I remember an adoptive mom’s anxiety while she waited to meet the baby she was about to adopt. “What if he’s homely?” she asked. She wondered if she’d be a good enough mother.

Well, the baby arrived, and I have to tell you that I was glad she’d thought it all through. Because that baby had a nose that was way too big for his face. He didn’t have any hair to balance out the nose, and …well, he was homely.

But the plans moved forward, and the moment arrived. His new parents met him, and his adoptive mom lifted him into her arms and gazed into his little face for a few moments. Then she turned to me and said, “Oh, he’s BEAUTIFUL!”

Since then I’ve met lots and lots of children. Every size, every shape, every age. Some disabled, some able bodied. Some are articulate. Others speak through their eyes and their behavior. And you know what? Every single one of them is beautiful.

Storyteller Kathy Leonard shared this poem with parents at a camp for disabled children:

See me beautiful
Look for the best in me
It’s what I really am
And all I want to be.
It may take some time;
It may be hard to find,
But see me beautiful.

See me beautiful
Each and every day.
Could you take a chance;
Could you find a way
To see me shining through
In everything I do
And…see me beautiful?

We are planning the next adoption party – it is a place where waiting children and prospective families can meet and spend time in a fun environment.

The venues change from time to time, but the purpose doesn’t. Josh was feeling lonely when he attended one such party. But his face lit up in a big, big smile when he recognized his older brother who was also there. They’d been separated in foster care years before. But the emotional bond had never been severed.

The older brother came to the party with his adoptive parents…who wanted to adopt another child. You can imagine our delight, and theirs as well, when they found one another.

Those two boys spent the whole party together, playing and talking and enjoying the games. Then, over Thanksgiving, Josh traveled to the home of his big brother to spend the holiday weekend with him and his family.

Well, he just stayed.

They all knew in their hearts that they were meant to be family.

I love those parties!

Nancy prefers peace. But she will fight for children.

She is an adoptive mom, a psychotherapist, a trainer and a writer. Our world is made better by Nancy’s wisdom. Here is a peek into her opinions about war.

“More than half million children live in foster care in the United States. Most are there because of a personal war of abuse and/or neglect. No twenty-four hour coverage by embedded journalists chronicles their story. No president promises them a quick end to their plight; no congress rallies around their need with emergency allocations. The fight against terrorism does not extend to the personal, private terror of vulnerable children.

What if, just once, our leaders directed their passionate patriotism toward a pre-emptive strike against the evil axis of poverty, neglect, violence and racism? What if it was a national imperative that all children lived in safe homes…

Now there’s one war I could support.”

In an article for Adoptive Families magazine, Nancy offers some useful suggestions for parents as they talk with their children’s teachers about adoption.
Click here to read more.

If you would like a copy of her article, titled At War, she invites you to simply email her and request a copy.

Remember the let down feeling when the big event is over? The guests are gone and the house is littered with the mess from the party.

Dirty dishes overflow the sink. Rooms that just hours before reverberated with laughter and good times are quiet. Furniture is out of place, and empty glasses are strewn about. There is an empty feeling.

That’s a feeling common to new adoptive families and adopted children. The euphoria and excitement of the placement wears off and daily living evolves.

Eventually the honeymoon phase is over and the real work of putting the family together goes on.

For adoptive families the honeymoon period can last for days, weeks, or months. For some it might even be years before a child’s issues surface. For other families the challenges begin the minute the child enters their home.

In 1990 one mom lifted a piece of the process to light when she wrote this poem.

Peaceful Sleep

She wasn’t a newborn baby,
Though we had our sleepless nights
Not for feedings did we wake
But to quiet the cries of fright.

Instead of hours, twas minutes,
Months instead of weeks.
Night after night after night
We thought it’d never cease.

Then one night it happened
The cries, they never came.
Night after night we listened
It hasn’t been the same.

Our little angel sleeps now.
Every night has brought more trust.
Memories no longer haunt her.
She’s becoming one of us.

Kay Willbrandt

Chris grew up in foster care.

Following a six-week internship with Senators and Congressmen through the Congressional Coalition on Adoption Institute, this is what he said:

“If you were considering companies to invest in, you would not choose a company that was … almost guaranteed to fail. But you have stepped up and made that very investment.”

He was talking about the personal, financial and emotional investment in children in foster care – children who come from circumstances that strip them of opportunities to learn and grow into their potential.

They’ve missed out on team sports (who would pay for their uniforms, or drive the car pool, or cheer for them from the sidelines?). They have likely moved from one school to another, so they’ve lost the chance to develop lasting relationships with teachers, coaches and friends.

But there are people who take the risks – people who do in fact invest in the dreams of those young people.

Here at The Adoption Exchange last fiscal year families invested in the futures of 393 children from foster care through adopting. Hundreds volunteered their time, contributed financially, or dedicated their professional skills to help make the dreams of those children come true.

Cherrie was 13 years old when she crafted this poem.

I Am a Foster Child

I am a foster child
I wonder if I’ll always be
I hear people talk
I see nothing change
I want to be adopted
I am a foster child.

I pretend that I am not
I feel lonely
I touch my parents hand
To guide me through
I worry if my dreams will
ever come true
I cry when I’m hurt
I am a foster child.

I understand I am
I say my feelings
I dream of having
a family
I try to be patient
I hope to be adopted
I am a foster child.

Yes, girls are dramatic. Their adolescent mood swings can drive their families right up to the edge of sanity. One minute they’re energetic, and the next minute they are just too tired to participate in the world around them. Sometimes you have to wonder how any of us … or our parents… got through it.

And other times girls have insights. Sometimes they know exactly what is happening and can set goals and contribute to their own positive growth.

Stacie shared a heart full of wisdom when she said, “I want to live with a family that loves me.”

We are tempted to see adoption as a very complicated thing. And in many ways it is. But it begins with that simple foundation. All of the complications of raising an adopted adolescent girl should and can flow from that first, and most important place – that commitment to love.

As the winter holidays approach, we receive phone calls from well-meaning people who are looking for a way to give.

Once a group called to offer to decorate and fill shoe boxes with things like socks, tooth paste and shower soap for several children. That made me feel sad.

Regardless of how beautifully the boxes are decorated, those essential items aren’t going to take away the loneliness of a child in foster care.

The gift givers will get together, and fill those boxes with pencils, crayons and underwear. They will deliver them to our office. Then they will go home, hug their children, eat too much, walk the dog, and open gifts that represent extravagances and tender thoughtfulness.

I don’t want decorated shoe boxes for the children. I want them to have their very own moms and dads who will gripe at them when they forget to say thank you. I want them to have everything they need and a little stuff that they don’t need – stuff to let them know they’re just like all of the other kids at school.

A fourteen year old’s mournful words were, “God, if you’re listening, I really want a family.”

Today the lobby at our Colorado office is full of giggles, dried leaves that have been tracked in on the bottoms of dozens of feet, and last minute primping.

Photographer, Nastassja Zappolo has come to spend the day.

Volunteers greet each adoptive family, and of course there are snacks. Louis was just tall enough to grab one of each kind of cookie to take along as he left with his family. His hands were full, so he couldn’t wave goodbye. But of course he didn’t care.

Each of the families has its own story. For some, the visit creates a full circle. This is where they came a little over a year ago to learn about adopting. This is where some have volunteered.

This is the place that they’ve turned to for answers to their questions before and during the adoption process . . . and a place that will continue to provide support services long after their adoptions are final.

Today’s pictures will be framed and placed on mantles or dressers and carried in billfolds. They will be put on holiday cards. And they will be added to snapshots and pictures yet to be taken, marking the progress of each family into the future.

There are teenagers who are busy texting while they wait their turns. And there is a little one who won’t let her mom get more than a few inches away from her.

The conversations sound just like you’d expect from families that are trying to get everyone to sit still or smile at the same time. Except for one thing.

They are just about like every other family you know…..except these children almost didn’t make it into the pictures.

If it hadn’t been for the determination and expertise of caseworkers, judges, volunteers, donors and our own staff these children might still be among 107,000 who are about to spend the holidays without families.

Click here to visit The Adoption Exchange website

It’s a term that’s used to describe a plan for the future of a child in foster care.

If you know what you’re looking for, you can use a search engine to find out this acronym means: Alternative Planned Permanency Living Arrangement.

Last week in Washington DC Nicole Dobbins spoke to a room full of child welfare managers from around the country. And the letters (pronounced as a word) had a mournful sound when she spoke.

Beginning with her first removal from her birth family at the age of two, Nicole remembers growing up in foster care. She told the group how she felt when she learned about her state’s hierarchy of plans for the children, starting at reunification with birth parents. The list included placement with relatives, adoption by foster parents and adoption by a family formerly unknown to the child. At the bottom of the hierarchy was … APPLA.

Nicole said no one ever talked to her about adoption. The plan had always been an “alternative living arrangement”.

Caught up in the impersonal nature of it all, she exclaimed to her caseworker, “You mean I was sent straight to Appla? Straight to the bottom?”

Despite the disadvantages and the loneliness of working her way through college without parents, Nicole has created a plan for herself. She has created a group of friends and a surrogate family of people who care about her.

Today Nicole is Executive Director of Voice For Adoption, speaking out on behalf of our country’s most vulnerable children. www.voice-for-adoption.org

We should listen to what she has to say because she knows all about APPLA.