We matched with a birthmom in August, whom we will call Hurricane T. She lived in a backward southern state (narrows it down considerably, eh?). She has two kids, T and D.
We lost touch with her for a few weeks, after we had purchased her and her kids airline tickets to come meet us in early October. A week before she is supposed to arrive, we get a late night phone call from her. She says she is stranded at a pay phone by a gas station and is in a bad situation and needs our help.
Being the suckers that we are, we did help. It was like command central around here, but we got a cab to her and got her to a Days Inn in Asheville, NC (which is not the backward state she started out in). How did she end up in NC, you ask? Well we didn’t, but stay tuned!
The next day we flew them out because she said she wanted to still match with us. We met them at the airport at 12:30am on Tuesday morning. We were exhausted. It appeared that they were too.
We had to stop at the Diamond Heights safeway on the way home because we had no children food in the house. So – there we are – at 1am with a 2 year old and a 3 year old walking around the grocery store throwing Apple Juice, Juice Boxes (which are the root of all evil), cheese, bread, Ravioli in a can (a can, dear God, a CAN!), etc.
Looking back, why the hell we thought this was even remotely normal is a puzzle to me.
Anywho, we get home and her daughter promptly falls off the bed onto our hardwood floors. And oh yeah, anytime our dogs got near the kids, they’d scream at the top of their lungs. But their mom insists they like dogs.
They stay with us for a week in our house, then we move them downstairs to our in-law unit.
I don’t remember much, but I do remember that first week was HELL. I’d come home exhausted and then have to deal with her and them. And whatever I did wasn’t good enough. Either dinner was too late, or she didn’t eat spinach, or she couldn’t eat cooked carrots. Angry? Me? Nah, not at all.
Weeks 2, 3, and 4 all have their dysfunctional highlights too:
There was the emergency room trip because the hurricane was having contractions. Turned out she wasn’t drinking any water.
There was the un-announced visit from CPS to do a welfare check on the kids (we’ll soon find out why).
There was another trip to the emergency room to check D’s phenobarbital levels (oh yeah, did we mention she doped both her kids because they are alleged to have epilepsy and seizures).
There were the 26 trips to the welfare office and the medi-cal office.
There was her blatant lie about not immunizing her children.
There were shit filled diapers strewn across the floor of her unit.
There was her black “hoochi-mama” lady of the night outfit.
There was the night she went to the Metreon, “lost” her money, and I had to go fetch her from outside the old Navy.
There was the time she put gum on the front seat of the car, and then blamed me for it.
There was the fact that she was smoking and wouldn’t stop.
There was her surly attitude.
There was the god-awful frozen corn she cooked one night.
There was her staying up till 5am and not watching her kids, so they’d wander into our unit at 6am.
Watching Toy Story for the 5,000th time because she didn’t want to parent her children.
There was the trip to the adoption center where they told us this looked like a good match. A good match! Good god, what the hell are our adoption professionals doing? Apparently not much in the way of protecting adoptive parents. Do I sound angry? Me? Nah, not at all…
Turns out the Hurricane was a scam. She had lived with at least two adoptive parents in NC before us. Gave them the same story. But she only lasted a few weeks with them. They must have been amatuers. We, on the other hand, as hardcore professionals managed to tough it through a month with her.
We found all this out via the internet (yeah GOOGLE). We had searched the internet prior to her arrival, but her scam hadn’t yet made it to the adoption boards.
We confronted her about it, and she denied it all. So we all drove out to the agency and they confronted her about it. And she denied it all and basically shut down. So we unmatched.
On the way home, we found her and her kids an airplane flight that departed at 5:30 from Oakland to another backward southern state (but not the one she started in, and not NC). So it was a mad dash home to SF from Concord, and then out the door from SF to Oakland to meet the flight (we unmatched at about 1:30pm). I made it there by 4pm, and managed not to say anything mean to the hurricane.
So that roughly brings us up to speed about where we are now. I’m still angry for being played the fool. I’m still angry at our adoption agency. I’m puzzled about why it all happened. What does it mean? Throw in a healthy scoop of existential angst, and that’s where I’m at.