Stacey's Story: What Happens After You Say Yes

One family's account of the support that wasn't there, and the gap that's still open. 

Stacey Walter spent 25 years working in early childhood education. This experience did nothing to prepare her or her husband Mike for the struggles they would face after adopting their younger daughter, Taylor, from the foster care system.

Taylor arrived at two and a half years old with sparse state records. Through a relative, Stacey and Mike eventually pieced together Taylor's early history: prenatal drug exposure, malnutrition, and chronic untreated ear infections that caused significant hearing loss. 

Although reported earlier, Taylor did not enter the state's system until she was 18 months old, and none of this history appeared in her adoption paperwork. 

As Taylor grew, severe behaviors emerged: hours-long tantrums, night terrors, chronic lying, and school suspensions. The state’s foster-to-adopt training offered little guidance. “There was maybe a blip of information on reactive attachment disorder,” Stacey recalled. “They talked about how to help a child attach. They didn't talk about the severity of reactive attachment.” 

A Chance Encounter Changed Everything 

It took nearly a decade to secure a formal diagnosis of reactive attachment disorder (RAD). “I thought, okay, I know kids,” Stacey reflected. “These are pretty typical two-year-old behaviors. Now I look back and think, no. I missed so many signs.” 

The turning point occurred purely by accident. While managing a mental health consultant on an unrelated United Way project, Stacey described one of Taylor’s outbursts. The consultant stopped her: “You can't parent her like that. She's experienced trauma. Putting her in time-out isn't going to work. She needs connection.” 

Stacey had been relying on traditional parenting methods—consequences, time-outs, and firm boundary setting. For a child with trauma-induced nervous system dysregulation, that approach proved counterproductive. Stacey gained this crucial insight through an accidental professional contact rather than the child welfare system, which could have and should have provided it. “People aren't going to get by on luck,” she said. “That's not something we can rely on.”

The System That Was Supposed to Help 

Once the adoption was finalized, state involvement ceased completely: no follow-ups, check-ins, or post-adoption support. They relied on traditional therapy to try to help Taylor. This never made a difference and, in some cases, made the behaviors worse. Taylor would eventually stop talking to the therapist or refuse to leave the car to go into a session. 

When Taylor told an aide at school that Stacey had hit her in the ear after an outburst, child welfare stepped in to evaluate the family's capacity to care for her. Stacey did put both hands on the sides of Taylor’s head (covering her ears) during a tantrum to tell her to stop arguing.  The assigned caseworker offered no resources, admitting Stacey was already doing everything possible. 

The family later placed Taylor in an Iowa state-licensed pediatric mental health program, but her condition deteriorated. At 16, they sent her to a specialized private program in Utah at their own expense. 

“We've always considered ourselves fortunate,” Stacey said. “We have the education. We have the means. But families adopting out of foster care who don't have those things, they're relying on Medicaid, and there's nowhere else for them to go either.” 

One State Did It Differently 

At a national conference, Stacey learned of a Michigan family whose child received immediate, intensive post-adoption therapy integrated directly into their support plan. “It was the only success story I've heard,” Stacey noted, “for a kid with reactive attachment coming out of foster care.” 

Eighteen, On Paper 

As Taylor approached her 18th birthday, new challenges arose. While legally an adult, her developmental functioning, such as impulse control and financial management, remained that of a much younger child due to early trauma.

To prevent coverage disruptions, Stacey secured a comprehensive psychological evaluation before Taylor turned 18. This provided official documentation of Taylor's ongoing support needs, helping open doors to adult services. 

Despite this, systemic rules remained rigid. A Medicaid case manager insisted on interviewing Taylor directly to review coverage, despite her inability to comprehend the proceedings. 

What Stacey Hopes People Learn 

For years, shame kept Stacey and Mike silent, as they felt their struggles reflected a personal failure despite Stacey's professional expertise. She now shares her story to challenge that stigma. 

“What happened to Taylor was completely preventable,” Stacey emphasized. The challenges stemmed not from Taylor's actions, but from early trauma unaddressed by systems that are also ill-equipped for post-adoption care and support. 

Where Things Stand Today 

Now 18, Taylor is in a residential program in Utah completing high school and building life skills, funded out of pocket by her family. 

There's no clean ending here, no point where the work is finished. Stacey and CTIPP are still in the early stages of figuring out what comes next: which state or local channels might be open to hearing this story, which organizations working in adoption and attachment trauma should be part of the conversation, and what a policy fix might actually look like in a state where post-adoption support currently doesn't exist. 

And thankfully, Stacey has agreed to keep sharing what she learns as that work continues. 

If you have experienced similar gaps in foster care, adoption, or mental health systems, CTIPP invites you to share your story to help advocate for systemic change.