“What is it like adopting an older child? Should we break birth order? Do you have any words of wisdom for bringing an older child into our home? How will it affect our children?”
These are the most asked questions that land in my inbox. And buddy, are they loaded. I never can respond with the fullness of what I want to say, and honestly, even trying to tackle this subject here is daunting. But I believe it is worth it. You know why?
Because somewhere out there, there’s a girl sitting in another foster home, being shuffled around again, with the only items she owns in a trash bag who really needs a Mama, a forever Mama, to tell her she’s beautiful, to tuck her in at night, and sit with her while she cries.
Somewhere out there is a boy, who sees all of the babies getting adopted, getting a chance to have a forever family, and he’s saying, “What about me?” He deserves a family too. He deserves to have a Mom and a Dad teach him to be a gentleman at the table, show up to his awards days at school, and sing over him as he falls asleep.
Is it easy? No. But the best things never are.
Two years ago, my little kids were three and two, both with their own level of special needs. Micah’s was definitely more severe and we were finally settling into a family rhythm of what it looked like to stay OUT of the hospital. Things had just started to settle down and we felt like we finally had a handle on our life. (Which is hysterical.)
And we got a call.
Our little kids’ biological brother was going into foster care. Would we take him as kinship caregivers for a time so he could stay out of care?
Our answer was a shaky yes. A scared one, but yes all the same. It was the week of our ninth wedding anniversary and everything we thought about our life, suddenly looked drastically different. Within 24 hours, I went from mothering toddlers, watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, changing diapers, and managing time-outs, to a seven-year-old. And I wasn’t sure what to do.
I think before I go any further, you should know, I’ve read all the adoption books and gone to all the trainings. I know about birth order and how important it is to keep it. I’ve taken trauma training more times than I can count. But all of that goes out the window when there’s a seven-year-old standing on your front porch.
I swore up one side and down the other, we would NEVER, under any circumstances, break birth order. I’d heard horror stories and our family wouldn’t be one of them. But God doesn’t really care about what you’d prefer. He’s not about our comfort, or what is easiest for us. He’s about Kingdom, and sometimes He asks us to lay down our ideas of what our family should and should not look like, and say yes to His.
That’s what we did. And let me tell you, this piece is EXTREMELY important. You do not move forward, until you hear from God. There were so many moments throughout the last two years, I would not have made it had I not have known this is what God called us to. It was simply knowing we were walking in our yes to Him, that has given us the grace that’s been sustaining.
My little kids had experienced trauma for nine months in utero. But not for 7 years. Everything, every single thing, in the beginning was so hard. Everything was a trigger. And we never knew what he would be triggered by, so it felt like those first six months we were always walking on eggshells. Wondering when the lid would blow.