I never desperately wanted kids. I’d always loved being around them — baby-sitting, volunteering with Big Brothers Big Sisters, becoming Auntie to my friends’ children. But without a partner, I had no desire to parent alone.
I lived in Brooklyn, traveled the world for work and fun. I had a close family, and a circle of friends that felt like family. My life felt full.
Then, things shifted. A dear friend died from cancer. My brother and his wife announced they were expecting and left the city. I needed a change. I quit my job and moved back to Boston, pausing for the first time in my adult life.
I craved purpose. After reading about Boston CASA, a nonprofit that trains volunteers to advocate for children in foster care who have experienced abuse or neglect, I applied. The statistics floored me: Kids in foster care who age out of the system are about six times more likely to experience homelessness. They are far less likely to graduate high school, and only about 1 in 10 goes on to earn a postsecondary degree (compared with half of the general population).
Thirty-five hours of training later, I was sworn in as a Court Appointed Special Advocate, and matched with an infant who had been exposed to fentanyl. It was terrifying and overwhelming, but the case resolved more quickly than expected.
My second case was a 4-year-old living with her late mother’s cousin (to protect her privacy, I’m not using her name). I visited every other week. We played Candy Land, made crafts, and drew sidewalk art. Behind the scenes, I talked to her preschool teacher, monitored medical milestones, recommended speech and play therapy, and wrote reports for the judge. My role was to provide an objective account of her life and advocate for what she needed to thrive.
As our bond deepened, she was moved to a new home, and then another. When I showed up to her third home in seven months, she ran to me, asking, “How did you find me?” My heart split open.
I started visiting weekly. This small girl was floating through the world with little to anchor her. I told my mom. Through tears, she replied, “We have so much love to give. You should adopt her.” It felt absurd — I was single and traveling again for my new, full-time job.
But the seed was planted.
A few months later, she became legally available for adoption. On Mother’s Day 2021, I told my family I was considering adopting her. My dad said, “I knew it.” My brother beamed. My sister-in-law teared up. Mom was overjoyed.
We started with foster placement so she could move in with me before kindergarten. She had to adjust to a new home, new rules, new routines. Meanwhile, I juggled therapy appointments, social worker visits, trauma workshops, court hearings, and learning how to parent.
School was especially hard. The Department of Children and Families had shown up at her preschool twice before to take her to a new home. No preparation. No goodbyes. None of her belongings. She was terrified it would happen again.
Every night, I’d tell her, “I love you no matter what.” And through that love, through tickles and trust and time, we became mother and daughter.
Dealing with the child welfare system was confusing, exhausting, and often dehumanizing. It was clarifying, too: I saw the broken system, the kids needing consistent advocates to get their needs met.
In August 2024, I officially got a daughter. A brave, anxious, deeply sentimental little girl who is fiercely herself. For that, I’m endlessly grateful.
That’s not to say life is easy now. As a single mom, I can’t just pop out for errands, and dating means scheduling a baby sitter.
Today, my 9-year-old is hilarious, theatrical, a clever problem solver, and the owner of a fabulous belly laugh. Each day, our home fills with more joy and more love. (And an occasional meltdown.)
Last year, we went to a shelter hoping for a kitten, but a 2-year-old cat warmed to her right away. We brought Panda home and took our time making him feel secure.
One day, I overheard my daughter whisper, “Panda, this is your home now. We love you no matter what.”
Jaclyn Ranere is the chief marketing officer at Evertune and a board member and former advocate for Boston CASA. Send comments to magazine@globe.com.
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