate or not celebrate their adoption days in their own way.  For our children’s life experiences and the reasons they came into our lives, the notion of “gotcha” has never settled right on our hearts.

According to the Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary, the word gotcha means an unexpected usually disconcerting challenge, revelation, or catch; also:  an attempt to embarrass, expose or disgrace someone (such as a politician) with a gotcha.  Think about the times we have played a joke on people and then said, “Gotcha!”  While this word is often used with fun, the actual meaning is more serious.

“Gotcha Day” is very popular and commonly used by a lot of adoptive families.  It has also sparked debates both within and outside of the adoption community regarding the insensitivity of it and the overall meaning.  I don’t want to get into the societal views of this but I would like to explain why we have chosen not to use this phrase.

From the very start of each our children’s lives after birth, there was heartbreak and loss.  Our children were not able to live with their biological parents and it was not by choice.  Our children’s biological parents did not make a plan for adoption.  They did not set out to find a family for their babies, nor did they expect to lose them.  It is true that two of our birth mothers made the decision to voluntarily terminate their rights but we know that this decision was desperately saddening and very difficult.  To be completely correct, while they voluntarily signed, there really was not a lot of choice in the matter.

Circumstances of life led them down the path that they were forced to walk on and that path included a life without their children.  This is not a cause for celebration nor is it something to take lightly or in fun.  This is why we don’t say “Gotcha!” when referring to our children’s adoptions, nor do we say, “Happy Gotcha Day!” to others who are celebrating.

We acknowledge the anniversaries of our adoptions with a cake, a balloon and by calling it “First Name, Last Name Day”.  For example, mine would be called “Caroline Bailey Day”.  We want our children to know that the day we adopted them is so very meaningful and that they are a gift in our lives.  Honestly, each of our adoption days has been the most joyful ones in our lives, yet, my husband and I also recognize that as the years pass and we witness the unfolding of these little human’s lives, their biological parents do not get to experience this.

It’s in this recognition that joy and sadness sit side-by-side.

Having been a part of the adoption community both professionally and personally, I have witnessed so many precious moments of families whose lives have been touched by adoption.  It has been an incredible privilege to play just a small part in this.  I have also sat with biological mothers who were deeply troubled and trying to navigate life within the decision to make a plan for adoption or trying to mend the reasons their children entered into foster care.  Folks, there is nothing more humbling than this.

To listen to a grieving mother who is acknowledging that she wants to do what is best and safest for her soon-to-be-born baby or choosing to essentially give up and let her child stay with his or her foster parents or be placed in an adoptive home is by far, one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in child welfare work.  While the children may be able to grow up in a safer home or with parents who can provide more opportunities in life, these biological mothers will live with this loss for the rest of their lives, and their children will as well.

Our own children’s biological mothers live with loss.  Even though we’ve tried to soften the blow a little bit and answer as many questions as we can with our children, my husband and I know that we will never replace who their biological parents are or what life would have been like for them to grow up in within their immediate family of origin.

Recognizing all of this and saying “gotcha” when it comes to adoption just doesn’t sit well in my soul.  

It never has.

I suspect it never will.

 

 

 

 

 

Adoption Anniversaries as “Gotcha Day”

Adoption anniversaries are widely known as “Gotcha Day”. My husband and I made a decision very early on in our foster care and adoption journey that we would not celebrate adoption anniversaries as “Gotcha Day”.

Before I go any further, I do want to say that I don’t judge others who use the term “Gotcha Day”. Not at all. Every adoptive family is unique and chooses to celebrate or not celebrate their adoption days in their own way. For our children’s life experiences and the reasons they came into our lives, the notion of “gotcha” never settled right in our hearts.

According to the Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary, the word gotcha means an unexpected usually disconcerting challenge, revelation, or catch; also:  an attempt to embarrass, expose or disgrace someone (such as a politician) with a gotcha. Think about the times we have played a joke on people and then said, “Gotcha!” While this word is often used with fun, the actual meaning is more serious.

“Gotcha Day” is very popular and commonly used by a lot of adoptive families. It has also sparked debates both within and outside of the adoption community regarding the insensitivity of it and the overall meaning. I don’t want to get into the societal views of this but I would like to explain why we have chosen not to use this phrase.

From the very start of our children’s lives (after birth), there was heartbreak and loss. Our children were not able to live with their biological parents and it was not by choice. Our children’s biological parents did not make a plan for adoption. They did not set out to find a family for their babies, nor did they expect to lose them. It is true that two of our birth mothers made the decision to voluntarily terminate their rights but we know that this decision was desperately saddening and very difficult. To be completely correct, while they voluntarily signed, there really was not a lot of choice in the matter.

Circumstances of life led them down the path that they were forced to walk on and that path included a life without their children. This is not a cause for celebration nor is it something to take lightly or in fun. This is why we don’t say “Gotcha!” when referring to our children’s adoptions, nor do we say, “Happy Gotcha Day!” to others who are celebrating.

We acknowledge the anniversaries of our adoptions with a cake, a balloon and by calling it “First Name, Last Name Day”. For example, mine would be called “Caroline Bailey Day”. We want our children to know that the day we adopted them is so very meaningful and that they are a gift in our lives. Honestly, each of our adoption days has been the most joyful ones in our lives. Yet, my husband and I also recognize that as the years pass and we witness the unfolding of these little human’s lives, their biological parents do not get to experience this.

It’s in this recognition that joy and sadness sit side-by-side.

Having been a part of the adoption community both professionally and personally, I have witnessed so many precious moments of families whose lives have been touched by adoption. It has been an incredible privilege to play just a small part in this. I have also sat with biological mothers who were deeply troubled and trying to navigate life within the decision to make a plan for adoption or trying to mend the reasons their children entered into foster care. Folks, there is nothing more humbling than this.

To listen to a grieving mother who is acknowledging that she wants to do what is best for her soon-to-be-born baby or choosing to let her child stay with his or her foster parents or be placed in an adoptive home is by far one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. While the children may be able to grow up in a safer home or with parents who can provide more opportunities in life, these biological mothers will live with this loss for the rest of their lives. Their children will as well.

Our own children’s biological mothers live with loss. Even though we’ve tried to soften the blow a little bit and answer as many questions as we can with our children, my husband and I know that we will never replace who their biological parents are or what life would have been like for them to grow up in within their immediate family of origin.

Recognizing all of this and saying “gotcha” when it comes to adoption just doesn’t sit well in my soul.  

It never has.

I suspect it never will.