I wanted to adopt children for as long as I can remember. Maybe it's because I'm adopted. I wanted to give kids in bad situations a safe home. I understood where they were coming from and wanted to help. I thought about it often and made many plans in my mind. I also wanted to be a social worker to help even more children.
When my husband and I were dating, I told him of my desire to adopt. Fortunately, he was on board. I wouldn't have married someone without the same vision. After we married, it took a back burner as we started our family. We agreed that we wanted our biological children to be older than those we adopted. We also didn't want babies. With that timeline in mind, I was content to wait.
When our children were 13 and 16, we started the process of becoming foster parents. To be clear, we never wanted to foster. We wanted straight up adoption; kids whose parents had already had their rights terminated.
We went to all the classes and we got our clearances. We had all the home inspections. We began working with a social worker to find the children who would best fit in our home. My heart was full! My life-long dream was coming true.
On July 15, 2008 we met Krista and Carlie, who were 10 and 7. They were beautiful girls who looked like they were our own children. They had been living in another foster home. This was the third time they had been removed from their biological family. They had been out of their home for a year. It looked like a smooth adoption process was ahead.
As with any transition, there was some bumps. Krista had been treated as an adult by both her mother and previous foster mom. She had difficulty just being a kid. She also had nightmares, so she fought sleeping. Due to previous issues, we were told the girls could not share a bedroom. Our 16 year old daughter gladly gave up her own room to share one with Krista. Carlie just wanted to feel safe. At seven, she had already experienced things most adults haven't. Yet she was the most loving, lovable little girl. She made friends quickly and laughed easily.
We continued to have home visits. We also had to take the girls to supervised visits with their parents every week. There were some behavior issues leading up to and following these visits, but I expected that.
Our children did a remarkable job of accepting Krista and Carlie into our family. As my oldest sister did when I was a foster child, Ellysa doted on them and treated them like little dolls. She played games with them and helped with homework. Ben was a proud big brother. He loved the girls and even shared his most-prized possession, his gaming system, with them. I am beyond proud of how open-hearted they both were. Adoption had always been my dream, but they fully bought into it.
Then the system failed us.
At parental visits the girls were being told by their mother that they were going home. This thrilled Krista. It terrified Carlie.
Our case worker tried to reassure us. Everything was on our side. But it wasn't. The parents' rights still had not been terminated. There started to be rumblings that they were actually trying to get the girls, and two other siblings, back.
My dream was falling apart.
In February 2009 we attended a hearing to determine if the parents could have the girls back. It was the longest, most gut-wrenching hours of my life. We listened as the previous foster mom made the parents looks like nurturing, functioning parents instead of the jobless addicts that they were. We listened as their lawyer attempted to malign my character. We listened as their lawyer questioned the therapist we'd been taking the girls to see, implying that seeing a private therapist rather than one through the government was somehow a negative. There is so much more, but it's not mine to share.
The court ruled that the girls be returned to their parents at the end of the school year. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Tears stung my cheeks. I held them in as best I could, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Once my husband and I were out of the courthouse, I couldn't hold them in anymore. By the time we got to the car I was sobbing uncontrollably. The pain in my heart was unbearable.
Now, I had to tell these two sweet girls what was going to happen. I dreaded that conversation. When we got home we sat down with all four kids. We told them what the judge decided. Krista smiled, happy to be going home even if it was months away. Carlie fell into my arms, lip trembling and eyes full of tears, begging me to not make her go. It was heart-breaking! Ben and Ellysa's responses were equally sad. Our world, our family, was never going to be the same.
I'll admit that I began to pull back from the girls once I knew they were leaving. I was trying to protect my heart from further pain. I'm not proud of that. I didn't know how else to keep from hurting more. The system that saved me as a child was destroying me as an adult. It was hurting my children and my potential children.
After the girls went back to their parents, their mother refused to let us have any contact with them. She wanted to act like the 10 months they were with us had never happened. I floundered around for a while. I was left asking "why". We had done everything we were supposed to do and it still turned out badly. How could my dream be such a nightmare?
People meant well, but didn't really understand. So many asked us when we were "getting more kids". We never intended to be foster parents. We never wanted to have a revolving door. I couldn't put Ben and Ellysa through that. I couldn't handle that. My husband saw how wrecked I was. I know he was in pain, too. He just hid it better than I did.
It's been 11 years. The nerve is no longer raw, but the pain lingers. Healing is happening. It's a process, but I know it's happening. You know how? I recently hung a family picture that we had taken when the girls were with us. It had been in the basement for 7 years. I no longer cry when I look at it. I've also had some limited interaction with the girls on social media. I cherish those.
My dream didn't turn out how I wanted it to, but I would still choose the time I did have with the girls over not feeling all that pain. They contributed to our family, and I like to think that we had a positive impact on them. Do I hate how the system screwed us over? Absolutely! There is no acceptable reason for the bungling that took place. But, like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes by having those girls in my life.
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