A year sounds fair, but to a baby like Skyler, a year was his whole life. Except for brief visits with Tiffany, his world consisted of Erick and me, his baby brother Ethan, all his foster grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and our many friends who visited and babysat. He had a second universe at his day-care center, where his sunshiny smile lit up his classroom.
As I cared for Ethan and Skyler, I tried to imagine each one’s future. Ethan would never leave us—he’d be ours for the rest of our lives. Nevertheless, a tiny corner of my mind imagined how he would feel if removed from us—even for a few months. I could hear his every cell screaming for us, and that thought alone made me crazy. Yet I was supposed to find this fate acceptable for Skyler, who had lived with us even longer. This is how it has to be, I told myself. You knew what you signed up for, I told myself. They took Albert back and eventually the pain receded, I told myself.
But Skyler! Would he ever “get over it”? Would being wrenched from us scar him in some profound way? I knew I would pull him from a fire or leap in the surf to rescue him, but I was powerless to fight the court process.
There were three power players who would determine Skyler’s fate: Bennett, his Guardian ad Litem; Gwen, his case manager; and Maya, our placement agency director. Also on the chessboard was Skyler, who could be moved around by any of those three. Erick and I were bystanders entrusted with his day-to-day welfare but not in control of his destiny. His father, charged with attempted murder, was in jail and barred from the game. The queen, who had retained a lot of power—but not all of it—was his mother, Tiffany.
When Tiffany went to court, a public attorney represented her. In a typical deal with the state, she agreed to work on the tasks in a case plan, and if she successfully completed them, her children would be returned to her. Nobody could prove that Tiffany, who wasn’t home when the boys were injured, had done anything to put them at risk—other than selecting the wrong boyfriend. Under similar circumstances, some mothers would have been able to keep their children, but Skyler’s and Denver’s injuries were so severe that every precaution was taken.
“You don’t have to worry about Tiffany,” Gwen assured us. “She’s going to be reunited with her boys.”
On the surface Tiffany had a lot going for her: She was barely into her twenties, attractive, and well spoken. “Gwen’s really pushing for reunification,” I said to Erick. “She has yet to understand the serious issues beyond that pretty face.”
During a visit with Denver, Tiffany told us that she’d been sexually abused as a child. She had listed seven men as possible fathers for the two boys. Denver’s father had been a wild card; Skyler’s dad was the one who’d tried to kill him. Would her next boyfriend also be unstable?
Gwen was supposed to be an advocate for the whole family—not just the parent. Erick and I initially agreed that she was one of the best case managers we had met and was one of the few who had an MSW. At first she was willing to do the grunt work of transporting and supervising visits. Her offices in Pasco County were an hour and a half from our home in St. Petersburg. Other Pasco workers—like Albert’s—asked local workers to do their monthly visits, but Gwen personally transported Skyler and Denver for visits to see their mother. For a change, here was someone hands-on and positive.
While Gwen didn’t see us as part of the reunification team, we were willing to do whatever it took to help this young mother get her children back. We believed this was one parent who had the potential to progress. However, when we pointed out something odd about Tiffany’s behavior with one of her children, Gwen dismissed it as inconsequential. She also said our fears about Tiffany’s new boyfriend were “theoretical” and “unfounded.” Soon Gwen delayed responding to our calls and e-mails, and when we did speak, she was very curt.
Since there was such a shortage of volunteers, a Guardian ad Litem supervisor was in charge of the case until a seasoned guardian, Bennett, was appointed eventually.
“I know Gwen is sympathetic to Tiffany,” Bennett said, “but I’ve seen many mothers side with their boyfriends over the child, and Tiffany can’t handle both kids at visitation.”
“We worry that Gwen has almost done too much for Tiffany,” Erick said. “At this stage, Tiffany should be able to transport herself and deal with her kids on her own. She always asks for help during diaper changes and feedings. I don’t see her learning to be independent.”
“No question about it,” Bennett replied. “Not to mention we just confirmed she’s pregnant again and has been for months. She’s been lying about it in court.”
Fortunately, Bennett was only concerned with the best interests of the child. In Denver’s case, he was to be reunited with at least one parent as quickly as possible, and that had been accomplished as soon as paternity was proven. “Tiffany talks a good game,” he said, “but left to her own devices, she starts falling apart.”
As time went on, staffings and court hearings became more divisive.
When a supervisor asked what she was learning in her parenting classes, Tiffany regurgitated memorized lines like: “I believe in positive parenting” and “Redirection and praising work better than punishment” and “A time-out can only last two minutes for a two-year-old.”
Though she had “completed” her parenting classes, to the professional observers at the visitation center it became clear that she wasn’t applying the information. She was also overheard coaching another mother on how to tell the professionals what they want to hear.
“We’re trying to help her get her son back,” I told Bennett. “We think she’s still making poor choices that could put both Skyler and the new baby in danger.”
“Thanks for the information,” Bennett said. “Who else knows about this?”
“We told Gwen about our concerns, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to pass them along as well,” Erick said.
“I had planned to,” Bennett said. “Tiffany is very two-faced and can be manipulative. She has already tried to play me against Gwen, so I have been communicating with Gwen more often.”
Erick and I shot each other worried looks, because we weren’t sure where he stood in terms of us. We knew Bennett was squarely for the child’s best interests, but how did he interpret Skyler’s needs?
Bennett took a long breath before saying, “We’ve all seen instances where Tiffany twists people’s words. I recommend that you don’t have any direct contact with her at this stage. She already thinks you’re trying to keep Skyler from her, so there’s no reason to give her ammunition against you.”
After that meeting, we both had hearts so heavy we couldn’t comfort each other. Erick and I had raised Skyler expecting that he would never be ours. Loving Skyler was risky. It was like falling for a married man. Even though you know that statistically the relationship is doomed, you kid yourself into believing you are exceptional enough to beat the odds. Loving Ethan without restraint also made it easy to realize that I had loved Skyler long before I admitted it.
“Maybe we should figure out what to do if Tiffany doesn’t regain custody,” Erick said the next day.
“Nobody sees the same red flags we do. Skyler’s case is going just the way Albert’s did. In fact, Albert’s father completed fewer of his case plan tasks than Tiffany has.”
“Still, I want to ask our families how they would feel if we actively tried to adopt Skyler.”
“Erick, why get their hopes up?”
“I need to know how they feel just in case. . . .”
“Okay, you ask your parents and I’ll ask mine.”
Erick’s parents, who lived close by and did the most babysitting, wholeheartedly supported us.
Phil said, “He’s our grandchild as long as he’s here, and he’ll be in our hearts forever.”
Gay, who understood the legal situation best, was pragmatic. “The mom is technically complying with the tasks.”
“She did all her parenting classes, but she falls apart during visits when Gwen or another worker isn’t there to help her with Skyler.
”
“Legally, though, she hasn’t done anything bad enough for them to terminate her rights,” Gay said. “I don’t want to raise your hopes, sweetie. We all love Sky, but he’s probably going home.”
“But—” I didn’t want to hear the facts; I just wanted her support.
“I know, honey.” Gay was so quiet I could almost hear her thinking. “Let’s assume Skyler is available for adoption. You and Erick have just started your own family. Maybe he should go to an infertile couple.”
“To strangers? Why would they be more entitled or qualified than us?”
“Okay, then I have to ask: Will you be able to love him as much as you love Ethan?”
“We loved Skyler first,” I answered, “and we are so freaked about letting him go back. Tiffany means well, but she really doesn’t have what it takes—especially with another baby on the way!” I started to cry.
Gay was silent for a long time. “There’s one possible way,” she said. “Tiffany has to want you to be Skyler’s parents.” She thought for a minute. “Tiffany lost Denver to his father and hasn’t lived with Sky for more than a year. She admitted early on that she isn’t very bonded to him, but she may be very motivated to keep a new baby out of the system.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Everything in life is about relationships. I’ve worked on at least ten open adoptions where the parents surrendered voluntarily because they had some type of contact. However, for this to work, you have to build trust with the mother.”
“The guardian doesn’t want us to interact with Tiffany because she’s so deceitful.”
“He’s wrong,” Gay—who is very blunt—said. “You used to talk with her a lot, so I would start that again. You need to show her that you’re different from the workers and guardian and that you’re not in the enemy camp. Worst case, she’ll have more access to information about Skyler and feel more connected to her child, which will help if they reunify. In the best case, she’ll realize the stability you can offer Skyler.”
Erick and I discussed the problem while supervising Ethan in a bouncy chair. “If we tell the professionals that we are interested in adoption, they’ll say we’re undermining the reunification goal,” Erick said.
Ethan started winding up for a cry, so I handed him a rattle that made a cute noise when he shook it. “I can’t see any situation where it’s helpful for Tiffany to hate us,” I added. “Being friendly would also help if we had to work with her for . . . a transition.”
I was nervous as I dialed her phone number. Tiffany picked up the phone after a few rings. “Who is this?”
“Hey, Tiffany, this is Ashley, Skyler’s foster mom.”
“Oh, hi!” she said a bit hesitantly.
“I know the last staffing was a little intense, and we wanted to reach out and discuss something with you.”
“I really appreciate you calling. I was beginning to think the visitation center was right.”
“What do you mean?” I said, turning the question.
“You know that lady at the front desk? Well, she said I’d better watch out, because you could cause a lot of trouble for me. She said you’re a real bitch.”
I reeled back and went to find Erick, who was watering the garden. I put the phone on speaker.
“I’m not sure what you have heard from other workers or staff, but we wanted to be in direct contact with you ourselves to avoid any misunderstandings.” I took a deep breath. “The first day we met, we told you that we weren’t fostering to adopt. We have helped many children return home.”
“I thought I was doing all right, but the people at the place where I’m doing my parenting classes said they will not be recommending reunification.”
“Why?”
“They said I’m not internalizing the lessons, whatever that means.”
Albert’s father had hardly “internalized any lessons” either. Maybe they needed to see more progress in a case where a child had almost lost his life. Or maybe this was all because Bennett made someone pay close attention.
“Can I ask you something?” Tiffany said with a choked voice.
“Sure.”
“If they won’t give Skyler back to me, would you want to adopt him?”
I felt like a rubber band had snapped in my mind. This was it—or maybe not. While I was trying to overthink how to respond, Erick jumped in.
“We absolutely would, if that were an option,” he said softly and simply.
I got my voice back and added, “He’s been with us over a year. We’re the only family he knows—except his visits with you, of course.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” Tiffany said. “Someone told me that if I stay in Florida, they could take my new baby—it’s a girl.” She started crying. “I don’t know what to do! If I go, at least I’ll have my baby and Lamar—that’s her daddy. He’s got a job out of state and wants us to come live with him. But I’m also thinking that Lamar’s mom could take Skyler while I’m gone.”
Erick was gesturing wildly, and I tried to decode his message. “Let’s get together and talk about it,” I said. Erick nodded. “We can have lunch somewhere.”
“Please bring Skyler.”
I glanced at Erick. He nodded. “Okay.”
Now we were floating free from the foster care bureaucracy, which was as scary as it was empowering. Tiffany picked a fast-food restaurant, and we didn’t complain. At least they had high chairs. Tiffany already had a table. She introduced us to Lamar’s mother, Marla, who we hadn’t expected to be there. Erick positioned Skyler’s high chair next to Tiffany, and we took the other side of the table with Ethan’s high chair.
For the first time Tiffany and I talked freely. She was amazed to find out that I was only four years older than she was. “You’ve already gone to college,” she said. “That’s what I’m going to do next.”
“A lot of young parents go part-time,” I said, thinking how easily I could have been in her shoes.
“I discussed it with Marla, and I think it’s a good idea for you to adopt Skyler. But when I talked to Gwen, she said that I would have no control over what family he went to if I signed over my rights.”
“I took Tiffany to see a different lawyer.” Marla’s voice crackled like a two-pack-a-day smoker.
Erick reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it. “So, what did they say?” I managed without sounding too alarmed.
“I still have the right to work with a private adoption agency,” Tiffany said.
“R-really?” I felt bile rising in my throat. There were thousands of families who would pay big bucks for this poster-child toddler.
“Don’t worry,” Tiffany said, “we still want you to be his parents, don’t we, Marla?”
“Yep, he should stay with the folks who’s been caring for him.” Marla fiddled with a plastic lighter.
“How does the private agency work?” Erick asked.
“I sign Skyler over to their agency, and then you would adopt him through them. I get to set the terms of an open adoption, and their people write out the papers that say I can see him and all that. I know other people who have done adoptions, and the family never let them see their kids again.”
“Private agencies usually charge a fee,” Erick said.
“There’s no charge to anyone if you surrender to the state,” I chimed in. “Plus, they cover the legal fees of the adoption. If he is adopted privately and not as a foster child, he would lose his health insurance and Florida college tuition waiver.”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think about that.”
Marla cleared her throat. “Yeah, but that caseworker still said the state can place him with anyone they want—not the family Tiffany picks.”
Erick sighed. “Yes, that’s true, theoretically, but that isn’t what happens. Since Skyler’s been in our home for well over a year, they will first ask us if we want him. He won’t go anywhere else.”
Tiffany was now weeping.
> “Tiffany,” I began, “I know this is terribly hard and I don’t want to put any additional pressure on you, but if Skyler stays with us, you will always be in his life. I’m adopted and I still see my biological family. We believe in open adoption and would be happy to stay in touch as long as it’s safe for Skyler.”
“I believe you, Ashley.” She swallowed hard. “Won’t his dad have to agree too?”
The idea that this monster had any power over Skyler was so unsettling, I didn’t know what to say. Anything and everything could still go wrong.
A week after Easter, Erick stayed home through Ethan’s nap and I caught up on some shopping. I stopped by a display of half-off Easter baskets in the clearance aisle and admired two matching, but slightly different wooden baskets—one was decorated with trains, the other with planes. Perfect for Ethan and Skyler, who were eight months apart and would both be old enough to enjoy them next year. I wanted to buy the baskets, but would I be jinxing the adoption? What if the father refused to sign? What if Tiffany changed her mind? If Tiffany insisted on some relative or nonrelative who could pass a home study, the twin baskets would be a horrible reminder of our lost son. But what if Skyler was with us and I only had one basket? They were two for the price of one. I could donate the extra if it came to that. My thrifty side told me to take the chance.
During the last court hearing, Skyler’s father was taken aside by his lawyer, who convinced him that it would be in his best interests not to drag the dependency case out further, because it could have negative implications for his pending criminal trial. He agreed to sign.
None of the officials knew that Tiffany was planning to leave the state when the termination-of-rights hearing was over. We would keep our promises for an open adoption, but we would not be sorry if she became distracted with her new baby or distance made visits less frequent.
18.
three more words
The best is yet to come.
—William Shakespeare
For once everyone is happy to be in court. Children carrying balloons run through the halls. Judges hand out teddy bears. November is National Adoption Month. Thousands of adoptions are finalized in a few short weeks. It’s always a busy time for me as I crisscross the country giving speeches—which are often booked a year in advance—at child welfare events.