A Death Certificate, Two Brothers, and Why I Do Adoption Work

Yesterday, a heavy envelope arrived at my office.

I was working on a DFCS adoption for two brothers, and I expected the usual paperwork. Instead, the first thing I pulled out was a death certificate.

The second I saw it, I knew what it meant.  These precious boys had lost a parent.  While reading the death certificate for the Mother, I knew in my gut that domestic violence was part of the story, although the certificate did not mention it.

Later, when I reviewed the juvenile court records, my belief was confirmed.  By the end of the day, I wasn’t just doing my job.  I was grieving.

This case hit me hard because it is personal.

Many people know me as The Adoption Auntie, but that name comes from a real place. My brother and I were orphaned when we were young because of domestic violence. Our mother was killed, and our father went to prison.  We were blessed to have a family that stepped in and raised us.  I know how much that matters.  I also know not every child gets that kind of safety.

That is why this work is not just legal work to me.

These two brothers are fortunate to have Ms. T.

She opened her home and her heart to them.  She chose them.  She is adopting them even though she already has grandchildren older than these boys.  She did not have to say yes, but she did.  Because of her, these boys get more than a case number or a file. They get permanency.  They get family.

People sometimes see adoption day pictures and think this work is all joy.  Sometimes it is.  But sometimes it starts with heartbreak, trauma, and loss.  Sometimes it means opening an envelope and finding a death certificate.  Sometimes it means a case reaches into your own past and sits with you long after the office is closed.

Still, I do this work because I believe every child deserves a safe, permanent home.  I do it because I know what it means when someone steps in.  I do it because I have lived close enough to this pain to recognize it immediately.  Tomorrow happens to be the anniversary of my Mother's death, and yesterday's grief is still here today.  But I will walk through it as I always do, and perhaps in a few days or next week, I will feel better.  It always gets better.

Thank You

If you are someone who advocates for children, for survivors of domestic violence, for foster children, for foster parents, for kinship caregivers, or for adoption, Thank You.  Truly.  If you are doing this work in any way—professionally, personally, quietly, behind the scenes—thank you.  Thank you for showing up for children.  Thank you for caring about families in crisis.  Thank you for helping create safety and love where there was once chaos.

Felita Cornog The Adoption Auntie

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