It is nine years ago today that Sammy officially moved into our home. I wrote about this a year ago.

My husband and I discussed this on the way to church tonight. In the past year, the only thing that has really changed is that Sammy has been in three difference placements in the past year. Other than that, we’re pretty much in the same “place” we were a year ago.

Sammy’s placement is fairly “stable” at the moment. He does well in an institutional setting like what he is in now. The more structured the setting is, the more comfortable he feels.

One of our conversations was what our expectations and “reality” were as far as Sammy’s future. My reality is that Sammy is not going to live at home again. He will remain either in an institutional setting or bounce between placements. Then my husband asked me what will happen when Sammy “ages out” of his placement.

My thought the past year is that the college fund we had started for Sammy will instead become his “living fund.” We will use this money to set him up in an apartment and teach him basic life skills like finding a job, paying bills, establishing a budget and other things that he may or may not know when he is eighteen.

It is also my reality that I may very well be visiting my son in another type of institutional setting rather than residential living. I have seen the history of his birth parents and I know the path they continue to live on now. Genetics are huge factor in his life, so I have to face the reality of what his future, and mine, may hold.

Is this the dream that we had when we went into adoption? Not a chance. When I think of the little boy who entered my home nine years ago, it is hard to put myself back to that wide eyed optimist. I have come too far, seen too many things and suffered too many heartaches to allow myself to get my hopes up that Sammy will make any miraculous changes.

This conversation came because my husband saw one of the police officers who had become a regular at our home during Sammy’s many blowouts. We have a casual relationship with him and he asks about Sammy whenever he and my husband see each other. My husband told the officer about Sammy’s new placement and the officer expressed his hopes that Sammy would gain something and turn things around. I no longer have that hope or optimism. I’m glad someone is able to.

I know I am not alone in my cynicism. I have met many parents who have been through the same things we have with basically the same feelings as their child gets closer to adulthood. I hate that we have to feel this way.

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