People often ask me, “What is it like to adopt an older child? Should we break birth order? How will it affect our kids?” These are difficult, weighty questions, but they matter because somewhere, a little girl is being moved from one foster home to another, her few belongings crammed into a trash bag, hoping someone will love her forever. Somewhere, a boy is watching younger kids find families while silently asking himself, “When will it be my turn?”
They deserve families too.
Two years ago, our youngest two were just three and two years old, and both had special needs.
Life had finally settled into a steady rhythm when we got a call. Their older biological brother needed a home. Could we take him, at least for a while? We were nervous but said yes. Overnight, I went from caring for toddlers to also parenting a seven-year-old.
I had read all the books about adoption, trauma, and birth order, and I swore we would never disrupt it. But sometimes God asks us to lay aside our plans for His. We knew this was something He was calling us to, and that certainty kept us going.
The early days were incredibly hard. He had faced seven years of trauma. Everything could be a trigger, and we never knew when something would set him off. I was always on edge, as if every step I took might crack the ground beneath me.
Stress took a toll on me physically, and I found myself in tears most mornings, begging God for enough grace to make it through the day.
I worried about what this meant for my younger kids. Did we take something away from them? But God reminded me that if He had called us to this, He had called them too and He would take care of their hearts better than I could.
Just as he began to feel like my own, he left suddenly after Christmas. It felt like a death no one noticed. My little ones waited at the window for him, not understanding why he wasn’t coming home. But I held on to the hope that, for a season, he had experienced a healthy, loving family.
Months later, we got the call again this time permanent. He came back, and our journey continued. He has taught me more about love, resilience, and God’s heart than I could ever learn elsewhere.
Older kids need parents too. They need someone to comfort them, guide them, and believe in them. My son has walked through fire and is still standing strong. When he told me, “Mommy, you’re a really good Mom,” I knew every struggle was worth it. Welcoming an older child isn’t easy, but the joy can be every bit as profound as the challenges.
