Foster care and adoption do more than change lives. They save lives — including mine.
I have shared before that many aspects of my childhood were idyllic: Summers catching pollywogs, fishing and camping, climbing (and falling out of) trees, riding bicycles through fields and making crafts at Vacation Bible School; Thanksgiving tables so long they snaked through three rooms at Grandma’s house and included every type of pie imaginable; and countless hours spent playing Pick-Up-Sticks, Twister and kick-the-can at dusk with cousins.
Unfortunately, there was a darker, troubling flipside to that fairytale life. People my parents trusted were deceitful and sneaky, violent and manipulative. My first death threat was at age 5, and I was only 7 when I had my head cracked open by a metal plate from the base of an old, wringer-style washing machine for being “too lazy” to hold and hang an entire load of dripping wet laundry on the clothesline (which I was too short to reach). By the time I entered my teen years, I did not think I would live to adulthood.
“By the time I entered my teen years, I did not think I would live to adulthood. “
I got lucky in high school, though. An observant teacher took notice of something I wrote and asked me about it. I initially denied the abuse, then nearly vomited from guilt for lying to a teacher. I called her that afternoon and within minutes, she was at my house. She looked me in the eyes and told me I was strong, at a time when I felt helpless and weak. Her actions put into motion a series of events that would lead me into foster care. It saved my life.
Unfortunately, my story is just one of millions repeating over time. Right now, more than 400,000 children are in foster care in the United States. Of those, about one-fourth will be unable to reunite with birth families and need permanent, loving, safe, “forever families.” I was in foster care at a time when anyone over pre-school age was considered “un-adoptable” and thousands languished in care, simply waiting to age out of the system. I am so thankful that is no longer the philosophy. Now, homes are sought for every child, regardless of their age. And since 1995, November is recognized annually as National Adoption Month — a time to bring awareness about the need for permanency for all children and youth in foster care.
“I was fortunate. I was eventually placed with…”
Nevada is not immune to this issue: Our state has hundreds of children in foster care and there are dozens of Northern Nevada children unable to be reunited with birth families due to no fault of their own. The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Children’s Bureau chose the theme “Youth Voices: Why Family Matters” to highlight the needs of older children who are less likely to be adopted. Many of those youth age out of the foster care system without positive, reliable adult connections to help guide and emotionally support them.
I was fortunate. I was eventually placed with a family who treated me as if I was adopted. They embraced all of me — stubborn, quiet, frightened. And they, along with a cherished mentor I met at independent living skills classes for foster youth, encouraged me to dream.
Flash forward three decades. I am a foster-adoptive mom of three, writer, artist and advocate. Not bad for someone who never thought she would be 18.
I am living proof that adoption offers hope today and can transform generations. For information on foster care or adoption, please visit: dcfs.nv.gov.
Note from Parents of Foster Care If you are interested in pursuing foster care, contact your local county’s Department of Child Services. Depending on your state, this department might also be called Child Protective Services, or Department of Child and Family Services.
Hiedi Andersen is a public relations consultant, writer and amateur photographer. She lives in Yerington, NV, and can be contacted at: hiediandersen3@gmail.com.
This article was originally published in the Reno Gazette Journal on November 13, 2019. It is republished here by permission of the author, Hiedi Anderson.
Image of Pie modified from Alper Cugun’s image titled Pie. Image of teacher modified from Kevin Dooley’s image titled Teacher. Both are licensed under Creative Commons Legal Code Attribution 2.0
I found myself on the other end of an outside-the-classroom-hallway-conversation about my child. You know, the one where you get called down to your kiddo’s classroom – that one. This time, we were at church and it was a much needed conversation with our pastor.
Dear Pastor,
Nearly one year ago, my husband and I jumped into the world of fostering unexpectedly. We met a young lady (age 9 at the time) at church who was in an emergency foster care placement. She was in need of parents to adopt her. This had been placed on our hearts. So, with our hearts on our sleeves and a lot of fear/faith, we opened our home to her.
The third night she was at our house, we woke up to a phone call from the sheriff’s department at 4:30am. This little girl had stolen my husband’s truck and gotten into a wreck on the highway about 10 minutes from our house. She was fine, the truck was fine, the lady who hit her was an angel and didn’t even file an insurance claim. It crossed our minds to give up and throw in the towel. Some of our family members encouraged us to “send her back.” But, we didn’t. She wasn’t a cute puppy that we could take back to the pound. It was apparent that she needed love and normalcy. We stuck by her side. After that first incident, she’s gotten into trouble numerous times with issues spurring from sexual abuse received at a previous foster to adopt home. Plus, sometimes she just makes terrible choices. These incidents have made me cry myself to sleep on multiple nights and doubt my ability to climb this mountain. Throughout the past year she’s been assigned court mandated community service, been kicked off the bus, almost been expelled, etc. Yet, it remained in our hearts to love her each and every day. We were too stubborn to give up. As the weeks and months passed, I saw a different little girl than before.
I held this little girl’s hand and listened to her cry when we walked into the courthouse when she had to share with complete strangers about the horrendous sexual abuse she had received. I had to explain to her that the man was lying and that we will have to see him face to face in a jury trial in the coming months if he doesn’t take a plea deal.
I grew up on a family farm and am blessed to live on this farm today. This little girl clearly needed to work on being responsible and having self control. She joined 4H where she has gotten to do many things. I’m excited for her to give her 4h speech at the state wide public speaking contest later this fall. She wrote her speech on growing up in foster care.
It’s not the livestock that matter at all. What matters though is what she gained through these experiences. She’s responsible, isn’t nearly as impulsive, and she is so PROUD. She has so much purpose. Over the weekend was our county fair. She was awarded the Beef Showmanship award in her age division (which meant she was the person who did the best getting her animal in the ring, paid attention the best, stood up the most confidently, etc.) AND the Sheep Shepherd Award for taking the best care of her sheep while at the fair. I cried because less than a year ago, I stood along the side of the road contemplating whether or not to throw in the towel. Those thoughts have definitely crossed my mind since as well. However, many times what is easy isn’t what is right.
So, why do I share this? For those of you at the beginning of your journey who have tears in your eyes, are pulling out your hair, and are contemplating giving up, sit back and remember. If you didn’t have someone who loved you no matter what choices you made, you wouldn’t be who you are today. Love can move AND WILL MOVE mountains!! One of my dear friends who happened to be adopted as a baby said to me, “Denise, just remember no matter what just love her.” I strive to love her daily.
People often tell us how lucky she is too have us. I often correct them explaining that no, we are the lucky ones. I certainly understand the course of her life has changed because of our blood, sweat, and tears (many tears). However, she is just as much of, or more of, a blessing to us than we are to her.