Our daughter joined our family through direct adoption from the foster care system nearly a year ago, when she was just nine years old. The first time we laid eyes on her was in the administrative office of the group home where she had lived for the previous six months. I felt an immediate love for her, even before our first meeting. We had spent half a year working towards bringing her home, navigating mountains of paperwork, home study updates, background checks, and a labyrinth of red tape that spanned two states and multiple agencies. We were officially chosen to be her parents in November, yet had to wait until May to finally meet her. My anxiety was so intense that I ground down two of my teeth in my sleep, desperate to welcome her into our family. She was entirely my daughter long before she even knew we existed.
In her early years, she faced abuse, neglect, poverty, and abandonment. Following that, she spent five years moving through various foster homes. Remarkably, she was in a psychiatric facility during the time we were selected as her parents. By the time she came to us, she had been diagnosed with ADHD, ODD (oppositional defiant disorder), anxiety, and depression. We understood that parenting her would be a significant challenge, but we believed in her capacity to heal.
Since coming home, she has made incredible strides. At first, she would become overly stressed when asked simple questions, like choosing between a turkey or ham sandwich—something that forced her to confront her own feelings, which she resisted at all costs. Talking about her past was off-limits, and she would only express emotions like happiness and anger. When she was angry, it was intense; she could spend an hour locked in her closet, screaming as if she were in a horror film. We attempted therapy with two different mental health agencies, but neither truly understood trauma and attachment. One therapist exacerbated her challenges, while the other suggested we stop after five months of silence during sessions.
I immersed myself in reading about therapeutic parenting and attachment disorders, connecting with other mothers in similar situations through blogs and online networks, such as Trauma Mommas. I began giving her vocabulary for her feelings and shared stories of other kids with “hurt parts” similar to hers. I often reminded her, “Stop, take a deep breath, and relax,” and reassured her, “You’re safe, you’re loved, and you can handle this.” Both my husband and I made it clear that we were always available to listen, but she wouldn’t be forced to share her memories or feelings. Gradually, she began to open up. Once, in the car, she nervously asked, “How long do you think my kids will get to live with me?” At just nine years old, she was already terrified of becoming a bad mom and losing her children. “It’s in my history,” she said, “and people always say history repeats itself.”
As she began to process her past, her behavioral challenges increased. She was grappling with deep-seated pain she’d concealed for so long. Meltdowns became more frequent, marked by screaming, flailing, and defiance. However, the difference was that she could now articulate the underlying reasons for her outbursts—moving beyond simple blame and anger.
This past Easter marked the last holiday (besides Mother’s Day) before reaching our one-year milestone together. Over those three days, we experienced significant meltdowns, defiance, and disrespect. Among the notable incidents were her stabbing herself with a pencil, kicking me, and even wandering barefoot around the neighborhood when I told her not to leave the yard. She shared that she had moved several times just before holidays, convinced we would “get rid” of her like everyone else did. She believed her behavior was the reason she didn’t deserve a loving family. Since we hadn’t “gotten rid” of her on previous holidays, she expected Easter to be the day it would finally happen.
However, she woke up on Easter morning to find that she was still with us. In that moment, she realized we still loved her, despite her behavior, and that we forgave her. There was breakfast, clean clothes, hugs, and even Easter presents! She spent the day showering us with hugs, writing love notes, and proudly noting that she hadn’t had a tantrum all day.
In the past year, I’ve learned just how quickly children evolve and how swiftly time passes. I feel incredibly honored to be her mom and grateful that she is beginning to trust and love me. I appreciate that my husband and I can offer her the safety and comfort needed to start processing her traumatic past and the complex emotions tied to it. While the journey of helping her heal can be challenging, it’s also remarkable to witness her growth. I believe she will be okay—healthy, happy, strong, and whole. And so will I.
If you’re interested in learning more about pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource on intrauterine insemination. For further insights, visit this blog post that dives deeper into the subject. Additionally, Cryobaby is a trusted authority in the field of home insemination.
Summary
Adopting an older child comes with unique challenges and rewards. This narrative illustrates the journey of one family’s experience with their adopted daughter, showcasing the struggles, breakthroughs, and the unconditional love that marks their relationship. Through patience, understanding, and a commitment to healing, they navigate the complexities of her past while building a brighter future together.