Story #104 - Hannah, Powhatan VA (USA) - Disability Advocate, Foster Care Parent, Adoption, Child Protection Services & Finding our Village

My husband Brandon and I have four sons.

Two adopted and two in foster care, waiting to be officially adopted.

When Brandon and I started dating, we talked about getting pregnant. I went through genetic testing due to my disability. It came back clear, but because I have a feeding tube, we consulted with a doctor who couldn't tell us how a pregnancy would affect my body. There were too many unknowns, and we decided not to pursue having biological children and opted for foster care.

It was not a very difficult decision to make: lots of kids need a home, and we have a home. So we got kids.

We began the process in November 2018, and by April 2019, they sent us a daughter. We were excited, but it was wild. She was 15 years old, and I was only 28 at the time, so she was not too far away in age from me.

As a first-time foster care parent, there was a lot to figure out. Everything was overwhelming, from having somebody else in our house to caring for another human without knowing anything about the 15 previous years and the trauma she endured. It was also her first time in foster care, and I don't think either of us quite knew how to handle the situation. Unfortunately, it did not end well, and she decided to leave six months after she was placed under our care.

When it happened, I felt a lot of things: heartbroken, confused, relieved. Having children is hard, but our time with her was very tense. Although we loved and cared for her, it was a challenging situation, and, ultimately, she just wasn't the right fit for us.

In June 2019, when she was still with us, we got a call that they had two boys for us. The first one to arrive was Nate, who we now adopted. His brother came later. Our first daughter and Nate got along very well. She was an excellent big sister to him and cared very hard about his wellbeing.

The Four Brothers

I'm sometimes asked about how you prepare yourself to foster a kid. My answer is: you don't. In all honesty, foster care is rough, both for the family and the kids. You're never sure who you're going to end up with. Babies all need the same things (diapers, a crib, milk) but not teenagers. So you just wait for them to arrive, and then spend a lot of time at Target.

Although we met with our sons before they came to live with us because they were already in foster care, you don't know what size of shoes they need or which clothes they like. Besides having a bed, a dresser, some sheets and towels ready for them, it's a "figure it out as you go" type of situation.

In a way, our "postpartum" period is that moment after we picked our sons up and brought them home. It is incredibly different than what most new parents will experience. Teenagers can talk. They tell you if they're happy or comfortable. In a way, it's probably a lot easier than bringing a baby home. Oh, and they sleep through the night!

The first couple of weeks after they arrive are usually the easiest. I call it the honeymoon period. Everyone's on their best behavior, including us. We're shy and polite. Then it gets really hard, and everything is terrible for many weeks. You get to see how they feel about their experiences and the foster care system in which they landed.

After a while, life levels out. We adapt. Learn to live together as a family.

We got lucky because Nate was very easy. Always been. He's an incredibly sensitive boy. He sadly had to experience our breakup with our daughter. He had been in two other foster homes before us, whereas his brother was only in one. It's hard for them.

Hannah and her husband, Brandon, at their home.

Adoption and foster care are really special.

I became a mom the day they sent us our first kid, in April 2019. Then when Nate arrived a couple of months later, I also felt the same. I said to him: "That's it. You're not going anywhere now." Nothing changed for me between the moment he came and when we officially adopted him: I'm his mom. 

Nate's brother came over a year afterward. Brandon and I always had the goal to reunite them, and we'd visit him whenever we could before he came to live with us. But the process is so difficult. So draining. The system doesn't make it easy for kids to be with their families. We had to fight hard to get them together. But it was worth it. They're just so happy to finally be together. That heals something. My two other kids came in December 2020.

We had space for one more person, but we got a call one day saying, "Do you think you can get a bunkbed? We have two." The kids arrived less than a week after that call. 

We sat down with our two boys and had a discussion. We asked them if it was ok to get two more brothers. It was a family decision.

They got to hang out with them beforehand, and they were already used to living with other kids, so they said, "Ok! Let's do it!"

There was most definitely an adjustment phase, but we already knew what to expect this time: honeymoon, hassles, adaptation. We went through the motion, and everyone made it to the other side. 

The last two years were definitely a learning curve. If someone had told me back in April 2019 that I'd be driving a minivan with four heads in the back, I would have been like, "How is that going to happen?" This is a crazy life that I have. But it also simply happened, and it felt very natural. In a way, it's easy for me to listen to 10 000 questions a day and call myself their mom.

We've had support to help throughout the process, and we talked to friends and family who are parents and have kids. But honestly, foster care is very specific. It comes with certain traumas and behaviors, and it's sometimes difficult to talk to friends about it. It can feel isolating because they just don't understand our reality.

There are Facebook and online support groups, but people are not always the kindest, so we try to take everything with a grain of salt. But it's nice to have people out there who understand what I'm going through. The foster care system is brutal and not supportive. They have resources like social workers and therapy for the kids, but it's something that Brandon and I had to set up. At the end of the day, it's just him and I who have to care and advocate for them.

Therapy is part of our lives. We truly believe in the therapeutic process, and we all used to do it before the pandemic hit. The boys still do it virtually, but we're mostly just trying to keep everyone alive right now. The last year has been rough. Online learning is not cutting it. I hate it, they hate it, we all hate it. A couple of months ago, we decided to buy a bigger house and move here in the country. It was the best thing that ever happened to us. They're outside all day, every day. We had a chicken before, but now we have space for more. And my husband got me livestock for Mother's Day!

The winter was a rough period, with everybody stuck inside the house, but now it's better. When it gets hard, we all just go outside.

They will verbalize their emotions and often talk about what happened to them in the most candid ways. Sometimes I'll be driving and listening to them tell each other about their past experiences. Someone will say something horrible about what happened in another house, and I'm just over there gasping, trying not to crash the car.

Brandon and I are just honest with them: foster care sucks, and terrible things happened to them. We tell them it stinks and that we're sorry about it. We don't pretend otherwise, and we don't pretend we understand what they went through. All I can do is say, "I'm not happy it happened to you." They're kids. They just want to talk about their stuff. So we listen and accept what they have to say.

I have a disability, and I'm a disability rights advocate.

I've just had surgery to repair my broken jaw. Hopefully, I'm done, and the titanium plates have stabilized it well enough, so I will heal. Unfortunately, it was not instantaneous, like most things in life.

I don't care if people stare or say stuff.

What affects me is when people will say things directly to my kids. For example, they do boys scout, and another little boy said something like, "What is wrong with your mom?" My kids always stay chill and calm and usually say something like, "She's ok. She's fine," then move on. But I hate that. I hate that my kids are being made uncomfortable because of me.

They often joke that they'll always protect me! I mentioned that a teenager yelled something at me the other day, and they were like, "WHO SAID THAT?!" They'll protect me until the sun goes down.

I can take care of myself. But it's cute.

I also know that kids are kids, and mine are no different. They'll stare at someone in a wheelchair, but it's my job to tell them how to handle it.

Kids need to see that it's not ok to treat people differently because they look different.

For now, there is no more expanding the family! Maybe when they all turn 18 and leave the house, we'll get bored and will adopt more. But right now, my house is full.

I don't often think about my life before we had them. Now when I think about it, I ask Brandon, "But what did we DO with all this time?"

We keep ourselves busy and very healthy [Hannah creates the IG account Feeding Tube Fitness]. I also have my elderberries business [Hannah's Handcrafted LLC]. We're trying to set up a coffee shop where we would sell only local products. Brandon has recently been "promoted" as a full-time employee, and we have a go fund me page to support the purchase of the future shop. Things are going well. 

We just started doing business two years ago, so it's wild to see how things are progressing. We got our license in 2020, right before everything shut down. It's a mad time to start a business, but it's been great. We started with two products, and now we have ten. I didn't anticipate things to be happening so fast and being so successful.

The kids help, and our families are proud of us.

Not every day is easy, but we're making it happen. If there's one thing I'd like to say about foster care, is that I understand not everyone is comfortable with it, but that we also need support.

When people have biological babies, they have challenges, but people are usually ready to help them. It was not our reality with foster care and adoption. You have this giant thing happening in your life, and you're mostly doing it by yourself. It's a lot to go from two to three (then four) kids and then figure that out on your own.

It stinks that it's not celebrated. There are also many ways to support foster parents without being one: sending food, offering time, taking walks with the kids, doing activities. So yeah, mostly time... and food!

We just love when people want to be present for them. Check-in. Because oftentimes, it doesn't happen. To be fair, Brandon and I are not the best at telling people what we need and when. Our families have been supportive, and part of the isolation has been on us. Our parents are so happy to have grandbabies.

Brandon and I have been together for five and half years, married for three, and he's the best dad ever. He's a natural teacher. We have definite highs and lows, but we laugh all day, every day together at the crazy things the kids say and do.

Obviously, being married has its challenges, but it's for everyone. We don't always have the same parenting style, and we've been working very hard on getting on the same page. Also, he's been "Dad" from day one, whereas I'm still sometimes Hannah. They will call me mom mostly among each other and their friends—or to me, when they need to apologize! It feels nice to be called mom, so I'm cheering to the day it'll always happen.

They are amazing kids, and they've changed so much since they've arrived. They are kind, funny, thoughtful, and smart. I'm not happy that they had to go through foster care, but I'm happy they're here.

Horrible things happen in foster care—not as often as it's portrayed, though—but from the moment the boys set foot in our home, we all knew that we were going to adopt them. We often have to remind them about it because they're so accustomed to being somewhere and then having to move.

But this is it. They are here, and we love them. Besides something horrible happening to us, we are here for them. Forever.