The girl adopted 15 times who created a home for minors

I’m forty-two and I still remember the bitter taste of fear whenever I packed my little pink suitcase. Fifteen times. Fifteen different Families Fifteen chances to be loved that vanished like smoke between my fingers as a child.

—Why do I have to leave again? I asked the social worker, clinging to my only teddy bear, a stuffed bear named Bruno who had survived with me every move.

—Sometimes things don’t work out, honey. But this new family will be different — he always answered me with that sad smile that I had learned to recognize.

But it was never different. There were families who saw me as a second chance after losing a child, others who were looking to fill a void in their marriage, and some who simply didn’t know what it meant to raise a girl who distrusts every hug, every promise.

In family number seven, the Morrisons, I remember Mrs Morrison finding me drawing in my room one night.

– What are you doing, Sarah? —he asked me, sitting on the edge of my bed.

—I draw houses —I answered without looking up—. Houses Where Kids Never Have To Pack.

I watched her tear well up in her eyes, but three months later I was packing again. Her husband had lost his job and “couldn’t afford to keep me.”

Family number twelve were the Rodriguez. Maria Rodriguez had infinite patience and hands that smelled like cinnamon for her homemade cookies.

—Mija—said to me one afternoon while we were baking together—, you’re not the problem. You were never the problem.

—So why doesn’t anyone want me to stay with me? —I asked, mixing the dough with more force than necessary.

—Because you haven’t found your true people yet. But you’re going to find her, I promise.

That was the first time someone told me I wasn’t the problem. Unfortunately, the Rodriguez got divorced six months later and I’m back in the system.

Turned eighteen in a group home, officially too old to be adopted. On my birthday, while other girls celebrated with a cheap cake, I made a decision that would change my life forever.

“I’m going to create the home I never had,” I told my advisor, Mrs. Chen.

—Sarah, I know you’ve been through a lot, but…

—No—I interrupted her—. I won’t be trapped in my pain. I’m going to make it useful.

Studied social work with scholarships and part time jobs. During the nights when my college classmates went out partying, I read about childhood trauma, attachment, and resilience. Graduated with honors and worked for years in the system that once failed me, learning from the inside how to improve it.

At thirty-two, with my savings and a sleep-taking mortgage, I bought a five-bedroom Victorian house on the outskirts of the city. She was deteriorated, but she had good bones, like me.

—Are you sure about this, Sarah? —asked by my friend Lisa while we were painting the first room a mellow yellow—. It’s a huge responsibility.

—Bigger than being rejected fifteen times? —I answered, passing the brush with determination—. This house is going to be different. Here children will know they belong no matter what.

The first child to arrive was Marcus, eight-year-old, with the oldest eyes he’d ever seen on a face so young. He came in with a broken backpack and a defensive attitude that I recognized immediately.

—How long will I be here? —he asked me from the door frame, without fully entering his new room.

—How long do you want to stay? —I answered, sitting on the floor to be at his height.

-No one has ever asked me that – he murmured, finally lowering his backpack.

—Well, I do ask you. This is your house Marcus. Your room, your safe space. And if one day you decide you want to leave because you have found a permanent family, I will celebrate with you. but if you stay until 18, I’ll celebrate too. What I’m never gonna do is ask you to leave.

I watched something soften in her eyes. It was the very moment I had longed for throughout my childhood.

Then came Emma, six-year-old, who hadn’t spoken since she had been removed from her birth home. She came clinging to a headless doll and hid under the tables when there was noise.

—Hello, Emma—I told her softly the first day, sitting on the kitchen floor where she had hidden—. I used to hide when I was little too. Do you know where my favorite place was?

She looked curious at me from under the table.

—In the closet of my room, behind the coats. I smelled of lavender and felt invisible. Does your doll have a name?

Emma shook her head but pulled her wrist a little closer to me.

– Can I tell you a secret? —I whispered back—. I had a bear named Bruno. I took him with me to fifteen different houses, and he never complained. That’s what special friends are like.

It was the start of a conversation that would take months, but eventually Emma not only spoke again, she became the little group therapist, always comforting the new children who arrived.

David came to age twelve with a history of violence and school expulsions. Most households no longer wanted it.

—I know what you’re thinking — he said to me on our first meeting, arms crossed—. I’m a lost case.

—Do you know what I really think? —i replied, looking him straight in the eyes—. I think you are a child who has had to be his own protector for too long, and your anger is the only thing that has kept you safe. But here you don’t have to protect yourself alone.

“Nobody says that,” he murmured, lowering the guard a bit.

—Because no one had understood that your behavior was survival, not evil.

David stayed with me for four years until he graduated high school. On the day of his graduation, while adjusting his tie, he said to me:

—Sarah, you saved my life.

—No—I replied, with tears in my eyes—. You saved your life. I just gave you a safe place to do it.

It’s been ten years since I opened “Casa Esperanza”. Forty-two children have walked through these rooms painted in soft colors. Some have been reunited with rehabilitated biological families, others have been adopted by wonderful families, and some, like Marcus, now eighteen, have decided to stay to help me with the youngest ones while they study.

—Do you ever regret it? —Marcus asks me one night while we review applications for new kids needing homes.

—Of what? —I ask, looking up from the files.

—Of not having your own traditional family. Your own “normal” life.

I look around the room where Emma, now sixteen, helps the little ones with homework while David, who is now studying social work, prepares dinner. The house smells like cinnamon cookies — Maria Rodriguez’ recipe — and you can hear laughter from the backyard.

—Marcus—I say smiling—, this is my family. This is my normal life. Maybe not the family I imagined as a kid packing my bags, but it’s the family I chose to create. And every time I see one of you smile without fear, every time someone tells me “see you tomorrow” instead of “goodbye”, I know my inner child of fifteen rejections finally found her home.

Because sometimes when life doesn’t give you the family you need, you have to be brave enough to create the family others need. And in that act of unconditional love, you finally find the home you’ve always been looking for.

—Hey, Sarah — Emma from the kitchen — can you come over? The little ones want you to tell them another bedtime story.

“I’m coming.” I shouted at him, saving the files.

Because this is my favorite story: the one of a girl who transformed fifteen rejections into a home filled with unconditional love. And every night, when I tuck these children who once were like me, I know Bruno, my old teddy bear who now rests in a place of honor in my room, is proud.

In the end, it doesn’t matter how many times you get rejected. What matters is that you never stop believing that you deserve love, and that you have the courage to create the world you need to see.