We are planning the next adoption party – it is a place where waiting children and prospective families can meet and spend time in a fun environment.

The venues change from time to time, but the purpose doesn’t. Josh was feeling lonely when he attended one such party. But his face lit up in a big, big smile when he recognized his older brother who was also there. They’d been separated in foster care years before. But the emotional bond had never been severed.

The older brother came to the party with his adoptive parents…who wanted to adopt another child. You can imagine our delight, and theirs as well, when they found one another.

Those two boys spent the whole party together, playing and talking and enjoying the games. Then, over Thanksgiving, Josh traveled to the home of his big brother to spend the holiday weekend with him and his family.

Well, he just stayed.

They all knew in their hearts that they were meant to be family.

I love those parties!

Nancy prefers peace. But she will fight for children.

She is an adoptive mom, a psychotherapist, a trainer and a writer. Our world is made better by Nancy’s wisdom. Here is a peek into her opinions about war.

“More than half million children live in foster care in the United States. Most are there because of a personal war of abuse and/or neglect. No twenty-four hour coverage by embedded journalists chronicles their story. No president promises them a quick end to their plight; no congress rallies around their need with emergency allocations. The fight against terrorism does not extend to the personal, private terror of vulnerable children.

What if, just once, our leaders directed their passionate patriotism toward a pre-emptive strike against the evil axis of poverty, neglect, violence and racism? What if it was a national imperative that all children lived in safe homes…

Now there’s one war I could support.”

In an article for Adoptive Families magazine, Nancy offers some useful suggestions for parents as they talk with their children’s teachers about adoption.
Click here to read more.

If you would like a copy of her article, titled At War, she invites you to simply email her and request a copy.

Tim is out of town. That’s because he is busy being a grandfather. He drove several hours to be on hand to welcome Elena to the family when she is born. And he plans to hang around for a couple of weeks to help care for the new baby’s older brothers while mom and baby get settled.

She joins a big, noisy extended family who play and love with abandon.

There are aunts, uncles, cousins and friends…and of course, Tim. He has been a rock of support for Elena’s mom since she was adopted as a school girl. He is much of the reason Elena is born into a safe place and has all of the opportunities other babies have.

Elena is named in part for her grandmother. Cancer took her before they were able to meet one another. But from the moment of her arrival, Elena is submerged in the love that is the legacy of her grandmother’s courageous and unwavering adoption commitment.

It is as if Tim and Diane Elaine (Elena – get it?) offer little Elena as a gift to all of us. This new baby brings society’s hopes with her as she enters this world, and she will carry the love of her grandparents into the future.

Remember the let down feeling when the big event is over? The guests are gone and the house is littered with the mess from the party.

Dirty dishes overflow the sink. Rooms that just hours before reverberated with laughter and good times are quiet. Furniture is out of place, and empty glasses are strewn about. There is an empty feeling.

That’s a feeling common to new adoptive families and adopted children. The euphoria and excitement of the placement wears off and daily living evolves.

Eventually the honeymoon phase is over and the real work of putting the family together goes on.

For adoptive families the honeymoon period can last for days, weeks, or months. For some it might even be years before a child’s issues surface. For other families the challenges begin the minute the child enters their home.

In 1990 one mom lifted a piece of the process to light when she wrote this poem.

Peaceful Sleep

She wasn’t a newborn baby,
Though we had our sleepless nights
Not for feedings did we wake
But to quiet the cries of fright.

Instead of hours, twas minutes,
Months instead of weeks.
Night after night after night
We thought it’d never cease.

Then one night it happened
The cries, they never came.
Night after night we listened
It hasn’t been the same.

Our little angel sleeps now.
Every night has brought more trust.
Memories no longer haunt her.
She’s becoming one of us.

Kay Willbrandt

Chris grew up in foster care.

Following a six-week internship with Senators and Congressmen through the Congressional Coalition on Adoption Institute, this is what he said:

“If you were considering companies to invest in, you would not choose a company that was … almost guaranteed to fail. But you have stepped up and made that very investment.”

He was talking about the personal, financial and emotional investment in children in foster care – children who come from circumstances that strip them of opportunities to learn and grow into their potential.

They’ve missed out on team sports (who would pay for their uniforms, or drive the car pool, or cheer for them from the sidelines?). They have likely moved from one school to another, so they’ve lost the chance to develop lasting relationships with teachers, coaches and friends.

But there are people who take the risks – people who do in fact invest in the dreams of those young people.

Here at The Adoption Exchange last fiscal year families invested in the futures of 393 children from foster care through adopting. Hundreds volunteered their time, contributed financially, or dedicated their professional skills to help make the dreams of those children come true.

Becky’s outlook on life makes me smile. She and her husband adopted a brother and sister, after thinking about it for a long time.

When they first began thinking about adopting, they thought they wanted the experience of raising the youngest possible child they could. But, they eventually came to the conclusion that the early years fly by, and being a parent lasts a lifetime. So they adopted school aged siblings.

In a matter of fact kind of way Becky noted that she really didn’t miss out on too much. “Teenagers say ‘why?’ all the time – just like toddlers,” she said.

Another of Becky’s down to earth way of living is reflected in her gentle warning. “If you want to see me, stop in any time. If you want to see my house, make an appointment.”

Cherrie was 13 years old when she crafted this poem.

I Am a Foster Child

I am a foster child
I wonder if I’ll always be
I hear people talk
I see nothing change
I want to be adopted
I am a foster child.

I pretend that I am not
I feel lonely
I touch my parents hand
To guide me through
I worry if my dreams will
ever come true
I cry when I’m hurt
I am a foster child.

I understand I am
I say my feelings
I dream of having
a family
I try to be patient
I hope to be adopted
I am a foster child.

A pretty bright Montana boy in foster care wrote this note to help his caseworker find an adoptive family for him. Since I couldn’t say it any better, he will be today’s guest blogger.

I am writing to tell you about myself and my needs. I would like to have my hair hang over one of my eyes (preferably the right eye). I would like considerate parents who have a good sense of humor. I would like fun parents that would spend time with the children and when gone would get a sitter.

I am 12 years old and am smart in my own eyes. I am kind of good on the computer. I also enjoy football, basketball, movies and teasing my sisters. I believe in the LDS church, a good movie, being fair to your friends, and parents being appropriate with their children.

I like animals and I think I would feel comfortable in a family that had pets — especially a German Shepherd (or a large reptile). You don’t have to go buy one if you don’t have one already.

I want to be adopted because being a foster kid is not the best. You have to move around all over the place and you don’t feel like a “real kid.” If I was adopted, I would feel like I was “real” like everybody else.

Jimmy was eleven years old when he was adopted. His mom said that she’d assumed she couldn’t adopt. “I was single, I worked, and I was going to school.” Her friends encouraged her to learn about adopting, and before she knew it she’d met Jimmy and couldn’t get him out of her mind.

It was a relatively smooth adjustment, as big changes go and despite the fact that Irene was in law school.

Irene had raised two children by birth, so she thought she knew what to expect. But the early days brought some surprises for her.

“There were some unsettling things …. I didn’t know what he didn’t know,” she said. “I took for granted that he would have had the same kinds of childhood experiences I did. But he hadn’t been to a circus, he didn’t know what a pineapple was, and he said he’d never eaten peanut butter.”

Jimmy had been in foster care for several years and had taken on a sense of responsibility for himself that no youngster should have to assume. He tried to look like an adult on the outside, but on the inside he was still a little boy.

The time Irene spent with him on her lap in a favorite rocking chair helped release Jimmy from that heavy responsibility and allow himself to be a child with an adult to care for him.

In the early months Jimmy didn’t ask to go outside and play, or to use the telephone to call his new friends. But slowly he began to discover a new role for himself. In time he could be found riding his bike or hanging out with friends he met in his Scout troop. . . coming home dirty, like boys should.

Jimmy thrived, and so has Irene. “You don’t have to be rich, or give them everything they desire…just share with them what you have,” she says.

That’s good advice for all of us – whether we work in adoption, are parents, volunteers, or find ways to support the children and their families.

“My name is Brian and I am fourteen years old. I don’t remember my birth mother because she left me when I was about three years old. That’s okay because I’ve heard that when she left me alone she tied me to a chair and put duct tape on my mouth.”

That’s how he began his speech before 150 friends and child advocates.

“After that when I was living with my birth father. He would leave me home alone. He physically beat me a lot. The trailer was never clean – it was always falling apart. My birth father got drunk a lot and I would be taken out of the trailer sometimes and then go back.

When he tried to kill me with a gun, I was then put in a foster home. That was about five years ago. For about four years I lived in a lot of foster homes. I would say that to move around a lot is not good. It got frustrating because I was always making friends and then I lose them and start from scratch.

Almost a year and a half ago I was placed at a treatment center and was there for a year. There are a lot of staff for each kid and they pay a lot of attention to what we did or didn’t do. There are a lot of rules. You wouldn’t believe some of the things you had to ask for permission to do, like to get a drink of water.

I learned a lot there, but it is a place I don’t ever want to go back to. After five years of being in foster care or residential care my birth father gave up his parental rights. The staff at residential felt I should leave there for a home again.

I could have gone to another foster home but my caseworker felt I was ready to be adopted. I wanted to be in a normal, stable home, like I am now.”

It takes courage for a teenage boy to stand before others and describe his painful journey. But Brian did it for a good reason. This is the eloquent way he ended his speech:

“Adopting is VERY important to me because of the life that I grew up in. I am not the only kid that should get adopted. There are LOTS of other kids that should be adopted too.”