Ho Hey

It has been a year since we went to court and a judge terminated the parental rights of our kids' birth parents. A whole year has passed and they are still not legally adopted. Failures across the board by the court system, our foster agency and the State of Illinois as a whole have further delayed closure and permanence for our children.

I always see these pictures on Facebook of these bright-eyed, grinning children holding some Pinterest-worthy chalkboard sign exclaiming that after so many (hundreds of) days in foster care they are finally adopted. The numbers written vary but they are almost always close to 1,000. It is heartbreaking to think that these kids, my kids, have spent so much time, so many years in limbo waiting for a bureaucracy to grant them the security of belonging to a family forever. It's frustrating as a parent to have to constantly tell my kids that I don't know when they will be adopted. It's unfair and cruel that they should have no legal parents for more than a year now.

We retained an adoption attorney soon after the termination hearing, but her hands are tied. She cannot push up the timeline because her sole job is to wait on our foster agency and the State to get their acts together and submit subsidy paperwork to her so that we can set a court date. It's all a very lengthy and convoluted process, especially when dealing with agencies affected by high turnover rates and a lack of a State budget. Because of this, we truly have no idea when the adoption could be finalized.

In the meantime, we try our best to live like the boys are ours. Life goes on for us as usual, except for the inconvenience of monthly home visits from the caseworker, spotty sibling visitation with their biological siblings (also wards of the state), and foster licensing visits every 6 months. We still have to get permission to travel out-of-state (even if it's just across the border into Indiana or Wisconsin for lunch!), and are completely reliant on a broken system of agencies to make sure our kids' needs are being met and rights are being honored. It's exhausting and truly annoying.

"Here, take care of these kids. They're yours, but not really. Not legally. Not yet. Someday."

A year ago, when this court decision happened, we were heartbroken for our children and their mom. We grieved the permanent loss they now know of never again being able to live with and be a part of the family unit into which they were born. We are still sad for our children and their siblings. We are not not sad for their mother, but we've had more confirmations than we can count that this was absolutely the best outcome for our boys and their little sisters. As devastating as this is and will continue to be for our kids, we are hopeful that with continued regular therapy and the stability and support they have gained in our family and within our community of friends and neighbors, they will heal and one day thrive.

We had wanted so much, and still do, to keep the boys connected to their mother. As time has gone on, she has pulled back, cancelled visits, stopped calling, and made excuse after excuse as to why. Why she's late. Why she can't make it. Why she hasn't called. Our kids have been disappointed, rejected, betrayed and hurt repeatedly by her lack of involvement, and truly, what they see as lack of interest in them or their lives. When she finally does show up via text message or random visitation with their siblings they are overjoyed, but guarded. My middle child is like a forever-forgiving puppy dog. It doesn't matter what someone does to him; He forgives and forgets. My oldest, on the other hand, doesn't get too close, and I have to force him to say goodbye to his mom when the visit is over. When she calls (once in a blue moon), he has to think of superficial things to talk about because he's too afraid to say the things he really wants to say, the things that keep him up at night and cause his heart to break over and over when he thinks about them. He can't be vulnerable with her. He can't be himself. He knows he will probably never get the answers he deserves. And so at the tender age of 8, he puts on a mask and tells her about the new Legos he just got or the movie he watched or the sport he played in the backyard.

He can't ask her why she doesn't call him or visit.

He can't tell her how hurt he is by her failures.

He can't ask her why she made the choices she did that resulted in him being placed into foster care.

He can't tell her that he has nightmares about her dying or abandoning him.

He has to keep all of these things to himself, sharing (some of) them only with his therapist and us, whom he trusts. He knows we will comfort him and provide the only answer we can a lot of the time: I don't know.

I don't know why she doesn't call or ask to see you.

I don't know why she makes choices that hurt you.

I don't know why she tried too late to make changes that could have kept you as hers.

I don't know why she doesn't seem sad when you see her.

These are hard questions that even an adult would have a hard time articulating, would be afraid to ask someone who's hurt them. It's not fair that my child has these questions rattling around in his head and heart. I understand that the finalization of the adoption will not take these questions away. I know it won't fill the hole in his heart that could only ever be filled by her, but won't. I know it won't offer him relief and peace, making him forget everything he's gone through.

But, it will give him security. He can never again be taken away, removed or abandoned by parents entrusted to care for and love him.

It will give him hope for a future that would not have been possible had a judge not made the hard, painful, brave decision to terminate rights.

It will give him comfort to know that he doesn't have to pretend with us; that we love him no matter what and will be here for him in the good times and bad.

That's all we want. We just want them to know that we're theirs and they're ours, forever.

That's all we're asking for.

That's all we're waiting for.

Not subsidies, not court dates, not formalities.

Just acknowledgment.

We are a family.

And they don't have to worry anymore.