People often ask me, “what is it like to adopt an older child? Should we change birth order? How will it affect our kids?” These are big, emotional questions. But they matter. A little girl out there is being passed from house to house, with nothing but a trash bag holding all her belongings.
She needs a mom to tell her she is loved, to hold her when she cries. Somewhere, there is a boy wondering why babi+
es get adopted and he does not. He wants a family too.
No, it is not easy. But most important things in life are not.
Two years ago, our kids were just toddlers—3 and 2 years old and both had special needs. Life was finally settling down. Then we got a call. Their older brother was entering foster care. Could we take him?
We were scared, but we said yes.
In just 24 hours, I went from caring for toddlers to parenting a 7-year-old. I had read all the books and taken trauma training. I had promised myself we had never break birth order. But here we were, saying yes because we knew God was asking us to. That is key you need to know God is calling you to this.
The first months were hard. Everything triggered him. We never knew what might upset him. The stress made me break out in a painful rash.
I tried every remedy, but nothing worked. I prayed daily sometimes minute by minute for enough grace to keep going.
I often worry for our little ones. Did we mess up their lives? Would they be okay? One day, while crying out to God, I felt Him say, “i have called them too. Let Me parent their hearts.” That gave me peace.
Eventually, our older boy started to feel like us. But just after Christmas, he had to leave. It felt like death. My younger kids watched for him daily, hoping he would come back.
Seeing him depart was truly heartbreaking. After all the work, the hopes, the sorrow, and the gradualadvancement we achieved together, it seemedasthough a part of me had been tornapart. I continuallytold myself that although his time with us was brief, he had stillfelt love, safety, and asenseof family. For a briefmoment, he experiencedthesensationofbeingcozy at night, feelingdesired,andhaving a place to fit in. That brought me some comfort,yet the sorrow still ran profound.
My littleonessensed it aswell. They wereunaware of the details of foster care or adoption—they simplyrealized their brother was missing. They continued to look out the window, hoping for hisreturn, asking me each day if today would be the day. I had no responsesfor them, justembraces and reassurances that God caredfor him and was watching over him no matterwhere he was. Their innocentbeliefmade me feelsmall. They prayed for him each night, even in their sorrow.
After several months, the call arrived once more. He was returning—perhaps this time permanently. Upon hearing the words, I sensed hope surge within me. I was aware the journey wouldn’t abruptly become simple, yet a feeling within me suggested this was unique. When he stepped back through our door, it felt like a lost part of our family had come back. He returned taller, somehow older, with eyes that had witnessed more than any child should endure. However, there was also a gentleness present, a tiny glimmer of trust that hadn’t existed before.
Life alongside him remains filled with difficulties. His history hasn’t vanished, and the scars he bears don’t close up quickly. Amid the challenges,
Yes, adopting an older child is tough. But the happiness runs just as deep as the struggles.
And I would not trade it for anything.
