One of the biggest parts of foster care and adoption is the tragedies that come with it. I love my girls with all of my heart and I am so blessed to have them in my life…but they are only with me because of horrible, unspeakable things. Older A is only with us because her life was straight out of “A Child Called It”. A2 is with us because she has been hurt in every way possible, by literally everyone who was supposed to keep her safe. H is only with us because after her parents screwed her up as badly as they could, they dumped her like garbage and never looked back.
H in particular is having a really hard time. They recently upgraded her level of care from ‘basic’ to ‘intensive’. Remember how I thought she was easy at the beginning? Hahahaha. Naive mom, meet exhausted mom of a screaming teenager.
In between the ER visits, med checks, health checks, and therapies that go with loving and caring for a profoundly hurting child, H made a request of us. She wanted her worker to get in touch with her birth mom, in the hopes that b-mom would give her back some of her belongings. Mainly, she wanted a stuffed dolphin that she has had since she was a baby.
Such a simple request. Just one well-loved stuffed animal. H’s worker managed to get in contact with b-mom to present this request, and was told quite rudely that ALL of H’s belongings had been sold or thrown away. Not a single thing is left. B-mom signed over her children, threw away their things, and didn’t look back.
I cried so hard when H’s worker told me. I have no idea how to tell H that the woman who birthed her discarded her and all of her things so easily. I want to shield her from that, especially with how hard things have been recently.
A lot of adoptive parents say that they love the birth parents of their child. They say that by giving life to the child, the birth parents have given them a gift of great worth. No matter how hard I try though, I can’t seem to look at it that way. The birth parents of my children gave no love to them; they hurt them and then left them. I don’t love my children’s birth parents. On a good day, I can manage pity. On a bad day, my feelings are much closer to hatred.
A child’s life shouldn’t resemble a hit-and-run.