10 Years After Our Adoption

I watched as my husband tried to manhandle a 14-inch-thick full-size mattress out of our truck and into our RV. It was another one of his free finds that was supposed to get us back on the road camping. He looked like a giant Gumby character as the mattress folded forward then backward with its sheer weight pressed against his body. I couldn’t help but laugh.

He finally got control of the mattress and dropped it on the ramp of our toy-hauler, but only after he stepped in a mud-hole to keep his balance. The whole scene was ridiculous and I couldn’t help but think of all the crazy turns our lives had taken in the last ten years. We could either laugh about the situation, or cry about it, but one way or another the job had to get done.

I feel like this is our adoption story. Laugh or cry, the only way is to move forward.

Ten years ago today, we drove our unreliable white Ford van in the rain to a courthouse nearly 25 miles from our home. Silence filled the vehicle as we were all in a bit of shock that this day had actually arrived, and that everyone was still alive to witness it.

In fact, if we were honest with each other, some of us might have been thinking this was all a hoax. The term “adoption” had been thrown around at us for eleven months with no results. Postponement after postponement had kept us from becoming a legitimate family.

Dressed to the nines, we entered the courthouse with smiles on our faces. Our mood was in stark contrast to the long line of people waiting to pay their court fines. We headed upstairs to our assigned courtroom. Friends and family started to gather outside and excited energy filled the air. This was really going to happen.

I still remember a young woman standing near our group. She wasn’t part of our group. Her face was downcast, her eyes sad, but also curious. Obviously, she was there for her own court case. A case that would not be as joyous as ours. Little did I know that would become me years down the road.

The noise in the large hallway was becoming increasingly noticeable. Thirty-plus people laughed and hugged and chatted like we were all at a church fellowship. Finally, it was time to enter the courtroom.

Our family sat where the prosecution attorneys would normally sit. The Department of Human Services (DHS) lawyer and caseworker sat where the defendants would normally sit. While I didn’t think much of it at the time, today I understand the tremendous difference between the two sides.

A judge’s day is usually packed full of difficult and challenging cases. If the judge is used to DHS cases, it can be especially trying ruling against and for parents and their children. These judges are making the decisions between families staying together or breaking apart. The burden of each decision must weigh heavily on their hearts.

When the judge asked my husband and me if we would like our foster children to become our legal children, with all the same rights as biological children, we both said yes. We had as much conviction saying yes this day as when we said yes to each other on our wedding day. This was until death do us part.

It was finished. We were proclaimed a forever family.

After an exciting photo shoot filled with stuffed bears from the judge and lots of smiles, our party marched to a special conference room prepared for the celebration. A cake with an image of our family and the date sat on a table. Balloons and a colorful banner made us feel very special.

The whole experience was somewhat surreal. I couldn’t believe how hard it was to get to that day. If you’ve ever watched the movie Instant Family, you may get the idea. It was an amazing day, but it was only a mile marker in our journey. There was so much more to come.

My husband finished heaving the mattress up the RV ramp, into the trailer, and leaned it against the couch. There was no way it would fit in our tiny trailer bedroom. The mattress we had slept on for our six-month road trip was now living in our new mobile home. The two mattresses would need to be switched before we could embark on our first recreational outing since returning home five months ago.

Ten years ago, I would not have believed you if you’d told me, I would be living in a mobile home enjoying my first grand-baby, absent of most of my belongings. I would not have believed the challenges that would come in our adoption story. The court battles that would ensue. The trials our marriage would face. I would not have believed that God would ask us to leave our jobs, sell our homes, let go of our possessions, and so much more in order to care for our hurting children. And I would not have believed He would grant us the opportunity to travel the country for six months in a brand-new trailer after all our kids left home.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. Isaiah 55:8 NIV

I know there are a lot of hurting families out there. It doesn’t matter whether you’ve adopted children, birthed them, or step-parented them. Pain is part of life ever since the fall of man. We don’t know why God allows much suffering for some and little suffering for others. I know I’ve experienced great hardship and great joy. As hard as some situations were to go through, I would not change them. My trials have been gifts to me so that I might love others well.

To my kids, have a blessed adoption day anniversary. Wherever you are, know that God loves you and He cares for you most. It may not always look like it, but hold on. The journey is just getting started.