DECEMBER 2008 Story of the Month:
:
‘Mommy’s Going Away for a While’
I couldn’t change fast enough to bring my children home.
BY ROBIN LARIMORE
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| Art by Terrence Taylor |
I grew up in different places: my mother’s house, my aunty’s house, foster homes and group homes. By the time I reached my teen years, I was an emotional wreck.
I felt like I could trust no one. I even thought that being hurt and abandoned was how my life was supposed to be.
I met my boyfriend when I was 16. I felt so alone. I needed someone to let me know that I was worth being alive because I felt like I didn't belong.
The Hardest Thing Ever
At first my boyfriend made me feel special. But after I had been with him six years and had had two children, I realized that he cheated and abused me emotionally and physically. He always said it was my fault. He had me thinking he was the only one who would ever care about me.
Getting the strength to leave took time because I was scared. If I left, my children and I would have nowhere to live and I would have no way of supporting us. My best friend died in a domestic violence shelter so I did not want to go there. I was crying every day, not knowing what to do.
Finally I decided to place my children in foster care. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I was so afraid that they would have some of the same bad experiences I’d had as a child in foster care. But I felt I had no other choice.
Are My Children OK?
My son was 4 and my daughter was 2 when I told them, “Mommy has to go away for a little while and I will get you back home as soon as I can.” I didn't want to tell them why because I felt they were too young.
After that, I became deeply depressed. Every day I asked myself: “Are my children being taken care of?”
I said to myself, “I am going to work as hard as I can to get them back home.” I thought it would be easy, but it was hard. About 9 years ago, I lost my rights and my son and daughter were adopted.
After placing my kids in care, I stayed in hiding for over a year, not even seeing my children. I knew they would never understand.
Then one day I was going to the store when my ex walked up on me. I was so scared, I just froze. He said, “You thought I wouldn't find you” and told me how much he loved me. He said that we should work it out and that he kept my ID under his pillow because he missed me so much.
I was tired of hiding and running. I convinced myself that my ex would change if I went back to him, and that at least I could see my kids.
My first visit with my children was so emotional. They asked me, “Can we come home?” and that tore me apart. I said I was working on it. But the beatings started again, and my depression and fear kept me from trying to leave.
Hiding the Bruises
In those years, I would stay in bed and, when I did get out, I would drink, cry and listen to sad music. I didn't see my family—my boyfriend had me thinking that they didn't care. I barely ate anything and that didn't bother my boyfriend because he wanted me skinny.
Sometimes my friends would come over and I’d drink with them. I kept everything in and just laughed with the girls, and some days we would cry together. Mostly I drank myself to sleep.
Usually my boyfriend wasn't home. When he was there, sometimes it would be fun, but other days we would fight and it was just crazy. This man had a way of scaring me. Sometimes I would let him beat me and not even move.
I knew that wherever my kids were, it was better than putting them through what I was experiencing.
Things got so bad I started to cancel visits. The bruises from my boyfriend lasted weeks at a time; all I did was stay in the house so nobody would see me. My case was changed from voluntary placement to neglect. Instead of moving closer to getting my kids back, I was moving further and further away from them.
‘You Don’t Deserve This’
When I got pregnant again, I said to myself, “What am I doing? I'm so messed up. Everything is crazy.” For a little while, I overcame my fear and went to a shelter. But in the shelter, I was lonely, confused and depressed.
One night I let my boyfriend stay with me in the shelter and he beat me. The next day I got kicked out. I was crying. I felt like dying.
The lady next door came into my room and said, “I want to let you know that I called the manager. I could not sit in my room and allow this to go on, sitting there and doing nothing.”
I started yelling at her, telling her, “You got me kicked out!”
She grabbed my face and said, “Look in the mirror. You don't deserve this. You should not allow anyone to beat you like this.”
I knew she was right, but I was not ready to take control of my life.
Totally Depressed
Soon after, my boyfriend came around again. The words he spoke were so sweet. He told me he was working and that he had stopped hanging out because I was right, he needed to be home more. He even said he’d go to counseling if I wanted to. He asked me to marry him and I said yes.
But in no time my boyfriend started hitting me again, and the whole cycle began to repeat once more. Over the next two years I’d move to a shelter and start seeing my kids, then get back together with my boyfriend until he started hitting me. Then I’d stop seeing my kids.
My kids kept asking, “When are we coming home?”
“Soon,” I said, but years passed by. Through it all, I was totally depressed. I could not seem to protect myself or my children.
When I think of it, I wonder, “What was wrong with me?” But I really believed that my boyfriend loved me and I really wanted us to be a happy family.
Finally, after my children had been in care for six years, I began to take more control of my life. I began to notice that when my boyfriend wasn’t around, I felt better. I knew I had to make decisions for myself so I wouldn’t also lose my baby son, William.
I told myself, “You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you don’t care about yourself, you can't care for no one else.” I went back to school and began visiting my children regularly.
The Strength to Leave
I met my children’s foster mother and we developed a good relationship. We would meet at her house or at mine. If my kids were giving her problems, she would call me and I would try to help out.
I started parenting and domestic violence classes while my mom and dad watched William.
I also left my boyfriend. I finally realized he liked the feeling-sorry-for-herself-Robin, not the Robin who felt good about herself. Even though I was scared (I’m still scared of him today), I knew I wasn’t going back.
About a year later, the foster mother told me she was going to move down South and that she did not want to adopt my children because she wanted them to come back home to me.
Adopted by Strangers
We had a court date coming up, and I felt good. I thought the caseworker would tell the judge how I was improving and ask him to give me more time. But this court date changed my life.
The caseworker said all the bad things and none of the good. The only person in court who had my back was the foster mother, but the judge ruled that I’d permanently lose my rights to see my children, and they would be adopted by strangers, not the foster mother I knew and liked. No one even asked what my children wanted.
My lawyer told me he could fight it for me, and I should call him, but I just walked around for hours thinking and crying.
Case Closed
Finally I decided that if I fought the adoption, my kids would probably keep bouncing from home to home the way I did as a child. I didn’t want my kids to hurt so I decided to let them be adopted.
But I regretted it every day that went by. I missed them so much.
My mother went to court to try to get custody and they would not give her custody. My whole family was so upset.
In the years after they were adopted, each one of my children’s birthdays was so sad for me. My family and I looked for my children online, but we had no luck. I even got somebody I knew to look up the case but they said it was closed.
In the years since, I have learned that I deserve better than to be abused. Not long after I broke up with my boyfriend, I met a guy who I had a baby boy with. He didn't show his true colors until about two years later, when he started to put his hands on me.
This time I had more support to help me through and I left him. For the past two years now I’ve been in a relationship that is not abusive.
I am really happy that I’ve come so far, from a deep depression, chaos and feeling sorry for myself to having a stable home, a good job running a support group so I can help other women, and a positive relationship with no abuse.
A Call From My Son
I’ve also been able to reconnect with my son. A few years ago I got a letter from a caseworker stating that my son wanted to see me. I cried tears of joy.
After a long wait, my son and I got to talk on the phone. It was the most beautiful thing just to hear his voice. He also left me a message that I still have and listen to every day.
The agency also set up a visit between the adoptive parent and myself. I showed her respect but the things that came out of her mouth were just crazy. She said she didn't want my son but she didn't want anybody else to have him, either.
I was so upset. I thought I would never be able to see my son. But the agency kept trying, and finally I saw him.
The Happiest Day
That was happiest day. We talked and laughed. We have seen each other three times since.
My son just turned 16. I’ve been telling him what it was like when he was little and he’s been telling me things he’s done. He’s not quite ready to talk about why he ended up in foster care. We are taking our time to get to know each other.
I haven't heard from my daughter yet, but I'm sure I will.
I am so happy to be visiting my son again. I never believed this would happen. I’m also glad he’s seeing how I’ve changed my life, even if I couldn’t change fast enough to bring him home.
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