Un-Adoptable? Faith Beyond Foster Care

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"What am I supposed to call you?" The little boy from the backseat asked. We had just picked him up from a Child Protective Services office to take him out for lunch and to play video games at the mall. We didn't know the protocol for this. We just met last week—once.

"You can call us whatever you want."

He knew his answer. "I want to call you Mom and Dad."

The drive back to the office was tense. My husband, Ryan, and I held a silent eye-conversation with each other that I believe sounded like, "Um, that's cool. Is this okay? I like it, do you? Yeah, I'm okay with it. It's kind of weird though. And fast. Yeah. Really fast."

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Ryan and I had been on the waiting list for a foster child for over a year. The only other time we had heard about a child we could meet was at Christmas, six months prior. He was a two-year-old boy. 

We said yes.

I wrapped some presents for him and tucked them under the tree. I had all his clothes in the dresser and decorated the nursery with the cutest monkey theme. 

We knew the transfer process from this baby's foster home to ours would begin within five days. Anticipation was high in our hearts, and our church community had surrounded us with prayers and support such as hand-me-down clothes.

But this soon-to-be family was terminated before it could ever start. A biological grandparent stepped up and took the child in.

"How could they?"  I was pissed and heartbroken. Selfish, for sure.

Last-Minute Marmie gets to be a mom (again). And I now have to swallow the biggest rejection pill ever. Everywhere I go, I'd be showing up "childless," and everyone in my community would wonder what happened.

Adoption isn't for the faint of heart. It's hard.

Adopting from foster care is a special kind of hard.

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This is my story. It is not everyone's story, but I feel like it resonates with many families who have been or will be on this path. I didn't write it to give anyone instructions. It's not meant to scare or upset people. But I hope that you do find direction and guard your heart. 

When you open yourself to a child who has experienced trauma, such as many foster youths have, your life will take on a direction of its own.

So, how did this start? Well, shortly after I married my best friend, Ryan, we were having those long conversations about the future. Children came up. Without going into detail, it was likely I could get pregnant, but not-so-likely I could sustain a pregnancy. This wasn't sad news. More like, "Oh. Huh." 

We weren't planning on having kids right away, so it would be easy to set this matter aside for a decade.

Then, on a long walk around the park one day, I wondered aloud, "What if we just adopted?"

He said, "That's okay. I would love any child we got as if they were my own." And that's where the conversation stopped—for five years.

I never had any strong urges to be a mother in this time. My girlfriends told me about the day when my "baby clock" would tick. I brushed it off.

Then one day it hit me.

"Let's adopt."

Just like that. No, not, "Let's have a baby..." but a very simple, "It's time. Let's adopt."