Continuing with my series on my recent interview with Andrew Bridge and my discussion of his about-to-be-released book, Hope’s Boy, I asked Andrew about one quote from his book that leapt off the page at me …

With only a bit more from Mrs. Leonard (his foster mom), I might have claimed her as my own. I might have surrendered Hope entirely.

(Hope is the name of Andrew's birthmother.) Andrew spent ten years in a foster home where he was always “the outsider”. He was never claimed as a son by his foster parents, and he never claimed them as his parents. I reflected upon that fact, thinking of how hard my husband and I worked to get Tommy and Amy to claim us, and how it feels like they never really did. I have countless photographs depicting all the children dressed in matching outfits, or the entire family in matching outfits. There were no “outsiders” in my family. Yet two of my kids never really claimed us, or at least it feels that way.

Therefore, Andrew’s comment that had he been given any encouragement from his foster mom, he might have “surrendered” his single-minded commitment to his birth mom and embraced his “new family” really struck a nerve with me. When I asked him to expound upon that aspect of his placement, he responded by discussing open adoptions.

It is a mistake on many levels (to deny birth family), a mistake that will get bigger as the child gets older. Open adoptions are best … figure out a relationship that works best for the kids. When I was first out of law school, I did civil rights work in Alabama. There was a boy who testified in the trial, whose family had serious needs. I asked the social worker, what do you do in a case like that? This boy couldn’t live with his mom and get what he needed. The social worker said, “Even though he can’t live with his mama, he needs to know that his mama is still his mama.” Often we make a mistake when we snap that relationship.

Of all the things that we judge a mother by (and there are an infinite number of qualities) if she is able to just provide one, isn’t that one worth something? “I’m your mom, and I know you. I see you. I know you are there.” That means an awful, awful lot, because one of the things that is so hard for foster children is that they walk through life unseen, they think people don’t know they are there, they’ve been forgotten. You can have love and failure in the same person, in the same family, in the same mother and father.

Hope fell apart in front of me, fell apart in front of my eyes. She lost everything. Her only child, her freedom, what most people would consider a meaningful life. It was devastating. People don’t understand how much a 7-year-old child absorbs what is going on around them.

I am a big believer in open adoptions, and I certainly don't expect my children to forget they have or had another set of parents.

My next question for Andrew focused on how his needs had (or hadn’t) been met in the critical first few years of his life. His response is quite interesting, and I think illuminates his views as expressed above … He told me later in our interview that he always believed in possibilities … meaning he knew he could impact his own future and the lives of those around him. This positive attitude is reflected in his view of the value of people in general. Contrast this upbeat view with that of many of our kids who can’t possibly see the good in any aspect of their lives.

Andrew’s mom, for all her failings, loved her son and met his emotional needs to the extent that she nurtured his soul and fostered in him a hope for his future.

More coming …

Photo Credit, from the album of Nancy Spoolstra