Sometimes foster children come into a home so distressed and traumatized that it is difficult to imagine how they could ever adjust to anything but institutional living. On May 5, 2003, Walter and Jacob came to live with us. We already had their two brothers, Tommy and Caleb. Jacob was very difficult to handle.
We now had, Caleb, four months old, Jacob, 18 months old, Tommy, 30 months old, and, Walter, who was four and a half. Tommy was having hysterical, screaming rages quite regularly. Walter was very hyperactive and obviously anxious. Jacob could not get along with any of the other children.
Any outdoor play between the boys ended with Jacob biting one or more of the others. In the house, Jacob used anything as a weapon and tried to break furniture. He screamed constantly unless he was being held by someone who was standing up. We had three children acting out in various ways and a baby. When Nancy found out that she would need to have a hysterectomy the same month, it became obvious that we would have to place Jacob somewhere else. It was just too chaotic.
Our adoption agency worker suggested that Jacob be placed temporarily in a respite home. We were still willing to consider adopting him, but it was very scary. He was placed with a family that had three teenage children. The thinking was that he was badly in need of affection and this family could always have someone available to hold him.
Two months passed. The other children were getting better. I had major doubts about Jacob. The time was nearing for a decision to be made. A regular family visit had been scheduled and we were told that Jacob would be there. I didn’t know what to do.
We arrived at the building where the meeting was to take place. There was a large group of people standing around talking to each other in the lobby. The lady who was keeping Jacob came in with him in her arms. I was not prepared for what happened next.
She put Jacob down on the floor. He saw me on the other side of the room. Imagine a chubby, 20 month old child trying to run. He did. He ran (actually he waddled) around the entire group of people with his arms spread wide, saying in toddler language, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” I grabbed him and held him. We all cried for a while. At that moment, we knew that he was our child.
Today, Jacob is a brilliant five year old child. He could read at a first grade level when he was four. He had not been to school; he had listened while Nancy taught Walter to read. He is also our sweetest and most obedient child. He just needed to be loved.
Related Blog:
Helping a Traumatized Child Build A Sense of Security and Safety