I have never wanted to write this post. It is very personal and private. Some of it is not my story to tell so pardon me if I am vague in some areas. But, this event, this ugly thing that has happened that has affected the world’s view of adoption needs to be corrected.
Today is the day that we (adoptive parents everywhere) are speaking the truth about our adoption experiences (the good, the bad and the ugly) in the hopes that people everywhere understand that while adoption may not be easy it is FOREVER.
Here is my story:
As most of you know my oldest son is adopted (by me, he is my husband’s biological son). I met Jason when he was about to turn three. Having been through a lot in my own childhood I immediately recognized that Jason wasn’t growing up in a good environment. He called me “mom” just because I was his daddy’s girlfriend.
The next time I saw him (a few months later) he was jumpy and afraid of the dark. He wet the bed. Lots of red flags. He lived over 1000 miles away so keeping an eye on the situation proved difficult.
In 1997, when Jason was four we received a phone call in the middle of the night from a neighbor of his bio mom’s. She had searched information for our number, only knowing my husband’s last name. I won’t go into the details of that call here but the next day began our quest to get custody of Jason. After almost two years, thousands of dollars in legal fees, thousands of miles back and forth from Iowa to West Virginia and two more years of abuse and neglect, we succeeded. We were awarded full custody of Jason in March 1999. After abuse and neglect continued during visitations between Jason and his bio mom, her parental rights were terminated and I adopted Jason as my own in September 2000.
When a child experiences bonding issues with their bio mom, are exposed to unmentionable abuse and neglect the scars run deep. And those scars cause them to lash out. Particularly to the person that represents the person that hurt them. In this case- me. Jason was hurt by his bio mom in so many ways and then I became his mom.
I love Jason because he is part of my husband. I love him because he is my son. But I also love him because I understand. I know what it is to be hurt by the person that is supposed to care for you more than anything.
So I took it. Punches, kicks, hair pulling, bruises, name calling (so sad to me that he even knew those words). I excused it, hid it and took it.
Because there were also hugs, kisses, special moments when it seemed he would be okay. We did everything “right”- therapy, IEP’s and love, lots of love. We learned how to restrain a child when he was raging, but even when he was eight and nine I wasn’t physically strong enough. Only my husband could. And he worked…a lot.
Jason didn’t just have a problem with authority at home. It translated everywhere…school, church, public places. We began to not be able to go anywhere as a family. Mike would have to stay home with Jason and the other boys and I would go or vice versa. We became isolated, lost friends and our family started to splinter.
He would run away from school, hit his teacher’s and hurt other students. His anger was palpable and his hurt ran so deep. The courts intervened in 2004. Our eleven year old son had a probation officer. If he messed up at school, hurt me or hurt his brothers he would be taken away. Kind of setting him up to fail.
And in December 2004, Jason was taken from us. He was deemed to be a danger to himself and others and placed in a residential facility for troubled children.
I felt like the life had been sucked out of me. We just wanted him to be okay. His placement was 3 hours away from our home. Our weekends became road trips. Labels were given: conduct disorder, attachment disorder, PTSD.
In June of 2007 our lives were turned completely upside down. Jason was about to come home from residential treatment and the judge that had originally ordered him there had requested an evaluation by several different types of therapists before he would sign the final order. One of those therapists was a juvenile sex offender treatment therapist. {Jason had displayed sexual acting out behaviors since he was very little}
The findings of her evaluation changed our lives forever. Jason disclosed things that not only made the judge rule that Jason could not return home but that he could also have no contact with his brothers, our other children.
The judge ordered Jason to a sex offender treatment program (three hours from our home). Jason was there for over a year. It was like a prison. All the kids wore the same clothes, same shoes, bars on the windows. We could only visit him once a month and it had to be in a room with all the other kids visiting their loved ones and we could only hug him when we left. It was the worst year of my life (and that is saying a lot considering the things I have been through)
Jason is not allowed to have any contact with Jared and Matthew by court order. It is heartbreaking to try to be a mom to brothers who are forbidden to see each other. When Mike and I visit Jason on the weekends (he is closer now so we get to see him weekly) we have to leave Jared and Matt behind. When we talk to him on the phone we have to go in another room. Family holidays, birthdays- it has just thrown our whole family a curveball we could have never expected.
We get through, by the grace of God. We are defining what family looks like when we can’t all be under the same roof. Jason is doing well at his boarding school and is even getting his permit and a job this summer. But, his life has not been easy. He struggles under the constant weight of his early childhood.
If you have stuck with this post so far, you should know that I would never abandon Jason. And it is not because he is related to my husband by blood.
No matter what happened, he is my son. I made that choice from the day we began the custody process and stood before a judge and agreed to be his mama as if I had given birth to him myself.
And, although our road has been far from what I envisioned it to be eleven years ago, I consider it a privilege to be his mama.
Every placement that Jason has had, every counselor, every social worker has commented on my commitment to him. How many people have walked away (from children they gave birth to) over much less. When you know what it means to be abandoned it strengthens your resolve to never let a child you know feel that way again.
Adoption is God’s plan. Period. End of story. What if God decided that we were too much? Too sinful? Too violent? Made too many mistakes? How many of us would be worthy of salvation? Of Him being our Heavenly Father?
Not.one.of.us.
Thank God adoption is forever!
(I am sorry for the length of this post but I had to share my heart on this. While I have been as vague as possible I would ask that if you know my family in person you not discuss the details in this post with my children. It is obviously a very sensitive and difficult situation for our family.)
