I stared at the images of the two children in the photograph I clutched in my hand. Both children were smiling, but the smiles were different. Joey grinned broadly; he had a touch of mischief in his eyes. Katrina had a shy, wistful smile, as if begging to be loved, but fearful of rejection. The photo did not show the years of abuse, nor could it show the much worse scars in the children's minds

Until an hour ago they had been in my home, a part of our family. The hearing was scheduled in eight weeks. The State was to finally sever all legal ties binding them to their biological mother, and their adoption into our family would be finalized. The birthmother was back in town and demanding to see her children, and the State had to grant her the visit with them. I was told that the visit would be supervised continuously by a security guard at the Social Service office downtown.

The security officer, a tall woman named Nancy, had come to my home an hour previously to pick up the children for this final visit. Nancy's uniform and mannerisms reminded me of the stereotypical prison guard, bored with another routine assignment. I warned her of the dangers involved with this visit.

I was so exhausted that I decided to take a nap; when that failed I tried the TV. Nothing worked. Was I working myself into a frenzy and becoming hysterical? I finally picked up a book and tried to calm myself down. When the phone rang, I jumped up and ran across the room. I had a real feeling of urgency. I answered, expecting to hear Lanny's voice, but the voice on the end of the line wasn't his.

"Hello, hello, is this Jennette?"

I was surprised to hear the security guard's voice, "Yes, it's me."