Today is the 2 year anniversary of Mike being with us. On the 22nd of March 2013 , he walked out of his last placement for good, foster kid no more . Our son with us for good, our family more complete then Kim or I could have ever imagined. 3 imperfect people, loving each other strengths and weaknesses unconditionally. 3 people, one family.
On the Kindred site you will see a picture two hands intertwined walking down the road. That is my wife and my kiddo, my life. I had made many mistakes in my younger years but when my kiddo woke up in our hotel room today two years ago knowing he was never going back to foster care, I knew my life was created to be this kiddo’s mom and I had found my perfect partner in crime to parent with me.
I love the hand pictures of all of us. We have a lot. Our hand holding, much like our journey as a family has evolved; grown and morphed. Each stage better than the last. The day I saw Michael face to face is the day I have said, over and over again, is the day I really saw God and all the reasons hope and faith are a very good thing to hold onto. He was 16 but, well he looked so little and innocent when that door opened. He doesn’t get when I say this but in that moment, I saw baby Michael, toddler Michael; the inner child that was so deeply hidden away in my Michael. He was dressed the way I see a lot of foster kids now (and yes I now pay attention) The hair cut (buzzed not styled), the clothes ill-fitting and cheap, the hope and the fear both warring in his eyes .
Within the first hour of togetherness, he held our hands. After being prepped to let him go at his pace, to feel safe to show us affection, HE held our hands. In the first few months the hand holding was security. We could see that, whenever he was tense time or in with new folks he held our hands. And pinched them, almost like if we were real. By week 2, I had bruises on my hands and that was fine! He could have ripped the whole damn limb off if it gave him comfort. It gave me comfort too that my kid was, in fact, alright and while he would still need to let go and believe we were never leaving him, in the moment he held on to us.
And now two years later, my baby not so much of one anymore. Always with a new do and his own style, scruff on the face, more manlike features then child. Now they ask to seat the 3 of us at the bar because they are unsure of his age. But he still holds our hands. 2 years into it, it’s not security anymore but comfort, habit and love. I sometimes see the look folks give us, with our young adult son holding hands with us, that surprise I see now turns inward to envy. In public, my son is still willing to acknowledge we are the people in his life. The hand holding is so routine for us all, though now I think he leads his mothers where HE wants to go, or to hurry us along. Or sometimes when we do not feel well, it’s his turn to give us comfort. His quiet way of saying that I may forget to do the dishes, but I am always here for you.
Why do I support my son laying his heart out in this film? I do so because it is his voice and his story and worth telling. It is also a poignant reminder that there are so many children that have no hands to hold. And that breaks my heart. Each one of you who have read our blogs, shared our links, contributed to the film; you have made it one step closer for another child to walk with someone through their lives.
He is 18. My handsome son and one day soon his hands will be holding others: his close friends, his partners; and maybe someday my grandchild’s. He has told us our grandchild will come into our world as a teen like he did with us. That suits me fine! We can all walk into the sunset together.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s