In the movie American Tail, Fivel has lost his family. As he sits atop the Statue of Liberty he sings the song, "Some Where Out There" to the beautiful night sky, thinking of his family, while some where, out there, his sister and family are singing the same song about him, looking at the same night sky. Fivel is unaware of his family's location, even though they're close by, and he feels reunification is a seemingly endless battle, but he still has hope. I know how he feels! I can't even begin to count the many times I have gazed at the stars, hearing that song in my head, and thought of my children, some where, out there. My children, some place in this world, looking at the same stars I am, sharing the same sky, but not sharing the same home.
I've been going through some struggles recently, and I seem to find myself thinking of the little lives I lost quite frequently these days. I think it's human nature to replay your hurts and mistakes through your head when times are tough. Lately, I've been thinking that it's not fair, things are different now, they should be home, wishing I could change the past, hoping for a magic wand to make it all right, or better yet, I'd love to wake up and realize this was just a bad dream, but it's not, losing my children is a reality, and this pain, is very real.
It's times like this that I am especially grateful for my relationship with Rebecca. Because of her kind, open heart, I can talk to and see Ashley, whenever she's available. This is amazing, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of Rebecca and her husband. It's a funny place to be in, to have so much love and admiration for two people, to have absolute joy over the fact that these people I love taking care of my baby girl, but at the same time, wish there was never a need to have met them. (I in no way regret my daughter's placement, or my fantastic relationship with her mother, just speaking from the bio-mom perspective) I wish I could have met them at church or the PTA instead of having to meet them because I failed as a parent. None the less, Ashley is still a part of my life, I'm still her mother, and I'm happy to be sharing her with such wonderful, amazing, brave, courageous, persistent, and consistent people, that love her unconditionally, just like I do.
And then there's Hannah. I go to bed at night knowing Ashley is safe, and in a good place. But with Hannah, I know nothing. There is a complete lack of communication between myself and her parents. Not a day goes by that I don't worry about what's going on with her. I worry, so much, that she thinks I don't care about her, or I don't love her and think about her constantly. I want to hold her in my arms, like I can with Ashley. I long for my child all the time, and I wonder is she some where out there, longing for me? Does she think of me as much as I think of her? Is she ever going to be able to forgive me for losing her? Does she, like Ashley, worry I didn't want her? Does she know how hard I fought for her? Will she ever understand?
As I sit, starring up at the same big sky that my children are under, and ponder these difficult questions, I know without a shadow of doubt, my children are still my children. And for everything I've done wrong, I've done twice as much to get better. Life is just testing me right now, on patience, tolerance and acceptance, and for my children's sake and my own, I will pass this test. I will never give up or give in to the dark thoughts I sometimes have about myself and my past. I will use those feelings as fuel for my fire, to fight for change of a broken system, to pave the way for mother's and families, to make sure they receive the help they deserve to stay together. I will succeed.
So, in this journey of healing, I acknowledge I have been given this path for a reason, and my children, no matter where they might be, are travelling this path with me So even when this path gets bumpy, as it is right now, I will continue to follow it, wherever it may take me, trusting that my children are indeed "some where out there", and we will someday wish upon the same bright star, together as a family, with their forever families there too. In the meantime, I will continue to have faith like Fivel, and know that love will see us through.
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Friday, March 23, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Living Past My Past: My Seemingly Endless Strugle With The Department of Children and Families
As some of you may already know, I recently welcomed my youngest son Tanner into this world. So far he has brought indescribable joy to my life and his siblings. Tanner was an unexpected addition to my family, but I already can't imagine my life without him. Unfortunately, the joy of bringing this precious new life home has been over-shadowed by the nightmare of my past.
I'm very proud to say I've been in recovery for three years, and have successfully remained sober and have set, and surpassed many new goals for myself and my children. I am a successful Family Support Specialist and Medication Assisted Treatment Advocate for the FRESH Start Program. I have completed numerous trainings/certifications in both Recovery and Parenting. I have been honored to speak at The Massachusetts Health Policy Forum on Substance Exposed Newborns, Schwartz Grand Rounds, and Brown-Bag Lunch at Bay State Hospital, (and was invited back a third time) along with numerous other venues including The Through Her Eyes Conference with Keynote speaker David Peltzer, and most recently have been invited to be a panelist on a national television show about Recovery. I feel I've worked hard to accomplish all this, with the best reward being I've been able to re-connect with my daughter Ashley, and have been welcomed in by her adoptive family.
You would think with all the work I've done, I would be able to step out of the shadow of my past mistakes. That there is truth in the statement "people can change". I myself, believe I am not the same person I was three years ago, I carry the knowledge of where I would be without sobriety, as well as the memory of where I was before, but I am no where near that person. I entered into treatment three years ago because I found out I was pregnant with Tyler. When I gave birth to him I was on 80mgs of methadone. After I delivered, The Department of Children and Families stepped in, crying "History" and took custody of my son. This lasted about 12 hours until the judge over-turned their decision and gave my son back to me, willing to give me a shot at being a parent again. I took this amazing opportunity and ran with it! I ran as far away, in the opposite direction, from that "History" as I possibly could, and I got to where I am today.
Naturally, when I found out I was pregnant with Tanner, and not yet off methadone, (I was on 15mgs) I freaked out! I spent the majority of my pregnancy, dreading my impending show down with the Department. The irony of this situation is I now work with DCF on a daily basis. One of the requirements for entry into my program is involvement with them, so I spend plenty of time in contact with the hard working social workers in my area. Because of this, my supervisors and I spoke with the Department ahead of time to try to ease this process while protecting my relationship with their employees. For those of you that don't know, in the state of Massachusetts, when a baby is born on methadone the hospital must file a 51a(emergency removal of custody). So, I went into the hospital with a plan, or so I thought, that my case would run smoothly through the system, open and shut, simple. Yeah right!
Once again, I've been swindled by DCF. I thought for sure, I was in the clear, they would do what's called an "Initial Assessment", I would get a phone call and we'd be done, I could move on with my life and parent my two youngest children. Instead, they somehow managed to "misread" my drug screens and told me I had tested positive on a few test! What! Are you serious! The best part about that statement was they couldn't even tell me what I tested positive for, obviously because, I haven't been positive for an illicit substance in over three years! I'm appalled by the lack of competence that has been applied to my case. Now because of their mistake, I am under investigation by the Department, they entered my home, checked my fridge and my cabinets for food, pulled the blankets off my sleeping two year old to make sure he was OK. They will be calling my pediatrician and embarrassing me while tarnishing my reputation, and when they're done with that, they will call everyone who works as part of my support system and my treatment providers. When that's done, they will decided whether or not I can keep my kids, with or without their "services". And to top it off, this will all go on my CORI, so next time I apply for a job, I get to explain why I've been found guilty of neglect!
Yes, NEGLECT. I will never understand how being in a treatment program for Substance Use Disorder, and remaining sober can constitute neglect. The worst part is I feel like I'm reliving the nightmare of losing my children, all over again. Going to bed at night worrying if they will be at my door in the morning, because I made poor choices seven years ago. What happened to "Double Jeopardy"? Our legal system protects us from being charged with the same crime twice, then why is it the Department of Children and Families can punish us for the same thing over and over and over again!?
As I await the decision of the ever-powerful Department there is one thing I am grateful for, it has re-ignited my fire for policy change. I have a renewed desire to fight for the rights of mothers in recovery. Substance Use is a disease, just like cancer, it takes over every cell in your body and often requires medical treatment ot overcome. Seeking treatment should not be a punishable offense, yet rather an act that is nurtured and praised. If we as a society start to dissolve the stigma around recovery and advocate for change maybe substance use wouldn't be such an epidemic in this country. Many woman do not seek treatment for fear of losing their children and it's wrong. Do I think everyone in recovery can be a fit parent, absolutely not, but they should be given the chance to change, and if they make the necassary changes they should be allowed to parent their children without interruption from the state.
So, for those of you that pray, please keep my family in your prayers, that we may live through this trying time, and come out the other side, stronger and more secure than when we started. Thanks, and I will update my blog as soon as I hear from DCF.
I'm very proud to say I've been in recovery for three years, and have successfully remained sober and have set, and surpassed many new goals for myself and my children. I am a successful Family Support Specialist and Medication Assisted Treatment Advocate for the FRESH Start Program. I have completed numerous trainings/certifications in both Recovery and Parenting. I have been honored to speak at The Massachusetts Health Policy Forum on Substance Exposed Newborns, Schwartz Grand Rounds, and Brown-Bag Lunch at Bay State Hospital, (and was invited back a third time) along with numerous other venues including The Through Her Eyes Conference with Keynote speaker David Peltzer, and most recently have been invited to be a panelist on a national television show about Recovery. I feel I've worked hard to accomplish all this, with the best reward being I've been able to re-connect with my daughter Ashley, and have been welcomed in by her adoptive family.
You would think with all the work I've done, I would be able to step out of the shadow of my past mistakes. That there is truth in the statement "people can change". I myself, believe I am not the same person I was three years ago, I carry the knowledge of where I would be without sobriety, as well as the memory of where I was before, but I am no where near that person. I entered into treatment three years ago because I found out I was pregnant with Tyler. When I gave birth to him I was on 80mgs of methadone. After I delivered, The Department of Children and Families stepped in, crying "History" and took custody of my son. This lasted about 12 hours until the judge over-turned their decision and gave my son back to me, willing to give me a shot at being a parent again. I took this amazing opportunity and ran with it! I ran as far away, in the opposite direction, from that "History" as I possibly could, and I got to where I am today.
Naturally, when I found out I was pregnant with Tanner, and not yet off methadone, (I was on 15mgs) I freaked out! I spent the majority of my pregnancy, dreading my impending show down with the Department. The irony of this situation is I now work with DCF on a daily basis. One of the requirements for entry into my program is involvement with them, so I spend plenty of time in contact with the hard working social workers in my area. Because of this, my supervisors and I spoke with the Department ahead of time to try to ease this process while protecting my relationship with their employees. For those of you that don't know, in the state of Massachusetts, when a baby is born on methadone the hospital must file a 51a(emergency removal of custody). So, I went into the hospital with a plan, or so I thought, that my case would run smoothly through the system, open and shut, simple. Yeah right!
Once again, I've been swindled by DCF. I thought for sure, I was in the clear, they would do what's called an "Initial Assessment", I would get a phone call and we'd be done, I could move on with my life and parent my two youngest children. Instead, they somehow managed to "misread" my drug screens and told me I had tested positive on a few test! What! Are you serious! The best part about that statement was they couldn't even tell me what I tested positive for, obviously because, I haven't been positive for an illicit substance in over three years! I'm appalled by the lack of competence that has been applied to my case. Now because of their mistake, I am under investigation by the Department, they entered my home, checked my fridge and my cabinets for food, pulled the blankets off my sleeping two year old to make sure he was OK. They will be calling my pediatrician and embarrassing me while tarnishing my reputation, and when they're done with that, they will call everyone who works as part of my support system and my treatment providers. When that's done, they will decided whether or not I can keep my kids, with or without their "services". And to top it off, this will all go on my CORI, so next time I apply for a job, I get to explain why I've been found guilty of neglect!
Yes, NEGLECT. I will never understand how being in a treatment program for Substance Use Disorder, and remaining sober can constitute neglect. The worst part is I feel like I'm reliving the nightmare of losing my children, all over again. Going to bed at night worrying if they will be at my door in the morning, because I made poor choices seven years ago. What happened to "Double Jeopardy"? Our legal system protects us from being charged with the same crime twice, then why is it the Department of Children and Families can punish us for the same thing over and over and over again!?
As I await the decision of the ever-powerful Department there is one thing I am grateful for, it has re-ignited my fire for policy change. I have a renewed desire to fight for the rights of mothers in recovery. Substance Use is a disease, just like cancer, it takes over every cell in your body and often requires medical treatment ot overcome. Seeking treatment should not be a punishable offense, yet rather an act that is nurtured and praised. If we as a society start to dissolve the stigma around recovery and advocate for change maybe substance use wouldn't be such an epidemic in this country. Many woman do not seek treatment for fear of losing their children and it's wrong. Do I think everyone in recovery can be a fit parent, absolutely not, but they should be given the chance to change, and if they make the necassary changes they should be allowed to parent their children without interruption from the state.
So, for those of you that pray, please keep my family in your prayers, that we may live through this trying time, and come out the other side, stronger and more secure than when we started. Thanks, and I will update my blog as soon as I hear from DCF.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Did You Want Me?
I think every bio-mom's worst nightmare is the thought that her children will grow up thinking she didn't want them.I remember prior to my post-adoption reunification with Ashley, laying awake at night praying I would someday have the chance to explain what happened. To tell her it wasn't her fault, and I did everything I could to get her back, I was just too late.
I never expected to have the relationship I do with Ashley and her forever family. Nor did I think my chance to explain what happened to Ashley would come so soon. I always imagined sitting someplace quiet with her, like at the park or on the beach, when we were both older. I figured she would be in her late teens, early twenties when we had this talk.Wow, was I wrong! Instead of the park or the beach, it was my kitchen, and instead of late teens, early twenties, it was ten years old.
Ashley came over my house this past weekend for a visit. I was very excited, because this was the first time I would be able to cook dinner for her since she was removed from my custody. It's the little everyday things we take for granted when we are parents, that I miss the most. I planned on making what used to be her favorite dish, and was even going to show her how to make it. We picked up the supplies from the store and I got right to cooking. She was my helper, and did more chasing of Tyler than cooking, but that was a help in itself!
As I was mashing the potatoes, Ashley came real close, and quietly spoke. I could tell she was nervous, and I know why now. In a shakey voice she asked, "Mom, did they say I couldn't come home or did you not....um...um..." I dropped the masher, I knew what she was trying to ask, she wanted to know if I didn't want her. Now I was nervous. I turned to her, placed my hands on her little shoulders, bent down and looked her in the eye and said, "Ashley, I love you so much, and I always wanted you to come home, but they wouldn't let me have you, because I was sick, but it wasn't your fault, and I love you more than anything in this whole world."
It was here that I began to panic internally. How on earth was I going to explain to this ten year old angel, that I suffered from addiction, and I couldn't no matter how hard I tried, overcome it in time to get her back. So, I took a deep breath and asked, "Do you know what addiction is?" She answered "Well yeah, it's when you start doing something so much, you can't stop." Awesome! She gets it! Now I just had to figure out an age-appropriate way to explain MY addiction.
I must say, I'm very grateful for my faith and the power of prayer, because I swear the right words were placed in my head. I began explaining I was addicted to alcohol, and how that effected my behavior and made me do things I wouldn't normally do, I said it led to other bad things I got addicted to and I became very sick. I referred to some personal struggles she had herself, so she would understand. I then explained I didn't get the help I needed, when I needed it. This all seemed to make sense to her and we continued to have a great conversation over our favorite meal.
At this time of Thanksgiving, I am so thankful for my daughter, her amazing forever mother, and family, and for having the opportunity to answer a question that could have haunted my child for the rest of her life. Even though, this didn't go the way I had planned, I'm grateful I had the chance to share with her. I'm grateful that I have been able to create an environment for my child, where she feels comfortable enough to ask me anything she needs. And I am eternally grateful for her adoptive family, who have made this all possible. Without them I can't imagine where we might be.
So I'd like to say "Thank you", to them and to all adoptive parents out there who have given their children the chance to identify with their first families, and for never giving up on them. Happy Thanksgiving!
I never expected to have the relationship I do with Ashley and her forever family. Nor did I think my chance to explain what happened to Ashley would come so soon. I always imagined sitting someplace quiet with her, like at the park or on the beach, when we were both older. I figured she would be in her late teens, early twenties when we had this talk.Wow, was I wrong! Instead of the park or the beach, it was my kitchen, and instead of late teens, early twenties, it was ten years old.
Ashley came over my house this past weekend for a visit. I was very excited, because this was the first time I would be able to cook dinner for her since she was removed from my custody. It's the little everyday things we take for granted when we are parents, that I miss the most. I planned on making what used to be her favorite dish, and was even going to show her how to make it. We picked up the supplies from the store and I got right to cooking. She was my helper, and did more chasing of Tyler than cooking, but that was a help in itself!
As I was mashing the potatoes, Ashley came real close, and quietly spoke. I could tell she was nervous, and I know why now. In a shakey voice she asked, "Mom, did they say I couldn't come home or did you not....um...um..." I dropped the masher, I knew what she was trying to ask, she wanted to know if I didn't want her. Now I was nervous. I turned to her, placed my hands on her little shoulders, bent down and looked her in the eye and said, "Ashley, I love you so much, and I always wanted you to come home, but they wouldn't let me have you, because I was sick, but it wasn't your fault, and I love you more than anything in this whole world."
It was here that I began to panic internally. How on earth was I going to explain to this ten year old angel, that I suffered from addiction, and I couldn't no matter how hard I tried, overcome it in time to get her back. So, I took a deep breath and asked, "Do you know what addiction is?" She answered "Well yeah, it's when you start doing something so much, you can't stop." Awesome! She gets it! Now I just had to figure out an age-appropriate way to explain MY addiction.
I must say, I'm very grateful for my faith and the power of prayer, because I swear the right words were placed in my head. I began explaining I was addicted to alcohol, and how that effected my behavior and made me do things I wouldn't normally do, I said it led to other bad things I got addicted to and I became very sick. I referred to some personal struggles she had herself, so she would understand. I then explained I didn't get the help I needed, when I needed it. This all seemed to make sense to her and we continued to have a great conversation over our favorite meal.
At this time of Thanksgiving, I am so thankful for my daughter, her amazing forever mother, and family, and for having the opportunity to answer a question that could have haunted my child for the rest of her life. Even though, this didn't go the way I had planned, I'm grateful I had the chance to share with her. I'm grateful that I have been able to create an environment for my child, where she feels comfortable enough to ask me anything she needs. And I am eternally grateful for her adoptive family, who have made this all possible. Without them I can't imagine where we might be.
So I'd like to say "Thank you", to them and to all adoptive parents out there who have given their children the chance to identify with their first families, and for never giving up on them. Happy Thanksgiving!
Monday, September 26, 2011
Happy Birthday, Hannah! Mommy Loves You!
Today is my eldest daughter Hannah's birthday, and so far today has been rather difficult. Being a birth mother is a hard job, you think about your child every day. Are they OK, how was school today, did she brush her teeth, eat her lunch, what if she was picked on and really needs a hug, did her forever mom give her one? When your child lives with you, these are the little things you take for granted, but as a birth mom, these are the little things you agonize over. And then there's the birthday, the hardest day of the year. The day you brought that beautiful child into this world, the day that more than any other day, you want to hug her, kiss her, and shower her with love. More often then not, birth mother's don't get the opportunity to do so.
Hannah was my first child, a baby that I had wanted my entire life. I couldn't wait to be a mother, and I couldn't have asked for a better child. She was a lovey baby, I breastfed and I secretly loved that only I could feed her. It was a special bond we had and I didn't want to share her. That was a good thing, because she didn't want anyone else either. We spent her first 21 months glued to each other. She slept in my bed, she played in my arms, she even had to go in the backpack when the house work or dinner needed to be done, because I of course, could never put her down. She was the unconditional love I had been longing for my whole life, and I couldn't imagine my world without her.
I cherished every little milestone, her first smile, her first giggle, first words, to first steps, she was amazing to me, and I thanked God everyday for giving her to me. She was a gift I could never repay. She was there with me through all my ups and downs, even the death of her sister Moriah, that I know hurt her almost as much as it hurt me. Unfortunately, after all we had been through, my trauma history caught up with me, and I began using substances to hide my suffering. I lost her and my other children, and now Hannah lives with her forever family. Her family isn't as open as Ashley's is with me, but I pray someday, I will be able to call her on her birthday and tell her I love her.
I regret every mistake I've made when it comes to my children, I'm sure every birth mother does. But today, today my hurts and regrets cut deeper than they usually do. I can't explain the pain of not holding my baby today. Even though that baby is 12 years old, they never grow old in our eyes, they are always our babies, right? My hope is someday, she can read this and know how sorry I am for not being there when she needed me the most, for not making the changes I've made sooner, that if I could turn back the clock, I would give my life to ease her pain. I hope today, Hannah knows, she is in my every thought and prayer, and my wish for her is that today is the happiest birthday she's ever had.
Happy Birthday Hannah! Mommy Loves You!
Hannah was my first child, a baby that I had wanted my entire life. I couldn't wait to be a mother, and I couldn't have asked for a better child. She was a lovey baby, I breastfed and I secretly loved that only I could feed her. It was a special bond we had and I didn't want to share her. That was a good thing, because she didn't want anyone else either. We spent her first 21 months glued to each other. She slept in my bed, she played in my arms, she even had to go in the backpack when the house work or dinner needed to be done, because I of course, could never put her down. She was the unconditional love I had been longing for my whole life, and I couldn't imagine my world without her.
I cherished every little milestone, her first smile, her first giggle, first words, to first steps, she was amazing to me, and I thanked God everyday for giving her to me. She was a gift I could never repay. She was there with me through all my ups and downs, even the death of her sister Moriah, that I know hurt her almost as much as it hurt me. Unfortunately, after all we had been through, my trauma history caught up with me, and I began using substances to hide my suffering. I lost her and my other children, and now Hannah lives with her forever family. Her family isn't as open as Ashley's is with me, but I pray someday, I will be able to call her on her birthday and tell her I love her.
I regret every mistake I've made when it comes to my children, I'm sure every birth mother does. But today, today my hurts and regrets cut deeper than they usually do. I can't explain the pain of not holding my baby today. Even though that baby is 12 years old, they never grow old in our eyes, they are always our babies, right? My hope is someday, she can read this and know how sorry I am for not being there when she needed me the most, for not making the changes I've made sooner, that if I could turn back the clock, I would give my life to ease her pain. I hope today, Hannah knows, she is in my every thought and prayer, and my wish for her is that today is the happiest birthday she's ever had.
Happy Birthday Hannah! Mommy Loves You!
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
"Sissy, I need you!" Giving Birth After Termination of Parental Rights
I was given an awesome opportunity Saturday to spend the day with Ashley, AT MY HOUSE! That might not seem like a big deal to some people, but for me, it's huge. When Rebecca asked if Ashley could come over, I was in complete shock. Not because I was really surprised that they (Ashley's parents) would let her, but rather because I haven't been alone with my child in 5 years. Honestly, I was scared. Five years is a long time, you forget or don't know, the little things that every mother knows about her child, like what she likes to eat and drink, her favorite t.v. shows, those kind of things. I was worried maybe it was too soon, and what if she didn't want to stay, or worse, not want to come back. I started to panic, but then I stopped and realized, this is my daughter, it's not too soon, it's been too long! Not only that, but it wasn't just about me, my son Tyler, who lives with me, desperately needed some time with his sister.
When I first found out I was pregnant with Tyler, I was horrified. My oldest two children were up for adoption, and my youngest two were in the guardianship of their paternal grandmother, I had been deemed an un-fit mother by the Department of Children and Families. To top it off, I was actively using substances, I was an addict. How could I be having another child! I went through every emotion possible, I cried, I got angry, anxious and scared, what was I going to do? I remember laying in bed that night, wide awake, sleep wasn't something I had time to think about. I thought about my children, and how wonderful I felt when I had them, they were my world, my reason to live. A reason I had lost and was slowly killing myself because of it. I was tired of dying, I wanted to live again, and I decided this baby was worth fighting for. I wasn't willing to lose another child, ever again.
After a long, sleepless, night, I got out of bed that morning and walk two miles to the nearest methadone clinic. Methadone was something I never wanted to be on, but that day I swallowed my pride and walked through those doors. I filled out the paperwork and met with a counselor, it was the first time in my life I had admitted I was an addict. It was so hard after denying it for years. When she asked me "why are you here?", I said, "I want to be clean, and stay clean, for me and my baby". Two long weeks later, I saw the clinic doctor and I started treatment, and I'm proud to say, I've been clean ever since.
Recovery wasn't easy, in the beginning I felt lost, I didn't know who I was anymore. I had been numbing the pain of my past for so long, I forgot what it was like to feel. Honestly, I didn't like it. Of course I was aware of what I had done to my life and my family, but I felt like I was reliving it all over again. I had night terrors about my children, I could hear them calling me to save them, but I could never get close enough to grab their hands. It was torture, day in and day out, but every morning, noon and night, I reminded myself, "I'm doing this for my baby".
I started engaging in counseling and joined a program called FRESH Start. They worked with pregnant woman and mothers in recovery. I was assigned a Family Support Specialist and in addition to counseling, I met with her once a week. She was also a mother in recovery, it was great to have the support of another woman who knew how I felt. She encourage me to keep fighting, and work through the pain, she said it got easier with time, and by staying on track, not only was I saving myself and my baby, but I would eventually earn my way back into the lives of my other children. All this was great, but I had one obstacle left to deal with, The Department of Children and Families.
Because I was on methadone, it's a federal law that the hospital has to file a 51a, so I knew DCF was going to get involved. I sought counseling from my therapist and my FSS about what I should do. They assured me I was doing the right thing, and everything would be ok. Honestly, I didn't believe them. After losing my children before I knew this could turn out bad. I was scared to death, but what was I to do, not deliver the baby! That obviously wasn't an option, and finally on the morning of July 23rd, my water broke.
I delivered Tyler after 11pm that night. I cried tears of joy as I held that beautiful boy in my arms. He was perfect in every way. I was so happy! I remember, once everyone had gone and we were alone, holding him tightly to my chest as I sobbed and sobbed over the lose of my previous children. How could I have lost them, what have I done! Then I cried even more at the thought of losing him too. All those things that had kept me up the night I found out I was pregnant, had come back with a vengeance. I was so scared and alone, I couldn't tell anyone how I was feeling, because they all just said "it will be ok". But I knew, it wasn't ok.
Tyler had to stay in the hospital for observation, because of the methadone. Most babies have to be medicated, but Tyler got lucky. His withdrawals were minimal and medication wasn't necessary. He was doing great and after 12 days they were ready to send us home. I was so excited and I decided to run to the store for some last minute supplies. When I got back, I got hit with a brick.
The hospital I gave birth at does meconium testing for all babies born on addictive substances. Although methadone is a legal, prescribed medication, Tyler had to be tested. So far all of Tyler and my drug screens had been negative, and I had no idea how this test worked. There are two test done on the meconium, a "Qualitative" and a "Quantitative". The qualitative test tells you what to screen for and the quantitative tells you exactly, to the smallest amount possible, what substances the baby has been exposed to during the entire pregnancy.
Well, when I had returned from shopping, the nurses told me I had to speak to the hospital Social Worker, and DCF was on their way. I started freaking out! What did they mean DCF was on their way? I thought we were going home! The hospital SW informed me that my baby's meconium screen was positive for opiates, cocaine and PCP. I was shocked! I knew I had used cocaine and opiates prior to finding out I was pregnant, so that wasn't a huge surprise, but PCP, I didn't even know what that was. I returned to my room, extremely upset, and my nurse told me, they didn't tell me about the results, because they knew I would be upset. She explained how the test worked and that the first one was often a false positive, so "don't worry". Right, don't worry!
DCF showed up around 3:30, I told him all the great things I'd been doing, and about all the support I had surrounding my recovery. I was honest and admitted substance use prior to having any knowledge of my pregnancy. What a mistake that was. The DCF investigator told me he wasn't too concerned, but would have to call his supervisor to see if I could keep Tyler. When he returned, I knew I was in trouble. He entered my room with the hospital SW, the nurse supervisor, and my nurse. He said he would be taking custody of Tyler due to my "History" and to hand him over to the nurse. I started screaming, and crying, this couldn't be real. The nurse, gently walked over and said "give him to me honey, cry it out, and come down to the nursery to see him". DCF had taken custody, but against medical advice, Tyler's pediatrician, did not agree with their decision and because I was nursing, and Tyler's treatment for withdrawal, they were forced to still let me see him, I just couldn't be alone with him.
Once Tyler had been taken out of the room, I lost it. I was wailing uncontrollably, I couldn't breathe, my head was spinning and my heart felt as though it had shattered into a million pieces. I will never forget, the hospital Social Worker telling me to stop crying and this was my fault, that I had made bad choices and hurt my baby. She kept telling my mother (who happened to be there, thank God) to make me stop. I couldn't stop, my world had crashed on my head, I felt helpless and I couldn't stop my tears. They informed me I had to be in court in the morning, and I have to say I was shocked at what happened. The hospital staff was amazing, they were supposed to make me leave the hospital, but instead they let me stay. In the morning I was told that Tyler's pediatrician would be going to court with me. She had the results of the cocaine test, it was negative. She had been working with me and Tyler for the last two weeks, and she was confident that I was a good mother, and willing to stand up in court and say that to the judge.
When we got to court, my lawyer from my previous case was there to represent me. She said DCF was seeking custody of Tyler and they weren't willing to make any deals with me. We filed a motion to allow the doctor to speak in court and the judge approved. She explained how the test worked, and that I was Tyler's treatment for withdrawal. She said how impressed she was, and that most mom's on methadone, don't work as hard for their babies as I had. The judge turned to me, asked what happened, and what I was doing for treatment and support. He thanked me for my bravery and honesty, then turned to DCF. He told them he was appalled, by their actions, and it was obvious that I would be positive for opiates, seeing as I was on methadone. He said they should have investigated further, before wasting the courts time. He awarded custody back to me, but said I had to stay in the hospital until Monday, when the rest of the tests came back. He also demanded DCF apologize to me and he said he was extremely sorry to me for the Departments actions. I think I almost fainted.
I returned to the hospital, to an anxious staff, they all cheered when I told them the news! I couldn't believe I had won! Unfortunately, the entire ordeal left an impact on both myself and Tyler. After only spending a night away from me, he had dropped a significant amount of weight, not only that but my milk supply was destroyed. I'm one of those people that lose their milk, due to stress. I could still nurse, but the nutritional value of my milk had decreased, and Tyler had to be supplemented with formula.I was so upset, but going home with him was more important than being upset about putting him on the bottle.
On Monday, when both my tests came back negative, I went home with my baby, and a written apology from the hospital SW, stating I had the support of the entire hospital staff. That day was one of the happiest days of my life. Of course, until Ashley met Tyler.
When I found out 8 months later that Ashley wanted to meet her brother, I was overjoyed. Ashley is the only one out of her siblings that knows of her brother Tyler, and honestly, she's doing the best with her forever family and mine. I was nervous the day of their first meeting, but not those two! To see the two of them together you would never know they didn't know each other. It's was amazing. Since then, because of her parent's openness with us, Ashley and Tyler see each other often.
So, of course I was excited for Tyler when Ashley got to come over our house. He anxiously waited in the front yard for her arrival. He told everyone he could "I waitin for Ashwee". When she arrived, he ran to the car to greet her, they both were excited. It was so moving to see them together, at home for the first time! He had to show her everything, and she followed him, interested in every little detail he was willing to share with her. They played in the yard and she pushed him in the swing. Hide and seek was next, Ashley was good at hiding from him and he ran around yelling "Sissy, where are you?". When he couldn't find her he sat in the driveway and cried "I can't find my Ashwee" as tears ran down his face. Being the good sister she is, Ashley left her hiding place to comfort her brother, it was so sweet.
The bond that they share is incredible. I thought maybe there would be a distance between them, because they don't live together, but you can tell by looking at them, that they are siblings. It's actually quite amazing. My grandmother watched as they played, and all she could say was "just look at the two of them", it's like you can almost see the love radiating between them.
As the day wore on, and everyone else had left, Ashley, Tyler and I got some alone time. We went for a walk and Ashley pushed her brother in the stroller. She asked questions about what she was like when she was his age, and wanted to know if they were alike. After our walk we went for ice cream, and then home so Ashley could get picked up. I was talking to Ashley's dad, and her and Tyler continued to play. She helped him blow up balloons and chase them in the wind. Tyler got stuck and I heard him say "Sissy, I need you!", those were the sweetest words my ears have ever heard.
I'm so grateful for the relationship my two children have. They adore each other, and I look forward to the life they will have together. I feel so blessed to be able to share it with Ashley's forever family. I see a huge difference in Tyler since she's been a part of his life, and he spends most of his day talking about her. He likes Rebecca too, and I recently explained that Rebecca was Ashley's mama too. In the car this morning he went on and on saying "Ashley has two mommies, Mama", and I say, " You're right honey"' and he says, "Ashley lucky Mama", and I said, "You are too".........
When I first found out I was pregnant with Tyler, I was horrified. My oldest two children were up for adoption, and my youngest two were in the guardianship of their paternal grandmother, I had been deemed an un-fit mother by the Department of Children and Families. To top it off, I was actively using substances, I was an addict. How could I be having another child! I went through every emotion possible, I cried, I got angry, anxious and scared, what was I going to do? I remember laying in bed that night, wide awake, sleep wasn't something I had time to think about. I thought about my children, and how wonderful I felt when I had them, they were my world, my reason to live. A reason I had lost and was slowly killing myself because of it. I was tired of dying, I wanted to live again, and I decided this baby was worth fighting for. I wasn't willing to lose another child, ever again.
After a long, sleepless, night, I got out of bed that morning and walk two miles to the nearest methadone clinic. Methadone was something I never wanted to be on, but that day I swallowed my pride and walked through those doors. I filled out the paperwork and met with a counselor, it was the first time in my life I had admitted I was an addict. It was so hard after denying it for years. When she asked me "why are you here?", I said, "I want to be clean, and stay clean, for me and my baby". Two long weeks later, I saw the clinic doctor and I started treatment, and I'm proud to say, I've been clean ever since.
Recovery wasn't easy, in the beginning I felt lost, I didn't know who I was anymore. I had been numbing the pain of my past for so long, I forgot what it was like to feel. Honestly, I didn't like it. Of course I was aware of what I had done to my life and my family, but I felt like I was reliving it all over again. I had night terrors about my children, I could hear them calling me to save them, but I could never get close enough to grab their hands. It was torture, day in and day out, but every morning, noon and night, I reminded myself, "I'm doing this for my baby".
I started engaging in counseling and joined a program called FRESH Start. They worked with pregnant woman and mothers in recovery. I was assigned a Family Support Specialist and in addition to counseling, I met with her once a week. She was also a mother in recovery, it was great to have the support of another woman who knew how I felt. She encourage me to keep fighting, and work through the pain, she said it got easier with time, and by staying on track, not only was I saving myself and my baby, but I would eventually earn my way back into the lives of my other children. All this was great, but I had one obstacle left to deal with, The Department of Children and Families.
Because I was on methadone, it's a federal law that the hospital has to file a 51a, so I knew DCF was going to get involved. I sought counseling from my therapist and my FSS about what I should do. They assured me I was doing the right thing, and everything would be ok. Honestly, I didn't believe them. After losing my children before I knew this could turn out bad. I was scared to death, but what was I to do, not deliver the baby! That obviously wasn't an option, and finally on the morning of July 23rd, my water broke.
I delivered Tyler after 11pm that night. I cried tears of joy as I held that beautiful boy in my arms. He was perfect in every way. I was so happy! I remember, once everyone had gone and we were alone, holding him tightly to my chest as I sobbed and sobbed over the lose of my previous children. How could I have lost them, what have I done! Then I cried even more at the thought of losing him too. All those things that had kept me up the night I found out I was pregnant, had come back with a vengeance. I was so scared and alone, I couldn't tell anyone how I was feeling, because they all just said "it will be ok". But I knew, it wasn't ok.
Tyler had to stay in the hospital for observation, because of the methadone. Most babies have to be medicated, but Tyler got lucky. His withdrawals were minimal and medication wasn't necessary. He was doing great and after 12 days they were ready to send us home. I was so excited and I decided to run to the store for some last minute supplies. When I got back, I got hit with a brick.
The hospital I gave birth at does meconium testing for all babies born on addictive substances. Although methadone is a legal, prescribed medication, Tyler had to be tested. So far all of Tyler and my drug screens had been negative, and I had no idea how this test worked. There are two test done on the meconium, a "Qualitative" and a "Quantitative". The qualitative test tells you what to screen for and the quantitative tells you exactly, to the smallest amount possible, what substances the baby has been exposed to during the entire pregnancy.
Well, when I had returned from shopping, the nurses told me I had to speak to the hospital Social Worker, and DCF was on their way. I started freaking out! What did they mean DCF was on their way? I thought we were going home! The hospital SW informed me that my baby's meconium screen was positive for opiates, cocaine and PCP. I was shocked! I knew I had used cocaine and opiates prior to finding out I was pregnant, so that wasn't a huge surprise, but PCP, I didn't even know what that was. I returned to my room, extremely upset, and my nurse told me, they didn't tell me about the results, because they knew I would be upset. She explained how the test worked and that the first one was often a false positive, so "don't worry". Right, don't worry!
DCF showed up around 3:30, I told him all the great things I'd been doing, and about all the support I had surrounding my recovery. I was honest and admitted substance use prior to having any knowledge of my pregnancy. What a mistake that was. The DCF investigator told me he wasn't too concerned, but would have to call his supervisor to see if I could keep Tyler. When he returned, I knew I was in trouble. He entered my room with the hospital SW, the nurse supervisor, and my nurse. He said he would be taking custody of Tyler due to my "History" and to hand him over to the nurse. I started screaming, and crying, this couldn't be real. The nurse, gently walked over and said "give him to me honey, cry it out, and come down to the nursery to see him". DCF had taken custody, but against medical advice, Tyler's pediatrician, did not agree with their decision and because I was nursing, and Tyler's treatment for withdrawal, they were forced to still let me see him, I just couldn't be alone with him.
Once Tyler had been taken out of the room, I lost it. I was wailing uncontrollably, I couldn't breathe, my head was spinning and my heart felt as though it had shattered into a million pieces. I will never forget, the hospital Social Worker telling me to stop crying and this was my fault, that I had made bad choices and hurt my baby. She kept telling my mother (who happened to be there, thank God) to make me stop. I couldn't stop, my world had crashed on my head, I felt helpless and I couldn't stop my tears. They informed me I had to be in court in the morning, and I have to say I was shocked at what happened. The hospital staff was amazing, they were supposed to make me leave the hospital, but instead they let me stay. In the morning I was told that Tyler's pediatrician would be going to court with me. She had the results of the cocaine test, it was negative. She had been working with me and Tyler for the last two weeks, and she was confident that I was a good mother, and willing to stand up in court and say that to the judge.
When we got to court, my lawyer from my previous case was there to represent me. She said DCF was seeking custody of Tyler and they weren't willing to make any deals with me. We filed a motion to allow the doctor to speak in court and the judge approved. She explained how the test worked, and that I was Tyler's treatment for withdrawal. She said how impressed she was, and that most mom's on methadone, don't work as hard for their babies as I had. The judge turned to me, asked what happened, and what I was doing for treatment and support. He thanked me for my bravery and honesty, then turned to DCF. He told them he was appalled, by their actions, and it was obvious that I would be positive for opiates, seeing as I was on methadone. He said they should have investigated further, before wasting the courts time. He awarded custody back to me, but said I had to stay in the hospital until Monday, when the rest of the tests came back. He also demanded DCF apologize to me and he said he was extremely sorry to me for the Departments actions. I think I almost fainted.
I returned to the hospital, to an anxious staff, they all cheered when I told them the news! I couldn't believe I had won! Unfortunately, the entire ordeal left an impact on both myself and Tyler. After only spending a night away from me, he had dropped a significant amount of weight, not only that but my milk supply was destroyed. I'm one of those people that lose their milk, due to stress. I could still nurse, but the nutritional value of my milk had decreased, and Tyler had to be supplemented with formula.I was so upset, but going home with him was more important than being upset about putting him on the bottle.
On Monday, when both my tests came back negative, I went home with my baby, and a written apology from the hospital SW, stating I had the support of the entire hospital staff. That day was one of the happiest days of my life. Of course, until Ashley met Tyler.
When I found out 8 months later that Ashley wanted to meet her brother, I was overjoyed. Ashley is the only one out of her siblings that knows of her brother Tyler, and honestly, she's doing the best with her forever family and mine. I was nervous the day of their first meeting, but not those two! To see the two of them together you would never know they didn't know each other. It's was amazing. Since then, because of her parent's openness with us, Ashley and Tyler see each other often.
So, of course I was excited for Tyler when Ashley got to come over our house. He anxiously waited in the front yard for her arrival. He told everyone he could "I waitin for Ashwee". When she arrived, he ran to the car to greet her, they both were excited. It was so moving to see them together, at home for the first time! He had to show her everything, and she followed him, interested in every little detail he was willing to share with her. They played in the yard and she pushed him in the swing. Hide and seek was next, Ashley was good at hiding from him and he ran around yelling "Sissy, where are you?". When he couldn't find her he sat in the driveway and cried "I can't find my Ashwee" as tears ran down his face. Being the good sister she is, Ashley left her hiding place to comfort her brother, it was so sweet.
The bond that they share is incredible. I thought maybe there would be a distance between them, because they don't live together, but you can tell by looking at them, that they are siblings. It's actually quite amazing. My grandmother watched as they played, and all she could say was "just look at the two of them", it's like you can almost see the love radiating between them.
As the day wore on, and everyone else had left, Ashley, Tyler and I got some alone time. We went for a walk and Ashley pushed her brother in the stroller. She asked questions about what she was like when she was his age, and wanted to know if they were alike. After our walk we went for ice cream, and then home so Ashley could get picked up. I was talking to Ashley's dad, and her and Tyler continued to play. She helped him blow up balloons and chase them in the wind. Tyler got stuck and I heard him say "Sissy, I need you!", those were the sweetest words my ears have ever heard.
I'm so grateful for the relationship my two children have. They adore each other, and I look forward to the life they will have together. I feel so blessed to be able to share it with Ashley's forever family. I see a huge difference in Tyler since she's been a part of his life, and he spends most of his day talking about her. He likes Rebecca too, and I recently explained that Rebecca was Ashley's mama too. In the car this morning he went on and on saying "Ashley has two mommies, Mama", and I say, " You're right honey"' and he says, "Ashley lucky Mama", and I said, "You are too".........
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Adoption Through Foster Care; Am I Still a Good Mother? I Think So!
Had you asked me ten years ago, when my daughter Ashley was born, how I felt about adoption through foster care, I would have told you I felt bad for those poor kids. As I held that precious new life, I would have said "how could anyone lose their child forever" and "that only happens in dysfunctional families". How naive I was then. Never did I think I'd be one of "those" families, but I am. Today, after much self reflection, therapy, and recovery, I can say, I'm still a good mother, despite my children's adoption.
I think when the average person thinks of a "good mother", they picture someone who does everything for their children, the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, soccer games and dance class. A woman who puts her kids first, and would never give them up or allow someone else to raise them. When I think of a "good mother" I too think of these things, but I also see a woman who can admit she makes mistakes, and understands sometimes the best thing you can do for your child is step aside. I've seen this quality in myself, as well as in Ashley's adoptive mother, and I'm proud to say we both have it.
When I began this journey, I thought my daughter was lost to me forever. While Ashley was in foster care and prior to the finalization of her adoption, visits were painful. Although I was seeing my child, she really wasn't there. Whether it was from over-medication in the beginning and fear of betrayal later, our meetings were formal, lacking in conversation, physical contact and often felt scripted. I couldn't stand seeing her like that, it broke my heart. The beautiful child, with a curiosity and zest for life, that I had brought into this world was gone. Lost to a system that had, in many ways, broken her.
Then there was Rebecca and her husband. My daughter's saviors. I left our first meeting with a peace I hadn't felt in years. They were accepting Ashley for who she was and they weren't giving up, like many before them had. My mother often joked, "it takes someone special to love Ashley", and there they were. Those special people had found her, and better yet, they didn't hate me. The fear that whoever adopted Ashley would see me as a monster, had loomed in me for quite some time. I imagined they would keep her from me, with fear I might try to take her or damage her in some way. But not Ashley's parents, they were different.
It was obvious they had educated themselves in attachment, and shared my view, that in order to build a new bond, you have to nurture the first one. Not only that, but because Rebecca was an adoptee herself, she really understood the importance of maintaining Ashley's relationship with me, her birth mother. I have to say, it wasn't easy! I will never forget the first time I received a picture from Ashley, on the envelope "Mom" had been crossed out and the words "bio mom" were written in it's place. I cried for hours, but it was through those tears that I accepted my new role in Ashley's life, as her first mom. After that I realized if I didn't move into the position of "birth mom", Ashley would never fully integrate into her new family. It was here that I believe I regained my title as a "good mother". I had truly stepped aside and let her go. It is in stepping aside that real love can begin. It was the most selfless act I could do for my child. Little did I know it would come with such a great reward.
Ultimately, by letting her go, I got her back. Rebecca and I became, what I consider to be, close friends, and I see her for who she is, Ashley's mom. My visits with Ashley went from awful to amazing! I began to see my beautiful child re-emerge from the ashes of the fire I had started years ago. The tension that was ever present at previous visits was replaced with joy and love. My child and I had rekindled the bond that can only be shared between a mother and daughter, and I owe it all to Rebecca. She has given us a gift that I could never repay, but intend to spend my life trying.
So ask me today how I feel about adoption through foster care, and I will tell you I owe my life to it. Every child, no matter where they started, deserves a forever family. Unconditional love can come from all places, and Ashley has found that she has more than most. Through trauma and suffering, has come peace and joy. My outlook on adoption and love has forever changed and I have Rebecca, her family, and adoption to thank, and for that I am eternally grateful.
I think when the average person thinks of a "good mother", they picture someone who does everything for their children, the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, soccer games and dance class. A woman who puts her kids first, and would never give them up or allow someone else to raise them. When I think of a "good mother" I too think of these things, but I also see a woman who can admit she makes mistakes, and understands sometimes the best thing you can do for your child is step aside. I've seen this quality in myself, as well as in Ashley's adoptive mother, and I'm proud to say we both have it.
When I began this journey, I thought my daughter was lost to me forever. While Ashley was in foster care and prior to the finalization of her adoption, visits were painful. Although I was seeing my child, she really wasn't there. Whether it was from over-medication in the beginning and fear of betrayal later, our meetings were formal, lacking in conversation, physical contact and often felt scripted. I couldn't stand seeing her like that, it broke my heart. The beautiful child, with a curiosity and zest for life, that I had brought into this world was gone. Lost to a system that had, in many ways, broken her.
Then there was Rebecca and her husband. My daughter's saviors. I left our first meeting with a peace I hadn't felt in years. They were accepting Ashley for who she was and they weren't giving up, like many before them had. My mother often joked, "it takes someone special to love Ashley", and there they were. Those special people had found her, and better yet, they didn't hate me. The fear that whoever adopted Ashley would see me as a monster, had loomed in me for quite some time. I imagined they would keep her from me, with fear I might try to take her or damage her in some way. But not Ashley's parents, they were different.
It was obvious they had educated themselves in attachment, and shared my view, that in order to build a new bond, you have to nurture the first one. Not only that, but because Rebecca was an adoptee herself, she really understood the importance of maintaining Ashley's relationship with me, her birth mother. I have to say, it wasn't easy! I will never forget the first time I received a picture from Ashley, on the envelope "Mom" had been crossed out and the words "bio mom" were written in it's place. I cried for hours, but it was through those tears that I accepted my new role in Ashley's life, as her first mom. After that I realized if I didn't move into the position of "birth mom", Ashley would never fully integrate into her new family. It was here that I believe I regained my title as a "good mother". I had truly stepped aside and let her go. It is in stepping aside that real love can begin. It was the most selfless act I could do for my child. Little did I know it would come with such a great reward.
Ultimately, by letting her go, I got her back. Rebecca and I became, what I consider to be, close friends, and I see her for who she is, Ashley's mom. My visits with Ashley went from awful to amazing! I began to see my beautiful child re-emerge from the ashes of the fire I had started years ago. The tension that was ever present at previous visits was replaced with joy and love. My child and I had rekindled the bond that can only be shared between a mother and daughter, and I owe it all to Rebecca. She has given us a gift that I could never repay, but intend to spend my life trying.
So ask me today how I feel about adoption through foster care, and I will tell you I owe my life to it. Every child, no matter where they started, deserves a forever family. Unconditional love can come from all places, and Ashley has found that she has more than most. Through trauma and suffering, has come peace and joy. My outlook on adoption and love has forever changed and I have Rebecca, her family, and adoption to thank, and for that I am eternally grateful.
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