Twenty five years ago my (trans) husband and I adopted three kids who had been our foster children, two boys and a girl. They all have the same mother. Five years later, we adopted their little brother who was not found when the other kids were put in foster care. They are stair-step kids. The youngest is only four years younger than the oldest. They were so beautiful and so healthy. How could their mother walk away from them? (leaving them alone on Christmas Eve, in Michigan, in a house with no heat, no running water, and no food.) She was an idiot in my opinion.
When my oldest son was 15, my husband died suddenly and unexpectedly. It was the beginning of a very long stretch of misery for all of us. The boys began acting up, running away and getting in trouble with the Law. My youngest son, at age 14, was on the street one time for four months. I would see him almost every day because I would get up every morning and go to his school bus stop. He kept going to school, but he would not come home. He told me "I wish you had died and Dad was still alive."
In my foster parent training I was taught that the kids we cared for trusted us. They knew they were safe with us, so we were the ones that got yelled at. I understood this, but his words, which he said many times, were still devastating to me. I know I was not the most effective parent at that point either. That is probably putting it mildly.
Almost sixteen years have passed since Hubby died. The kids are grown. They all finished high school, but none would go to college. My daughter is married and has four of the most beautiful children in the world. She and her husband have been struggling to start a mobile car repair business. We talk every day, spend time together every week, and I adore her kids, my grandbabies. My middle son is a truck driver. He works 60 to 70 hours per week to earn a fairly decent living. He had a baby girl almost a year ago. He and the mother are no longer together but he cares for the child and is able to spend lots of time with her.Always seeking something better, he changes jobs at least twice a year.
The youngest on the other hand, has worked at the same popular restaurant since about four months after he graduated in 2012. He has worked his way up to management, but he also works the 60 to 70 hour week. My oldest was in and out of prison for almost 10 years, but has done incredibly well since he was finally released three years . He has a good job, a live in girl friend and a beautiful baby.
None of the boys are close to me. The two youngest share an apartment. I have never been invited to their place. They have never even given me their address, though I know basically where they live. They almost never come to my house, not even for holidays. My oldest son was very angry with me because I would not allow him to come live with me when he got out of prison. He lives out of state now. Both of us have worked to restore our relationship and we are fairly cordial at this point, texting each other with a comfortable frequency.
My goals for my children were pretty basic. I wanted to keep them together as a family, and I wanted them to grow into independent adults. I hoped they would go to college so they wouldn't have to work so hard. They had other ideas. I have not given up on the idea of having a close knit family. My daughter and I both work to include the boys. Every once in a while we bridge the gap, but the going is slow to say the least.
Wow, long text. This is a very painful thread for me to read, but I am glad it is here. I wish my kids were "hooked up" to a place where they could share as you all are doing here.
Smooches,
Keri
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