You may remember me writing about Puddin’. She was a 3-year-old who came to us twice, both times voluntarily placed in temporary care by her dad. Dad was a single parent who loved his daughter to pieces. He simply could not make it work. He couldn’t stay employed, he couldn’t hold on to housing, he didn’t have reliable child care, he couldn’t keep food on the table.
In some ways, Puddin’ had it easy. She had probably never been abused, she was loved, she had the stability of her father in her life. On the other hand, she had been passed around to family and friends, seldom seeing the same people twice, never staying more than a few days or a week any where. This is a child with no comprehension about how to attach.
Puddin’ fit right in when she came the first time just before Christmas. In between the ages of two of our “Littles,” she fell into play the minute she walked in. We were all immediately in love. A week later, she was gone but we couldn’t stop thinking about her. In the spring, miraculously, she came back, this time for several weeks. She walked in the door, said, “Hey, Meemaw,” and ran to the “Littles.”
During her springtime stay she attached to us. I consulted an attachment therapist — was this harmful to her? What would happen when she left again? The therapist assured me that any attachment is better than none. She spent Easter and Mother’s Day. She acquiredclothes and toys, her own chair at our little table. We bonded.
When her dad terminated and she was legally free for adoption, we celebrated. This was a child in need of stability. Very soon, a “forever family” was found, a lovely couple, close by. Puddin’ would be their first. Two days after Mother’s Day, she left.
Their first weeks were rough ones as Puddin’ grieved her father and our family. But her new mommy and daddy hung in there. They loved her through it and she began to bloom.
Yesterday her new mom wrote me to let me know that she is still blossoming. She is learning her ABC song and knows her letters “on sight.” She is still composing music at the piano and has many friends. She has become “theirs.” I am thrilled for all of them. This is why we do what we do; thank God for happy endings.