We dropped Donavon off at Runnymede on a crisp March morning last year. It was cold, but the sun shines more in Missouri than it does in Michigan so that was refreshing. Donavon walked over with Bob and knelt down on one knee to meet the dog. Tebow was happy to meet him and I could see his tail wagging as D scratched his belly. We got back in our car and drove down the long driveway back to the country road that would take us back to Kansas City. We didn’t talk much. We were used to the numbness by now, but the weight we were feeling was too much to handle. We distracted ourselves with a movie and then got some dinner, but couldn’t face seeing all those “normal” people in the restaurant so we just ate in the car. We got back to our hotel and I lost it. All the pain and sadness and misery and shame and guilt and failure from the previous 5 years knocked me to the floor and I wept. I’d never done that before. Not like that. Carissa just held me.
I met Carissa in middle school band class. The Lord in his providence put the clarinets next to the saxophones and little did we know, 8 years later we would marry. But prior to that we would spend a year in Romania serving orphans. We always said we’d adopt when we got married someday after seeing what happens to kids who grow up without families. After having our 4 “typical” kids, we decided we didn’t want to be those people who say, “we always talked about adopting, but it just didn’t work out.” So, we took the plunge into the world of foster care and got our license. We received the call one night at dinner. They had 2 boys who needed help and within the hour our doorbell rang. Donavon was 3 and he literally jumped from the social worker’s arms into mine and the first thing he said to me was, “What’s that?” (twisting a mole on my neck). Carissa picked up Kelvin, who was the tiniest 4 week old I’d ever seen. Donavon cried for his mom for a couple hours before finally falling asleep that night. Carissa stroked his head and sang to him. It was likely going to be temporary, but the days turned to weeks, then months and after about a year of courtroom drama and failed drug screens, bio mom’s rights were terminated and they asked if we’d keep them. We were nervous given his extreme behaviors, but just couldn’t say no. I’ve often wondered how it would have been if we had, but that guilt compounds on itself over and over again, so I’ve gotten good at ignoring those thoughts.
Donavon’s behaviors were difficult from day one. He was impulsive, hyperactive, destructive, physically aggressive, and verbally “advanced” (our other kids got an instant R-rated education, he had clearly seen way too much in his 3 years. How does a 3 year old learn to scream, “I hate you, you mother-f---ing b----!?). We struggled to attach to him and he to us. We kept thinking it would improve after the parental rights were terminated or the adoption was finalized and we could finally “love and discipline” as we normally would our other kids. We kept thinking time would heal the wounds of early trauma, but it seemed time was making it worse. He was 5 when the adoption was finalized and we tried home schooling, but it just wasn’t going to work. We tried 1st grade in the public school hoping the structure and social support would help him adjust and he did ok, but life at home was becoming a nightmare. We tried medication for the ADHD and Adjustment Disorder and the side effects were as bad as the behaviors themselves. Therapy was laughable, he just wouldn’t participate. The rest of the family was tossing around the “feelings ball” with the therapist while he was slamming doors and trashing the school room, screaming that he hated us.
Shortly after the adoption, we had the (questionably) bright idea of having one more child the old-fashioned way. 7 kids seemed like a good biblical number and we thought the boys being able to experience the miracle of a new sibling would be healing in some ways for them. At the 20-week ultrasound we lived the feared experience of every parent as the tech grew quiet and then excused herself to go get the doctor. The baby had a spot on her heart. We were referred to the University of Michigan about an hour from our home and learned she had a severe heart defect that would be fatal after she was born unless we went through a series of 3 open-heart surgeries over her first 2-3 years of life, the first being within a few days of her birth. It was one of those record-screeching moments when time stood still. “Nope, that won’t work. You have no idea what our family is like. We can’t do this”, pleaded my desperate wife. Luckily we had 20 more weeks to prepare, but nothing could really get us ready for what would happen next.
Louisa was born and had her first surgery when she was 2 days old. The day after surgery she arrested. They were able to resuscitate her but had to use a life-support machine called ECMO for the following 4 days to keep her alive. She had a bleed on her brain and they had no idea if she was going to survive. Slowly, she gained strength and her little heart recovered and after a month of living in the hospital, we came home. But she was extremely fragile and demanded nearly 100% of our attention -- medications, monitoring, and tube feedings around the clock. It was all very intense. She developed complications after 6 weeks at home and we went back to UofM for an ensuing 7 weeks that included her second open-heart surgery and rocky recovery. She stabilized and we finally came home to re-start “normal” life, knowing her third surgery would be necessary in the next 12-18 months.
Donavon’s behaviors intensified. He was growing violent with us and having rages that were nearly impossible to control. We were struck, kicked, spat-upon, and bit. Our house was gradually being destroyed. We had to put the knives up high in the pantry because he was grabbing for them during rages. And then he began to talk about killing himself. Our property backs up to the highway about 200 yards away and he kept saying he was going to sneak out in the night and go sit in the road waiting for a car to run him over. We tried to keep everyone safe, but then he actually started running for the road a time or two and his aggression toward his parents was starting to lash out to siblings too. We all needed help. Our church provided respite, the doctors and therapists helped too, but nothing was working. Donavon was demanding nearly all of our time and attention and we were starting to see his brother Kelvin following in some similar patterns. We had to do something to save our family.
So, we found Runnymede. We had called multiple organizations both in state and out of state. Most were full or for older/teenage boys. Many wouldn’t accept him because they weren’t equipped to handle his issues. But Runnymede in Missouri was happy to take him. We were pleased to see that their school and working farm shared the same Christian worldview that we hold to. We loved the book list on their website and felt the Lord leading us to trust them with our son. The cost was $3000/month which was reasonable compared to many programs we looked into. But even my salary as a family practice physician wasn’t going to be enough for the usual 12-18 months in their program.
We prayed and some dear friends organized a GoFundMe campaign that raised $18,000. We were shocked and humbled, and knew with that support we could go for it. Our savings could cover another 6 months and then we’d trust the Lord to figure out the rest.
Donavon has done well there. We’ve had 2 breaks over the course of this last year where he came home for ten days each time. While it was still challenging, it was like he had forgotten (at least for now) all the pain and agony in his confused heart. He has been a joy to be around. We all look forward to our Thursday night phone call with D and are eager for our next visit with him this Spring. His progress is slow, however, and Bob says this is typical for the younger boys. He estimates he will need at least another year to complete the program.
We are overjoyed to see Donavon’s progress. And we remain exhausted dealing with adoption related issues for Kelvin, the medical issues for our daughter Louisa, and some health issues related to our parents. We would love for Donavon to be able to complete his program at Runnymede and receive all the benefits that completion could bring. It also affords us some time to focus on the other “issues” at hand with our family. However, our savings has dwindled down and we’re not sure how we’re going to make ends meet. Bob has graciously decreased our tuition to $2500/month. That will help, but we’re looking for some other ways to cover cost. We could re-finance our home or take out a loan, but we’re hoping to keep our debt burden down.
We know our God owns the cattle on a thousand hills (Psalm 50:10) and every inch of the universe is under his sovereign control. We know he can provide for us just as we’ve seen him bring our daughter back to life and breathe joy back into the heart of Donavon. We will faithfully pray that this application is received and if nothing else, hope our story will bolster your faith. We expect you receive a number of petitions for financial assistance and know that our story is not the only one like it. We’re sure the Lord will lead you as he sees best for his Kingdom and we would be humbled to receive any amount of support. Thanks for reading our story. We’ve come a long way from middle school band class and a long way from that goodbye at Runnymede last March. We’re looking forward to our next big “hello Donavon”.
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