Before I launch into this very long story, I want to point out that everyone’s journey to adoption is different. From your own motivations and beliefs, to where you get licensed, to the support system you have in place, to the workers assisting you – every variable can make a huge difference. Each foster family’s story is unique, and each child’s story is unique. Due to our own uniqueness, it wouldn’t be hard for people to identify me and my family if I showed my face here. To protect my children’s privacy, you’ll likely never see our faces here, and I hope you’ll understand.
My husband and I got engaged after dating for only 6 months, but we had known each other for years. We told everyone “when you know, you know.” As we began planning our wedding, we discussed the fact that I wasn’t getting any younger (I was already 40) and we desperately wanted to start a family. Confident in our plans and woefully naive about the challenges of getting pregnant so late in life, we decided to elope to ensure that I wouldn’t be marching down the aisle pregnant. With our beautiful elopement behind us, we tried… and we tried… and we tried. When nature failed, we turned to science. Multiple rounds of IUI failed, but my first IVF attempt rewarded us with a pregnancy, which then ended in a heart-wrenching miscarriage at 8 weeks while my husband was out of the country without me for work. A second IVF attempt failed but the fertility drugs lead to a natural pregnancy. This, too, ended in a heart-wrenching miscarriage. I tried a new fertility specialist who suggested trying IUI again. After 6 unsuccessful rounds, we couldn’t afford more treatments and quite frankly, I couldn’t continue filling myself with hormones month after month.
My emotions were out of control, and we didn’t know what to do next. I was racked with guilt over not being able to give my husband a baby and for giving up on the fertility treatments. I felt weak and ashamed. I also felt lonely and jealous, keeping my complicated feelings to myself as I continued to congratulate my family members and friends at their baby showers.
A couple months after I quit all the fertility treatments, we were sitting in church and I wanted to leave because they had a guest speaker. I’m not a fan of guest speakers in church – I go to hear the Pastor, not guest speakers. But Maria took the podium and shared her very personal story of adopting her children from foster care. I was in tears as I suddenly realized that this was the path God intended for me. My husband instantly agreed. After the sermon, I caught up with Maria outside and she gave me the website address for LA County’s Department of Children and Family Services. That night, my husband and I sat through a 30-minute pre-recorded virtual orientation and completed a very long and detailed application. Our journey to adoption had officially begun!
It took 18 months for LA County to certify us after an extensive white-glove inspection of our home, multiple interviews, background checks, reference checks, and income checks. They blamed the lengthy approval process on understaffing and a new system. While we waited, we decorated the room in shades of gray with the intention of adding pops of color that we would customize for the children. Slowly, the bookshelves filled with books and toys for children ranging in age from birth to five years old. The day we finally received our official foster care license in the mail, I remember staring at our phones waiting for them to ring. After all, everyone we encountered had told us how urgently foster parents were needed.
We had spoken with countless parents who each had a successful journey to adoption through foster care. But 4 long months went by and no phone calls. An old friend suggested that I foster teenagers instead because there was such a need for that, and I growled at her, “You had your chance to enjoy raising two beautiful babies from birth – don’t I deserve that privilege as well?” I joined several local foster parent groups on Facebook and someone advised me to call the DCFS offices closest to me to provide my contact information to the placement workers. I did that and a few weeks later, we got a call for a newborn baby girl, which we happily accepted. Finally – our journey to adoption was on its way! Fingers crossed…
#1
Full of anxiety, I drove to the other side of Los Angeles to a shelter and waited patiently for a stranger to bring me a baby. It was surreal seeing a giant room behind the reception desk filled with beds and cribs. Every time the door opened, I heard wailing and crying. I waited, my heart breaking to hear those wails every time the door opened. How were there this many little ones needing homes? Eventually, a woman came to the lobby and placed a tiny 5-pound, drug-exposed, screaming bundle in my arms.
Anyone who’s ever told you love at first sight doesn’t exist has clearly never held a newborn baby needing a safe home. She was so breathtakingly beautiful and painfully frail. The social worker explained that her parents were high when the baby was born at home in the bathtub – the mother was not producing milk and they had no formula, so it was unclear what they had been feeding her. The baby was two weeks old, just skin and bones. At the time, I didn’t know that car seat inserts existed for babies under 7 pounds and throughout the entire 90-minute drive home through rush hour traffic, I worried that she would just slide right out of my brand new Uppababy car seat. Back then, I didn’t have carseat mirrors, either. So I chose surface streets and pulled over about 6 times just to check on her. When we got home, my husband instantly fell in love with her as well and we felt like the happiest two people on the planet. This is exactly what we had been waiting for!
When I took her to her first pediatrician appointment and talked casually with the doctor about her behaviors, his face changed. He believed she was suffering from withdrawal, and he admitted her to the NICU. For three nights that felt like three weeks, I slept on a cot down the hall from her, with a nurse waking me up every two hours for feedings, at my request. I was unhappy that they didn’t want her held outside of feedings but didn’t trust my instinct to argue. Fortunately she didn’t need methadone or any other drug, but it was so hard to watch her laying there in a metal crib with sensors and wires everywhere.
Learning about kinship in foster care
Oddly, DCFS would not allow the mother to visit, and the grandparents declined visits. When we went home, I held her almost 24/7, as if I could make up for the time in the NICU. Four weeks and two hearings later, that sweet baby girl went to her elderly grandparents and we never saw her again, except for photos. Our initial response was anger and pain; it took us years to realize that DCFS is right in prioritizing biological family over foster families. It’s called kinship care. In the moment that I tearfully handed my first daughter over to her family, I thought my journey to adoption was over, and I strongly considered closing our home.
Several months later, her mother called me, begging me to take her baby back. She said DCFS wanted to remove the baby from her parents’ home due to noncompliance and giver her to the father’s family. The only other people on earth she trusted were me and my husband. The journey to adoption was back on! The mother called daily and sent photos, but after a few weeks the baby’s lawyer explained to me in the most caring way possible that blood trumped both mothers’ and foster mothers’ wishes.
Four years later, her mother died of an overdose and our hearts broke for the baby girl who still had a piece of our hearts.
#2 and #3
Next we accepted a two-month old baby who was in her babysitter’s house at the time that a random act of violence occurred in the house. Days later she went home when a judge ruled that the parents could not have known the babysitter’s house would be unsafe, and she was reunited with her parents. Then we welcomed a precocious 3 year old who started calling us mommy and daddy an hour after she was dropped off at our front door. The mother was being held on a 5150 and the child had experienced significant trauma. We were a bi-racial family now and struggled with stares, rude comments, overly-personal questions from strangers. We focused on making her comfortable and getting her healthy. She only wanted Happy Meals, and we are not fans of fast food, so it was really difficult convincing her to eat our nutritious, home-cooked meals. She was terrified of our dogs and the dark – she was unable sleep alone and we weren’t allowed to have her sleep in our bed, so I slept on the floor next to hers. A few days later it was learned that she had been taken from her family, and a social worker arrived at my door on two hours’ to fly her home. Once again, the spare bedroom was dark and quiet, a constant reminder of our failing journey to adoption.
#4
We then picked up a handsome drug-exposed newborn from the NICU, and he was instantly the light of our lives. What a blessing! We took him everywhere with us – road trips, cross-country flights, work events… he loved every minute of it and rarely fussed. He had regular visits with his mother, who had voluntarily checked herself into rehab. During those visits, I taught her how to care for her son and how to find resources for the two of them. It broke our hearts when the judge signed an order to reunify him, but we were so proud of her tenacity. I was thrilled that she stayed in touch and even let us babysit. Then one day we realized that her phone number was no longer in service. We’ll always wonder how they’re doing, but I believe they’ll be ok.
#5 & #6
We got a call within days to pick up yet another drug-exposed baby from the NICU with a warning that this one could very possibly have significant developmental delays due to in-utero drug exposure and significant prematurity. With us, he thrived, and we were so proud of his development. Unexpectedly, we received a call two weeks later to adopt a newborn baby girl whose mother had abandoned her at the hospital. Could we handle two newborn babies? Fearful that we’d never have another chance at adoption, we said yes and I rushed to the hospital while my husband watched the baby boy. We even got to name her.
When I brought her home, I placed her in the bassinet next to the little boy. Instantly, she reached out to hold his hand and he tossed a leg over hers. It was the sweetest thing, and the two of them were inseparable from that moment on. Had DCFS not forbidden it, I would have let them share a crib in those early days because they just loved being with each other. Watching these babies grow and learn together brought us unspeakable joy. They were 12 weeks apart in age but developmentally, they were the same age and close to the same size. Strangers often asked me and my husband if they were twins (they looked absolutely nothing alike yet both looked like us), and we always said yes because their stories were not ours to disclose. We absolutely loved being parents; we made our own organic baby food, we were researching preschools, and we even bought a DSLR and props to stage monthly baby photos and capture milestones.
#7
Then our cup runneth over. DCFS called to tell us that a baby boy had been safely surrendered and he was fast-tracked for adoption. Our application was at the top of the adoption list, so he was ours if we wanted him. THREE BABIES! Could we do it? By this time, we knew that the other two babies would be going to family members so we said yes, and I headed right to the hospital to pick up our newborn son. Now, if picking up our first foster baby was love at first sight, then I really don’t know what to call this. There were no words for the immediate connection I had with my perfect, tiny, healthy, 5-pound son. I was instantly over the moon in love with this baby. I’m certain that will never change. I still tell everyone, “I knew I loved him the moment I knew he existed.”
Three babies under one, while chock full of extreme cuteness, is no picnic. My husband and I worked from home at that time, thankfully, but it was still rough. We learned how to exist on small pockets of sleep and somehow a routine developed. Exhaustion reigned, but we had our baby bliss and enjoyed every moment (ok, most of the moments). There was no time for self care (they remind you in training how important that is!), and that didn’t matter to me because we were parents on a journey to adoption – and we were good at it!
Sadly, the older boy’s parents filled our lives with they type of drama you’d expect from a movie, and the little girl had multiple extended family members who wanted her, which complicated matters. It felt like there was never a day without an in-person family visit, video family visit, social worker visit, doctor appointment, therapy appointment, or lawyer call. When our youngest was two months old and started sleeping through the night, we got our energy back and figured out how to venture out in public with 3 babies. Things got easier.
After a year of loving the older babies, we said goodbye to both – the boy left first, and the girl left two weeks later. Our hearts broke. It was the longest we had ever fostered, and both children’s cases were emotional rollercoasters with multiple promises of adoption offered and retracted. But we wouldn’t let our son see or feel our sadness. We swallowed it, stuffed it down, and marched along our journey to adoption, grateful that our baby boy was too young to know what was happening.
Journey to Adoption… breathlessly waiting
We took a break from fostering and focused on our son, worried every day that his birth parents would realize their mistake in giving him up and come looking for him. We couldn’t sign those adoption papers fast enough! You see, LA County doesn’t exactly follow the rules of safe surrender. We knew that if his parents changed their minds and came back that DCFS and a judge would likely give them a chance if they could provide a safe home, despite the state’s safe surrender law stating that parents had just three days to change their minds. It’s a terrible thing, waiting for adoption. You live in fear, praying daily that nothing goes wrong. During this time, our adoption worker got promoted and we were assigned a new one. Somewhere in that process, an original form was lost by one of them, creating a 12-week delay. Every day, we hugged our baby boy tightly and reminded ourselves that God intended him to be with us.
#8
As we waited for our son’s adoption date, we were asked to foster a baby girl whose parents were embroiled in a series of domestic violence accusations. For six months, we loved her and cared for her while monitoring separate video calls for each parent. I had to continually remind them to use their time with their daughter in a positive way as opposed to badmouthing each other. When the mother was able to secure a safe place for them to live together, the baby girl went home. My husband and I bought a used crib and changing table that we delivered to the tiny apartment, along with some linens, baby clothes, and other supplies. The mother called me a few more times for advice and then went radio silent when she realized I could not sway DCFS in any way.
#9 and #10
We had no plans to foster again until our son turned two, but when I got a call asking us to accept a 6-month baby whose cultural background matched my own, I just couldn’t say no. She was adorable. My mother, who was visiting at the time, couldn’t get enough of her. Her family spoke no English, which means the baby didn’t understand any English and was only comfortable with my mother, who spoke her parents’ native language. If the baby was awake, she was crying. I struggled to prepare her favorite foods as shared by the social worker but they brought her little comfort. She just wanted her mommy. Weeks later, we were asked to pick up a newborn at the NICU but the story was different. She had been safely surrendered and her prospective adoptive parents were sick with the flu. The social worker promised that if we fostered this baby for two weeks, she would tell all of the other placement workers to give us the next “adoptable” baby on her office’s caseload. How could we say no to helping another family on their journey to adoption? With a bit of trepidation, we agreed. After all, we had 3 babies under one before. It wasn’t that bad.
Well, this time it was. Caring for three babies while both working full time just about tore our marriage apart. As we approached the end of the two weeks we had promised, the family that was supposed to take the newborn decided that they couldn’t handle her potential medical issues and they backed out of the adoption. We kept the baby for an extra week while another family was secured. A week later, the older baby went to a family member and we breathed a sigh of relief. We were back to being a happy family of three, and we embraced the opportunity to focus on our baby boy. Shortly after that, we finalized our adoption. It was so amazing to finally not have any visits from social workers or calls from lawyers. Our journey to adoption, from the day we submitted our foster family application to the adoption date in court, took just under three years.
#11
Then we got a call for a newborn baby girl, who was perfect. Her single mother abandoned her at birth, and she was fast-tracked for adoption. Once again, I drove to the hospital to pick up a beautiful little 5-pound bundle of joy. We gave her a name, and our son absolutely adored her. I even took eight weeks off work to bond with her. In the seventh week, the social worker bullied her extended family into taking her since she was finally old enough for daycare. Anger doesn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. Neither does despair. But there was no time for our own emotions because we had to help our 18-month old son understand why his baby sister was gone. Disgusted with DCFS, we decided that we would not foster again.
#12 and #13… almost
But yes, you guessed it… the phone rang again a few months later and we were asked if we would foster adoptable one year old twins – a boy and a girl. After much disagreement discussion, we said yes, ran to the store for extra supplies to prepare for their arrival, and then learned hours later that there was a hold on our foster license. The twins were taken to another home. I wasn’t sure if I was sad, angry, or relieved. The next day, it was learned that the hold on our license was a paperwork error, but it was too late. I cried over the phone to an embarrassed social worker who was unable to quell my grief but listened empathetically. A month later, she called us again for the same twins because their foster family didn’t work out and I politely declined because my husband and I had decided to focus on raising our son without distractions.
The real #12
Just before our son turned two, the same social worker called me again. She explained that she felt a connection to me from our last few calls. She had told everyone in her office about me and my husband – and she was determined to find a little princess to complete our journey to adoption. That day, a homeless woman on drugs had given birth to a baby and fled the hospital almost immediately afterwards. The 5-pound baby girl would need 1-2 weeks in the NICU, but she would be fast-tracked for adoption. We had heard similar promises before from DCFS but how could we say no? With an odd combination of blind faith and fear in our hearts, we accepted.
The NICU experience
To start the bonding process, I visited every day until our baby girl was able to come home. The hospital was well aware of my journey to adoption. Imagine my surprise when the hospital treated me like a birth mother! I was given the opportunity to have skin-to-skin contact from the very first visit. In the foster care world, that hospital privilege is one reserved for biological parents. I was also invited to be there for her newborn photo shoot with the hospital’s photographer.
On NICU graduation day, the nurse gently insisted that I sit in a wheelchair and told me to have my husband bring the car around. After I sat, she handed me my tiny sleeping baby wrapped in a tiny pink blanket. As she wheeled me out of the NICU, the doctors and nurses had lined the hallway, clapping and yelling “Congratulations Mommy!” Oh, the tears of joy were running down my face as I smiled and cried and thanked them all for taking incredible care of my daughter. I composed myself in the elevator, not wanting my tears to worry my husband and toddler waiting outside with the car. But as we exited the elevator into the lobby, strangers clapped and cheered – again, tears of joy streamed down my face as I choked back deep sobs, drowning in my emotions.
Journey to adoption… again
I had struggled with infertility for eight long years and had very sadly come to terms with the fact that I would never be wheeled out of a hospital with a baby in my arms. But here I was surrounded by strangers as I beamed with joy and pride, almost in disbelief. It’s an experience that still brings me to tears every time I think about it. Outside, I held out my daughter for my son to see for the very first time and said, “Look honey, this is your baby sister!” He looked at her for a moment, burst into tears, and told us he didn’t want a baby sister. My husband and I looked at each other, thinking the exact same thing. “Seriously?!” Thankfully after a nap and a snack, he changed his mind. And he was as happy as the rest of the family when her adoption day came a year later, a second journey to adoption complete.
Officially a family of four
My children are now 2 and 4 – healthy, happy, curious, rambunctious, demanding, funny, smart, and oh-so-sweet! Between the children and the dogs, our home is never quiet, and that’s ok with us. Amidst the chaos and noise, there’s an overabundance of joy and laughter, paired with constant silent gratitude for the families who gave up their beautiful babies. We’ll never know why they walked away, and someday we will struggle with what to tell our children about their birth parents. But I do know that we’ll tell them their parents gave them each the most selfless gift possible – despite their own wants, needs, and feelings – they allowed their children to go to a family who would love them, care for them, and give them a good life. We have the names of the three of the four birth parents (unrelated) so that we can someday try to track them down, if that’s what the kids want.
#13 on the journey to adoption?
We’re actually considering one last journey adoption in the next year or so because we know we can handle it (once we identify and can afford non-minivan vehicles we like that can hold 2 adults, 3 kids, and 2 dogs). What we’re unsure of is whether or not we want another dance with DCFS. From one day to the next, the foster care system can incite unfathomable levels of joy, pain, rage, fear, confusion, and every emotion in between. Every child we fostered took a chunk of our hearts with them when they left. They were never truly ours, but we called them ours from the day we first brought them home because we knew that for whatever length of time these babies were with us, we were their mommy and daddy, responsible for loving them, teaching them, keeping them safe, and meeting all of their needs. We knew that each child would not be on the journey to adoption with us, and at some points, this was a very tough pill to swallow. We’re still in touch with some of the families and send annual birthday & Christmas gifts, but we’ve lost touch with others.
We wonder regularly if all the kids are warm, if their bellies are full, if they’re safe and feel loved, if they’re happy. We hope their families will contact us if they ever need anything, and we know that DCFS will call us first if the children ever again need to be placed in foster care. It’s why we bought a house with five bedrooms – we would never have the heart to say no to one of our kids returning.
Our friends and coworkers call us heroes for choosing to be foster parents, and I’m embarrassed every time someone says it. I’m absolutely not a hero. I’m just a woman who always wanted to be a mother yet is physically unable to carry a baby to term. Had my husband and I been able to have our own biological children or if we could have afforded a surrogate, I don’t know that we ever would have taken this journey to adoption with DCFS. But I do believe in destiny. We were called to do this. Would you believe that our two children, completely unrelated, have the same blood type? And that their blood type matches mine? They were the same weight and length at birth. They even look like me and my husband. We were destined to be a family. And time will tell whether our family is meant to be larger. Perhaps someday we’ll have another journey to adoption through foster care… stay tuned!