And then the phone call came. Ten days early. They picked US. Andru and Ethan, our "Huckleberry Finn" boys (see picture for explanation...) are OURS.
Backing up, it was noon on Wednesday. I was in the middle of a class and opened my email to a message from my caseworker that read, "CALL ME, NOW!!!!!!" My hands started shaking as I dialed Kara's number, and she didn't wait to find out it was me to say, "They're yours!" I started sobbing before she got any further. When I got off the phone, after asking for reassurance about ten times, I called Brian. He was at a training course with a dozen other police officers, and I heard his voice catch as I struggled to tell him. Thoroughly embarrassed and too excited for either one of us to care, we both realized that in a single moment, our lives had changed. We were now the parents of three.
It is infinitely difficult to explain what I felt, or what I feel now. Two little people are in a home in South Carolina, but they are now my family. I love them with every part of me, and I have never met them, or heard their voice.
The last twenty-four hours have been a blissful blur. Last week, the boys' caseworker asked us to begin putting together a scrapbook of our family, our house, our life. If selected, the caseworker would present the boys with the scrapbook to introduce us to them. Suddenly, I had one night to complete what I thought I had ten days to do. We all ran home, dumped the old furniture currently taking up the boys' room into the hallway, and began setting up their room so I could take a picture to include in the scrapbook for them. The scrapbook was overnighted today. Their room still needs pictures on the wall and a dresser in the corner, but it looks...ready.
Now...we wait...again. Hopefully, we will get to see them in the coming weeks. The unfortunate truth is that the boys won't be here permanently until near Christmas. For now, I want to see them, talk to them, hug them. I want to tell them I love them, and that I can't wait for them to be here, with us, where they belong.
To my beautiful princess, Gabriella, on her third birthday...
Three years ago, you arrived and became the first miracle of my life. When I became a mommy, your mommy, I knew that it was the one thing that would shape the rest of my life. When I was pregnant with you, we chose a name for you that would truly embody what you already meant to us. "Gabriella" means "God gives us strength". He did just that for us through you. When daddy was sick, you gave us the strength and hope that both of us needed to get through each day. We knew that we had a reason for being here and being together--and that reason was you.
Every night, when I was sad or scared, you were there to give me the kick I needed to get back up and do needed to be done. You were my hope for our family, and today, you still represent that for us.
Today, I watched you parade around the house in your beautiful princess dresses, leaving a trail of glitter and the clip-clop of baby high heels behind you. You are the lovely, joyful, vivacious little girl that I knew you would be. Your smile is still what gives me hope, and your silly songs and stories make every day worth it.
Today is bittersweet. As we wait to hear about the arrival of your brothers, I am so blessed and overjoyed to see our family grow. But I also know that today will probably be the last birthday you spend as an only child. Our weekend at the "Magic Lake" was beautiful, but I know that will probably be our last vacation as a family of three. I know that you, my darling Miss Gabbi, will probably have the biggest transition to make as our family grows. But know this---YOU are what has made me want to be a mommy again so very badly. YOU are the one who has taught me patience and laughter and humility. You are a compassionate, bright, silly, wonderful little person, and I know that you will add so much to the lives of your siblings. You are what has made this house whole, and now we can share that with others. Being your mommy is the best job in the world.
I know that now you think you are a "big girl", but remember---I will always be your mommy, you will always need me just a little bit, and no matter what, you will always be my baby girl; my first miracle.
I love you always and forever,
Mommy
I am so sorry to have been so remiss in my blogging activities of late...but today, I am so filled with joy, with expectation, that I must write!!
In the past two weeks, our fearless caseworker, Kara, has been tirelessly filing our homestudy and posing inquiries about sibling groups that match our profile. To our dismay, over half of the groups on our list had already been adopted. Selfishly, I was a little sad, but then I realized that somewhere, twelve little ones have homes, real places where they are loved and comforted as they always should have been. And that is where the happy ending is for them:)
There is one pair of brothers that Brian and I have gone back to again and again. We have dubbed them the "Huckleberry Finn boys" because of their unique choice of photo on the website. Clad in overalls, fishing poles and the cutest smiles you have ever seen in your LIFE, the eight and six year old boys caught our attention immediately. Kara sent our homestudy to their caseworker immediately, and within twenty-four hours, she got a phone call back. In a world of red tape and regulations, that's fast. The boys caseworker said she was very interested in us, and that she would like to speak to one of us as soon as possible. Excited doesn't quite begin to capture what I felt. Very suddenly, this all became REAL.
When I called the boys' caseworker, I had two realizations: 1.) These boys would have very deep Southern accents. adorable. 2.) I was in the middle of the most important interview of my life. Should I sound excited? But not TOO excited (failed that one, by the way) Put together, intelligent, warm, caring, loving, firm, educated, open, sensitive...what is it that makes the perfect parent? I was very literally being interviewed to be a mom. I told the truth. This was incredibly important to us. We do have the tools to be what these kids need--- a loving, warm place that they can call home FOREVER. When I hung up, I felt confident. Giddy. and nervous as hell.
Now...we wait. AGAIN. Within two weeks, we will have an answer. Five families will be chosen from the onslaught of interested, waiting families like us. They will be scrutinized, reviewed and analyzed until one is selected. Then, the phone call will come...I hope.
What I have found to be the most amazing consequence of this journey is how it has shaped my perspective about everything else. As I sit and (impatiently) wait for our kids, I go to work everyday and bring what I have learned this summer with me. I teach 12th graders in a rural school district. In an English classroom, I have a lot of opportunity to hear personal stories and reflections.
It has always been surprising to me what my kids go through at home. I grew up in a home where I had a loving, supportive mom. Dinner was always on the table. I had notes in my lunchbox, and no one ever wanted to trade with me because I had a nice, nutritional meal. Teaching was the first time that I truly understood that this was not the experience everyone was privileged to have. My first teaching experience was in Brooklyn. One of my students slept under the Brooklyn Bridge every night to avoid his father. Another was in the midst of his second trial for larceny. When I moved to a sleepy rural town and began to teach there, I thought that I would escape those challenges.
During our classes this summer, I realized a very simple truth: there is hardship everywhere. People are concerned by the trauma that foster children have experienced. So am I, but...there is hardship everywhere. So much of it is hidden from us, but we only have to look to see that there are children everywhere that could use support and encouragement that they most likely are not receiving at home. I am constantly amazed by the things my students tell me. They spill the details of their lives in an offhand way, and it is a constant balancing act not to push them into closing down---or telling too much.
This year, as I walked into my classroom and looked at the faces surrounding me, I remembered all the stories we heard in our classes. I remembered the stories my past students have thought nothing of telling me, and I realized that ANY of these kids could be the kids I want to save. I hope I never lose sight of that. I love my job, almost as much as I love being a mom---and sometimes, I am pretty sure that it's the exact same thing.
Many people have asked us about our decision to adopt a sibling group instead of a single child. We've been asked what "kind of child" we will be getting. Foster adoption is not like placing an order at your local diner---or it shouldn't be, anyway. The less restrictions you place on what "type" of child you are willing to take, the easier it will be to place children with you.
When Brian and I sat down to hash all of that out, we discovered that we were willing to be very open-ended about the children that came into our home. Race: not an issue. Gender: only an issue when adhering to federal guidelines about space. Age: We want to stay with children under 10 or 11, because of our age and Gabbi's. We do not intend for this to be our only foray into foster-adoption, and that age limitation will raise as our own age does. As far as "issues" go, we know that we are capable of handling a lot of things, with the right amount of support. Here's the wonderful thing about foster-adoption---there are so many amazing supports out there to allow the kids to reach their full potential, and the caseworkers and agencies do everything they can to ensure the kids are getting exactly the supports they need, which makes it easier on both children and adoptive parents. There are a few behaviors we immediately ruled out, keeping our daughter's safety in mind: children with a history of fire-setting, physical aggression towards other children, or sexually acting out would not be a good fit for our home. Often, children with those behaviors are placed in homes without any other children, so as to minimize risk to the family. So, we came down to the last question...number of kiddos. I said, "bring it on." Surprisingly, Brian agreed. At this point, given the amount of space in our home, we are qualified and willing to accept a sibling group of 2 to 4 children. We can only take one girl, and up to three or four boys, given our bedroom space.
That leaves a lot of options, and I know we will find the right fit for us. But...I started out talking about why we chose to adopt a sibling group. There are several reasons. One, siblings are categorized as "hard to place", because not as many people are willing or able to take them, and that means that we will most likely be placed must faster. Two, it just seems to make sense for all of us. Having siblings means that these kids get to walk into our home with a built-in support system. Despite a tumultuous past, their siblings have been with them consistently. They get to walk into our house, to an unknown place they are expected to suddenly call "home", with someone they already love and trust. That makes our job, and their transition, easier. I know how much my little brother means to me. I can only imagine what a sibling might mean to someone who has had the rest of their family taken away. So...two? three? four? It may sound like a lot, but it sounds like the kind of chaos I can't wait to welcome!
