When I was about 3 or 4, living in WI, a woman that attended our church got into some legal trouble and basically "distributed" her children around to trusted families in our church (supposed to be temporary). Eventually though, my parents and many of the other families (this involved 7 children) filed for their foster liscenses. Long story short, we eventually adopted my now 17 year old brother. I'm 18 and we now live in IL due to my father's relocating. Before we moved though and after we adopted my brother, my parents decided that they want to remain foster parents and take in children who have no other place to go. We took in another small boy in WI when he was 2. I was 8 at the time. We cared for him and fell in love with him over the next 3 years he was in our home (which is a long time in concern to a foster child.) He moved to IL with us 2 years into our care. My parents understood that his moving out of the state with us meant we would have to make the 3 hour trip to WI every weekend for his visits with his parents (who were separated) and the 3 hour trip back afterward, which we did. No questions asked. He's worth it. It was scary though. Each time he would return from his visits, he would have knew bruises and he would get horrible nightmares. He hated going on visits. My mom would record new scratches and marks as well as keep an eye on old ones. One week he even came home with the 3rd degree burn of a light bulb on the palm of his hand. What young child would hold his hand on a light bulb long enough to receive a 3rd degree burn?! Anyway, his dad started going to counciling and receiving treatment for his alcohol and drug addictions. He wanted his kids back. We loved him and decided we wanted to adopt him. In the end the courts chose his biological father. On his last night with us, early Dec. when I was 11, we had an early Christmas and held in tears while we watched him open his gifts. He even cried later that night while my parents were tucking him into bed. He asked my dad through his tears, "Daddy, when I'm gone, will you still love me?" He was only 5 years old. A few times a year, we would stop by the "house" (more like a run-down shack) he now lives in with his; unemployed father, older sister and younger brother. And occasionally his dad would let him stay at a hotel with us for a night if we were there for a family reunion or something and he would secretly tell my mother that his dad still hits him and that he wants to come HOME with us. My parents have talked to lawyers and searched through the entire system but even as foster parents, we had no say. Why would we now?! Are we missing something??? For about a year now though we've lost contact. We called on his 12th birthday and wern't allowed to speak to him. Their home phone has since been disconnected. My mom sends clothes my other brother grows out of and toys for him and his younger brother but we have no way of knowing if he's received anything or if he is doing ok. Is there anything we can do or must we just sit here helpless, knowing that we may never see him again and not knowing if he is alright???