I answered my door and you'll never guess what happened next...
April 13, 2017
Archived from April 25, 2015
April 26, 2017
Archived from April 25, 2015
April 26, 2017
I wrote this on my Facebook just two months after my children were removed from my home.
I remember what life was like amidst the chaos of rearing children. I remember how busy, curious and ingenious my tiny humans were. They consumed every moment of mine every single day. They made me into a better person. I was no longer selfish, or self-centered. Everything I did, I did for them. I rememberthe very moment that each child was born. I remember feeling their tiny warm bodies on my chest. I remember falling endlessly in love as if meeting each child was my very first journey into motherhood. I remember knowing that my life had a purpose even greater than I could have ever imagined. I remember each child’s firsts and how my heart would effortlessly skip a beat with each new milestone. I remember rocking babies to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, and nursing them down each and every night. I remember my primal instincts that would not let them cry it out, and I remember feeling so overcome with exhaustion and pushing through for my family. Some of my favorite moments are those that replay in my mind constantly. The baby snuggles, the wet kisses, the screams of excitement when I would pick them up from school, the hugs and kisses each night before bed. These children are the reason that I get out of bed each day. My life belongs to these Zs, it has been that way for the last eight and a half years. I chose the hard road and solidarity by choosing to start our lives over after years of a failed marriage and discovering my own worth. I chose to better our lives, and that is exactly what I did. I remember saying “I do” with a man who I thought could not possibly exist, and I remember how he changed our lives. I remember the look on his face when I said “I’m pregnant” and knew that a baby of his own was all that was left that he had been longing for to make our lives complete. I often find myself clinging onto the hope that one day all of these things will be our reality again. That my babies, our babies will be home where they belong. I remember the day that our children were ripped from our arms as if it were yesterday. I was seeking medical attention for my baby for the second time after having my concerns dismissed initially. I remember the look on the doctors face when he said “someone hurt your baby” and I remember thinking to myself “There is no way!”. I remember begging for someone to test her, and begging for someone to listen just as I remember everyone being so dismissive of my claims. I remember the day that I was told that allegations were made against my husband for abusing the baby he had waited so long for, and that was the day that I knew I had to stand up and fight. No longer was this about a medical condition in the eyes of the state department. This was now what they had hoped would be an open and close case of abuse and neglect. I remember questioning doctors and refuting everything that they were saying. I remember telling them that they weren’t (and still aren’t) doing their jobs. I was the voice that couldn’t be heard because I don’t hold a medical degree. I was an advocate for my baby, my children, my husband and lastly myself. I remember the detective trying to manipulate his words in an effort to trick me and make me turn on my husband for a crime I know he didn’t commit. I remember telling him “our relationship is great” and his response of “oh great? Not just good?” I remember telling myself to cling to the truth, and have faith in the man that I lay down with every night to do the same. I needed to be strong for him just as he needed to be strong for me. I remember saying “How secure do you have to be in your relationship with someone to just KNOW that they would NEVER do what you are being told they’ve done?” I cannot recall a time in my life when I have ever fought so hard for anything that meant so much to me. I remember the very moment the night the children were taken away when I had to tell my mother over the phone what had happened. I remember feeling like there was a house sitting on my chest that was preventing me from breathing systemati