The picture of 10-year-old Emani Moss with angel wings and a halo is heartbreaking. Looking into her eyes all I can think about is the pain she must have experienced, the hopelessness, the fear.
This beautiful little girl should have been worrying about what doll to play with next, what books to read or cartoons to watch. Instead she worried about whether she’d live another day.
This story hits me hard. Every so often our news coverage collides with my personal life. This is one of those times. More than a year ago, I began a process that was the biggest, and best, decision I’d ever made. I decided to adopt a child out of the foster care system. I believed that I had much to offer a little one, but more importantly a little one had so much more to offer me.
Earlier this summer, I was filled with joy when I was approved by the state as a “forever family,” the term used for adoptive families. The approval process had been long. I joke that they asked me for everything including blood. There were financial records needed, health reports, reference checks, a deep dive into my life, my parenting style and my purpose for doing this. I even completed training before the application process.
Though it seemed over the top at times, I respected and appreciated the scrutiny I endured. I am, after all, taking in a child.
Families in the adoption process experience a host of emotions and feelings. I know because I’ve felt them: excitement, nervousness, wonder, eagerness and more. But the hardest part is the waiting. Families wait to complete the paperwork to get approved. They wait for their required home study. They wait for the appropriate family match. They wait to welcome the child into their home. They wait to finalize the adoption. They wait. I wait.
I’ve reached the matching phase in my process. During this phase, I relocated to an area of town with a good school system. I got a home that has a pink bedroom and a swing set in the backyard. And I wait.
There are times I’m filled with excitement. Other times I cry privately and question whether I am really up for this. I mean how long will I have to wait? This isn’t exactly what I expected. My social worker has told me it could take 18 to 24 months because of my age preference. Still I’m hopeful it could happen much sooner.
The waiting makes it especially hard for me to read stories like Emani’s that we’ve covered this week or the stories of the children that AJC reporter Alan Judd wrote about last month in his coverage of the failings of Georgia’s child welfare system.
It’s hard for me because all I can think is: Really. You have me waiting and meanwhile there are children in bad homes, children dying to abuse and neglect, children in the foster care system who need good homes. Good and safe homes like the one I know I can provide. Really?
On Wednesday, AJC reporter Christian Boone quoted a statement from the Division of Family and Children Services that said the agency is “constantly working to improve how we ascertain our goals of protecting Georgia’s children.”
A day after that statement, I wanted to scream when Alan reported that Georgia’s child protection agency dismissed a report of abuse against Emani without sending caseworkers to interview the girl, examine her injuries or question her parents. And I wait.
To be fair, I can’t blame my waiting entirely on the foster care system. The wait also is determined by finding the right match for me and the child. There also are others who’ve been waiting longer. And I should add that I’m working with a non-profit agency connected to foster care systems throughout the United States.
It’s also worth noting that during my required training I learned a lot about the “system.” I sympathized with social workers who talked about unreasonable workloads, false reports and uncertainty. I’m sure it’s a struggle for a social worker trying to decide whether to put – some would say “trap” – a child in foster care or keep them with their own families and get the family the right type of help.
Still, the more I read Emani’s story the more I cry and the angrier I get as I wait.
As for the AJC reporters covering these stories, it isn’t easy to ask the questions and read reports of abuse and neglect.
Said Christian: “With such serious issues involved, you don’t want emotion to cloud your reporting. … As Emani Moss’ grandmother told me, Emani ‘had a silent cry but she’s talking loud now.’ I feel fortunate to be in a position to tell her story in hopes that something like this won’t happen again.”
