I remember the first time I met my children as if it were yesterday. I didn’t know they were my children then. I just knew they were someone’s children. Someone’s children who were coming to my house to stay for a little while. Maybe a few days, maybe a month, maybe a year. The thought that they might stay forever hadn’t even crossed my mind.
I walked out to the minivan to meet them. The caseworker was holding the little girl in her arms. I was instantly surprised by how tiny she was. She was so much smaller then what I had pictured a one year old to look like. She looked at me and smiled a big gummy baby smile. I looked around for the 3 year old little boy. He had already made his way to the front steps and was ready to go inside. As I approached, he quickly opened the door for me. He didn’t make eye contact as he stood there with one hand in his mouth so that he could suck his thumb, and the other hand firmly holding the door. “Thank you!” I said to him as I passed, to which he starred down harder at his feet. I could sense his nervousness, and hoped he couldn’t sense mine.