The Journey to Forever

For as long as I can remember, fostering and fostering to adopt has been on my heart. It’s been something as clear to me as breathing. Showing love to precious children who otherwise might not be shown love. Giving them a chance to blossom into the best version of themselves. Supporting and hugging them when they otherwise might not have the chance to feel what it means to be encouraged.

My husband, Adam, and I discussed my desire for fostering to adopt early in our dating years and he felt the same way I did. We knew eventually this would be how we chose to grow our family.

A little over two years ago, we began the journey having no idea how it would pan out or how long it might take, but we had faith that everything would happen when the time was right.

We submitted for different broadcasts, sent to us from our agency, which we felt we could take on, and waited. Then waited some more. Then everything started happening pretty quickly. We were picked as one of the final three families for 2 sisters.

2 sisters whose pictures I fell in love with the first time I saw them because they reminded me so much of my sister and me as kids.

They looked like us. It was uncanny.

Adam and I prayed, wished, hoped, and dreamed as we waited to hear the final decision. We dreamed of the life we could have with these girls in our home. The places we would take them, the music we would introduce them to, the activities we thought they’d enjoy.

Then we got the call.

We were picked!

We were overwhelmed with happiness, but also fully aware that we still had hurdles to jump as the journey was only beginning. We got to meet the girls at a McDonald’s playground for a few hours to introduce ourselves and get comfortable with one another. I’m not going to lie, this was forced and awkward. It’s an indescribably foreign (and supervised) situation that you’re never prepared for. We took little goodie bags for the girls with some coloring books and activities we thought they’d enjoy and, slowly but surely, they began to open up to us. By the end of the meeting, they were singing “Hello” by Adele to us and calling Adam goofy. Our hearts were invested. These were going to be our daughters.

A court date came and went and we got to have a few private weekend visits with them. We booked hotel suites and got to have time with them to play, laugh, sleep, and learn more about each other. We quickly learned that laughing was one of their favorite things and that they had a fiercely protective love for each other. They fell asleep cuddled up and hugging on the pull out sofa.

They told us they loved us.

Our hearts melted.

We couldn’t wait for them to be with us.

Weeks passed at a snail’s pace and eventually, we were given a placement date where they would get to move into our house. We visited the elementary school administrators where we’d enroll the oldest and got the youngest enrolled in a preschool.

We got their room ready.

And their closet.

Then our doorbell rang and they were here.

Cautious.

Scared.

Confused.

We gave them hugs. We showed them their room. We introduced them to our dog. They began to warm up.

The next 7 months have passed in a blur. Some days we wonder what we’ve gotten ourselves into, but those are few and far between. Mostly, we just laugh, love and watch in awe at how resilient these girls are.

We cannot fathom what their life was like up until this point, but we try every day to meet them where they are and show them that they are safe, loved, wanted, and cherished in our home. By us. By our families. By our friends.

They’ve flourished since arriving in our home and just in the past few weeks (roughly 8 months post placement) we’ve had pinch me moments and met milestones with them we weren’t sure would ever come.

We’ve seen them dress our dog, Senna, up as a princess. We’ve taught them to ride bikes. We’ve watched them learn to swim. We’ve watched their complete and total excitement to see the ocean for the first time and learn to jump waves. We’ve heard them tell secrets to our parents. We’ve built hundreds of Lego projects and put together countless puzzles. We’ve taught them to jump into a pile of leaves without a care in the world and pushed them thousands of times in swings.

Crayons have taken over our coffee table and toys have taken over our house. Their beds are covered in a mix of my old stuffed animals and their new ones. Front rolls and cartwheels are daily occurrences. Pony rides, picking strawberries, calling the Hogs, and singing karaoke have all happened with glee.

Is the hardest part behind us? Who knows. Nothing in life is ever promised, but we’re so incredibly lucky that we were picked for these girls and are happy that forever has finally come for them.

Christmas Eve Pajamas

I’ve written previously about the traditions my family had during the Holidays and also about the unfortunate turn of events that has surrounded some of them, like the fiery Advent wreath. So it wouldn’t be Christmas without yet another story to add to the family history, right?

Every Christmas Eve, my family has a routine. We play games or work a  puzzle (or both if you’re really lucky) and fill up on Christmas goodies like Hairy Eyeballs, Cookies, Buckeyes, and any other sweet you could imagine. Then, we gather in the living room around the Christmas tree and open one gift each.

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Every year we expect this and we don’t pack this because we know it will be supplied to us shortly.

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We open Christmas Pajamas on Christmas Eve.

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And this year, I even bought a similar present for the pups of the family, my sister’s dog Lilah and our faithful pup, Senna.

Well, we usually do.

This year my mom asked my dad to keep the gifts separate from the others so they would be easier to find on Christmas Eve and he kept them so separate that he forgot where he put them. So instead of opening a pre-determined gift on Christmas Eve, we got to pick one gift from under the tree to open and if we got lucky they’d be pajamas. None of us chose correctly, so instead of this awesome picture I had in my mind of my sister and me in our pajamas with our dogs, we got this:

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Taylor's Twinkies!

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This picture is equally awesome because my sister and I had on our matching Canadian tuxedos, but it’s not the same as all of us in pajamas.

On Christmas morning, after all the gifts were unwrapped and none of us ever opened up pajamas, my dad went on a house search for the missing packages. They were found in an upstairs hall closet on the top shelf and had “Christmas Eve” written on each box.

Guess we’ll have 2 pajama pictures to take next year!