Something I've never blogged about before

In every blogger's life I believe there is a topic that, until the right time, remains "unbloggable". For me, this post will address that topic. This is my unbloggable topic.

The adoption of our daughter at the age of 11 just last summer could possibly be the most significant thing I've done in my life, rivaled only by coming to a saving knowledge of Christ in my twenties, and marrying my husband nearly a decade ago.

But somewhere out there is another woman who had the chance to feel that way before me, and blew it. BIG. TIME. And I'm not talking about K's birthmother...

I have little information, and even fewer hard facts, but what I do know makes me sick to my stomach over what happened to the girl who is now ours to protect forever.

Our K was a sweet and sensitive five-year-old when a family, who had two older biological sons already, decided they were not complete without a daughter.

K had been in the system for more than three years, passed through several foster caregivers by this point, and the beginnings of her attachment and attention issues were starting to show.

The state, in my opinion, rushed to process the adoption through to finalization. K had no voice in the matter, no say in her placement and no hint of what was to come.

They changed her name (first, middle and last), moved her to a new school, and settled in to a "normal life" as a family of five.

Time went by, K started to present challenges and her issues began to take center stage — from all accounts, her adoptive "mother" did little to help K process her past traumas and issues, and instead looked to doctors to medicate and psychoanalyze this little girl trying to achieve whatever "mom" saw as the behavior she expected from her perfect child.

K tells horror stories of the relationship she had with her "brothers" — how they clearly did not want her added to the family, and did what all siblings do, blame the others when any offense was committed... but this set of parents sided with their blood most times.

Right before K turned eight the situation reached a boiling point. I have no concrete records on what truly happened — and I think it's a blessing that K has no recollection — the state foster care system likes to call it an "adoption disruption", but the state legal system called it "child abandonment."

Really, there is no gray area — this family took K to a hospital, had her admitted and retained under a law that lets people be held if they pose a danger to themselves or others, and then refused to pick her up, take her home, or remain her parents.

Disgusting.

They faced charges, but were allowed to not face criminal action if they agreed to "surrender" K back to the system who placed her with them in the first place. They are also barred from ever adopting again.

K spent time in a group home after that and ultimately spent another three years in the system before we found our way to her.

Until we moved this past summer, we could have very well passed this family in a local shopping mall or at the movies. Knowing their names, where they lived, and even what they looked like had me constantly on guard.

Until our finalization day she still had to bear their name — the name they chose for her like you do when you have a child born to you.

How they treated her is not how you treat a child — especially your child. Period.

But time heals, especially for children. And love heals even more.

We don't talk much about "the warm-ups" as K calls them (the practice parents she had before ultimately finding us — her forever parents). She did when we were first matched and first getting to know each other.

She'd talk, and we'd listen.

She'd tell the same stories about her "mother" washing her mouth out with soap, about biting a ring off the lady's finger during one such incident, about brothers who locked her in a car in the garage, about a dog who liked to bite her and make her cry.

Those stories are hardly ever told anymore. I can't make her forget them — you can't "unknow" something, that's how we always describe it.

But the blessing of adoption is you can start a new life and choose what you want to remember from your past. What happened, happened. I can't change that. The experiences she had have contributed to who she is.

I would never wish this life experience on K or on any other child. But what it's taught us as a family is priceless.

We reassure her need to know we're not going anywhere. We prove each day that family is family, no matter what. That children are not returnable. The no child is unlovable. That even the worst behavior doesn't forgive their actions, and should never had led to their choices.

It's sad that the first "mother" K ever really knew committed such mistakes, so many missed opportunities to love her, so many chances for K to really know how amazing life as a daughter can really be.

Today, I am thankful for second chances, for second "motherhood" and for getting the chance to get it right. For her sake and for mine.