Friday was a wonderful day. We signed the final papers as planned, without a hitch. Scott and Jac0b went on their first camping trip Friday night. He initiated a hug with me to tell me goodbye and it all felt so very right.
It’s looking like our court date will be December 29th with a bunch of other adoption cases before the end of the year, but we’ve requested something before Christmas.
We really want him to feel secure going into the holidays as it’s an expectedly emotional time.
As wonderful and happy as we were to sign the final papers on Friday, I have to tell you I’m feeling quite torn and sad about the whole thing right now.
My biggest misconception about adopting from foster care is that it would be a happy event all around.
I thought the situation at home would be so terrible that he would be happy for us to “save him” from his family and even, the parents would be glad to be rid of the burden of a child, and of course, we would be very happy to do the saving and to bring a child into our family. How terribly inaccurate, at least in our case.
The truth is a child will likely love his parent no matter how terrible their decisions were. And mostly, a parent loves their child and does the best they can, even if that best is not good enough. And yes, we are more than happy to bring Jac0b into our family, but it’s very bittersweet right now. I was not expecting this, but there’s a part of me that wants to make everything right for Jac0b and his family.
As a mother, I simply cannot imagine my kids taken from me and as a daughter, I cannot imagine my parents being taken out of my life. My heart hurts in both ways for Jac0b and his family and I know he is feeling a lot of sadness mixed with happiness too.
So while we are celebrating, we have to be very careful to honor the broken pieces of this story. While adoption creates a new family, it also must destroy another family. Our case worker likened his experience to the death of a parent, except worse because the parent is still alive and well. It’s truly heartbreaking.
So I guess amidst all this happiness as we stare down finalization, I’m feeling the heaviness of that truth. I’m trying to grieve, but also remember that things really weren’t enough in his home. He is in a much safer, more stable family where he can flourish—and he is.
I am very sure in years to come we will see all and only the beautiful in its glory, but right now I’m holding vigil for the broken.
It’s all a tricky balance I wasn’t expecting to have to strike. So, if he doesn’t seem as happy as you think he should be or maybe we don’t celebrate like you think we ought to, please know we are doing the best we can with all the pieces. It’s both broken and beautiful. And that’s ok. Only the best things are.