I Adopted Almost Adults

I was at work when I heard the news. My stomach sank and all I could think about were those girls, just 15 and 18 years old and they lost their mom. I first met them when they were 5 and 8. Their father told a harrowing story about their terrible mother who withheld his daughters from him and until I had his third child, my son, I believed him.

While I got clean and went back to school, he kept his addictions and tried to hide them from me. Sadly, a meth addiction cannot be concealed for long because soon enough it wreaks havoc on your entire life. He lost his job and became increasingly controlling and abusive, and he was rarely home to care for his son. After Bryce was born, it didn’t take me long to see things from Julie’s perspective.

During my custody battle, I decided to reach out to her. I wanted to hear her out, and compare our experiences. I also wanted to tell her that as soon as I met her daughters, I knew that she was a good mom. Kids don’t behave the way Bailey and Shayla did unless they have strong parental guidance. They were easy to love and to like.

We clicked instantly. We talked for two hours on that first call and from that day on, we each had a friend to call when shit hit the fan. Someone who completely understood the heartbreak and turbulence that came along with having kids with Jayson. He liked to use his kids against us when he determined there was no other way for him to hurt us. He used his kids as pawns in his own internal war, and me and Julie would be left to talk care of the aftermath of our emotionally broken kids. Hurting his kids to hurt us really did hurt – bad. But we had each other to talk to, and that helped.

She died at age 36 of a rare blood disorder. She went into the hospital as a vibrant new wife and new mom, and she never left. I took for granted that she was young and healthy. Someone that age doesn’t just get sick and die, that wasn't a part of my vocabulary. I completely expected her to be fine, so I didn't see her in the hospital. We hadn’t talked in a while by that point and the last message I have from her is left unanswered.

Those kids, with that dad – and no mom. Orphans, I thought. They are basically orphans. I didn’t know then what I was going to do, but I knew I had to do something. They were my step daughters when they were little, and one thing that would never change is that they were my son’s sisters. Julie and I knew that if we relied on Jayson for bringing our kids together it wouldn’t happen, they would hardly know each other. We tried a few times to get them together outside of their every second Saturday visits. I had Shayla babysit a couple times, and we had always planned on more.

How quickly we ran out of time.

With Julie gone, getting our kids together rested heavily on me. I found myself wishing I had maintained better contact with Shayla and Bailey individually over the last decade. My distance in their lives meant that I had to start from scratch, but I knew deep down in my soul that if I had continued to stay distant, I would regret it. I yearned to connect with them not only for my son to have a relationship with his sisters, but because I wanted a relationship with them too.

After about a year of processing our tremendous loss, I planned a sibling supper for Bryce’s 11th birthday. That day had a reunion-like feel to it. There was an immense amount of love to be shared, it felt like the right path and one to be continued. It also felt heavy. The weight of Julie’s absence was thick in the air, we all had a deep understanding of how very different this day would be had she still been alive. That day served as a springboard for what would be a slow and intentional re-building of my relationship with my daughters.

It has been 5 years without those cherished phone calls with Julie, and I’ll always remember one of the things that she said to me. It stood out as a compliment, and since then it has taken on a whole new meaning. She expressed her disappointment when I broke up with Jayson. I was confused for a moment, and then she explained, “when you were there, at least I knew my girls were looked after.”

Well, I’m still here. And I’m doing the best that I can.