Why no infant adoption?

I tried replying to a comment but it was getting way too long. Instead, I'm posting my reply as its own post. Please remember this is my opinion and is based on what I think is best for me. In no way am I saying this is what is best for others.

For some reason, I always knew I'd be a foster parent. I don't know how. I don't remember knowing any foster families growing up. I don't really remember even knowing that foster parents existed. I can't say for sure when I decided this but I knew, going into adulthood, that this was the path I'd take. [Sure, if money had been no object, I'd have headed to China for a toddler girl. However, I live in the real world. I don't have big bucks and I have to work hard for what I do have. I certainly couldn't justify spending a year's salary to get (buy?) a baby.]

Anyway, I grew up moved into an apartment, and looked into fostering. My apartment was not set up for fostering so the idea was pushed to the back burner while I continued living. I got a grant to get my Master's degree and the thought of fostering was totally pushed from my mind. I was working full-time and going to school at night. I barely had time to take care of me. I finished my degree and got my affairs in order to buy a house. After living in my house a few years and moving on to a better-paying job (and, truthfully, approaching the big 3-0) I decided the time was right. The final push came in the form of two little boys (brothers, ages 3 and 4) who were enrolled in the special ed preschool program where I worked. They lived in horrid circumstances and were finally removed from their bio parents. They bounced through a couple of foster homes together before being separated. That broke my heart. They'd lost all that was familiar in their lives and now they'd lost each other. I remember calling their DCS worker and asking why in the world they'd been separated. She told me there was not one single foster home in our region that would take both of these little guys. I remember telling her that I couldn't help them but to please transfer me to the person in charge of licensing foster parents right then because I was going to start the process to be able to help the next kids in that situation. And so my journey began.

I completed the required classes that fall and they came to do my last home visit the first week in February. At that visit, for some reason, I mentioned that I'd be willing to try a pregnant or parenting teen as a foster child. Exactly one week after that visit, I got my first kid - 15 and pregnant, coming from a wilderness boot camp program. Was that a learning experience for me!! She left right before her baby was born but called me when she delivered and I went to the hospital to see her. Other kids came and went. I learned a lot about them and about me as the years went by. One of the things I learned about me was that I get attached to the kids really easily. I knew from that fact that I would never take an infant unless the child's mother was also placed with me. It would have been too easy to forget that I wasn't that child's mom. By having the child's mom there, I couldn't forget. I turned down a couple of infant placements for that very reason. I had to do what I could to protect my heart. I had trouble giving up some of my unruly delinquent teens. Giving up an infant might have killed me. So, I stuck with my big, ugly teens and kept some pieces of my heart intact.

And, yes, I know there are other ways of "getting" a baby without the risk of having to return them to a bio parent. However, I felt in a perfect world that babies needed two parents. I'm not dissing single parents...I AM one. I (for me) felt it was best to leave the low number of available infants to be parented by the large number of couples wanting them. I never felt that urge that I had to raise a child from day one for him/her to be mine. All kids need a home. Many people aren't willing/able to take an older, likely troubled child into their home. For whatever reason, I felt I could successfully do that. (The text on our adoption announcements said, "All children come from God...for some the journey home just takes a little longer.")

Do I have regrets? I have to admit that on rare instances I feel a little screwed by the system. It was a long 10+ years of fostering. I've met some people I'd never have met. I have kids who I consider to be "mine." Not just Alli and Beth. There are a few other long-term kids who keep in touch. And, I do have legal children. I can honestly say I love them just like I would if I'd have given birth to them or gotten them as infants...I love them unconditionally. I can also say that they love me to the best of their ability. It's not the same as I love them but it's the best they can do with their chaotic childhood and the scars it gave them.

They seem to view family as temporary, at best. In their eyes, they move from family to family, hanging on to whoever/whatever meets their needs and desires at any given moment. Unconditional love seems a foreign concept to them. They see me at age 40 (almost 41 - YIKES!) and I still depend on love and support from my family. My mom, my brother, and I are all still very connected to each other. My kids don't understand that connection as all they know of family is that they are there at some point in time, and may or may not be a positive relationship. I see why they have formed that belief but feel powerless to convey that value to them. I've tried - both by my actions and my words but, in the end, have to say that they just don't get it.

So, yes, my feelings seem to get hurt a lot. I have to keep reminding myself that I chose this life. I didn't go into fostering expecting this to happen. However, this is my reality. I do know I don't deserve to be treated the way I am sometimes and I have to keep reminding myself of that fact, too. My self-esteem is not that great to start with and it has taken countless hits from my kids over the years. Many times I have sacrificed myself to help a kid. It's not perfect. And my sacrifices have rarely been acknowledged, much less appreciated. But, at the end of my days, I know I will honestly be able to say I have given them my best. I can't speak for the actions of others. I can't begin to understand their reactions to my best efforts. These are kids that no one else cared enough about to even give a decent effort at loving, protecting, and doing what was best for them. But I did. I took them in. I loved them. I cared for them. I showed them there were better things out there. I can only hope that somewhere, down deep inside them, they know I was there for them.

So, are you sorry you asked, Mongoose? I certainly didn't intend this to turn into a long, whiny post about the state of my life but I fear it has. Forgive me for that. I guess I needed to get some of this off my chest today, though. Thanks for getting me started. I guess I feel a little better.