My Long Walk Nowhere; PART TWO

Grieving went wrong

While I didn’t know it yet, my long walk nowhere yet was not over just yet. I came back to Michigan with my 2 living children and buried my son on January 3rd, 1992. Grieving this whole time and getting sick, I forgot that during all this commotion I had gotten a pregnancy test done because I was trying to get the children home and I had to go to the health department for diapers for the younger ones and they asked if I wanted the test done so I said sure; low and behold I find out after the children are taken from me that I am pregnant again, this will make my fourth child in four years and at this point with the grief and the preparations to bury my son, I didn’t know if I wanted another child. I didn’t know if I could handle another heartache. I was scared that if I brought another child into this world and loved him/her this child to would be taken from me and I would soon find out (CPS would try).

Being a grieving, a single parent is the worst thing in the world when you are alone and have no support system and sit at home and are pregnant. Hence, I got myself into school and tried that for awhile but then mother’s day came along and I found myself alone again. This caused me a problem because when it came right down to it and me not having anyone to talk to I took it out on my son and did cause physical damage to him that I would never otherwise have done had my family not all left and my mother was off yet again doing her own thing, living her own life not concerned with her grieving daughter (as childish as that may sound, I needed her and she was not there for me again). Leaving the side of my son’s face black and blue was never my intention and never happened again. That being said when my mother did decide to grace me with her presence after I did that to my son she asked me what happened and I told her and she told me to never let it happen again and to get over the death of my son, he wasn’t here that long anyway. I had no reason to be grieving like this.  My grandparents had lives and couldn’t be expected to help me all the time so I was trapped, and felt unwanted at times. I made a phone call to my ex-husband and two hours later the children and I were gone. I left and went back to where I knew yes it was bad but at least the children and I would have freedom (at least some freedom). I explained to my ex-husband that I was pregnant and it was not his baby and I knew it was a black man’s child and this man took advantage of me after getting me high and drunk, he accepted the responsibility and when my child was born signed the birth certificate as the father. Things seemed to go better and at the beginning he seemed to get his act together we moved and started over. Then it all went south like clockwork, the money ran out he didn’t want to work anymore, he was having me do 3-ways again to cover rent, and then we lost the trailer we were living in. we had to move back with his father then moved in with his mother and that would start our whole CPS ordeal all over again on March 31st, 1994 I took my son to the hospital because he was having problems with his breathing due to chronic lung disease from birth and asked them if they had the equipment to treat my son and when they informed me that no they did not I then asked them to transfer him to a hospital that did. This hospital was not happy with my decision and ran my name to find out if I had any warrants and finding a minor warrant, having me arrested (keep in mind I was the only one there with him at the time).

On the way to jail, the jail did me a favor and called the county where the warrant was located and told them the situation the now Chief of Police told them it was on a fix it ticket and asked if we could come up with $25 and if so to release me. The jail then allowed me to call home and tell them what happen and make them get me. Going back to the hospital and walking up to my son’s floor where they had decided he needed to stay I was meet by a CPS Caseworker, I was told that I could stay at the hospital but I could not take my son anywhere. I looked at her and crumpled up the report and throw it in her face yelling at her “YOU ARE NOT DOING THIS TO ME AGAIN”! She then told me that we had court first thing in the morning and that the judge would let me know if I could take my son then or not.

I stay the whole night with my son at the hospital and come to find out there were no worries of me ever taking off with him because they had placed him on the prisoner ward. Yes, you read that right, the prisoner ward, they held a 6-month-old child on the prisoner ward of a hospital because they were worried a parent would run off with their child and take them to a different hospital for treatment. The next morning, I go to the hearing which was held in a room no bigger than a small office and the Judge looks at me and points blank asks me why I reacted the way I did and about my statement. Even though I forgave the foster care family, I still carried/carry pain and anger inside that would/will never go away at the loss of my child. I explained the whole thing to the Judge about what happened and how my son passed in foster care and he sat and listened and seemed to really understand from my point of view, and with my child just coming off a heart monitor and all that I was just starting to lighten up a bit just to have CPS come right back in again.

He released my son into my custody with the understanding that we were to go straight down to the other hospital and have my child checked out; so this is what we did. We left his courtroom, I looked at my ex-husband told him drop me at the hospital and go pack, we are moving back home where I know if something happens to one of these children they will transport them to the other hospital (by the way during this whole time I found out I was pregnant again with my 5th child). The blessing with moving back to hometown was that I could go back to my own doctor and so could the children see their own doctor again. However being back there meant dealing with all the garbage that came with it, no real home, him refusing to go to work, and oh so much more.

Later that year on September 11th, 1994 I gave birth after being on bed-rest for the better half of this pregnancy because she wanted to be born very early on, this child was the quiet child but didn’t like storms even while I was pregnant she hated them, she came into this world early. Everything was going good things were settling in. We were living with his father and everything was going good and we were fixing up the basement as an apartment so that we had our own place and could still be close to the ex-husband's father. Then all of a sudden people started moving into the house which actually ended up being 13 by end count and I ended up being pregnant a sixth time.

By this time, I was going crazy with worry and everything else because I just knew CPS was going to take the children and I just had this feeling that something bad was going to happen were my life and the lives of my children were going to be turned upside down. I begged and I pleaded the whole time while my children were going through the chicken pox and the house wasn’t being cleaned and this and that. In my eye, I was all alone again fighting for the “Best interest of my children” and nobody was listening, nobody that mattered anyways.

The knock on the door

That day came, that knock on the door, with those papers in hand “We are here to remove your children!” You do not have adequate sleeping arrangements, 13 people living in the house and oh so much more and the day court came around I was the only one that was really on that petition for removal. Everyone else got their children back within a week’s time, regardless of their situation; regardless of a grown woman still sleeping with her 6 and 8-year-old daughters. I was the personal target of one of those people living in that house or on that property at the time of removal because some of them had to sleep in tents outside, and since I was pregnant and had all the children I was allowed to keep the basement as my own and no one was allowed to take it over.

I could not get out of bed to come to the door so the papers were delivered to me as they were taking and putting my children in the cop car. Nobody tried to even stop this action from taking place, no one even cares that I was a high-risk pregnancy. I believe I was in the hospital that night in labor and spent the next 3 days there getting shots to stop it. The whole time questioning in my mind now what was God’s plan and why was I going through this all over again? Was I that bad of a mother? What was I doing wrong? I made Him a promise that if he brought my baby’s home that I would return to the Church and change my ways.

Church the early years

In the beginning we fought hard to get the children home and we fought as one, he was by my side at the hospital every time I had to go in. I took care to not miss a visit with my other children while we valiantly looked for housing, finding one downtown real close to the Department of Human Services just in case we had to walk to a visit. We had them come in and approve the house before we did anything so that this is where the children would be coming home to. Little did I know that there was a charge of child abuse against me, what that meant I still did not know. Still to this day, I do not know all of what the first charges against me where and it is a mute point now.

We moved into the house after it was okayed and upon moving in a couple weeks later I noticed these funny plants growing in the front yard so I asked what they were and found out it was Marijuana and called the Police, “You need to do something with this because I am not going to be held accountable, you know me and know I personally have nothing to do with this kind of thing!” I was told just to pull them up, “you are going to make a report of this call right?” I cannot afford for this to come down on me you know I am fighting to get my children back. Was the extent of the conversation with the officer and he promised me he would make the report accordingly?

A few weeks later after giving birth to my last child and having surgery to stop getting pregnant; I was in a deep state of depression because of the other children not being at home and the postpartum and all; I picked up the phone and reached out to my own family, calling my grandmother. During this phone call, she informs me that my grandfather had passed away the year prior; not understanding what she was saying to me I had a nervous breakdown. I tried to commit suicide; I took 11 Prozac anti-depression pills and chased them with a beer. During this time, my mother-in-law was taking care of the baby and I walked into the room kissed my child on her forehead looked at her and said “take care of my child!”

I was already slipping into unconscious when they all realized I had taken my pills and they needed to get me help; another one of God’s interventions. I should have been gone and nearly was when they shoved the tube and forced the black goop down my throat and into my stomach God said “WAKE UP!” I truly should have been gone that night but I wasn’t and was approached about seeking help and going to a hospital because I tried to kill myself, I told them I would go willingly there was no need for a court order and to set the arrival time for later that night. I would be there, and I was. I spent one whole week in a hospital trying to recover my sanity and getting my emotions in check. When I got a phone call from CPS and the nurses let me take the call because it concerned my children.

The call that changed everything

This Caseworker asked me on the phone how soon I could get out of the hospital because if I was not out within the week she was going to remove my other child from the home, and when I asked her under what grounds she proceeded to tell me the whole story. My oldest children had been in counseling and play therapy for being sexually abused and had come out with; their father was sexually abusing and exploiting them. My daughter at the age of four was able to describe where, when, the color of the house, the inside color of the bedroom and the whole nine yards and she was only about 6 months old when we lived in that house. There was no denying my long time fears that I tried and failed to expose (where they right in the end by saying I FAILED TO PROTECT MY CHILDREN?)

Getting back to being in the mental hospital I had to get out as fast as I could and told the caseworker I would be out in 48 hours or less. I went searching for my counselors, explaining to them the situation and the conversation that I just had on the phone. The only thing they were worried about was my mental health. Looking at each of them, I told them “I am not suicidal anymore. That is not something you have to worry about, what you should be worried about is the fact that I am homicidal!” Apparently they were not too worried about that either because after I had talked to each one of them they told me that as long as I had a plan of action wrote down for leaving that they could see they would sign off on it and they did. That night I planned my release and the release of my daughter from the grips of her father.

The title of my plan had something to do with “Alive again.” It is my belief I died a spiritual death that day and had they not pumped my stomach when they did I would have surely truly died. However; when I left I felt scared, alive, relieved my daughter was safe in my arms and scared because she wasn’t in a car seat either because he just so happen to bring a friend along for the ride. Sitting in the middle made it to where there was no escaping him on the way home, so I had to bide my time and wait.  Calling a friend as soon as I walk in the door at the house, I pack the baby and me a bag after I walk into the bedroom and lock the door behind me. When he comes into the room I tell him I am leaving for the night to be with my child and he is not to be there when I get back in the morning. Nothing more is said as I walk out the door and he is yelling at his mother she is leaving me and taking the baby with her.

The next day I go up to CPS and they sit me down with the report in front of me where my children tell all, everything that he did to them; I am so sick to my stomach I cannot even finish reading the whole thing. I go back to my house and my mother-in-law is sitting there almost in tears. At this point I really do not care, however; I ask what is wrong and she proceeds to tell me that her son tried to kill himself last night. The first thought that came to my head at that particular time was “and he didn’t succeed?” and then I went into details as to what I had read at the DHS office in the CPS file. She said yes I know, it’s all true and I understand if you do not want to be with my son anymore but please do not kick me out. I looked at her with disgust “YOU KNEW! And WANT ME TO CONTINUE TO LET YOU TO LIVE WITH ME!” This one I have to think about, I will give you my decision in the morning, and I went to bed.

The mother-in-law decision

The next morning when I woke up I looked at my mother-in-law and told her never bring him around here, never bring his name up around me, and you have such and such time to find a different place to live. Other than that I cannot throw you out onto the streets the way you would have done me. So I go on and start my life over and start working with a guy up the road and start visiting my children on my own and having my own attorney and doing my own service plane I go through parenting class again and start my GED classes and this time I pass them and achieve this goal it was like when I tried to kill myself; I killed that old me and a new one emerged; stronger than ever however weaker in one aspect. I was ignorant to the ways of the law and family court. I did my service plan to the letter of the law and I did it twice, with the parenting classes I went through it three times just to make sure that the one isolated incident never ever happen again; I was never going to make my poor babies feel pain at my hands ever again. But nobody ever knew that I had done this horrible thing to my child (until now) you know. I wasn’t the best parent in the world, but I wasn’t the worst parent in the world; I admit I made horrible mistakes that helped in the taking of my children, but it was not the end result in the keeping of my children.

   I was at work one day and got a call that my critters (mice) had gotten out, and I had a Caseworker coming over that same day to which my daughter had a diaper rash that was being taken care of because she was allergic to the kind of diapers her father had put on her (when I had let her see her for a supervised visit). How she got a rash that fast is beyond me but there was cream for it and I had put the cream on her she was airing out in her bed and I was taking care of my house and trying to get to my kitchen when the Caseworker showed up, taking pictures. She was yelling at me that my first priority should have been giving my daughter a bath and not catching mice. I told her that the mice cause a hazard for her as well should I leave them run around the house and having just returned home my house was a mess and I could not get to the kitchen to bath her and that she needed to approve my move into the other house with the man I was currently seeing.

She looked at me and said we need a court hearing and to get the child dressed, she was removing the child for her own safety. She was also using the fact that I let the child’s father see her overnight against me even though he was never left alone with her. Growing up with no father in my life it was hard for me to give up on the fact that I had to walk away from the children’s father. They still needed him, every child need’s their parent’s  it is their right to chose whether or not to be in the parent’s life not the other way around the parent has no chose in that matter when they bring a child into this world. That is my belief, and that belief is what I will die by and that is the belief I tried to instill in my children at a young age and apparently that is the one thing my oldest child remembered about me all his life.

While working the service plans and doing everything they asked of me I began to make progress and I did get the children back and they closed the child protective services case. I did win once.