One man's struggle to become a dad

I had one final interview with two of Trevor's social workers on a Sunday in April at my home in Stratford, Ont. They had scheduled a one-hour visit for 9 a.m. They didn't leave until 1 p.m. Afterward, I was a wreck. Had I said the right thing? Had I talked too much? My hopes were high. So, too, was the potential to be hurt. The next morning the phone rang. It was my case worker. "Edward, you've been chosen to be Trevor's new dad."

Meeting Trevor
I met Trevor in person for the first time in late June. His foster parents, a wonderful couple with teenage children of their own, invited me to their church picnic so Trevor could meet me before he was told I would be adopting him. I was sweating bricks when I arrived. I was introduced as a family friend and spent the entire day with Trevor and his foster family. We played Frisbee and I helped him with his lunch, hoping it wasn't too apparent that I was paying special attention to him. I wanted him to accept me first as a person. By the afternoon he started sitting down beside me without being asked. We discovered we both liked magic tricks. You couldn't peel me off the car ceiling when I drove home that night. I was on a total high. It had been a perfect day.

Two days later, when Trevor's foster parents explained to him that he was going to be adopted, he threw a fit and started crying. It was heartbreaking because he didn't want to leave them, but it proved he was still capable of bonding emotionally. (The fear with kids who've been uprooted is that they can develop attachment issues.) Still, leaving his foster family meant he'd go through yet another loss, including separation from his sister. That's a lot for a little six-year-old. But his foster mom told me that Trevor calmed down considerably when they told him who was going to adopt him. That cheered him up.

"Welcome to our home"
Trevor and I did a lot of staring at each other on our first day together later that week. He was checking me out, trying to wrap his brain around the idea of me as his dad. It was a blur of emotion, but I do recall that he asked all kinds of questions about where I lived, and we talked about me becoming his dad. We had a picture taken that day that now hangs in the entranceway of our house in a frame that says, "Welcome to Our Home." I look at it often.

We had many visits up north that summer, and he came to spend a week with me in Stratford, before coming home for good on Labour Day weekend. We explored Stratford, sought out favourite parks and walked the dogs. We also talked a lot about families, and what families look like. I remember our first overnight together. When it came to domestic things such as tucking him into bed, we had no history. And the first time I had to bathe him, we just stared at each other. OK, so, what do we do first? Wash your hair? I was suddenly in the dad role in a very intimate way.

I didn't get a lot of sleep in that first month Trevor lived with me. I spent a lot of time sitting on the floor in his room at night watching him sleep. I'd think to myself: He's part of my life now. We're family. Of course, it got rocky for a while. He started testing me, seeing how far he could push. I knew to expect this. The social workers had prepared me for Trevor's deep-seated fear: "When are you sending me back? When will you, too, leave me?" Trevor would suddenly act out at home, or get into confrontations at school. One time he threw a tantrum in a restaurant and the only thing I could do was say, "OK, we're out of here." There were a couple of nights when I asked myself, What have I gotten myself into here?

Page 3 of 4 -- On page 4, Edward shares what his life is like with his son.