Thursday, December 27, 2012

I am Not Perfect...

I am feeling overwhelming grief today.  Like I could just sit down and cry for a week.  It was Monday, December 17th, in the evening.  I needed to go to the store to get toilet paper, paper towels and some groceries.  I usually go to Walmart for those things, but since I ran into Bugga Boo at Walmart in October I figured I had better go to Smith's instead.  I didn't want to push my luck.  God had just blessed me with the opportunity to see my son two days earlier at the ice rink.  So I loaded my dog Nellie, in the car and away we went.  I was feeling tired and still feeling emotional that I had seen my youngest son two days earlier.   I was going up and down the aisles at Smith's getting the things I needed.  As I turned down the last aisle, I spotted a young boy riding on a basket.  I could only see the back of him but I thought that looks like Bugga Boo.  As I kept walking, I noticed the woman with the boy and realized it was Julie, Bugga Boo's foster mother.  As I passed the boy, he looked at me and smiled ear to ear.  His whole face lit up.  It was Bugga Boo!  There I was face to face with my son who was across the aisle.  I smiled and said "Hi".  He said "Hi" back.  It was at that moment Julie scowled at me and turned to say something to Bugga Boo.  I could not hear what she was saying, but she had a very serious look on her face and was being very stern.  The smile immediately disappeared from Bugga Boo's face.  I just froze holding on to my basket for dear life.  My heart was pounding and I felt faint.  I was trying to grasp what was happening.  Julie turned to me and gestured with her hand for me to leave.  I just stood there frozen in disbelief.  Julie waved me on abruptly two more times.  So I pushed my basket to the check out line and left the store.  I left that store and could not even cry.  I wanted to just say "hi" and hug my son but knew I couldn't.  My heart was broken again.

I called my best friend Dee and told her what had just happened.  Dee said "you didn't let that f@#+i*&g b*&ch tell you what to do?  I said "yes I guess I did."  I did not want Julie to feel threatened by me and the last thing I want to do is to cause a scene in front of my son.  It is just not who I am.  I have to say I love Dee and she truly is my friend.  She was with me at every court hearing for the 20 months I was dealing with DCFS.   I never anticipated running into my youngest son and having Julie shoo me away like I was a piece of garbage.  At that moment, that is how I felt.  I didn't matter.  I had no say and I needed to just leave.  I know I relinquished my parental rights, but I feel in my heart he is still my son.  Maybe that is selfish of me, but a piece of paper does not undo 8 years of parenting.

My Mom, My Sisters and I
Later that day I received a phone call from my godfather, Uncle Anthony who lives in New Jersey.   As I was telling my Italian godfather what happened he immediately said, "you did not let that B*&tch tell you what to do?"  I said "yes I guess I did."  You see I know without a doubt that my godfather loves me and does not want to see me hurt.  It is comforting to know that but I have to handle things in my own way.  My way at that moment when I was shooed away by Julie was to push my basket and just leave.  Julie's gesture has bothered me since that day.  At first, I think I was in shock and now 10 days later I am in tears.  You see I am not the perfect parent, far from it.  I love all my children and did everything I could to be a good Mom.  I tried to meets my son's needs, love him, be there for him as much as I could with my youngest daughter acting out all the time.  I am not a drug addict, abusive or neglectful.  I think by most standards people would say I am a good parent.  Not perfect, not the best but a good one.  Everyone that is but DCFS, The State of Utah, Guardian Ad Litem and the State Assistant Attorney General and last but not least my Mother and Sisters.

My Sisters and I.
What I have come to figure out is that Julie waving me on to get out of that aisle at Smith's is emotionally how I feel about my mom and sisters.   I have known for years and years that there was something really wrong with my relationship with my mother.  As a child, I tried to be the PERFECT daughter.  I realize now that being PERFECT was my way to win her approval.  Problem is no one is perfect.  None of us are.  I think the more we try to be perfect the less we are perfect.  What is PERFECT anyway?   In reality it is something we can never achieve.  If we try to be PERFECT we set ourselves up for failure.  It is an impossible goal, but a goal that I have hung on to for far too many years.  In looking back on my childhood it makes sense to me why my sisters did not like me.  I did not like me!  How could they live up to the golden example I had set.  I had raised the bar way too high.  I didn't mean to hurt them, but I realize that I did.  I did try to be there for them and I tried to be a parent to them at times when I knew they needed a parent.  I guess that was wrong too.  I had no business being a parent to my sisters.  I was still a child myself.  As teenagers, my sisters and I drifted far apart.  I was more academic and participated in High school activities.  My sisters chose a different self destructive path.  My parents got divorced and my dad wasn't around alot.  It was sad to watch and mom just buried herself in her work.  My sisters and I knew without a doubt that my mother's work was more important to her than we were.  We knew that was how it was and just accepted it.

1974
The bigger problem with my mom began when I realized I wasn't able to be who I was.  I felt like I could not be who I wanted to be.  I wanted to have my own interests, goals and career.  I even wanted my own family.  As long as I did what my mother wanted, everything was good.  The minute I didn't, she would somehow get even.  She was demanding and controlling.  I could never understand why she was so mean when I didn't want to hurt her, I just wanted to be who God wanted me to be.   If I tried to ask her why she was being so controlling, she would just get angry and tell me how sick I was.  I could not win.  The only way I could stay on neutral ground with my mom would be to always do what she wanted or expected.  I decided at age 33, that the price was to high.  I only had one life and I needed it to be MINE.  I did not want to hurt my mom, but I can't be who she wants me to be.  I have to be true to myself.  If I allowed my mom to buy me with her money, then I felt like I would be selling my soul to the Devil.  This is not something I want to do.

1982
I have learned that I was raised by a Narcissistic mother.  I get that my mother is Narcissistic because of the trauma she endured in her early childhood.  She was pulled away from her father at a young age when my grandmother left my grandfather.  My mom's stepfather was abusive physically, emotionally and sexually.  I know her stepfather spent time in jail for this abuse.  I get and totally understand that.  After parenting my youngest daughter and learning about attachment disorders, I even understand that my mom more than likely had an attachment disorder as a child which is why she is Narcissistic now.  I am sure that my grandmother was a Narcissistic mother.  I am not a psychologist or psychiatrist but I am trying to understand why I am the way I am.  It is this search for understanding that has caused me to be estranged from my mom and sisters.

My Sisters, My Oldest Daughter
 and Myself in 1984
It was 15 months ago, when I got the email from my mom to leave her, her daughters and her family alone.  I have had no contact since then.  You see my mom was upset because I had posted on Facebook a question in Dr. McBride's group for daughters raised by Narcissistic mothers.  My question was if there was a link between being raised in a Narcissistic family and having autoimmune diseases?    I also mentioned about my sisters have drug addiction problems.  My mom saw that post and thought I was slandering her and my sisters.  That was never my intent.  I am just trying to understand how my physical and emotional well being are connected.  I sent an email apologizing to my mom and sisters and tried to explain I was not blaming anyone or slandering anyone.  I was just trying to understand.  I never heard back. 

My Sisters and I.
So you are now wondering what that has to do with Julie shooing me away in the grocery store?  I realize that Julie's gesture is what my family has done to me.  They have all shooed me away.  My mom in an attempt to try and control me is using my sisters and her relationship with my youngest son to punish me.  That is why Bugga Boo is in Texas right now.  It is to prove to the world what a terrible parent I am and what wonderful people my mom and sisters are.  My mom and sisters have no idea about how I was treated by the State.  I think in the end they don't even care.  It is the constant "feeling like a failure in my mother's eyes" that I have to get away from.  I will NEVER be that PERFECT daughter.  I DON'T WANT TO BE THAT PERFECT DAUGHTER.  I did NOT have the emotional strength to continue the battle with the State of Utah because it was too close to the relationship I have with my mom.  No matter what DCFS or the State wanted me to do, I was never good enough.  If I was sad and cried, it was wrong.  If I tried to advocate for my daughter in foster care I was wrong.  When my son asked me why he was in foster care and I said "it is not ok to hurt the animals"  DCFS and the Guardian Ad Litem told me I was wrong to tell him that.  Just like my mom, I could not talk to the State.  The Guardian Ad Litem was the worst.  I had to have supervised visits why???  There was no reason why.  I was being punished and being forced to do things they way DCFS and the State saw them.  What if they were wrong just like my mom?   I ended up physically sick and in the hospital and knew without a doubt I would loose ME if I didn't get away from DCFS and all of the State's madness.  I DID NOT HAVE THE EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL STRENGTH TO CONTINUE TO BE IN AN ADVERSARIAL RELATIONSHIP WITH THE STATE.

So on April 5th, I voluntarily relinquished my parental rights to my two youngest children.  I did not do this because I don't LOVE them.  I did it because I am not the PERFECT parent and loving them was not enough to fix the mental health issues and safety issues in my home.   I LOVE them enough to want them to have a chance to get the help I could not get them.  I LOVE them enough to let them go.  Yes I realize alot of people would see that as being a bad parent.  I don't!  I think at the end of the day it was the right thing to know and acknowledge my limitations as a parent.  I get it!  I AM NOT THE PERFECT PARENT.  So Julie, my mom, my sisters and anyone else can just brush me aside.  I can't worry about what you think.  I know at the end of the day that Bugga Boo's face lit up when he saw me in the grocery store and hopefully, God willing, one day I will be able to explain to my children why I did what I did.  That I was not a PERFECT parent, but what I did was out of LOVE for them.  I have a responsibility as their mother to not ignore behaviors that are unsafe.  I tried unsuccessfully for seven years to help them and at the end of the day it just was not enough.  So to all the Julie's in the world who want to shoo me away like I am unfit trash, know that I did the best I could.  Yes, I was NOT A PERFECT MOTHER.  I did everything I could and at the end of the day I was HONEST with myself and did what I did out of LOVE.  If I ever see my sisters again I would explain that I LOVE them and apologize for trying to be PERFECT.  Ya Ya and Bugga Boo I LOVE you and MISS you both everyday.......  

   



    

Monday, December 24, 2012

A Mother's Best Christmas Gift!

Midway Ice Rink
It was December 15, 2012, on a snowy Saturday afternoon.  My oldest son and I were driving back from his out of town hockey game.  The Midway Ice Rink had just opened earlier in the week and Bubba Doo could not wait to be dropped off at the ice rink.  The town we live in has an outdoor ice rink that opens in December when the weather permits and usually stays open through February.  It has been Bubba Doo's  favorite place for the last three years.  He learned to ice skate at this outdoor rink and from what he was able to teach himself decided that hockey was his calling and started playing hockey just this year.  He LOVES the ice and ice skating and will be at the rink from opening until close each day that is possible.



As we approached our town, Bubba Doo was filled with excitement to see his friends at the ice rink.  He had been receiving texts the whole time we were driving asking when he would be there.  I wasn't even allowed to stop at home or pick up our dog first.  I was told the ice rink came first and so following my strict orders, I was driving straight to the ice rink.  Then Bubba Doo got a text from an unknown number that his little brother had been at the ice rink all day.  My heart skipped a beat.  Bubba Doo was emotional.  He said, "Mom, that is my ice rink.  Bugga Boo never even liked the ice rink.  Remember he would cry and want you to come pick him up."  I said,  "I remember."  Then Bubba Doo said, "I am going anyway.  I have every right to be at the ice rink.  Why would Bugga Boo be at the ice rink when he doesn't even like it?"  I said, "Honey, he is probably hoping to run into you.  He knows it's your favorite place."

So we pulled up in the ice rink parking lot and got out of our car.  As we enetered by the trailer where you rent your skates, I saw Susan, the mother to my youngest son's best friend.  She approached me and said, "Bugga Boo is here and he is nervous."   Susan then went on to say, "I know this awkward and I am sorry."  I told her, "there is nothing to be sorry for.  If Bugga Boo wants to say "hi' he can and if he doesn't I understand."  Susan went inside the warming hut and came out with my baby boy.  The boy I had voluntarily relinquished my parental rights to on April 5th of this year.  I couldn't help but smile as he walked toward me.  He ran towards me and gave me the biggest hug he has ever given me in his whole life.  I looked down at my baby boy and he was smiling ear to ear.  It was a true, genuine hug and I was so HAPPY to see him.  As we quit hugging, I grabbed his face with my hands and gave him a big kiss on the cheek and said "I Love You Bugga Boo.  I have missed you so much.  I can't get over how tall you got."   Tears filled my eyes as my heart was filled with emotion.  I could not believe I was standing there hugging my youngest son.  Next Bugga Boo said, "Mom I am going to Texas on Tuesday."  I smiled and said, "Are you going to see Nana and Aunt Franny?"  Bugga Boo nodded yes.  For a moment my heart was in my throat and I felt like I couldn't breathe.  The State was allowing my son to fly to Texas, but I was not even allowed to have unsupervised visits or even a phone call with my own son.  Wow!  As happy as I was to see my youngest son, I was also sickened with betrayal by my own family that I have been estanged from for 15 months and by the Child Welfare System that I trusted to get my son the help he needed.  I fought really hard to keep my emotions in check.  Bugga Boo turned next and ran up to Bubba Doo and gave him a BIG hug.  I can't even begin to describe the emotions as I watched my two sons hug each other.  They were brothers who had been ripped apart by circumstance and a broken Child Welfare System.  Brothers who had never been given the chance to say goodbye because of that broken system.  I could tell they were both genuinely happy to see each other.  When Bubba Doo said "Hi" to his baby brother, Bugga Boo stared in wonderment.  Bugga Boo said, "Your voice has changed.  It is so deep."  It had been over 8 months since I relinquished my rights and almost 12 months since they last saw each other.  They both had changed during that time.  I suppose we all had.

Christmas 1999
Bugga Boo told me his hands were cold and I gave him a pair of gloves that I had in the pocket of my coat.  I told him he could wear them.  I could tell Susan was nervous and I assume she was concerned that she would be in trouble with the foster mom or the State.  I left the boys skating and drove back home.  I remembered that I had some new gloves in one of my drawers at home.  I got home, ran up the stairs found the gloves and decided to bring them back to the ice rink.  They were Bugga Boo's size and I had bought them a couple of years ago at the end of the season on sale.  As I drove back to the ice rink, I reminded myself that I had not done anything wrong.  I was not a danger to my youngest son.  I would never hurt him or want to make him feel uncomfortable.  My heart was racing.  I could not believe that I had been able to see my baby boy without DCFS, the State workers, Guardian Ad Litem, Foster care worker or Foster parents by his side.  He was a different boy.  He was happy to see me and wanted to hug me.  I was able to hug him back.  It was the most wonderful thing that had happened all year.  I was able to genuinely hug my baby one more time without any negative influence by his side.  Thank You God!

Christmas 2002
As I returned to the ice rink, I immediately saw Susan and went up to her and gave her the three new pairs of gloves I had found.  I told her I had bought them for Bugga Boo a couple of years ago and she could take them for her son and Bugga Boo.  Susan said "thanks" and Bugga Boo immediately come over to where I was and put on one of the pairs of gloves.  I have to admit I was torn.  I wanted to stand there forever and just watch my boys skate around that ice rink.  At the same time, I could tell that Susan was extremely nervous that I had come back to the rink.    I decided that maybe I could get a picture of my boys together just one more time.  I asked Susan if it was ok for me to take a picture of the boys ice skating.  Susan's husband was standing by her side and looked at me and said, "you don't need to ask.  Go take your picture."  I thanked him and walked over to the ice to get the pictures I thought I would never have the opportunity to take.

Christmas 2003
As I reflect back on that day, my heart breaks.  I miss my son and feel the empty void in my heart.  I grieve the loss of both of my children I relinquished.  I wonder how YaYa is doing.  Is she ok?   Will Bugga Boo be ok?  Will my children get the help they need?  Do they know how much I LOVE them?  Probably not.....  How could they?  More than likely my daughter feels betrayal just like I do with my own family.  I can't blame her.  I find myself wondering "How can doing what I felt was the right thing for my children hurt so much?  Why does there have to be injustice in the world?  Why do children have to be subjected to early trauma?  Why does God allow babies to be born to drug addicts and then have those babies go through painful withdrawal from drugs they were exposed to by no choice of their own?   It all seems so unfair.  It only adds to my grief and my feelings of failure as a parent.  I tried to be the best parent I could be.  I loved my children and took care of them.  At the end of the day, Safety must come first.  My home must be SAFE!  As sad as I am this time of year especially, I realize I have so much to be grateful for.  I had 12 Christmas's with my youngest daughter and 8 Christmas's with my youngest son.  I choose to be grateful for what time God did allow me to have with them.  I am grateful that I had the opportunity to be their mother.  I am so happy that I have all of the wonderful memories and the pictures to remind me of those memories.  Most especially, I am grateful to have been given the opportunity to hug my son just one more time.  An opportunity to receive the Best Christmas Gift a mother could have.   A real and Genuine hug from my baby son that will live in my heart and my memory forever.  Bugga Boo you gave me the best Christmas Gift a Mom could have.  I Love You Lots!

Christmas 2008




Tuesday, December 18, 2012

A Phone Call From My Sister

It was an ordinary evening at work the the night of October 10th,  when I got a text from my youngest sister.  She wanted to know if I could talk.  I had some down time, so I texted back that I was at work but did have a few minutes I could talk.  Immediately my cell phone rang and it was my sister.  Our conversation started with the normal chit chat and then my sister told me she needed to talk to me but felt maybe she should not talk to me while I was at work as it could be emotional.  I had no idea what she wanted to talk about but told her it was ok for her to talk to me.  At the time, I thought maybe something was going on in her life and she needed to talk to someone.  I was not prepared for what I was about to hear. 

My sister started telling me how she had been in Salt Lake recently but had not been able to see me.  I had no idea why she would be in Salt Lake and said "that's ok."  I was thinking maybe she had been here on business.  As my sister proceeded to talk, she told me that she had come to see the children.  I said, "my children."  My sister said, "Well they're not your children anymore."  It took me a second but I then realized she meant she was in Salt Lake to see my children that I had relinquished my parental rights to.  I stayed calm, but at that moment my breath had been taken away and I felt like a knife had been stabbed through my gut.  I tried to take some deep breaths but felt immobilized with disbelief.   As my sister continued to talk the picture became very clear to me.  I said to her, "you were here with Mom."  My sister said "yes."  I was in shock with what felt like betrayal.   Why would my Mom and sister come to Salt Lake behind my back to see the children I had relinquished?  My sister continued to talk and said that she loved me and did not want to hurt me.  She was calling because it had bothered her and she wanted to let me know.  WOW!  I was not even for sure what to say.  I had to keep reminding myself not to cry.

I have been no contact with my mother since September 15, 2011.  I have had a very difficult relationship with my mother my whole life.  I have spent years in therapy on and off trying to figure out how to fix that relationship.  Since it was the relationship with my mother, I always felt it was worth saving and working on.  A couple of years ago, I finally figured out what the problem is.  My mother is very narcissistic.  I stumbled on a book by Dr. Karyl McBride entitled Will I Ever Be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers .  As I read Dr. McBride's book, I realized why I had not been able to fix my relationship with my Mother.  I joined Dr. McBride's support group on Facebook and posted a comment about what the relationship might be between autoimmune diseases and being raised by a narcissistic parent.  In that post, I mentioned that I have Rheumatoid Arthritis and that both of my younger sisters had autoimmune diseases and both of my sisters had struggled with drug addiction.  I am not a psychologist but feel my sisters' drug addictions are related to how we were raised.  We weren't allowed to have feelings and when we did they were never validated.  It has been my lifelong journey to try to heal myself and to understand myself better.  It is not my desire to blame anyone or to be angry.  I want to learn from my past and I want to become a better person.

The trouble started when my middle sister saw my post on Facebook and then showed it to my mother.  I received an email from my mother on September 14, 2011 which said:

"I saw your post on Facebook.  I am asking you to leave me alone and not say anything slanderous about me, my daughters, my grandchildren or family again.  I have  made arrangements to take care of my legal papers.  I am thru with your many years of poison pen letters and your abuse.  I know you're ill but I am through.  I wish you well but ask to forget who I am.  If you ever say anything slanderous about my daughters, myself or my family in the future, rest assured I will see you in Court.  Whether it's in Texas or Utah, I will see you in Court."

When I got my Mom's email on September 15, 2011 and replied back to her:

"I got your email and my middle sister's facebook message. I was not trying to slander anyone.  I was not trying to blame anyone.  I apologize and will respect every one's requests."

That is the last I have heard from my mother or my middle sister.  In May 2012, I did hear from my youngest sister and we had several phone conversations and emails.  My youngest sister has been struggling with her relationship with my mother and I have tried to listen and be there for her.  I know how hard it is to be one of my Mother's daughter and I love my sister.  I wanted to be a good sister and at least share with her what I have learned. 

This is a really difficult situation.  I believe my Mom's comment about legal papers means that she is taking me out of her will.  My mother is the matriarch of the family and has the control.  Since my mother has money, it enables her to have control with other family members.  I have always wanted a real relationship with my mother.  A relationship with mutual respect, genuine caring for one another and to be able to share my thoughts and desires as a daughter, woman and a Mom.  If our relationship is not real, then what do I have?  I want my mother to love me for who I am as a person, not for what I do for her.  After many many years, I have finally come to the conclusion that I will never be able to have the relationship I want with my Mom.  It has been a hard realization and a lot of grief to come to accept that I have invested so much time in a relationship that is so shallow. 

So back to that phone conversation with my sister on October 10th.  I knew what the family dynamics were.  My sister went on to explain how she did not want to judge me and was trying to understand that I probably took the high road in relinquishing my parental rights to my children.  She explained how she and Mom had contacted the foster care worker as they both wanted to remain the Grandmother and the Aunt to the children I had relinquished.   My initial thought was what about Bubba Doo?  He was their grandson and nephew and she had not even asked to see him when she was in Salt Lake.  I remained calm and my sister explained how she wanted us to be close.  I calmly explained that Mom had always caused rifts so that as sisters, we were at odds with each other and that we would more than likely never have the closeness she was talking about.  All my sister kept saying is that she loved me and did not want to hurt me and wanted to tell me before she put pictures of their trip to Salt Lake on Facebook.
I thanked her for calling and letting me know and we hung up.

As I got off the phone, I was sick to my stomach.  I started shaking and crying.  I felt betrayed by my family of origin.  I was HURT!  I believe more HURT than I have ever been in my life.  I knew that the color had drained from my face and I could hardly breathe.  My mother and sister had absolutely no empathy for the situation I had been in with my children who needed more mental health services than I could provide.  They had never offered any help and had never just listened to what I was dealing with or had gone through.  I had to realize that I had done what was best for me and my oldest son.  I was not a bad mother.  I knew that my mother had gotten my sister to go along with her and it was my mother's attempt to punish me because I would not let her control me or my life.  This was not really about my children.  This was about showing the world what a bad person I was and what good people they were.  All of the damage had been done.

I had to protect myself from being hurt anymore than I had already been hurt.  I am still grieving the loss of my children and the last thing I needed to see is pictures of my mom and sister with my children on Facebook.   I unfriended my youngest sister on Facebook so that I could protect myself and then she could post whatever she needed to post.  My mother and middle sister had unfriended me on Facebook back in September 2011. I have not had any further contact  with my youngest sister since that phone call.

I knew that there were serious problems with my relationship with my mother, but until all of this never realized just how serious they were.  I am grateful that my sister did make that phone call to me and that I was able to say "thank you" to her while she was on the phone.  I can't even begin to explain the betrayal I am feeling by my own family.  I am thankful that I can continue my journey to become an emotionally healthier person.   It is not easy to establish healthy boundaries, but it is necessary.  I am sure that I will always grieve the loss of my children as I also grieve the loss of the family I will never have.  I will never understand why a mother would treat her daughter like this but realize that I can learn from this experience and become a stronger person.  I thank God for giving me the strength to endure, learn, grow and reflect on all of this.  I love my mom and sister, but for now cannot subject myself to their punishment.  Most of all, I thank my sister for having the courage to make that phone call and let me know before she posted any pictures on Facebook for me to see.  


 

Monday, December 17, 2012

A Halloween Lesson

I wasn't going to write about this but it keeps bothering me so I decided to get it off my chest.  This was our first Halloween since I relinquished my parental rights to Ya Ya and Bugga Boo.  My heart had been heavy all day thinking about the children I no longer had and would not be able to take trick or treating.  I had to work that day and Bubba Doo was home alone after school.  Bubba Doo decided to go as a hockey player.  He carved some pumpkins and did some trick or treating around the neighborhood before I got home.  I finally made it home around 8:15pm after working a twelve hour shift.   Bubba Doo wanted to go to a neighborhood in our town called Cobblestone.  We have gone there in the past and all of the kids enjoyed trick or treating in that neighborhood.  I was informed that the one house that always gave away hot dogs would be grilling hot dogs again for all of the kids who came by for a treat.


As soon as I got home, I loaded Bubba Doo and our dog Nellie in the car and away we went to Cobblestone.  I tried as hard as I could to act like everything was normal, but I felt the pain and emptiness of my two youngest children who were no longer a part of our family.  I could tell Bubba Doo was feeling lost too.  It was dark and cold out so Nellie and I stayed in the car as Bubba Doo wanted to trick or treat without his Mom by his side.  At age 14, you don't want your Mom right there.  I understood and stayed a safe distance away in the car, but close enough so I could make sure he was ok.  I held back my tears as I wanted Bubba Doo to have good memories of this Halloween even though it was different for both of us. 

I watched as my son went up to a house and rang the door bell.  A man answered and seemed rather irriatated that my son was at the door saying "trick or treat."  The man abruptly said "you're kind of big for this aren't you?  I am getting ready to shut this down."  I was proud of my son as he politely said "thank you" when the man handed him a piece of candy.  As I sat there, I found myself getting angrier and angrier.  Of all the children in the world, this man chose my son to have an attitude with.  A 14 year old boy who had lost both of his siblings and wanted more than anything to just feel some normalcy in what has been the worst year of his life.  I found myself wanting to go ring that man's doorbell and give him a piece of my mind.  Then I reminded myself that I had no idea what had been going on in that man's life.  It was obvious that he was not happy and for all I know he may have gone through more trauma than my son and I had experienced. 


I continued to watch my son trick or treat and finally get to the house with the grilled hot dogs.  Bubba Doo got his hot dog and then got in the car and said "We can go home now Mom, I got my hot dog."   I was really proud of my son.  This was not the best Halloween and it was obvious to both of us that we were feeling the loss of half of our family.  As I drove home, I thought to myself about the man who was irritated with my son.  I thought about my feelings of sadness about the loss of my two children.  I also thought about the pride I had in my son to make the most of this Halloween and to be polite even in the face of rudeness.   I have learned something from all of this.  I have learned to not judge and to try and look beyond the obvious.  To feel compassion for others and to not let their mood affect mine.  I realize that you can never know what someone else may be going through.  I miss my children with all my heart and it was a very sad Halloween, but at the same time I realize that God has blessed me with the opportunity to trick or treat with my 14 year old son and I want to look at the positive in that experience.   I know that my grief is normal and I thank God everyday for allowing me the opportunity to be a Mom to each of my children.  I thank God that I was able to have each of my children in my life even if it was not for as long as I thought it would be.  I want to learn to be grateful for the blessings in my life and learn to enjoy them everyday.  Most of all I want to thank that irritated man for My Halloween Lesson.....

Friday, November 16, 2012

What Kind of Adoptive Parent Voluntarily Relinquishes Their Parental Rights???

The same judge granted the adoptions of my children.  As I was leaving the courtroom after YaYa's adoption proceeding, the judge stopped me and said "you know you can't give them back."  At that point, the judge was referring to Bubba Doo and YaYa.  I replied, "I understand your honor and I would never do that."  That was twelve years ago and I meant what I said 110%.

I left the courtroom that day thinking to myself, what kind of parent would give their child back?  I could not even imagine a parent even considering such an option much less following through on it.  I did not give it much thought because I knew without a doubt that I would NEVER place my children back in foster care.  I would not place them back into the system I had rescued them from.  I would love them, provide for them and make sure they had everything they needed.  These children were my blessings from God.  I knew that the post adopt worker and DCFS had assured me that there would always be the needed money or resources to address whatever needs might arise in the future.  The State was aware that I was a single parent and I had voice my concerns about adopting a second and third baby.  I knew that with my resilience and determination and with the State's help when I really needed it, I would always be able to provide what my children needed.  The State, Child Welfare System and God were trusting me with these children and with the State having my back, I would be able to handle anything that came my way.  At least, that is what I thought 12 years ago.

What I now know is exactly what kind of parent adopts a child from foster care and is then forced to have to place that child back in the same system.  It is a parent who loved her baby and did everything she could to help her precious daughter withdraw from the heroin she was born addicted to.  It is the parent who sat holding her inconsolable baby and cried with her because the parent could feel her baby's pain but could do nothing to ease it.  It is a parent who is awakened at night to find their 5 year old strangling their 6 year old with a karate belt.  It is the parent who took their 5 year old child to the emergency room after a 13 hour long temper tantrum.  It is that same parent who wakes up in the morning to find her 5 year old covered in vomit and post-ictal from a seizure, takes her to the hospital and is told that her child does not have seizures, it is ADHD and behavior.  It is a parent who is forced to deal with health care providers that don't understand and won't listen to what this parent has to say about her child.  It is a parent who watches her child wake up in the morning and not be able to use her legs or arms.  A child who is temporarily paralyzed and scared beyond belief as the parent frantically rushes her child to the emergency room scared that her child could possibly have some type of brain tumor.   The parent is told by doctors nothing is wrong and this parent feels helpless when she knows in her heart something is seriously wrong.  It is a parent who is told to place her 5 year old in residential care because of the child's behavior and if the parent would read 123 Magic, then she would know how to parent this child.  It is a parent who for the 7th time in her child's short life rushes her to the emergency room and then watches her child seize for 6 1/2 hours while the doctors won't listen to the parent as she tries to explain she thinks her daughter is seizing.  Then an EEG is finally completed at the parent's request which confirms that the parent is correct and her child is in Status Epilepticus.  It is the parent who spends countless hours on early developmental interventions, physical therapy, speech therapy, occupational therapy, doctor visits, mental health therapy and hospital visits.  It is a parent who has been proactive, searched out therapy, resources and services on her own.  It is the parent who never gives up and who has tried as hard as she can to advocate to get her child the right help and the right diagnosis.

It is the parent who in a million years never dreamed that the safety issues in her home would be created from one of her own children.  It is a parent who has to protect her other children from being physically and emotionally hurt by one of their siblings.  It is the parent who rushes her youngest child to the doctor fearing his leg might be broken after being attacked by an older sibling.  It is a parent who consoles her oldest son's broken heart when his pet hamster has been intentionally killed by a younger sibling.  It is a parent who is horrified to witness her child punch, hit, kick, slap, give a black eye or pinch another child until their skin bleeds from her nail and who knows that no amount of interventions, therapy or parenting she has done have stopped the behavior.  It is a parent who has seen a child's head intentionally pushed into dressers, seen one sibling throw another sibling across a room, seen their child jump on siblings with the intent to hurt them, chase siblings with knives threatening to kill them, choke siblings using an arm hold, intentionally run her siblings over with a bike and seen the child inflicting harm show no remorse, empathy and deny any wrong doing.

It is a parent who watches her home being destroyed by rages, temper tantrums and melt downs.  Furniture is destroyed, holes are placed in the walls, holes are placed in doors, several scratches are put on the new flat screen TV because the youngest child is angry at the family.  It is a parent who finds her 6 year old intentionally setting the playhouse on fire because she is mad.  It is a parent who has to deal with lying, stealing, hiding and hoarding other family member's personal possessions and money, as well as food.  It is a parent who has had to clean up fecal smears from bathroom, bedroom and hallway walls.  A parent who has to take the family cat to the vet after it is intentionally injured by her own son.  Then that parent brings the injured cat home to take care of it, only to have the child that injured the cat laugh every time medicine is given to the cat.  It is a parent who can't sleep at night because she fears the safety of her children and wants to make sure that one child is not hurting the other children while they sleep.  It is the parent who struggles to understand her child even when this parent no longer feels safe in her own home.

It is a parent who was gullible and believed in false promises.  It is a parent who had the State and Child Welfare System fail to provide the financial support or the promised resources when it comes time and her child needs more help.  It is a parent who continues to work with a DCFS post adopt worker.  The parent has met with the post adopt committee only to be told there are no resources and they can't help her.  It is a parent who finds out three weeks after placing her child at the Utah Youth Village that Medicaid will no longer cover residential care.  It is the parent with two insurances who can't get her child the proper mental health resources.  It is a parent who is forced to place her child in foster care because that is the only resource available to her.  The parent then goes to the child's shelter hearing to find out she is being investigated and may be charged with ABANDONMENT because she refused to take her child home from the psychiatric hospital and further endanger her other children at home.  Then the parent finds the Child Welfare System adversarial and hostile.  How can the same system that trusted this parent and placed two more children with her now turn on her when her children need more help than the parent can provide?  This is a parent who is accused of making up diagnoses and lying about dates for appointments.  This is a system that wants to blame the parent who has been there for the last 13 years fighting and advocating for her children.  This is a parent who is exhausted and already traumatized from dealing with her child's trauma that occurred prior to the child even being placed in the parent's home.

Then as the parent is navigating the Child Welfare System in an attempt to get her children the help they need, the system informs the parent that she has to have DCFS supervised visits.  The Guardian Ad Litem informs the parent that she does not support phone contact because there is no way to monitor it.  The same parent that the Child Welfare System trusted enough to placed three children with is now not trusted enough to even have a phone call with her child.  The parent is confused and feels beaten down emotionally.  The parent is not abusive, a drug addict or neglectful.  The parent is forced to spend countless hours on emails to prove and document that she is not lying, making up diagnoses and has been truthful with the system.  As this parent struggles with her emotions and the loss of her children, the system further traumatizes the parent by saying she is unstable because she is emotional and was crying in court.  So the parent works really hard in therapy to learn how to keep her tears in check so that she does not appear "unstable."  The parent makes it through a court hearing with no tears only to find out that the system now thinks she is "too cold" and "too matter of fact."  That parent begins to realize she is in a NO WIN situation.

The parent tells her attorney she does not have the emotional strength to continue to deal with a system that is broken.  The parent explains to her attorney that something is wrong with the Child Welfare System when the post adopt side of DCFS tells the adoptive parent that her only resource is foster care.  So the parent trusting the DCFS post adopt worker and the post adopt committee, contacts CPS with the help of her attorney so that she can get the much needed help for her child.  Then to the parent's surprise, she is treated like she is the problem.  The parent is trying to advocate for her child, but it becomes obvious that she is being treated like she has been abusive to her child when nothing could be further from the truth.  It is a parent who has been told a lot of half truths by the Child Welfare System and finds that there is a lack of accountability, false accusations, lack of follow through, miscommunication and a serious breakdown in communication within that system.  It is the parent who has told her daughter in therapy that she is relinquishing her parental rights and does a final goodbye with the help of her daughter's therapist.  The parent who tries to schedule a goodbye therapy session with her son and has it fall through due to a breakdown in communication within the system.  It is a parent who has been assured by her attorney, the foster care worker and DCFS that her children will not be at the courthouse on the day she relinquishes her parental rights.  That same parent walks through the doors of the courthouse on that day to hear "mommy, mommy" as the children she is relinquishing come up and hug her.  A parent who can no longer control her tears and is told that her children are there due to another breakdown in communication within the system.  It is the parent whose heart is breaking when she leaves the courtroom and her children are playing and indifferent to what is going on.  A parent who is asked "do you want to say goodbye to your children one last time?"  It is a parent who never dreamed that trying to get her children the help they needed would lead to her needing to relinquish her parental rights.

So to answer the original question as to what type of adoptive parent places their children back into foster care and then requests termination of parental rights, it is the parent who is emotionally, financially and physically exhausted.  The parent who realizes she is in a  "NO WIN" situation.  It is a parent who as a single working mother has done everything she knows to do, has advocated as hard as she can, has shed a million tears, has poured her heart and soul into being a mother and trying to meet her children's needs.  It is a parent who has loved all of her children with an intense devotion, and done everything  in her power to make her children feel loved.  It is a parent who knows that LOVE isn't enough.  It is a parent who still has a traumatized child at home that she still needs to parent.  It is a parent who has had to face the EMOTIONAL DEFEAT that she on her own could not meet the needs of her children and that the system she trusted did not provide the promised support.  It is the parent who prays for the day when the Child Welfare System will provide support instead of blaming adoptive parents for trauma that was inflicted on their child before being placed in their home.  A parent who longs for the day when the Child Welfare System is accountable and does what is in the child's best interest.  The day when adoptive parents, the State, the Child Welfare System and DCFS all work together as a team to provide what is best for the child.  It is a parent who has to realize that God trusted these special children to her and now she has to place her trust in God that he will continue to watch over them.  It is a parent who will continue to pray everyday for her children and will forever carry these children with her in her heart....

Monday, November 12, 2012

My Triple Blessing Into Adoption

Ever since I was four years old, I have wanted to be a Mom.  That dream was fulfilled on February 7, 1984, when I gave birth to my daughter, Stinker Poo.  Unfortunately, my marriage did not make it but I loved being a Mom.  In 1985, I got divorced and six months later Houston hit a bust in the oil economy and I was laid off from my job.  I decided I needed to return to school and I did just that.  I graduated in August 1988, with an Associate of Science degree in Respiratory Therapy.  I worked as a Registered Respiratory Therapist.  I was a divorced single working parent raising my oldest daughter.  I always thought that eventually I would remarry and have one more child.  In 1995, I suffered a miscarriage and lost the baby I had been wanting for years.  My marriage ended in an annulment.  After the loss of my baby and my marriage, I decided to do Legal Risk Foster Care as I felt in my heart that I was suppose to be a mother again.

In May 1998, I received a call from a shelter worker named Alice who was looking for a foster home for a premature newborn.  She told me the birth mother was an IV drug abuser and her drug of choice was heroin.  The birth Mom chose to use cocaine and that caused the placenta to abrupt, which is why the baby was born premature at 34 weeks.  This baby was Bubba Doo.  He spent his first day in the Neonatal ICU on oxygen and then transferred to the nursery.  Bubba Doo had issues with temperature instability, irritability, feeding difficulties and weight loss.  I did feedings three times a day with Bubba Doo while he remained in the hospital.  When he was eleven days old, I got to take him home.  He weighed 4 pounds and 11 ounces.  Bubba Doo continued to have feeding difficulties and after eight different formulas I found one that he could tolerate.  In December 1998, Bubba Doo was hospitalized with Rotavirus and Buccal Cellulitis.  Due to his birth history and the seriousness of his cellulitis, he was tested for HIV and tested negative.  In January 1999, Bubba Doo was hospitalized again for resistant Strep Pneumococcous pneumonia.  Since this was Bubba Doo's second serious bacterial infection that required hospitalization, he had a full HIV workup which thankfully came back negative. Bubba Doo was discharged from the hospital with a PICC line and continued to receive IV antiobiotics after I took him home.

The day Bubba Doo was discharged from the hospital in January 1999, is the day I went to court to adopt him.  Bubba Doo was small for his age initially and was followed in the Neonatal Follow-Up Program for developmental issues until he was 3 years old.  He was delayed in speech and when he was 3 years old started speech therapy for an oral motor deficit and an articulation disorder.  Bubba Doo continued in speech until the end of third grade.  In 2004, Bubba Doo was diagnosed with Complex Partial Seizures.  He struggled in school with learning difficulties and was diagnosed with Dyslexia.  In 2008, Bubba Doo had a neuropsych evaluation and was diangosed with a Cognitive Disorder and Reading Disorder.  It was during this time that Bubba Doo was diagnosed with migraine headaches.  Bubba Doo continues to struggle in school and in 2011 was diagnosed with abdominal migraines and irritable bowel syndrome.

In June 1999, I received a call from Cheryl with DCFS who was Bubba Doo's post adopt worker.  Cheryl was calling to let me know that Bubba Doo's birth Mom had another baby and she wanted to know if I would foster and possibly adopt.  I spoke candidly to Cheryl about my concerns to adopt another baby as a single parent.  I was not sure I could afford the added expenses.  Cheryl explained to me that the State did not want children to not be adopted because of money.  Cheryl assured me I would be able to get a monthly adoption subsidy if I did adopt the baby.  In addition, Cheryl explained that due to the in-utero drug exposure Bubba Doo and the new baby would be eligible for State Medicaid until they reached age 18.  No one can predict what issues prenatal drug exposure can cause and sometimes there are issues that don't start showing up until the children reach school age.  To be honest, I never expected to get a call regarding a second baby, but felt that ultimately it was in God's hands and I told Cherly I would foster Bubba Doo's baby sister.

YaYa was born term and was addicted to black tar Heroin.  She spent 23 days in the hospital withdrawing from heroin.  When YaYa was 23 days old, she had been weaned from the Diluted Tincture of Opium and I could take her home.  However, she was not done withdrawing  and went through horrific withdrawal from heroin.  YaYa was hospitalized at four months and diagnosed with a viral infection, seizure and she was paralyzed on her right side for a day and a half.  YaYa got seriously sick again and was hospitalized at eight months of age with severe dehydration due to Rotavirus.  I adopted YaYa in June 2000.  YaYa kept having seizure like episodes but was not daignosed with a seizure disorder until 2004.  We made multiple visits to the ER for seizure like episodes, YaYa was admitted to the behavioral health unitand from there was admitted into residential care.  It was during this time that she started displaying physical aggression towards Bubba Doo.  YaYa was diagnosed with ADHD, ODD, mood disorder and anxiety.  We saw several pediatric neurologists in Utah and Texas and YaYa was diagnosed with a generalized seizure disorder and alternating Hemiplegia.   In addition to residential care and inpatient psychiatric hsopitalizations, YaYa had over 6 years of weekly therapy for mental health issues.  In August 2010, YaYa was placed into foster care due to safety issues in our home with her brothers.

In September 2003, I received a call from a DCFS worker stating that there was a newborn in State custody that was the sibling to the two children I had adopted.  He was born premature at 36 weeks gestation and was positive for heroin and cocaine.  He spent eight days in the hospital at birth and then went to a shelter foster home when he was discharged from the hospital at birth.  After about a month, he was placed in a second foster home while the State completed my background check.  Bugga Boo was placed in my home on December 22, 2003, when he was almost four months old.  My home was his third foster home.  Bugga Boo had developmental delays in fine motor, gross motor and speech. He continued to have delays and continued receiving early intervention services for his first three years of life.  I adopted Bugga Boo in September 2004.  At age three, Bugga Boo started receiving speech therapy for a speech and language disorder.  In 2008, he was evaluated for his quick temper, sleep difficulties and rages.  I was told he showed signs of ADHD and he was started on medications but they did not help his behavior.  We continued weekly therapy, however Bugga Boo was frequently a victim of YaYa's aggression.  Safety became a BIG issue in my home.  YaYa was physically aggressive with her brothers and threatened to kill them.  She often said, "I wish they were dead."  After years of therapy and multiple diagnoses, YaYa and Bugga Boo were both diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder.

There are too many details to get into in one blog, but I LOVE all of my children.  I have been there for them and done everything I can to get them the appropriate help.  I have advocated and worked as hard as I could to provide for them and to meet their needs.  I have continued to take parenting classes, attended a post adopt support group with DCFS, continued therapy for myself, attended a monthly seizure support group, attended NAMI workshops, attended a monthly support group for parents who have children with Reactive Attachment Disorder and even attended the Attach conference in Omaha in 2011, so that I could learn more about attachment.  I am not afraid to learn.  I have read several books on parenting, adoption, attachment and bonding.  I take my responsibility as a mother very seriously and I want more than anything to do what is necessary to help my children. 



In spite of all of the issues my children have, I know that I am blessed to have them in my life.  It has been difficult at times as well as physically and emotionally exhausting, however I would never trade any of my children for all the money in the world.  I feel blessed to know that God sent them to me and that I was entrusted to be their mother.  I was told by several social workers with the State that even though I was doing all of the right things, I more than likely would not be able to adopt since I was a single mother.   I placed my trust in God that if I was to adopt, then the right child would come along.  I only dreamed of adopting one child, but know that I have been given a triple blessing......... 


Thursday, November 8, 2012

A Most Difficult Blessing...

June 1999
I can still remember the first time I saw my baby daughter.  She was beautiful.  She was term and was the biggest newborn I had ever had.  She weighed in at seven pounds five ounces.  Looking at her lying in the open bassinet she seemed like the perfect new baby.  What new baby isn't beautiful?  It wasn't until I had spent time with her doing feedings in the nursery at the hospital, that it became obvious that she was having some difficulty from the drugs she had been exposed to in utero.  She had tested positive for black tar heroin and had to spend 23 days in the hospital.  She was given diluted tincture of opium or DTO as the nurses called it.  Her dosage of DTO was weaned daily and was to help her with the withdrawal she was experiencing.  She was irritable, shaky, had trouble eating, had severe abdominal cramps and explosive diarrhea.  I would go to the hospital three times a day to do feedings with her.  Bubba Doo was thirteen months old when she was born and I would bring him with me and he would sit in the stroller while I did her feedings.  On day twenty four, I was able to finally bring her home and she weighed eight and a half pounds.  

I had dealt with feeding difficulties, illnesses, RSV and two hospitalizations with my son.  I had dealt with asthma, multiple bouts of pneumonia, several emergency room visits as well as a couple of hospitalizations with my oldest daughter.  I had spent eleven years working as a respiratory therapist in an acute hospital setting.  None of this had prepared me for what I would experience in the next six months.  I brought my daughter home and found that she was in constant pain and unconsolable.  I was at the pediatrician's office at least once a week.  We went through eight different formulas before we found one she could tolerate.  She was being treated with medication for reflux.  She had severe abdominal cramps and had the worst diaper rash I had ever seen.  Her bottom would bleed from open blisters.  I would have to take cotton balls soaked in Mylanta and dab that on her bottom.  Then, I would have to take a blow dryer on a cool setting and use that to dry her bottom.   She was constantly in pain and no sooner would I get her cleaned up and she would dirty her diaper and I would start the whole process all over again.   There were times she was unconsolable and I thought for sure she must have an ear infection.  I would make a pediatrician's appointment, arrive at the clinic with a screaming crying baby and then feel great disappointment to discover that her doctor could find nothing physically wrong with her and tell me she was withdrawing and send us home. 

It was so hard to watch her go through so much pain.  I found myself very ANGRY at her birth mother.  This was not FAIR.   My son had not gone through this type of withdrawal or physical pain.  There were times that my baby daughter would cry and I could not console her.  She was NOT consolable.  The doctors could not fix her pain.  I could not fix her pain.  I could only get some sleep if I put her in a baby swing.  So, I purchased a battery operated swing and used it every night.  I would feel guilty, but at least she wasn't crying and I was able to get some much needed sleep.

A Happy Moment
I found myself feeling very inadequate as a mother.  With my oldest two children, I had been able to console them when they were hurt or sick.  I could cuddle them and  they seemed to like being cuddled.  My baby daughter did not like being cuddled.  When she was three months old, she would not even smile.  Her pediatrician told me it was concerning because she would not look at him and he could not get her to smile.  I looked at him is disbelief and told him that if we had gone through what she had gone through we wouldn't be smiling either.   I had never in my life seen a baby go through so much pain and discomfort in my life.   She did not have anything to smile about.   How could she trust her world?  She had been conceived in a toxic environment and had been exposed to chemicals and toxins that were damaging to her very being.  If she did not have the inner strength she has, she more than likely would have died.  

It was October 1999, and my baby daughter was four months old.  I had put her down for a nap in her crib and laid down on the couch myself.  About an hour later, I awoke to hear gurgling coming from her crib.  I rushed into her room to find her laying in vomit.  I picked her up and she felt like she was on fire.  I quickly undressed her and took her temperature.  It was 104.3 F.  As I sat her up, I noticed that her right side was paralyzed.  She could not open her right eye.  I placed her in her infant carrier and loaded her in the car and drove a few blocks to the nightime  pediatric clinic.  The nurses and docter there were great and tried to calm my fears.  My baby daughter was unresponsive.  An ambulance was called and we were rushed to Primary Children's Medical Center.   Several tests were done as my baby laid there like a limp noodle with no response to the poking and prodding that was being done to her.  All I could do was cry.  I was a trained healthcare professional and I was falling apart emotionally.  I sat there looking at my baby daughter.  She had no one but me.  There was no biological family.  Her birth Mom was not there.  I was it and she might die.  How would I explain this to Bubba Doo?   My gut and my heart were torn in several directions.  I had loved this baby.  I brought her home from the hospital.  I had nurtured her, taken care of her and now I might lose her.  It was more than I could think of.  It seemd painfully CRUEL!

Finally something to smile about!
It was during that hospital stay with my baby daughter, that I realized in my heart that I would be adopting her.  I knew that I was her Mom and she was my daughter.  I knew she was a blessing from God and he had entrusted her to me.  I accepted this blessing and all it would entail.  I prayed to God "please help my baby and don't let her die."  I could not understand why God would allow a baby to endure so much suffering.  She was innocent.  She had not chosen her birth Mom.  She did not choose to be in a toxic uterus filled with heroin.  I was filled with ANGER at her birth Mom who seemed to only care about her drug addiction and not about what it was doing to her children.  How could a mother do this to her own child?   How could I help her?  Would I be able to help her?  I vowed then and there to do everything I could to help my baby daughter and to make sure she got the best start in life she could get. 

As I watched my tiny baby daughter lying in the crib with her right side paralyzed, I realized that God had given me a very special blessing.  I have no idea why God chose me, but I had been chosen.  I prayed that I had the strength and endurance to be able to provide everything she would need.  As I watched her breathing in her sleep, I felt a mother's love growing in my heart.  My baby and I had been through so much already.   I felt like our bond was real and was unbreakable.  I realized that my prayers to be a Mom had been answered more than once and could not believe how lucky I was.   I was so GRATEFUL.  I knew we had a difficult journey ahead of us, but I also knew that God had graced me with this most difficult blessing....   The blessing I had wanted, to be a mother again.   A wonderful chance to learn and grow and experience a mother's love in a way I never dreamed.   To learn what it means to really LOVE your child and want what is BEST for them.   To learn to put your child's needs before your own.  To learn that our Greatest Blessings in life are never easy, but worth all we endure.
I am thankful and honored that God chose me to be my baby daughter's mother....     


December 1999

   

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

My Hidden Walmart Blessing

It was October 20th, a Saturday afternoon.  I had just waken up from sleeping after working the nightshift.  I dropped my son Bubba Doo, off at a school function and went to the local Walmart to buy a rake.  The trees around my townhome have been shedding thier leaves and I was wanting to rake the leaves and clean the front flower bed so that I could plant tulip bulbs.  I went into Walmart and picked out the rake I wanted to purchase.  I went to get in line but the lines were really long.  As I looked at the long lines at the check out counters, I reminded myself about why I don't go to Walmart on Saturdays.  I didn't know at that moment, but was about to be reminded of another reason why I don't go to Walmart during peak times.  I proceeded to get in the speedy check out line so I could pay for my rake.  As I was standing in the middle of the aisle, a twelve year old tall thin blond haired boy walked by.   I was still tired and waking up and my mind was wondering.  As the boy walked by, I smiled to myself and thought how he was someone's baby and how our children grow to become slightly awkward before blossoming into beautiful adults.  Then I noticed a tall thin blond woman walk by and she had the same step in her walk as the twelve year old boy.  I thought she must be his Mom.  The woman paused by the large flat screen TV that was on display and bent down to talk to what I assumed was a child.  After a minute, the woman looked up and stared right at me.  I could not believe my eyes.  It was Bugga Boo's foster mother, Julie.  I just froze where I was trying to not show any emotions.  My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt the biggest lump in my throat. 

As I stood in line, I reminded myself that I had not done anything wrong.  I had every right to be in Walmart buying a rake.  I thought to myself  "don't cry."  You see I had cried in court and been told by the Guardian Ad Litem on more than one occasion that it was inappropriate to cry in front of your children.  I had been reprimanded in court for being in tears and told that was the reason the GAL requested that I have supervised visitation with my children.  All I could think was "Don't Cry!"  So I reminded myself to breathe and as I looked up I saw Julie leaving Walmart with the twelve year old boy, a six year old blond haired boy and Bugga Boo.  Bugga Boo had placed his jacket over his head and was walking between Julie and the twelve year old boy.  Bugga Boo was in shorts and I could totally recognize his legs and his walk.  A mother never forgets how her child looks and how he walks.  I then noticed some of his dark hair sticking out from under the jacket.  I was in disbelief.  I understood why they would leave Walmart, but what I didn't understand is why Bugga Boo had a jacket over his head.  Was Julie trying to sneak him out of Walmart without me seeing him?  Did Julie think I would hurt Bugga Boo?   Was Julie trying to protect Bugga Boo?  What did Julie think she needed to protect him from?  

After they left Walmart, I stood in line thinking about how I wish I could have ran up to Bugga Boo and hugged him.  My heart was broken.  I wanted to see him, touch him, talk to him and ask him how he was doing.  I wanted to smell him again.  I wanted to tell him how tall he had gotten and how much he had grown, since I last saw him on April 5th.  As much as I wanted to do those things, I knew I couldn't.  Instead, I stood in line wondering if anyone around me could tell how emotional I was and if it was noticable how hard my heart was pounding.  I looked up as the line moved forward and saw the six year old blond boy walk by the cash register and smile.  He looked right at me so I smiled back at him.  I thought to myself  "he must know I am Bugga Boo's Mom and he wants to know what I look like."  I had to wait in line about another six minutes before it was my turn to pay for the rake.  During those minutes, the little blond boy walked by the register and smiled two more times and so I smiled back.   It was finally my turn at the register and I paid for my rake and left Walmart.  My legs felt like they weighed one hundred pounds each and my heart was still racing and pounding.  As I walked across the parking lot to my car, I could see Julie three rows over standing by a minivan.  I knew they must be waiting for me to leave so that they could go back into Walmart. 

I got in my car and tears welled up in my eyes.  I just sat there and started crying.  I had just seen my baby and I couldn't even give him a hug.  I realized that Bugga Boo must have seen me and sent the twelve year old boy to get Julie.  Then I wondered who's idea it was to put the jacket over Bugga Boo's head?  Did they think they had gotten out of Walmart without me realizing Bugga Boo was there?  Why did the State place Bugga Boo in a foster home in our small town?  Did Julie really believe that I would hurt Bugga Boo?  Did Bugga Boo miss me?  Did Bugga Boo want to talk to me?  Did Bugga Boo hate me?  Immediately, I thought "of course he does."  What child wouldn't hate their mother if she voluntarily placed them in foster care?  It doesn't matter what the reason is?  As a mother, I had done the unthinkable!  I had placed my baby in foster care and then relinquished my parental rights.  I had abandoned him.  I had betrayed him and what being a mother is.  A mother sticks by her baby no matter what.  Bugga Boo has every right to HATE me!  I HATE me!!!!

Then I reminded myself that my baby boy was the same little boy who was so busy playing in the courthouse and seemed totally disconnected from the fact that his mother was relinquishing her parental rights.  He had been told I would no longer be his Mom.  I had already said my "goodbye" in therapy.  A goodbye that was met with his indifference.  He was totally detached from what was happening.  Would Bugga Boo ever understand that it was the Guardian Ad Litem that restricted my visitation with him?  Was he getting the help he needs?   Then I reminded myself of what he had been told by the State.  DCFS had told Bugga Boo he was in foster care because I was learning to be a better mommy.  A BETTER Mommy!  SERIOUSLY...  I don't know how I could have been a better Mommy.  I LOVED my son.  I wanted to HELP my son.  I tried to HELP my son.  I had my son in early intervention services for developmental delays until he was three years old.  When I thought he might be having seizures, I took him to a neurologist.  Since his sister had seizures he had a 24 hour EEG at Primary Children's Medical Center and an MRI of his brain.  At age three, he started receiving speech therapy when it was identified that he was having articulation and speech problems.  At age four, I had him evaluated by an occupational therapist per the recommendation of his first neuropsychiatric evaluation.   He was diagnosed with a Sensory Modulation Disorder.  I started taking him to weekly OT therapy sessions for this.  He received a psychiatry evaluation for anger issues when he was four years old.  He was tried on medications for ADHD and started in weekly play therapy.  He had an IEP for speech when he started school.   I had done everything I could to protect him from being abused by his sister.  I had placed her in emergency respite when her rages would flare and her behavior imposed a threat to his emotional or physical well being.  I had LOVED him, Nurtured him, Taken care of him, Played with him and Read to him.  We had shared our special times together when he would sit next to me in my rocker recliner and we would watch TV.   I would carry him to bed when he fell asleep and kiss him gently on his cheek as I tucked him in bed. 

When I found poop smeared all over the toilet and bathroom walls, I did not get angry or scream.  I reminded Bugga Boo to be more careful when he wiped and then I would clean up the bathroom.   When poop started showing up on the walls in the hallway and other rooms in the house, I cleaned it up and consulted his therapist.  I asked Bugga Boo, "why are you smeaing your poop on the wall?"  Bugga Boo said, "I didn't smear my poop on the wall."  Bugga Boo told me me he drew on the wall with water when he was mad.  So I then asked, "well what is the brown stuff?"  He smiled and said "all right, it is my poop."  I did not yell, get angry or punish him.  I tried to find out what was going on.  What was he angry about?  When I discovered my oldest son's hamster was dead, I got a sick feeling Bugga Boo might have been involved.  Again, I talked to his therapist about what my suspicions were.  Initially, she did not believe that he had anything to do with the hamster's death.  After that therapy session, she told me he definitely had something to do with the hamster's death.  I was devastated.  Why would he Bugga Boo hurt the hamster?  He was eight years old.  He knew better than that.  He hadn't been raised to be mean to animals.  I tried to make sense of all of this.   I kept going to therapy each week. 

Six months later, my oldest son called me at work very upset to tell me his cat Arnold, had a swollen eye with stuff draining out of it.  I got a sick feeling on the phone, but told Bubba Doo that Arnold just might have an eye infection and we would take him to the vet in the morning when I got home.  After I got off the phone with my oldest son, I went into the bathroom at work and threw up.  The next morning Bubba Doo and I took Arnold to the vet and she informed us that Arnold did not have an eye infection.  Arnold had sustained corneal damage to his right eye from trauma.  From what she could tell, his eye had been poked or stabbed with something.  I thought I was going to throw up again.  Bubba Doo looked at me and said "Mom, I think Bugga Boo did this.  I saw him around Arnold before his eye was swollen."  The vet warned us that Arnold could loose his eye.  We took Arnold home and had to place drops in his eye three times a day.   That day was December 24th, Christmas Eve.  My heart was broken because I realized my home was not safe and even my pets weren't safe......   

I tried talking to Bugga Boo, but was very careful to not accuse him and to see if maybe Arnold had been hurt accidentally.  Bugga Boo just laughed.  There had been no accident.  Bugga Boo showed no empathy or remorse.  For the next four days, everytime we put drops in Arnold's eye Bugga Boo would laugh.  I would look at Bugga Boo and remind him that Arnold was hurt and it was not funny.  He would just laugh and laugh.  It was on December 28, 2011, at the advice of my attorney that I placed Bugga Boo in foster care.  I had already been down this route with my daughter.  Even with two insurances, I could not get residential care for my son.  The cost for residential care is $10,000 to $12,000 a month.  I could not afford that.  I had found one place that charged $6,000 a month, but I still could not afford that either.  That was more money than what I made in a month and I had two children who needed residential care.  Yes, I got a monthly adoption subsidy but the whole month's subsidy would not even pay for two days of residential care.  I had a responsibility as Bugga Boo's Mom to do what I needed to do to get him help.  It was no OK for him to hurt or kill the family pets......

As I drove away from Walmart on that Saturday, I allowed myself to grieve the loss of my youngest son.  I reminded myself that I had relinquished my parental rights so that he could get the help I was not able to provide for him.  I want him to know  "I LOVE HIM" and want him to be Happy and Healthy.  I know he is hurt, but it was NEVER my intent to hurt him.  Bugga Boo, I am so Sorry that I could not provide for you what you needed!!  I remind myself that Bugga Boo was doing OK and he had grown.   As I allow myself to grieve the loss of my son, I also take a minute to "Thank God" for that Hidden Walmart Blessing.    I had been given a very special opportunity to see my son just one more time.......