Losing Daniel

I was living and breathing my worst adoption nightmare. In a matter of five minutes, we had moved our son’s belongings from our trunk to his. I kissed Daniel on the forehead and said goodbye. Just going through the motions — with my heart detached, that was the best I could do.

When Paul and I talked about adoption, we always knew it was a possibility. “I don’t know if I could hand the kid over. I’d probably run for the border and not look back,” I said jokingly. It gave us a good laugh. But in all seriousness, we never thought it would happen to us.

We brought Daniel home when he was nine months old. He was removed from his parents’ custody at birth (along with his three siblings) due to endangerment and neglect. Daniel was born with meth in his system. Extended family took in the three older children, but thought adoption was the best choice for Daniel.

Cheryl and Jimmy had been coming to weekly visits to spend time with their children, but had attempted none of the other court-mandated requirements to move towards reunification, and gain custody of their children.

Because of this, the county moved forward with concurrent placement, hoping to get Daniel into his forever home. 

Our file was selected by the adoptive social worker because we seemed to be the best fit. We were willing to keep open contact with Daniel’s birth family, and had a daughter who was a year older than him (allowing for “natural” separation of siblings).

This was considered a “moderate risk” placement. Any court-dependent child placed in an adoptive home in California has to be classified as “moderate risk”, suggesting there is a possibility the plan for adoption could fall through, because the child is not an orphan. 

With credit to the county, they are very transparent, alerting adoptive families of this reality. But choosing to move forward with concurrent planning suggests they believe the plan for adoption is likely. 

Our desire to care for Daniel overshadowed the impending danger of taking him into our home. At one point we were even hesitant, suggesting that when the genetic testing came back, Jimmy might fight for custody.  That concerned us. “If you turn down this placement, we are going to have to adjust your file to not include ‘moderate-risk’ placement.” 

“But this is on the higher risk end of the moderate-risk spectrum!” I was frustrated — it did not matter. We either were open to it or not, they said. Fearful of social workers limiting our pool of potential placements, we left the office, and called just a few minutes later, accepting placement of Daniel in our home.

Little did we know, parents retain their rights while lawyers and advocacy groups fight before a judge on their behalf. The goal is to keep biological family unit together for as long as possible.

Note how I did not say “reasonably possible”. Reason is checked at the door as the county works to release itself of all possible litigation after they have taken a child from their home. Reason is not the power at work here. Law is.

Reasonably speaking, I think Daniel should have remained in our home. His first word was “Mama”. We loved him unconditionally, cared for him, and tended to his every need (setting ours aside) for 11 months. Daniel bonded to us — we were his “parents” in every sense of the word.

But, unfortunately, being able to move towards finalization for adoption depends solely on the parents’ efforts, or lack thereof. Any effort made by either of them postpones the 2-6 Hearing (the court hearing where termination of parental rights is considered) and lengthens the stay of fost-adopt children in their concurrent placement (adopting, but not yet adopted) homes. 

Plans for finalization of adoption can only move forward after parental rights have been terminated for both the mother and “presumed” (named by the mother) or “assumed” (married to/living with the mother) father.

This is an important point to consider before you accept placement of a court-dependent child in your home. I wish we had understood it better. Legally, as an adopting family, you have no power, no rights, and no say in whether you are going to be able to keep a child that is not biologically yours. It does not matter how long they have been in your home, or in legal limbo.

The state was paying for Jimmy’s lawyer, so he really had nothing to lose. He told us he wasn’t fighting us. He was fighting the county. And all the while, he had no job, skipped his anger management courses, and continued drinking recreationally. The genetic testing came back positive; he was Daniel’s biological father.

Jimmy had just recently been awarded custody of their oldest son, and Cheryl’s rights were terminated. With the other two children being cared for by their maternal grandparents, he set his sights on Daniel.

We had to hire our own lawyer (the county does not pay for a lawyer to represent adoptive families — they have no legal standing, and therefore cannot be legally supported in court or represented by the state). That was neither here nor there for us. As far as we were concerned, we were Daniel’s parents, and had to do everything within our power to do what we thought was best for him. 

I asked Jimmy if he would consider adoption. We had developed a good relationship and I hoped he would. He looked at our family profile, was invited to our home, and even went to court mediation with us. In the end, he didn’t want to have to tell Daniel he “gave him away”. He also didn’t like that the adoption agreement was not legally binding.  

The social workers spoke on behalf of Daniel in court. There was a social worker for the county, and two for Daniel. They all conclusively agreed — it was in Daniel’s best interest to stay in our home. Jimmy’s lawyer was the only one who spoke against it. I took the stand to speak, and cried. All the while, the judge seemed distant and not interested, fiddled with things under her desk when people spoke, like she had already made up her mind.

I think Jimmy fought so that he could say it wasn’t his fault, that Daniel had been “taken” from him. When the judge finally made her ruling, awarding Jimmy custody, I believe he was just as surprised as we were.

He hadn’t even purchased a bed for Daniel. “Could you keep him for a few days so Jimmy could get ready?” The social worker’s words were apologetic and pleading. Get ready? Get ready?! What has he been doing these last few months as he was fighting to get custody? We gave him two days.

I was broken. It hurt just to breathe. But that evening we went home and loved all over our kiddos, and the next day we went to Disneyland to try and escape the ugliness of it all. That night, after we put Daniel to bed, we tried to explain to Lydia that Daniel had to move away. It killed us to have to let her know that when we left in the morning, her brother wouldn’t be coming back. She was three years old.

The social system of our state is faulty, and in the name of protecting children, it leaves a trail of broken, innocent lives.  Lydia, already suffering from attachment issues, didn’t have to lose a brother that day. Daniel didn’t have to lose us as parents. We didn’t have to lose our son.

Jimmy kept in touch as long as it was convenient for him. We had no say, no right to be involved from the moment he took Daniel from my arms. We tried to be there for him as he complained about being exhausted, asked for help with a diaper rash, and wondered why Daniel would scream every time he left him in the arms of a daycare worker (a complete stranger), 15 hours each day. 

Daniel fell off a retaining wall and broke his arm just two weeks after Jimmy was awarded custody. He was being watched after by his big brother while Jimmy recreated. After that, Jimmy fled to Colorado to escape the system.

Who is to say any of this was in the best interest of Daniel — to remove him from a dysfunctional home for almost two years, only to put him back in it? It certainly wasn’t in the best interest of our family.

Shortly after losing Daniel, someone asked me if we had known it was a possibility, to which I answered that we did. “Oh good, at least you knew,” as if that was supposed to make it better. 

Having your heart ripped out of your chest does not feel any better if someone lets you know they may do it. It does not make the process any easier knowing that it could possibly happen the whole time. If anything, it makes it worse.

A whole season of my life has been erased. What matters is that I knew him and loved him with reckless abandon. And all I know is that a piece of my heart has roamed the earth these past 14 years without me, I’ve not been able to protect it, and I will never get it back.