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My son turns 12 tomorrow. (Warning: smultzy story up ahead)


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Our first inkling of this addition of our family came January 30, 2000.

 

It was a crazy day. Our basset hound had been vomiting all day long. Combine constant mopping the floors with an active three year old and by the afternoon I was done. I was just getting ready to have a cup of coffee when the phone rang. I noticed from the call display that it was our daughter’s birth-grandparents (we have an open adoption). Inside my mind was thinking, if they’re calling to try and get her back there’s no way that’s happening (slightly irrational but always a thought in those early years). Anyway I answered. After some pleasantries Grandpa blurted out “would you be interested in adopting a small boyâ€.

 

Well, truthfully, even though we had suffered with infertility and investigated many adoption avenues we never thought of adopting an older child from within our own province. My initial response was “tell me moreâ€. “Wellâ€, he continues, “we have had this little boy’s sister in our care (foster) since she was born and we have decided to adopt her†(she was 7ish at that time). He went on to say that social services asked them to consider adopting this girl’s brother who was in foster care elsewhere at the time. He told them that they were getting on age and the only reason they were adopting this little girl is because they have always parented her. “But a couple in the north adopted our grand daughter. Perhaps they would be willing.†After his call we agreed that we would consider it.

 

That was the beginning of a somewhat crazy journey. The first call I made to our local social service requesting an “adopt a specific child form†resulted in a no. “No, we have no adoption worker in the north presently.†Well no did not sit well for me. Here we were willing to adopt an older, special needs child and the government was going to say no, we have no worker? To shorten a long story, after three months of advocating (pleading actually), social services sent a worker into our town to work on the adoption process. A marathon home study followed.

 

July 2000 the three of us packed up to drive the 18 hrs to go meet our new son. He was such a happy go lucky little guy (tiny compared to our daughter of the same age). His foster family did such a terrific job of preparing him and welcoming us, we still have a relationship with them.

 

It was a huge time of adjustment. We had only parented a daughter at that point and boys and girls are very much different. Many times I’d phone my sister, with three boys, to say “he’s doing such and such†to which she’d respond, “normalâ€. He was very active and had a short attention span. We had to have a lot of patience in those early days.

 

Now it’s eight years later and I can’t imagine our life or family without him. It’s not always easy, but parenting isn’t easy. We just see how God protected him in so many ways in his early years and how he’s growing into a strong healthy young man (with a huge appetite). He no longer is tiny compared to his sister. Sometimes we marvel at things like the picture we have of our son’s birth-sister (adopted by our daughter’s grandparents) holding our 2 day old daughter before we adopted her and I think it’s unbelievable the connections we have. (Actually sometimes I think it sounds like a soap opera!)

 

We spent so many years childless it was a miracle to now have two children. In November I'll conclude my adoption saga stories with the story of our youngest, who came to us a year after we brought our oldest son home.

 

Happy birthday to my handsome, young man!

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