Adoption = The Odds
What are the odds of success for a child who was locked in a room the first few years of life? A child so ignored, he knew ten words at age three? A child so neglected by both bio parents and foster parents that he didn’t know the alphabet at age five? A child who, in kindergarten, couldn’t recognize the word “the” on a page?
What are the odds of success for a child who was moved at least five different times because the adults in his life didn’t want to take the time to understand him, to hear beyond the angry screams, to see past the wild hyena behavior? A child who could not make it through a day in kindergarten or first grade without a one-on-one behavioral aide?
What are the odds of success for a child who was solely responsible for an infant at age two? A child locked in a room with her tiny brother? A child so malnourished her hair began falling out? A child left to her own devices in such a way that she still feels the weight of responsibility for not being able to feed herself and her brother?
What are the odds of success for a child who was unable to succeed in kindergarten because a foster family forced her to watch a toddler instead of learning? For a child who was so overlooked that no one, not even the social workers, fought for her to receive therapy or academic assistance?
At times, the odds seem to be never in our favor. There are many days, weeks and even months when we are exhausted, overwhelmed, frustrated, stressed, drained. Times when we weren’t sure we could do this. When we didn’t think we had it in us. When we were convinced this experiment of love would not end well.
Ah, but this week, we are momentarily triumphant.
This week, our daughter has been declared no longer in need of occupational therapy. She’s doing well in her mainstream classroom with minimal academic assistance. She is making more healthy choices.
This week, our son–who was reading on a kindergarten level in second grade–is finally reading on grade level. His eyes sparkled as he informed me that some of his spelling words are “fourth grade!” words. This afternoon, as we waited for his sister to finish her last OT appointment, he was the most well-behaved child in a room of many.
I’m not fooled into thinking we’re on easy street. (We’re only three years away from teenage angst…that will be fun…) I understand that there will be setbacks. I’ve not been lulled into a wondrous sense that this is the new normal.
But this week, we celebrate.
And borrowing a line from one of my favorite books, I say, on behalf of all foster and adoptive families,
May the odds be ever in your…well, you know.
Posted on September 11, 2014, in Parent and tagged adopted, adoption, child, children, family, foster, Hunger Games, kindergarten, may the odds be ever in your favor, parent, parenting, school, therapy. Bookmark the permalink. 12 Comments.