Every family before us had been interested in four-year-old Josie—until they learned that adopting her also meant welcoming her sixteen-year-old brother, Jace.
My husband and I said yes to both of them.
Then, about a month after they moved into our home, their former foster mother called me and asked a question I never expected.
“They still haven’t told you why they chose you?”
My husband, Daniel, and I had spent five years trying to become parents before finally accepting that pregnancy probably wasn’t going to happen for us.
It wasn’t because we wanted children any less.
We were simply exhausted.
Exhausted by appointments.
Tests.
Medication.
Hope followed by disappointment.
One night, after another difficult doctor’s visit, I sat on the kitchen floor crying.
Daniel lowered himself beside me.
For a while, neither of us said anything.
Then he quietly said,
“We still have room in our lives. We could adopt.”
Eight months later, we met Josie.
She was four years old, with soft brown curls, enormous dark eyes, and a smile that seemed to appear cautiously, as though she wasn’t entirely sure she was allowed to show it.
She sat at a little table in the agency’s family room, coloring what looked like a purple dog.
Daniel crouched beside her.
“That’s a beautiful dog.”
Josie looked up.
“It’s a wolf.”
Daniel nodded seriously.
“Then that is an excellent wolf.”
She studied him for a few seconds.
Then she laughed.
And just like that, I felt something shift inside me.
I know people tell prospective adoptive parents not to expect some magical, instant connection.
We had been warned about that too.
But the moment I looked at Josie, I cared about her.
Deeply.
Then our caseworker, Rebecca, asked Daniel and me to step into the hallway.
“There’s something important you need to know,” she said.
Josie had an older brother.
His name was Jace.
He was sixteen.
“They’re being placed together,” Rebecca explained. “We don’t want them separated.”
Daniel looked at me.
I asked the first question that came to mind.
“Where is he?”
“Down the hall.”
“Then why isn’t he in here meeting us?”
Rebecca hesitated.
That pause told me there was more to the story.
“A number of families have shown interest in Josie,” she said carefully. “But once they learn that Jace is part of the placement, they reconsider.”
I felt embarrassed for people I had never even met.
“Because he’s sixteen?”
“Teenagers are harder to place.”
Daniel folded his arms.
“Does he have serious behavioral issues?”
Rebecca chose her words carefully.
“Nothing beyond what you might reasonably expect from a teenager who has experienced a lot of instability.”
Then she added,
“Jace understands why the other families changed their minds.”
“And he thinks we’re going to change ours too?” I asked.
Rebecca was quiet for a moment.
Finally, she said,
“I think Jace expects adults to prove that they mean what they say.”
That sentence stayed in my mind.
A few minutes later, Jace came into the room.
He was tall and thin, wearing a gray hoodie even though the room was warm.
His hair fell over his forehead.
Rebecca introduced us.
Jace gave us a single nod.
No smile.
Josie, however, immediately ran to him.
We spent almost two hours together that afternoon.
Josie talked enough for everyone.
Jace mostly gave one-word answers.
Daniel asked him if he liked sports.
“Basketball sometimes.”
“What position?”
“Guard.”
Daniel smiled.
“I played guard in high school.”
For the first time, Jace really looked at him.
Josie looked up too.
Jace raised an eyebrow.
“You played guard?”
Daniel laughed.