This past week we finalized the adoption of our 6 year old foster daughter. It was simultaneously joyous and sad; I love that she is officially part of our family now but I hate everything she went through to get to us. And it’s hard, because she is old enough to understand some things but not old enough to completely understand.

Some thoughts/observations:

1. After the hearing I felt this wave of exhaustion come over me, and it’s lasted now for 3+ days. Granted, I have whatever virus du jour the baby brought home from daycare, but this is different. Honestly, this feels like all the pent-up stress over the past couple years finally hit me, and now that it is over my body is finally able to start letting go of it.
2. Now that I’m not overthinking/worrying about court, and (fingers crossed) everything is finalized with DHHS, my brain doesn’t know what to do with itself. In some ways this is good, because I really need to go back to working full-time and having a functional brain again is kind of a necessity. In the meantime, I’m on one of my “I need a new project!” rampages, despite the fact that I have a zillion unfinished things to do already.
3. My appetite is back, with a vengeance. Usually when I’m sick I don’t want to eat, but like I said – this is different. My niece made us hazelnut macarons and I need a million more of them and sadly they are all gone, so I am ransacking the kitchen.
4. I find myself having a really visceral reaction whenever someone congratulates us or tells me how wonderful we are for doing this, or how lucky our daughter is to have us. We just severed all legal ties to her biological family, and even though it was necessary it doesn’t mean it doesn’t break her little heart, you know? Is this really something to celebrate? At the same time, I WANT to celebrate her, and how far she has come, and how she is now officially part of our family. I WANT her to know she is loved and has a permanent place to call home. And we are the lucky ones, to be able to give this little girl love, a home, some semblance of stability and security, and a safe space to feel however she needs to feel. It all seems so…basic, right? And yet, not.
5. If money were no object I’d be marching myself back to school, whether it be for another master’s degree or some other program where I could really delve into the US foster care system and compare it to other countries. I have some theories, mind you, but the problem is it’s impossible to just shut it all down and rebuild it from the bottom up (or top down); it’s not like the world just stands still until we figure this out. Meanwhile, the kids…oh, the kids are suffering. Case workers are suffering, foster parents are suffering, biological parents are suffering…I’m convinced if you have even half a heart and do this for any length of time you probably have PTSD.
6. Y’all: I feel okay with posting this photo as you can’t see the faces of either of the girls, but this picture is just EVERYTHING. (credit: Amy Lewis Photography) These girls push buttons neither of us knew we even had, and yet we have these moments that are just so incredibly awesome and joy-filled and magical that even our grumpy selves can’t shut them down. Having kids is HARD and EXHAUSTING, and MESSY and STICKY…don’t even TALK to me about things I have thrown away because the girls got slime all over them including clothing, tablecloths and sheets (there was even some on our long-hairded orange cat but I was able to cut it off). But then there are days where we all sit at the table and color, or sing in the car, or manage to go on an adventure without someone having a complete meltdown (rare, but it has happened). And in between, there are dolls and Magnetiles and books scattered everywhere, juice boxes and applesauce pouches found in odd places, and “potions” in every bathroom. Chaos, but…home.