Full Circle
It was the summer of 2020 and we were on our very first sabbatical from foster care. We’d had consecutive, sometimes overlapping, placements since spring 2017. Without an ounce of hesitation, we loaded up our van and headed out west to Grand Teton National Park. I’d dreamed about going to the Tetons since a friend told me about them in 2005. It was the way he said it, with such intensity, that the Tetons were the most beautiful place he’d ever seen that I knew I would get there someday. I’d dreamed of this experience so many times in the chaos of foster care. Dreamed of bringing my family to the Tetons, my heart somehow knowing that we would find healing in the mountain air, and we did. I cried when I saw them the first time. I don’t know how to explain what it feels like for your soul to exhale, I can only tell you that standing at the base of those mountains, my soul exhaled. It would be hard to explain in a single blog post what those mountains became to our family that week. We spent a glorious week at the base of the Tetons, our bodies and souls fully relaxing. We went white water rafting, horseback riding, and spent countless hours swimming in mountain lakes with the majestic peaks just on the other side. We fell in love, hard.
After a week, we packed up camp and headed to Salt Lake City. We landed there on Pioneer Day, which from what I’ve heard, any year but 2020 would’ve been amazing. That summer, however, with the world shut down, Salt Lake City was empty. The planetarium was open though, so I sent Brad and the kids while I stayed behind to get a few hours of work done. Haven was still extremely new, and needed my attention. My phone rang an hour into my solitude. It was my friend and one of our licensing supervisor calling to ask if I wanted to know about our next placement. “Nikki!”, I exclaimed, “We’ve only been gone a week…. ARE YOU KIDING ME?!?!?!”
“Rebecca, you’re the only one that can do all four of them. Plus, it won’t be very long… they’re going home soon. What if I send you their pictures?” Shaking my head in disbelief I told her to send the pictures and that I would call back when Brad got back to the hotel with the kids. Zoe, who’d been begging us to say yes to a baby, was over the moon when she found out the youngest was just 5 ½ months. We called Nikki back and said yes, afterall, they were headed back to mom and dad soon.
A year later, shellshocked from the absolute chaos of life back home, we were back at the Tetons, our lives looking absolutely nothing like they’d looked the previous year. We’d put the Littles in respite and ran to the one place on earth we knew was safe. On the drive out there, I begged the mountains to be the same. Prayed the memory of them from last year held true. And it was. Here, at the base of the mountains, we could breathe. We could find reprieve from the pain we were experiencing back home. Pain unrelated to fostering, but nevertheless, complicated by it. At the end of the week, when our spirits were at peace and we remembered who we were outside of grief and chaos that we could ask the BIG question that hung over our family. The sibling set that was going home “really soon” was still with us, and the case was turning towards adoption. Would we consider adopting them? Our family was divided. We had been for months. We’d intentionally put this conversation off until the trip. Driving down the road into Jackson Hole, with the mountains to our right, we hashed it out. I still remember the moment Brad said, “Yes. I’m a yes.” We didn’t know what would come of it, they were likely still going home. Moving the case to adoption was just a precaution. But, either way, we were saying yes to these kids if they ended up needing it. I looked at the mountains and prayed I would have what it takes in the event that our yes was actually needed.
It’s been three years and we’ve walked the gauntlet here, as a family, and clawed our way towards healing. I’ve gone back to that moment, those mountains, so many times in my head. I’ve tattooed the mountain range on my arm, a constant reminder of where I said yes. The four of us have craved that crisp mountain air that feels so different for us than anywhere else. I’ve convinced several friends to take their families. But, we haven’t been back. The kids weren’t ready for it.
Today, on the 2nd anniversary of adoption, our family of 8 is loading up our car and heading out West. Ready or not (but hopefully, more ready than not), we’re doing it. It’ll take us a week to get there, exploring a few national parks along the way, but eventually we’ll end up at our family’s crown jewel… a week in the Tetons. This time, we’re not running to the mountains for healing. We’re going there to create memories that all 8 of us have, together. It feels imperative to introduce our newest members to the place we talk about all the time. Like, they’re not fully initiated until they’ve been there… fallen in love themselves. The excitement is palpable around us.
A week from now, I’m going to take a picture of our whole family with the Tetons in the background… it’ll be full circle, and I’ll be whispering to myself the whole time, “We can do this. We can do this. We’ll have what it takes when we need it. We can do this.”