I’ve been asked to describe my adoptions and one in particular stands out in my mind as difficult. I’d flown to east Texas in early 1999, four years after my previous adoption in 1995. My caseworker liked several years to pass after an adoption finalization and I trusted her instincts totally.

Entering their foster home I was a bit stunned to find a hoochy-dressed seven year old, a four year old still in sagging diapers, and a raging, spitting, biting, non-verbal two year old who continuously pumped out from his rear end what resembled goat turds. These three children were all on clonidine which shocked me enough but prompted their adoption worker to turn to me and suggest I get back to Georgia with the kids and toss all these meds out my back door.

Their 10 year old brother was described as a Level of Care 5 which placed him in a therapeutic ranch where his disruptive, oppositional behavior resulted in many basket holds and restraints.

It was decided, after a tough couple of days there, that the ten year old would join our family first to be followed soon by his three siblings.

Even though I then had 16 children, several grown, I’d never adopted such troubled kids before and our adjustment period took a long time and a great deal of work.

Two years passed and the ten year old had been kicked out of each grade and a therapeutic wilderness camp. His behavior continued to deteriorate until he was remanded to a state mental hospital for nearly five years. He returned to us but is now in jail again, unable to function in society at age 19.

Somehow he got to a phone today and called me, telling me that no one was looking but eliciting an, “I’m not going to participate in deceit son, call me at the proper time.”

My ill-dressed seven year old daughter, now almost 16, continued her own downward spiral here in our home until the Department of Juvenile Justice placed her in a therapeutic placement as a last resort before confinement for her thievery that has only escalated as has her penchant for skanky attire.

The four year old boy grew up to be a very good looking seventh grader, popular and happy, very bonded to the rest of our family, choosing their company over his birth siblings. He came here shy and scared but is now confident and fun-loving. This is him pictured here, nearly 14 now.

The once non-verbal rager has made pretty good strides in spite of the fact that he’d been diagnosed with mild Cerebral Palsy which truly has resulted in some physical issues and developmental delays. Emotionally he is much younger than his chronological age of 11. I’ve poured a lot of love, time and energy into him.

I’ll detail other adoptions in upcoming posts.

Photo Credit Cindy Bodie