Parenting, especially when it involves adopting an older child, can be a unique and transformative journey. Eleven months ago, my husband and I adopted our daughter, Lily, from the foster care system at the age of nine. Our first encounter took place at the administrative office of the group home where she had spent the previous six months. Even before meeting her, I felt an overwhelming love for her. For six months, we had navigated an extensive process filled with paperwork, home studies, and countless background checks across two different states and multiple agencies. Although we were officially chosen to be her parents in November, we didn’t get to meet her until May. The anxiety I felt during that time was so intense that I actually ground down two of my teeth in my sleep. To me, she was already my daughter—my baby—long before she even knew we existed.
Lily’s early years were marked by trauma, including abuse, neglect, and abandonment. Following that, she spent five years moving between various foster homes. At the time we were selected as her parents, she was residing in a psychiatric hospital, having spent both her ninth birthday and Thanksgiving there. She arrived with diagnoses of ADHD, ODD (oppositional defiant disorder), anxiety, and depression. We understood that parenting her would present challenges, but we were optimistic about her potential for healing.
Initially, Lily struggled with even simple choices, such as deciding between a turkey or ham sandwich, as it required her to confront her own thoughts and feelings—something she was adamant about avoiding. She refused to discuss her past and only acknowledged emotions like happiness and anger. When she got angry, it was intense; she would often retreat to her closet, screaming as if she were in a horror film. Our attempts at therapy with two different agencies were unsuccessful, as they lacked an understanding of trauma and attachment. One therapist even exacerbated her issues, while another suggested we discontinue sessions after five months of silence from Lily.
Determined to better support her, I immersed myself in the principles of therapeutic parenting and attachment disorders. I discovered a community of mothers navigating similar challenges, known as “Trauma Moms.” I began to give Lily the vocabulary she needed for her feelings and shared stories of other children with “hurt parts” like hers. Phrases like “Stop, take a deep breath, and relax” became part of our routine, along with reassurances of her safety and love. My husband and I made it clear that we were available to listen whenever she felt ready to talk, but we would never force her to share her memories or emotions. Gradually, she began to open up in small ways. During a car ride one day, she unexpectedly asked, “How long do you think my kids will get to live with me?” At just nine years old, she carried the fear of repeating the cycle of being a bad mom and losing her children, a notion deeply rooted in her past.
As Lily began to process her history, her behavioral challenges became more pronounced. She wrestled with a torrent of emotions that she had kept bottled up for years, leading to meltdowns characterized by screaming and physical flailing. The difference now was that she could often articulate the underlying causes of her distress, moving beyond the simplistic “You were mean to me!” to more nuanced feelings.
This past Easter marked our first holiday together, aside from Mother’s Day, as a family. Unfortunately, it was also accompanied by three days of extreme emotional outbursts. Some of the more notable incidents included her stabbing herself with a pencil, kicking me, and wandering barefoot around the neighborhood after I had asked her to stay in the yard. She expressed her fears of being abandoned again, convinced that we would “get rid” of her like everyone else had in her life. With every holiday that had passed without abandonment, she increasingly believed that Easter would be the moment we would leave her. Thus, she acted out in a desperate attempt to preemptively push us away.
Despite the challenges, our adoption is now finalized, and we are a forever family. However, the concept of “forever” can be difficult for children like Lily to fully embrace, especially when their biological parents failed to provide that permanence. On Easter morning, she woke up to find herself still at home with us, realizing that our love for her remained steadfast, despite her behavior. There was breakfast, clean clothes, hugs, and even gifts from the Easter Bunny! By the end of the day, she was showering us with affection, writing love notes, and proudly pointing out that she had gone the entire day without a tantrum.
In the past year, I’ve witnessed the rapid growth and transformation that children are capable of. I am deeply honored to be Lily’s mom and grateful that she has begun to trust and love me. My husband and I are committed to providing her with the safety and comfort necessary for her healing journey. Assisting her in this process is undeniably challenging, often exhausting, and sometimes overwhelming. Yet, it is also incredibly rewarding to observe her progress. I have faith that she will emerge healthy, happy, strong, and healed. And in this journey, I too am healing.
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In summary, adopting an older child brings both challenges and rewards. While the journey may be fraught with emotional ups and downs, the love and connection that develop over time can lead to healing and a sense of family that lasts a lifetime.