Life hasn’t always been a piece of cake for me. My mother was fifteen when she had me and gave me up since she was in no way ready to be a mother since she couldn’t even take care of herself.

Children playing in the yard.

It turns out I was a colicky baby and not your typical adorable baby that everyone falls in love with at first sight. It seems as if my mother never had prenatal care when she was pregnant with me and didn’t take care of herself let alone her unborn child. In fact, she hid her pregnancy from her family altogether.

When my mother went into labor she didn’t tell anyone and she gave birth to me with the help of her best friend. After I was born they dropped me off at the local hospital emergency room and she never looked back or gave me one thought after that. I was just a mistake in a long line of mistakes that she made throughout her messed up life.

As I was saying she left me at the emergency room. From there I was taken to the preemie room in the maternity ward. I’m sure the nursing staff did their best to take care of me. Apparently, I was not a good sleeper nor did I seem interested in drinking the formula they gave me. I cried non-stop morning, noon, and all night. At some point, they felt I was in stable condition and I was put in the care of the state and went to a foster care home. Where I lived for less than a year. Apparently, my inability to ever sleep through the night and screaming like a banshee made it difficult for the foster parents and kids to sleep through the night.

As a result, I was tossed from one foster home to another. No one seems to have any interest in adopting me. I felt alone in the world and rejected. But that all changed when I was sent to live with a foster family whose last name was Corsican. They were truly the first kind and loving people I had ever known. They never made negative comments about how I looked.

Oh, I forgot to mention that apparently my birth mother or father or some distant forgotten relation to one of them had the biggest nose on the face of the planet and I inherited it. How lucky am I? I spent almost my entire childhood being called names like honker, schnoz, horse, beak, snout, Gonzo. Apparently one of the kids who called me Gonzo thought I looked like one of the muppets on TV.

Anyway the day my social worker came and picked me up and brought me to the Corsican’s house was the luckiest day of my life. As soon as we arrived at their house I knew life was looking up for me. The kids were running and playing all over the yard.

They were laughing and calling out each other’s names. Apparently playing some kind of game I was unfamiliar with. As soon as the social worker pulls up kids start running towards the car. I mentally prepare myself for the onslaught of name-calling.

All the kids came running up to the car window. And they all talk at the same time. “Hi, you must be Stevie we have been waiting all day for you to show up. Come on out and we’ll show you your room and stuff.”

“Go on Stevie, I’ll bring your suitcase in and I have to talk to the Corsicans.”

I open the door and get out of the car and someone grabs my arm and says,” you can be on my team. And just like that, I met my best friend, and it turns out her name was Billie Jean. That’s right my best friend is a girl.”

My social worker walks up to the front door and goes in to speak to the foster mom and says,” this is the last opportunity for Stevie in foster care. He has been moved from one placement to another. He has problems falling to sleep and staying asleep. He has been rejected by his own mother and her extended family. We have no clue who his father is. What I’m saying is this is his last chance to have any kind of normal life. If this fails he will be headed to a state residential treatment program and that rarely has a good ending.”

Mrs. Corsican takes a step back and says all in one breath. “Stevie will not fail here. I’ve dealt with kids with much worse backgrounds than he has had. Kids that grow up feeling rejected time and again develop trust issues with adults. I promise you that I and all the kids that live here will come to love and accept Stevie. I will create a plan to help him start sleeping better. I have no doubt that he will sleep better when he feels he is loved and accepted and that he has a place to live for as long as he needs it. “

“Thank you I knew this would be the solution for Stevie. Please keep me up to date with his progress. Feel free to contact me at any time. I mean that. I’m going to say so long to Stevie but please call me if you need my assistance in any way.

I walk back down the sidewalk and call out, “Stevie I’m leaving now. You have my phone number if you ever need to call me about anything.” Stevie gives me a wave and keeps playing with the other kids. My heart feels a little lighter now. I’m certain that this is the home that Stevie will have for the rest of his childhood and perhaps the family that he deserved his entire life. The family that loves and accepts one another regardless of how they look, the clothes they wear.  Or where they came from. This is the unconditional love that all children deserve. I smile all the way to the car and the ride back to my office. This is what a happy ending looks like for kids like Stevie.

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