Archive of Our Own ^beta

Betsy Dobson had never felt entirely certain about her path in life. Of course, she had wanted to help children, especially those who were in the system, whether that be in foster care or in the juvenile system, as she believed every child deserved to be seen.

But she felt that her purpose was lost between what she had studied and what things were meant to be. That she had lost her way.

So, when a colleague of hers had spoken to her about a child who she thought would be better suited by her specialty and care, she thought there would be no harm in meeting with both Emily and the little boy named Andrew.

Flying across the country hadn’t been a problem, but in reading the case file, her heart ached for the child, and she wondered how the system hadn’t noticed or done something to protect him from such abuse and wretchedness that her heart gave a violent lurch.

At just four, she couldn’t imagine those things happening or the toll it would have on the child’s body, soul, and mental health.

It wasn’t something she thought she would have to help someone through in the ten years since she had become a psychiatrist. She knew her role would be challenging. Her hope was simple: to offer Andrew a measure of peace. She wanted to provide comfort he had likely never known. Most importantly, she aimed to help him process the profound pain he had already experienced. More importantly, she aimed to help him begin the difficult journey of processing the harm that had been done to him.

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Meeting Andrew Doe did not go as she had initially hoped.

She had introduced herself with a warm smile. "Hello, my name is Betsy Dobson. But you may call me anything that you would like." Andrew remained silent and pointedly did not look or speak to her.

For the entire hour of their meeting, he continued to avoid eye contact and any form of communication. Betsy recalled what Emily, his caseworker, had shared. Andrew had not spoken a word to anyone since being placed in Child Protective Services custody. His pre-kindergarten teacher had discovered bruising on his arm. Further examination at the emergency room revealed signs of sexual abuse and indicated the possibility of additional physical abuse and trauma.

It wasn’t until Betsy was leaving that Andrew showed signs that he was not despondent or dissociating as he slowly reached out for her, his eyes wide as if he was afraid.

She stopped and waited. He seemed to struggle for a moment, the words stuck as his small hands gripped her sweater.

Betsy gently knelt down, bringing herself to his level so she wasn't towering over him. She offered a soft smile. "It's okay, if you can't tell me. Why don't we go and sit down over at the table? It was a really long flight for me. You know what I like to do when things get really big and scary for me sometimes, to help me feel better?"

The shake of Andrew’s head was enough for her to continue as she led him over to the table, glad for her foresight to have stopped and grabbed a few things that she used in therapy in Charleston— including a pack of crayons, books, a stuffed animal, blocks, and Legos. She had also included an arrangement of sensory and stress relief toys as well— not quite sure what Andrew might need, but wanting to be as prepared as possible as she got to know him and his needs.

Sitting at the table, Betsy took out the crayons, a coloring book, and a blank sheet of paper. "Drawing," she explained softly. "It helps me to get all of my thoughts and feelings out of my head. Even if I don't know what they are. Would you like to draw with me?"

Tentatively, as if afraid she would take the objects away, Andrew nodded before he began drawing. At first, the picture was a conglomeration of sorts, but soon it seemed to draw a picture of the child’s mind.

And what a truly devastating, heartbreaking, and traumatic thing it was as she saw the picture of untold traumas, and just him drawing red over and over and over.

Betsy saw a picture filled with a child's bare emotions. Andrew was repeatedly coloring over and over again with a single, stark shade of red. Meeting Emily's gaze across the table, Betsy nodded in understanding. She began her own drawing, a silent promise to herself. She would not lose the fragile trust she had just begun to build. She was determined. She would not fail this young boy, as so many others had before her.

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Over the next few days, Andrew began to trust Betsy.

He told her that he liked sharks because he had seen like at the aquarium when his preschool had taken them and the other kids were scared. But he thought that they were just lonely like he was.

He also liked sweets the most, but if he had to choose between vegetables and fruits, he liked carrots and mangoes because “one of my foster homes used to let us sometimes have them because they grew in their yard”.

Then there was his favorite color. It was blue, but not just any blue. His favorite color was blue. Blue that shines like the sky after a rainy day, because it reminds him that he can see rainbows, and that things will be okay, because that’s what Ms. Amy always said to him.

Most importantly, what she learned is that Andrew didn’t like where CPS had him placed. He said that he couldn’t sleep there with the other children or adults, and it scared him.

Hearing this, she had made possibly one of the single most selfish, yet selfless, decisions of her life. Guided by the compulsory need to provide Andrew with the safety and security he so desperately deserved.

Her intent was this: to foster Andrew herself, to offer him the stability and safety he desperately needed. To do this meant undertaking the significant step of buying a house, a palpable commitment to creating a stable and loving home for him.

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The process to foster Andrew was one that happened over a few weeks. Even so, Betsy was able to provide a small, safe space in their new Santa Cruz, California home.

Its location was conveniently near both a local hospital and the Child Protection Service office. This offered support and peace of mind for his appointments to be kept at the hospital and with Emily. As they settled in, Betsy began to see small changes in Andrew that were more positive than when she visited him at the office, the first in that he seemed to be able to be a bit more relaxed as he explored their new home.

Another change became apparent during a trip to a local store. They were there to pick out items for his room. Betsy observed his growing curiosity. He would reach for things. Then, he would pull his hand back quickly.

After a few instances of this, she stopped and knelt so she could meet him and gaze into his eyes as she smiled at him with a gentle expression. "Andrew," she began softly, "it's alright to want things. You can have as many toys as you like. You don't need to worry about them being taken away. They will be yours to keep. You are a child. You should be able to express yourself."

Andrew seemed to think her words over before nodding as he reached for the plush shark he had wanted and squeezed it tight to his chest without letting go, before hesitantly looking up to her. "Thank you," he whispered. "I want this. It feels soft."

Betsy returned his smile. She gently stroked his soft hair. She agreed with his choice. "I think it will be a wonderful toy for your room. Maybe your new shark would like to join us for dinner tonight." She added, "Ms. Emily might like to meet him, too."

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The day of Christmas came, and a quiet apprehension settled over Betsy. She understood from reading his file that the first three Christmases that he hadn’t had the best experiences, and wanted for his first holiday to be both memorable, but also did not want to overwhelm the child, knowing that Andrew had PTSD and anxieties from his time spent in foster care and CPS. She'd learned this firsthand during his birthday and Thanksgiving celebrations, where overwhelming new experiences had triggered his distress.

The morning began with a familiar comfort: baking. The scent of warm batter filled the air. Andrew, his eyes bright with anticipation, eagerly stirred his favorite toppings into the pancake mix. Betsy had discovered his preference for pancakes over waffles. If waffles were served, he'd meticulously fill each tiny hole with butter and syrup.

His true happiness, however, lay in the toppings. She had made sure to have an abundance of chocolate chips, sprinkles, fresh fruits, nuts, and Nutella. Watching him, Betsy felt a warmth spread through her. He carefully mixed his own batter as he focused on his task. Then, with a look of sheer concentration, he poured the batter onto the hot griddle. He glanced up at her, his eyes wide with expectation.

A soft smile touched Betsy’s lips as she chuckled. She moved closer, gently helping him flip the golden-brown circles. Breakfast was soon ready, and they carried their food to the dining table.

After breakfast, she nodded towards the living room and the small pile of presents that were underneath the tree. "If you'd like," she suggested gently, "we can open presents now. Or we can wait a little longer."

Andrew’s eyes were filled with delight, but he seemed to be thinking as he squirmed beside her, but nodded as he slid off the chair and over to the presents. Soon, there was paper and various gifts surrounding him. Betsy watched, a sense of curiosity growing. One gift caught her eye. It was not one she had wrapped. The paper itself was unfamiliar, hinting that it was perhaps from someone else. She looked at Andrew, who approached her, a shy expression on his face.

The wrapping paper showed the work of a child’s unsteady hands. The tape was applied unevenly, overlapping in places. Betsy found the imperfect wrapping endearing as she accepted the gift from him. “For me?”

“Ms. Emily helped me. I… wanted to give to you.”

Betsy opened the present, and inside she found a small box, and within the box was a drawing. The drawing depicted both of them, and Andrew’s very careful writing of his name and the name “BEE” with their hands interlocked. Betsy was too stunned to speak for a moment before looking to Andrew as her heart swelled with nothing but love for the child in front of her. She had only known Andrew for six months, but she couldn’t help but love him as if he were her own.

“Oh, Andrew…” Setting aside the drawing, she held out her arms to let him decide if he wanted her embrace. He fell into her arms as she hugged him and kissed the top of his head, “I am so very glad to have you in my life, sweet boy. I love my present so very much, thank you.”

The rest of the day was spent watching movies and they ended curled up on the couch after eating a homemade dinner, Andrew sleeping in her lap and Betsy couldn’t help but think that she wanted to protect this child for the rest of her life as she made a mental note to reach out to the foster care agency to begin the process of formerly adopting Andrew.

Because she knew that Andrew deserved more than this life had already dealt him, and she was going to be the one to offer what she could to him so that he could know nothing but happiness for the rest of his life.

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Surprisingly, the adoption process went by more smoothly than Betsy had thought. The issue that she ran into was in how she was going to go about asking Andrew how he felt about being adopted. She had a feeling that he wouldn’t mind. He had opened up in almost a year since she had met him. But she didn’t want to also spring such a big life-altering decision on him.

Even at five, he was still a child dealing with things most children had never experienced. Finding a time that seemed right would never simply arise, so she knew that she would have to just risk it as she picked him up from his therapist appointment.

After deciding she was going to adopt him, she had a conversation with Andrew. That while she loved him very much and would always be here to listen to him and help him through whatever he needed, she wouldn’t be his therapist because she was his foster parent. And that it wasn’t fair to him and for him to truly begin healing that he needed someone who wasn’t his parent to listen to him, and that would not have that close relationship.

It had been something he hadn’t comprehended at first and had resulted in what she had understood to be a meltdown. It wasn’t something she had liked and had broken her heart. he sat with him, letting him cry against her chest, allowing him the space to process his emotions. She had learned that one of his comfort objects was a smooth, wooden shark. He loved to rub his fingers over its edges. He had several, but a particular favorite was one with varying shades of blue. He also found great comfort in being wrapped in a weighted blanket, often with his shark plush nearby, to help him calm down.

It wasn’t until summer that Betsy was able to ask Andrew if he would like to be adopted.

The day began with them stopping in at a local family diner that they had found a few weeks ago and quickly adopted as a weekly tradition. They specialized in breakfast items, and Andrew was particularly fond of their ice cream waffles that he could add whatever toppings his heart desired, and who was she to say no to him?

She ordered an apple cinnamon omelette with a side of bacon, coffee, and chocolate milk for Andrew. She watched as he happily began drawing on the kid’s menu, content with their silence as they waited for their food.

Once they were done, their next destination was the aquarium. Betsy could have taken him to the same aquarium he had visited before. However, this one had a more expansive shark exhibit. Weeks earlier, she had contacted them, arranging for Andrew to have some private time with a shark handler. This would allow him to ask questions and spend quality time observing the sharks up close if he wished.

The drive took a little over two hours, but they made it just before opening. They spoke with the front desk attendant, where Betsy was able to speak with guest services and met the shark keepers.

"Hi, Andrew," the keeper said warmly. "My name is Elizabeth. I'm going to show you something really, really cool, if you'd like."

Andrew clutched Betsy's skirt tightly. He looked up at Elizabeth with a hint of suspicion before taking her in. She wore a black wetsuit, but over it, a loose shirt displayed her name and a shark illustration embroidered on it. Andrew pointed at the shark, then tugged on Betsy, a hint of curiosity in his eyes..

"Ah, yes!" Elizabeth exclaimed with a smile. She slowly squatted down. This allowed Andrew to see her a bit better and so that they were eye level. "I wanted to show you over to our sharks. I’m one of three shark keepers here. We also have a few special people who help care for them. They make sure the sharks are well looked after. We have several different sharks right now, but some of them are a bit sick. So, we're taking really good care of them."

Andrew slowly nodded, as his eyes began to shine with excitement before hesitantly taking a step forward, “I wanna see the sharks.”

Elizabeth laughed with a smile, her smile widening as she readily agreed. She pushed herself to her feet, gesturing for them to follow. As they began to walk, Elizabeth started sharing interesting facts. She spoke about the diverse shark species housed within the aquarium’s walls. She also explained the specialized care and specific environmental needs each shark required. Their journey continued through various exhibits, each more stunning than the last, as Andrew’s eyes lingered on each exhibit.

Finally, they came to a large section of the aquarium as she faced them. “As I mentioned when we first arrived,” she began, her voice clear, “we do have several types of sharks here.” She gestured around them. “Some are in our specialized recovery area.”

She paused, her gaze meeting Andrew’s. “We are unfortunately unable to keep the very large shark species you often see featured on television or merchandise found in gift shops.” Elizabeth’s tone was gentle but firm. “If you see these larger species in other aquariums, it is often extremely dangerous for them.”

Andrew frowned as he looked between Betsy and Elizabeth as he tugged on Betsy’s hand, but directed the question to Elizabeth, “Why?”

Elizabeth had to think for a moment before explaining. “Think about it this way,” she began patiently. “Imagine you found a small, lost animal outside.” She made eye contact with him. “But you didn’t tell your guardian,” she nodded toward Betsy, “that you found it. You kept it hidden in your room.” She continued, “But the animal was very frightened. It didn’t get the right food. It didn’t have enough space to move around.” She looked at him directly. “It would likely become sick, wouldn’t it? Or perhaps even get hurt, or worse.”

“... oh.” Andrew’s shoulders slumped as he looked above them, as a slender shark swam above them, and he nodded before he pointed at the shark. 

“That’s one of our nursing sharks. I can’t tell from here, but I am pretty sure that is Splash. She loves to splash us whenever we get near her.”

The rest of the day continued, much like meeting with Elizabeth had, and ended with Andrew getting to even touch some of the sharks in a wading pool– and getting splashed by Splash. Betsy’s heart was light as she heard his laughter and saw the unbridled joy in his eyes as they ventured through the rest of the aquarium.

By the end of the day, they had accumulated many different plushies from an abundance of shark plushies, a few clothes, and shark slippers.

The last stop before they headed home was to their favorite ice cream shop. The drive back home was quiet as Andrew had fallen asleep. Betsy ordered both of their favorites– cotton candy ice cream for Andrew and a sundae for her– before heading back home.

Once inside, they enjoyed their treats before Betsy sat Andrew down on the couch and gently took his hands in her own and ruffled his unruly curls. “Andrew,” she began, her voice warm and full of affection, “I have something important I wanted to ask you.” She waited for him to look up, her heart swelling with tenderness as she met his gaze. The complete and utter trust she saw there melted her. “It has been nearly a year since we first met,” she continued. “In that time, you have grown so much.” Her voice caught slightly. “I have truly cherished watching you discover yourself. It has been wonderful to witness you celebrate so many milestones and simply grow.” She squeezed his hands gently. “Because of that, if it is something you want, I would be honored for you to become a permanent part of my family.”

Andrew’s eyes widened as his mouth dropped open in an ‘o’ before he wrapped his arms tightly around Betsy and into the crook of her neck as she continued speaking. “I have loved you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “since the day Emily first told me about you. And I loved you the very first moment I met you.” She continued to rub his back gently. “I want to protect you from everything this world might bring your way. I want to shield you from the good, the bad, and all the moments in between.” She held him tighter. “It would be the greatest honor of my life to be your mom forever, Andrew. That is, if that is what you truly want.”

She felt his small body trembling slightly, but she knew her own tears were flowing freely now. As she held Andrew, rubbing his back, she heard his quiet but sure “yes, Mom”. As she cradled him, a profound sense of peace washed over her. She thought about their future together, full of unknown possibilities. In that moment, looking into his hazel eyes, she had found a child who meant the entire world to her. She knew, with absolute certainty, that she would fight with everything she had to keep him safe.

This was the missing piece. The profound joys of being a mother. It was an indescribable feeling, a purpose that resonated deep within her soul. She hummed softly, a gentle lullaby for her child.