Going Once, Going Twice… Adopted!

Restored from the Empower Network archive (2011–2017), lightly edited to meet our current advertising standards. Views are the original author’s.

Going Once, Going Twice… Adopted!

Our first meeting was in a “neutral zone”; a family pizza joint. A chance meeting staged between the two social workers, us, the foster mom, (Anna) and the 2 kids.

Although  late January, a huge window of Santa’s Village was still there, complete with a little train that ran a continuous track through the town with a little “Choo Choo” every time it passed the little church.

Scintillating!

(If I sound dreadful, please remember that in the first chapter; Choosing to Adopt, I had mentioned that we were looking for a slightly older child, age 6-7, a child that already could talk, engage.)

Small children scared me; I wasn’t exactly a 20- something or early 30 something Mom.

Anna came in carrying a little girl in one arm and holding the hand of an animated little boy (Mikey) in the other.  Although he was smiling broadly, he knew something was up – he smelled danger.

When a child’s life is a constant state of upheaval and changing environments they develop a finely tuned instinct for danger:  the stability he had come to know for the last 14 months was being threatened.  

I tried to engage.

The  little girl could barely speak while her brother spoke  incessantly, but with very limited vocabulary. He could write his name in the stick style of a 4 year old and when he finished he said “voilá“.  

An unusual word to come out of the mouth of a 4 year old – he had learned it from his day care provider.

My husband, who has a grown daughter from a past life, engaged more easily than I did. Cardy was soon checking out Santa’s village from my husband’s shoulders, fascinated.  His little sister, leg-hugger height,wanted to watch what her brother was watching – I picked her up.  

Both were enthralled with the little train as it choo-chooed its way through Santa’s village.  They could have watched this for hours, but they were too short to see it from the floor so we were captive audience for almost half an hour..

I then spoke with the tearful forster mom but I wasn’t moved when she talked about how hard it was to “give them up”.

She and her husband had promised to adopt them.  

An adoption promise to a child waiting for a home is the biggest event in that child’s life and she was breaking that promise.

Fourteen months in the life of a three and a four year old is, for all intents and purposes, half their lives.  They had bonded.  They had thought that was going to be their “forever home”.

Our 2nd meeting was at a kids’ park near our home. We packed a picnic lunch and this time, it was just the 2 social workers, the kids and us.  No foster mom.

We played on all the structures with the kids and I pushed Issy on the swing for ages, she loved to pump those chubby little legs.

Although he was enjoying himself little brother knew something was up. He reiterated that “he was worried for Anna”.  It took me a while to realize that in his vocabulary, worried meant that “he missed her”.​

Going Once, Going Twice…Adopted

For the protection of the children, these processes are quite accelerated.  We very quickly arriverd at that pivotal point n the adoption.  Home visits and ‘transition’ would begin with sleepovers but only if we committed to keep the children.  The little guy was showing genuine signs of stress so they had  to be told – if it was going to happen.

 I was very nervous – these were very young kids. They needed and deserved a lot of attention.

 Mentally and emotionally, I had planned for one. 

Now suddenly there were two children and neither one was really school age.  In fact one was a toddler!

Communication alone was going to be challenging, they had a limited vocabulary and in fact the little one wasn’t really talking yet.  They barely understood anything I said!

Our social worker asked me what I thought my biggest challenge would be?  Was I worried about the recent back surgery?

 I replied honestly. “No!  I’m not sure that I can handle ‘watching little Choo Choo trains’ and endlessly singing “the Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round”.

At this stage in my life,  could I really fill  the needs of such tender, young children. They were adorable and they deserved parents that would lavish them with attention and love them and provide a stable home,

I knew I could do 2 out of 3.

We said “yes”.

After the 2nd sleepover weekend, their social worker came to pick them up on Sunday and the kids dashed out, anxious to go home. But when they arrived, the foster mom sat down and told them they would be leaving.  My little girl didn’t really understand but my boy was devastated and disbelieving.

During the next visit, he investigated the house thoroughly and the garden too.  He loved the patch of tulips we were growing in the back. He asked where his room was going to be.

 He engaged with my Dad (Grandpa); he was preparing himself for the change.

​​When the social worker came to pick them up on Sunday he suddenly announced that he no longer wanted to go back and fort. It was too hard. He declared that if he HAD to move he wanted to do it right away.

I was stunned! I had nothing in place yet – no beds, no daycare, no room preparation, no sippy cups – I didn’t even have chairs high enough so that they could reach the table –NOTHING!

The social worker looked at me and asked “are you willing to move up the schedule?”  There is no way one can say “no I’m not ready” so I plastered a smile on my face and numbly said “sure!”. From one day to the next  I was suddenly a mother!

“Great! Then we’ll see you Wednesday.” That was the next scheduled visit.  As they drove away I had a meltdown, the first of many.

I‘ve Got A Family

Wednesday came in a flash anbd Mary’s van pulled up and the kids jumped out.  Cardy (my instant son) was calling out for Grandpa whle Issy walking in hand with Mary still looked totally bewildered.  

In the van, there was more stuff than I could store in a garage – if I had had one.

A stream of toys poured out of that vehicle, abundant and redundant; over-compensation for a glaring lack of attention.

Cardy, almost 5, didn’t understand the meaning of ‘morning or afternoon’ but he had more toys than 10 kids could play with.

After our first dinner together ‘as a family’, Cardy retreated to his room for a quiet cry.

My daughter was sitting on my lap.  She looked up at me and asked, “Are you my new mommy?”  My heart clenched and I answered “yes I am and I am going to love you forever”.

Her big brown eyes filled with tears and she said “but I already have a mommy who loves me.”

Check back for Chapter III – Choosing to Adopt, The Things They Don’t Tell You.

Could a few hundred dollars a month make a difference in your life?

Maybe you want to work at home so that you can spend more time your family.

When I was working I never saw my family, I was working all the time. Sound familiar?

There is another way.  Just ask me.