I don't want to think about it....

Neither did I! I was 25, had recently graduated from college and had just begun a great new career. I'd just purchased my first home and was going to graduate school at night to pursue my "dream job". I was dating and hanging out with my friends on weekends. I was in the prime of my life and the last thing I wanted to think about was adopting a 15 and 13 year old! Besides, I was too young, had too many things going on, and what if the guy I would marry one day didn't want children, let alone adopted children? I never wanted children anyway. For me, it wasn't about not wanting to adopt children, it was about not wanting children period.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I saw myself picking up the phone to call the social worker and volunteer myself as the prospective adoptive parent of my sons. "Stop! Are you crazy?" I told myself. But I'm stubborn and didn't listen, and almost ten years later, here we are.

You see, while I didn't want to think about it, the fact is, I couldn't stop thinking about it. When Mychael was separated from Malcolm and placed in a group home (where he would likely be "aged out" of foster care), I couldn't stop thinking about "it". What would it be like to be 15 years old and have no one in the entire world to make me feel safe? I still remembered what it was like when I was very young and would get left with a babysitter. I ached every minute my Mommy was gone--couldn't wait for her to get back. What would it be like to never have that ache relieved? What if she never came back?

I was 25 and couldn't imagine facing the future without my Mommy. At 25, I was still young enough to remember 13, and I didn't take for granted what it felt like to have someone in my life whose very presence made me feel that no matter what, everything would somehow be okay.

But still, I didn't want to think about it. And who did I call to talk about my not wanting to think about it? My Mommy, of course.

Whatever, it wasn't my problem. Sure, it was really sad, but it wasn't my problem. Besides, I was too young, had too much going on and just knew I couldn't do it.

And yet, I hated myself for being so fortunate as to be able to choose whether or not my life was going to be "inconvenienced". The kids were inconvenienced by birth right alone. They never had a choice in the matter. They were born fighting. They didn't even know what it was like to take things like your Mom, your pillow or the place where you kept your socks for granted. Not worrying about whether or not you'd have a place to live the next day was a luxury in which they were not accustomed.

But why should I have to be the one to do something? What was in this for me? Why couldn't someone else step up? Have I mentioned that I'm young and have a lot going on in my life?

So why couldn't I stop thinking about it?



That's why.

I couldn't be another person in their lives who let them down. How would I feel if ten years from now, they were in prison, homeless or worse yet, dead? Could I live with knowing that when I had the chance to make a difference, I bailed because I was too young and too busy (translated: too weak and too selfish)?

And so I picked up the phone and made the call. Ten years later, these phenomenal soldiers are completing their bachelor's degrees--scheduled to graduate just months shy of our "ten year anniversary" and my 35th birthday.

If you're still wondering what was in it for me, and ultimately, for our entire family, the answer's quite simple: Everything.

I am forever grateful.