On June 16, 2015, I was awake before the alarm went off. With my heart racing as if I were going to take a final test or walk down the aisle, I just laid there and stared at the ceiling. It was both, in a sense.
I could hear laughter coming down the corridor. They had already risen.
The previous evening, I had arranged their attire: Dorian wore a small black suit, and the girls wore identical gowns. Even though he detested ties, he didn’t gripe today. Not once. “I want to look like family,” he stated with a simple smile.
That word: family. It felt brittle once. such as something we were not permitted to publicly express.
The first time they arrived at our house, I can still clearly recall. Raelynn refused to release her sister’s hand. Dorian’s face was out of proportion to his age, and his bag had a damaged zipper. We assumed it would be short-term. Maybe only a few weeks. Until the next placement, assist them in settling in.
Weeks, however, became months. Birthdays come next. Next came the first tooth loss, skinned knees, and school enrollment. We began to pick up on their peculiar sleep habits. The one that need the nightlight. He consistently hid an additional book between the covers.
I would hold my breath whenever a social worker stopped around. My stomach would turn over every time someone uttered, “Next step.”
How much love you can experience and how powerless you are while waiting are things the system doesn’t prepare you for.
However, that day? Time seemed to freeze when the judge looked up and declared, “It’s official.” Like he did the night he had that nightmare of being abducted again, Dorian held on to my hand.
He continued, “So I never have to leave now?” as he glanced up at me.
I was unable to speak at all. I simply nodded.
On our way out, we snapped that photo. The sign was written by me. Foster care for 1,103 days. We become a forever family today.
One of them then remarked something I will never forget right before I took the picture—
The youngest, Raelynn, gazed up at me with her small hand reaching for mine and her bright, curious eyes. Of the three, she had been the quietest and frequently observed more than she talked. Even though her voice was quiet, it carried a tremendous amount of passion at that very moment.
“Can we… can we all have the same last name now?” she said.
Even though it was such a straightforward query, it contained the answer to all of our longings. It all came down to this: the court proceedings, the paperwork, and the never-ending waiting. A little girl’s desire to be genuinely accepted and to have the same name as the folks who had taken over her life.
My eyes filled with tears, and I turned to see my husband, Mark. Already, he had wet eyes, which was unusual for him. We both stared down at these three amazing children who had captured our hearts as he squeezed my hand.
Mark managed to say, “Of course, sweetheart,” in an emotionally charged voice. “We all share the same last name as of today.”
Their faces lit up with smiles that were more radiant than any sunshine. It was the kind of happiness that fills a space and gives you the feeling that your heart might explode. That sheer joy was captured in the picture we took. With his arm draped confidently over Raelynn, Dorian, who typically tried to look cool for photos, had the largest smile. A genuine, honest smile was beaming at her sister, Chloe, who was a little older and more reticent.
For us, the picture became a symbol. We displayed it on our refrigerator, set it as the wallpaper on our phone, and shared it with all of the people who had supported us along the way, including our friends, family, social worker, and even the judge who made the adoption official.
After that day, life was hectic, but in the greatest way imaginable. Of course, there were still difficulties. The children carried invisible wounds from their past that occasionally showed up in unexpected ways. There were times when we felt insecure, had to push limits, and had to deal with the difficulties of combining our lives.
But below it all was a feeling of security they had never experienced before—a sense of belonging. Birthdays were celebrated with actual cakes and an excessive amount of gifts. We fought over popcorn on our family movie nights. We made it through awkward adolescent stages and school dances. In every way possible, we were a family.
A few years later, we were reminiscing about the adoption day while perusing old pictures. Now a gaunt adolescent with a developing taste for music, Dorian gestured toward the photo.
His lips formed a faint smile as he recalled how anxious he had been that day. “I kept expecting them to have second thoughts.”
Mark wrapped him in his arm. “Son, we had no intention of changing our beliefs. We had been waiting for you all for a while.
Then, always the considerate one, Chloe said something unexpected. Looking at the picture, she remarked, “You know, that wasn’t the only thing we were waiting for.”
We gazed at her, perplexed.
With a gentle yet stern tone, she clarified, “We were waiting for you too.” “We were hoping for a parent who would stick around. who, under all circumstances, would adore us.
The twist was that. We believed that we were the ones who were waiting for this family to become a formal one. But the children had also been waiting, with their own secret pleas for a forever home, along with their own anxieties and hopes. They actively contributed to the formation of our family rather than only being the objects of our affection.
It was a sobering insight. Compared to our travel, theirs had been far longer and far more unpredictable. They had experienced losses and changes that no youngster should ever have to go through. Nevertheless, they had clung to hope, welcomed us into their hearts, and anxiously awaited the day when they could genuinely claim us as their own.
The realization that love and belonging are reciprocal was the satisfying outcome, in addition to the adoption itself. They gave us so much more than just a house; they gave us a level of love we never thought existed, a fortitude that motivated us, and a view of family that we will always treasure.
It’s been years since that picture was shot. The children are maturing, each with distinct personalities and aspirations. As with any family, there are certainly difficulties, but those 1,103 days of waiting and the ensuing years of love created an unbreakable relationship.
We discovered that family is about more than simply blood; it’s about bonding, dedication, and the unshakable sense of belonging. It’s about showing up, even when it’s difficult, and showing unreserved, fierce love. Realizing that you weren’t the only one hoping for a miracle can sometimes bring the biggest rewards.
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