We went to our first training session almost ten months ago. My wife and I arrived at precisely 9:00 am. Or 6:00 pm. Or somewhere in between. I can’t remember. What I do remember was that over the course of a few months we would go to pre-adoption training evenings, weekends, and online. Three hours classes. Sometimes nine hours worth. Unless I’m doing something I really enjoy, such as writing, my attention span lasts roughly five minutes. Looking at hours ahead of me, I settled into my chair, strategically placed my snacks and water where I could reach them without causing commotion, and prepared my mind as best I could for the onslaught of tedium I knew would come my way.
A large man, a cross between a semi-shaved bear and an old cigar store wooden Indian, introduced himself. From his first words, we all (w’all in Texan?) could tell he was passionate about foster children. It didn’t take him long to get to the heart of the matter. Fostering isn’t for the weak. Those aren’t his exact words, but they capture the sentiment. What followed was a barrage of anecdotes about the horrors that children in foster care experience. And how they manifest themselves in the behavior of those children.
I started to wonder. Are they doing this to scare us? Show us worst case scenarios so when bad things happen we don’t run off simply because they hadn’t prepared us. Or were these stories the rule and not the exception? Well, I’ve spent years teaching high school in some pretty tough places. I’ve dealt with things that would break your heart. I have broad shoulders that can bear a heavy load. This couldn’t be worse. I certainly wasn’t going to be scared off.
The three hours came and went, and my wife and I walked out of there nervous but excited. We returned the following day for the next training. And the following weekend. And the next and the next and the ….
By the time we had completed the training, we were numb. Classes on fetal alcohol syndrome, laws, rules, and regulations, promiscuous behavior, bed wetting, poop smearing, oppositional defiant disorder, lying, manipulating, medicine storage, normalcy, midnight placements, temper tantrums, fire inspections, CPR, fines for noncompliance, doctor visits, counseling, black trash bag suitcases, fear, anger, and brain chemistry muddled together in my head. I kept waiting for the class on how wonderful it would be to offer a child in need a home. What we got back was: don’t expect the child to be grateful, learn to be flexible, accept certain behaviors you normally wouldn’t, you will cry and wonder why you ever decided to do this, it will tear at your family, and so much more. It was at that point that my wife and I knew adoption wasn’t for us.
Just kidding. We’re suckers for punishment, I suppose. One of the things that kept me moving forward was that were a few couples we knew who had adopted children of their own. They didn’t sugarcoat their experience, but they did offer another side. It was worth it. Would you do it all over again, I asked. Every one of them said the same thing. Absolutely. But don’t try to do it on your own. Find a community of people who have gone through the same experiences and seek out their advice. Join a church group dedicated to adoption. If your church doesn’t have one, start your own. Read about fostering and adoption. Talk to your spouse. Dig into your own emotions and understand yourself. Don’t be afraid to change and be more flexible. Love the kids like Jesus taught us to and be patient.
And, don’t forget, they’re just kids. They’re resilient. They’re going to get in trouble like any kids do. Most have been through situations that we haven’t, but with time, proper help – therapy, normalcy, etc., and love they’ll come around. It won’t be easy. There will be times you want to give up and question why you did it, but in the end it will be worth it.
That’s what my friends, who have adopted, say. My wife and I haven’t made it to placement yet. My guess is that the adoption agency gives us the worst case scenario in order to prepare us but that in most cases it’s not nearly as bad as they make it out to be. That’s my feeling. On the other hand, if I’m wrong, I’m prepared for what may come. As prepared as I can be, anyway.