Sometimes, You Need Your Mom

Thirty one year old women are no exception. After a very, very trying week where everyone took a piece out of me I reached my breaking point. And at lunchtime I called my Mom.

I really just needed a hug. The warmth if her cheek next to mine. Hands rubbing my back, reassuring me that I was not alone. I needed encouragement that I was doing good. That I was serving a purpose. That this feeling of unbelievable helplessness would go away at some point.

She was nearby my office and her and my Dad met me for lunch. The minute I pulled into the parking lot and I spotted them I started to cry. It was like a dam broke loose. All of the feelings came pouring out. The fear right at the very front.

I'm watching everyone around me start to break apart and close off and I don't have the luxury of doing that. I'm not built that way.

After listening to my Dad telling me I have to approach it simply and understand the kids are going home and remind me that no one would blame me if I decide to move on without them because "you've done a thousand times more what most people do"and my Mom tell me I'm a much better person than her for my commitment to not vilify the kids' Mom, I felt a little stronger. But still I was questioning all of the decisions we've made.

My Mom, in her infinite wisdom, reminded me to rely on my faith and listed all the people praying for our family. She suggested I "go back to church". Even if to "just sit in the building and meditate."

Feeling that perhaps that would help, I decided first to journal and soul search. I had no intention of blogging it because I felt that this would be a personal moment just for me. However sometimes you have to share how God works.

I have a Devotional Journal that has daily writing prompts, scriptures, and poems. I never keep up with daily journaling on paper. So I've used this journal on and off for 9 years. I only write a few sentences and leave space in case I happen upon the same date in the future.

September 28th was blank. The page was titled: It Can't Be Done.

The passage was Galatians 6:9:
Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.

God's way of telling me not to give up. To give it some more time. Acknowledging that I feel weary. Everything I needed to hear so that I can continue on.

Nicely done God. Nicely done.

Questions

How do you explain to a 5 year why his other Mommy was asking him where he wanted to live when he doesn't know living anywhere else?

How do you clear up his explanation that he can live with you because "your babies got lost"?

How do you reassure him that people are trying to protect him and won't send him anywhere until they are sure he will be safe, when you, yourself, aren't convinced?

How do you give him e a hug goodnight and ignore the death grip he has on you because now he is worried that his safe Mommy is going to send him away?

How do you explain to a 12 year old why you are sitting in the basement crying alone wen she comes down to talk to you?

How do you explain to her how proud you are of her that she could come talk to you, especially since the very thing she's going to tell you is that she couldn't talk about what was bothering her with her "real" Mom a few hours before?

How do you respond to being told that she's not ready to talk to her Mom about living with her when you know everyone is pushing for that to happen and to happen quickly?

Where do the words of reassurance come from? How on Earth was I able to look at their worried faces and do the right thing?

How do you put yourself together when your heart is cracking daily?

How do you reconcile your ultimate commitment to a return home goal when it goes against ever instinct to protect you have?

How do you handle wanting the very best for them while also praying that they get hurt so that this entire thing can be over? (I'm not wishing it - I believe it's a matter of time and I'd rather that time come now.)

I got nothing. All I'm left with at the end of this day is tears. Lots and lots of tears.

When Failure Makes the News

The following watchdog article was posted in the Chicago Tribune this past Sunday Fatal Flaws.

It is an investigative article on how DCFS failed properly intervene in the deaths of at least 8 children.  I cried as I read the article. Discussion of how investigators found claims unfounded.  How time after time people in positions of power told those who questioned that everything was fine or checked out.

I will say that I don't think our caseworker has falsified any information or acted negligently. However, the system HAS failed my kids. It hasn't protected them from further abuse or harm. The length of time in care is entirely too long. Everyone is fatigued. By the number of providers, appointments, people, issues.....So now the approach is push it until it works or it breaks. Which still isn't the best way to go about things but no one wants to continue on in this manner for the next 5 years.

My biggest fear is that these kids will go home and I will read about them in the news.  The only thing they have going for them is that they are older and so more than likely will survive any additional harm or at least be able to tell someone about it.  But not for one second do I believe that if they return home - they will remain safe. The stressors are still their. Their needs are higher. Just by virtue of their age they are louder.

As I made dinner tonight I pondered the noise level.  I must have heard "Mom" at least 100 times.  I cherished the laughter and the squeals of silly as I know they can be fleeting.  And I paused to think "am I trying to take this away from her?" And I came back with the answer that I was trying to keep it for them.

Please pray with me that they safe in the coming weeks and months.

Saturday Morning

So Gabby did go to the visit this morning. I could tell she was nervous but she said her stomach was fine.

Jelly Bean woke up in a foul mood and then dragged, and I mean dragged, in getting ready. I have never seen someone take so long to tie their shoes.

Mr. Mohawk seemed happy. He was the first one ready. I hope he doesn't kick her today like he did Wednesday.

Little Mama was finding reasons to be angry at me. She asked to take a board game knowing full well I would say no. My standard: "Your Mom is working on being prepared. That's a great suggestion. You should tell her that's a game you'd like." only served to provoke the silent treatment.

I'm not responsible for providing entertainment for 4 children at an in home visit. In the past, I might have considered it but the training wheels have to come off. The kids have to adjust to what life without me is going to be like. What life with her will be like. She doesn't have the capacity to plan ahead or draft a schedule. Despite the request to do so. Despite the kids need for rigid structure. This will likely be to their detriment in the end but I can't stop it. She has to learn what works for her. And she can't do it with me interfering.

She has no desire to enter into a co-parenting or mentoring relationship with me. We are the same age. She has been a Mom for 12 years. I've been a Mom for 18 months. She doesn't believe that the kids I describe or talk about are the same that she sees. She still views the incident that brought them into care as isolated. This is a belief system that she's created in order to protect herself. I understand it. It sucks. We had hoped to build a relationship. And perhaps down the road we can but right now stepping back feels right.