I grew up in a Group Home with 200 other kids, and many
surrogate moms. We called them “matrons,” and the Home was called an orphanage.
I vividly remember the day we were driven to another state to be placed there.
I was 7, and my two younger sisters were 5 and 3. We were huddled together on
the back seat, terrified and crying. We knew we were about to be “put
somewhere” that we didn’t want to go. We wanted to stay with our father and
older brothers. Our mother had burned to death in a house fire. “No, no, no!” I
screamed silently in my mind because our father had told us to stop crying and
complaining. “Please don’t do this! Please don’t!” I prayed. “God, don’t make
us go! Make Daddy want to keep us! Please!” But it happened anyway. Then, when
I was 35, and had two sons of my own, one of my brothers committed suicide. His
wife “lost it” and abandoned their children—a son, 7, and a daughter, 3, so I
became their surrogate and legal guardian. Having been exposed to both sides of
“the system,” I have a perspective that may benefit those who are raising
someone else’s children, and those who are currently considering becoming a
foster parent, Group Home house-parent, or are planning to adopt.