The Beginning

I’ve been a parent for 1,033 days. This isn’t the beginning of my story as a parent, but it is the beginning of me processing it fingers to keys style. I’ve wanted to write about our family from the day our daughter moved in, but for a million crap reasons I didn’t. Today I’m inspired so here goes nothing! I think I’d regret never telling the story that’s so uniquely mine and my version of it in my voice. I imagine I’ll unpack and sort through things here as they’re happening in our family, as well as share glimpses and context from before, but first a brief sequence of events explaining how we got here…

I met our daughter at the gym where I was coaching gymnastics in 2013. She was 14 at the time and a staff member at her group home had put her in gymnastics classes because he recognized her natural athleticism (it’s hard not to!). She demographically stuck out to me like a sore thumb- not a lot of 14 year old girls starting gymnastics for the first time in my tenure as a coach. I was almost immediately drawn to her in ways that I still can’t really articulate, just feel.

Several months later I became her coach. I learned then that she lived in a group home, and occasionally she would dispense spotty stories about her birth family and life outside the gym. She was an anomaly to me, but I felt a certain urge to shepherd her in a capacity beyond coach to athlete so I fervently inserted myself in her life in places I deemed lacking. She worked out at the gym with me on weekends; I organized social hang outs for her with some of the older girls on the team; I jumped through county hoops to get approval to have her over to our home for hangouts, movie nights, and eventually sleep overs. The therapist at her group home noticed that I was showing interest in her and asked me to attend one of the team monthly planning meetings. That’s when I got curious about what it would look like if we were to foster her. The rest is kind of history as they say, which is still crazy to me. My husband actually remembers the story better; it’s all kind of an mental/emotional blur. I joke that I had pregnancy brain during that time.

In August of 2014 she moved in with us and in February of 2016 she was adopted. There’s of course been a few handfuls of lifetimes of things that have happened in between then and this post, but it feels like she was always in our lives. I imagine most parents feel that way about their kids- hard to remember life before them. My husband (now 35) and I (now 31) had never talked about fostering or adopting (nor kids for that matter) and to be perfectly transparent I was completely ignorant to the idea. I thought it was something “good people” did and I didn’t consider myself in that merit category, which I now know to be completely ridiculous thinking. We see fostering/adoption simply as a different way to make a family. And actually, I feel a fierce maternal instinct for our daughter that is void when I think about having biological children. I knew that I wanted to be HER parent.

Parenting an older child from foster care has hands down been the hardest thing I’ve ever done (like unbelievably-hard-you-can’t-even-imagine-want-to-set-fire-to-everything-hard), but also the greatest and most profound. The three of us had no idea what we were in for and I’m glad because collectively we likely wouldn’t have done it, but I would do it all over again. Some of the stories here may be scary because she’s had some difficult behaviors, but it’s never been more than my husband and I could handle. And we always tell her she’s more than her behaviors or the sum of them.

Our story may be atypical, but it feels one-hundred percent natural. Kids need parents. Period. It’s been our experience that kids that have spent extensive time in foster care need parenting well into their early adulthood more than most and in unsuspecting ways. The fact that our daughter could attach to us in such a compelling way is rare and special. I’m awestruck and thankful to be the one she’s chosen to meet her previously unmet needs from earlier stages of life. Whatever beyond fortuitous/grateful/appreciative is, that’s what I feel to know our daughter. She’s wildly hilarious, wise, has the best smile, nurturing, intuitive, and she’s chosen to call ME ‘Mom’. Wow! Our life together is messy and complicated, but I feel so rich in the opportunity to bear witness to her life.

I feel passionately about the representation of older children in the foster/adoption narrative because it’s less common, but it does happen! And for some people like me, when you least expect it. You don’t know something until you know something, right? Oh, and in case anyone was were wondering the ‘adoption’ part of things for us didn’t really change our day-to-day lives, our commitment to our daughter, nor her stability in remaining in our home. It was more a technicality that actually proved to be particularly agitating for T. Stay tuned.


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