Her name was going to be Adalie Kayte. I imagined her with curly strawberry blonde hair and the softest freckles across her cute tiny cheeks. I dreamed of bedtime stories, sleepy cuddles on Saturday mornings, and being a mom she would run to. She would be all mine, and I would be only hers. It would have been perfect. But Adalie never arrived. She never made it to the world.only stayed in a quiet corner of my heart.
After years and years without children, I started to accept that this is my fate and motherhood might not be part of my story. Still, I had a deep wished to have kids and make a difference. I brought up the idea of fostering from time to time, not knowing if he’d ever be open to it. Over time, he surprised me by saying he was ready. We signed up the next day.
Within a year, we were licensed. I got the approval email while sitting in a Cheesecake Factory in Atlanta. I cried, joyed with hope. The next day, I got my first call it was for a teenage girl, but I was not home yet. I had to say no.
Then came the yes. Two boys, J 12 years old and D 10 years old moved it. They called me “Mommy” from day one. Later, A joined us. He was almost 15 and told me, “I will never call you Mom. Keeping her voice tone gentle and kind. And I did not create a fuss instead I respected that. My house was full of boys, and my heart was full too, even though I knew foster care was never permanent.
As we walked through the reconnections of family visits with J and D’s mom, my marriage quietly fell apart. honestly, it had been falling apart long before fostering. We got divorced around our tenth year together.
I thought I was nearing the end of my journey when I got a call about Q, a 17-year-old was sleeping in the office because there was no rooms and no bed available. The best I could do was pull out the sofa, but I said yes. When I tucked him in that first night, he asked if I really just did that. It was the first time he had ever been tucked in.
It was my 32 birthday, I adopted Andre. He has freckles on those same sweet and tiny cheeks I dreamed about. He is mine. And I am his. Not the dream I first imagined, but the one that came true. And it is perfect.
