Hope chapter 12

As Kennedy grew, my love for her deepened. It was amazing to me at how much more I loved her every day. Her smile made me forget my other worries and her laughter was contageous. When she was 2, I opened my own florist and took Kennedy to work with me daily. She was such a good baby and everyone was impressed at how well behaved she was. She enjoyed the public and it didn't take long for her to win everyone over. There was simply no one she couldn't captivate. Unlike a typical toddler, she didn't bother anything on the shelves and was happy to comply with the boundaries set for her in the shop. She would sit for hours crosslegged on my work table and watch me arrange flowers. When she began talking, her first words were colors. She wouldn't just pick out the correct color, she would tell you the name of it. She was petite and looked young for her age, so people would stand with their mouths open when she educated them on colors and flowers. Her hair was straight and a little difficult to manage at that age so her hairstyle of choice was pigtails. She looked so much like "Boo" on Monsters, Inc that even strangers would comment on the resemblence. I thanked God every day for chosing me to be her mommy and cherished every minute with her.

As Kennedy grew, so did my longing for another baby. I knew we didn't have the money to contact Demastus for a second adoption, so I turned to the internet for other options. The costs were so astronomical I just didn't see how we could afford another adoption unless we either fostered to adopt or found a private adoption opportunity.

I contacted a foster agency and they met with Chris and I the following day. By the time the weekend came, we decided to host 9 year old Brittany for the weekend. Brittany was a cute girl with a charming personality. She was very loving and affectionate toward me and after just one night, she began calling me Momma. Brittany had lived with the same foster parents for over a year and we were told they were not interested in adopting her. I found it a little odd that they already had 2 adopted children and were in the process of adopting a sibling group of three, but didn't want to adopt Brittany. I enjoyed my time with her and she seemed very good with Kennedy. For some reason, however, I kept getting the feeling that something about the situation wasn't right. When the social worker picked her up on Sunday, Brittany cried and begged to stay with me. It was heartwrenching, but legally, we were only her weekend host parents and she had to go back. That afternoon, the social worker called again and asked if we wanted to adopt Brittany. I was stunned and a million thoughts ran through my mind. "Why didn't her foster parents want to adopt her too? What if she hates us after a week? What if our personalities don't click? Are there behavioral or other issues we aren't aware of?" The questions were running wild inside my head and I expressed my concerns with proceeding with the adoption. The social worker then told me that we could get her in our home, proceed with adoption, but stop the adoption if we felt we needed to. Big. Red. Flag. Though I wanted with all my heart to help Brittany, there was no way I would bring that poor child in our house, proceed with and then stop an adoption. It wasn't fair to Brittany and it wasn't fair to us. Though it broke my heart, I knew this wasn't the right situation for us, nor was it the right agency to work with.

A few months later, Hope came into my life. She was a friend's little sister and when she walked into the door, I fell in love with her. She had a smile that literally lit up a room, a sweet disposition that made everyone around her feel at ease, a fiery passion for life and a hunger for education. Not only did she have these (and many more) endearing qualities, she was stunning. She had gorgeous brown eyes, long brown hair and exquisite taste in clothes and fashion. She was popular, made good grades and well liked by her friends. If you didn't know her story, you would never guess that she had been through hell in her 15 years of life. Her parents divorced when she was very small and she and her older sister lived with her mentally ill mother. Hope opened up to me quickly and could recall her life as a three year old in detail. Her mother was very loving and affectionate but unfortunately her illness prohibited her from effectivly caring for her children's needs. Hope remembered being hungry and her sister taking her to the neighbor's house for biscuits and gravy because her mother forgot to feed them. She witnessed things a child should never have to be exposed to. She remembered the day the state came to take her away. When the social worker knocked on the door, her mother instructed the girls to hide under the bed. It didn't take long for them to find the children and they were taken out of the arms of their mother. Her father was an alcoholic and was incapeable of raising the children, so they were sent to foster care. The sisters lived in several homes through the years and slowly, their father was working toward getting them back. When Hope was ten or eleven, the state sent the girls to live with him and his wife. It was a rocky homelife for Hope as her father's personal demons were a constant struggle for him. She had moved in with a relative to escape the instability and friction at home, but she wasn't happy there either. After talking to her for a couple of hours, I knew this was the child that I had been waiting for. It just felt right. Within a week of meeting her, she moved into our home as well as my heart.

The first weekend Hope was there, she went with Kennedy and I to pick up my stepdaughter, Hailee. It was a two hour drive each way and we enjoyed our time together. I felt an instant bond with her and it didn't take long for Hailee or Kennedy to grow quite attached to her as well.

As the "newness" of the situation faded, we all fell into a routine. Having an instant teenager was definatly a new experience for me! I was constantly running her to and from school, ballgames, work and a million other places she needed to be. Our home became a favorite hang out and there were kids running in and out all the time. It was hectic sometimes, but I loved it. Hope was a good kid, but she was a teenager, nonetheless, who did "teenagerish" things. It wasn't long before the common struggles between parent and teen started to creep up. Not only that, we were both trying to figure out our new "roles" as best we could. She got mad at me for making her do chores when she didn't want to and I got irritated at her for not calling when she was supposed to, etc, etc, etc. And oh the worry that came along with having a teenager!

When Hope had been in our home almost two years and Kennedy had just turned five. that familiar longing came rushing back. I ached for another child and this time, I turned to the Internet. This was the beginning of my nightmare...