I Survived Hell · 5:46am Mar 30th, 2020
Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that I did not descend into madness this week. This week, above all weeks, was horrid, hard, and crazy. But I lived. If I can, so can you. Here is what happened that made me say I survived.
So about two weeks or so ago, my Dad asked my mom how she would feel about him helping out a friend of his who just had a baby. CPS said that she and the baby needed supervision because of her past history, and my Mom (who loves babies) thought it was a good idea, because she'd do anything to keep a baby with their mom and keep a child out of foster care since my cousin (now 13) was a foster care baby and DID NOT have a good experience. I, however, was none too thrilled by this idea. I'm one of those people who is acutely uncomfortable with babies because I don't necessarily know what to do with them. I adopted my daughter when she was 23, so I never had to deal with any of that (though in her case I'm certain I would have loved to have time with her as a baby because she is so incredibly special).
I was uncomfortable, and told my Mom, but not my Dad, because I didn't want to make it sound... selfish, I guess? Because obviously as a mom when there's a kid in need you do what you have to do to help them, regardless of whether you actually like them or not. I was mostly concerned about how this change would effect my already explosive home environment, and also my family's routine. Bringing a child into the situation is not ideal. The subject was dropped for a while.
Last week I went to the hospital after a mental breakdown from unrelated issues (I left my husband three weeks ago and it caught up to me finally), and I found out that my parents were still talking about it. The CPS rep even came over, but I didn't think anything would actually come of it, you know? Because those people are trained to see through all sorts of BS, and my Dad and his issues are a LOT of BS. She left, and I didn't think much of it.
Amidst this, I'm talking to the housing department at my clinic, trying to get a place of my own. The director thinks I can qualify for independent living, and we do all the forms. The voucher I can get would allow me to have one more person live with me, but the thought of being on my own is more than enough to erase any further contemplation on that.
Then, on Friday, to my absolute shock, the lady and her baby are there. I was thrown for a loop. I wasn't even home from the hospital three days, not long enough to get my sea legs, so to speak, and then there's this upheaval. I was uncomfortable, and certainly I was concerned that I would have to sequester myself in my room because my dog (a chihuahua whom I love but is a yippy little thing) does not take well to people in the house he doesn't know. I figured that would be my part in protecting the baby. Keep my dog under control and all that. I didn't really want to have anything to do with the proceedings going on in the living room, because nobody- not my Mom, Dad, or the CPS caseworker- had ever asked me how I felt about it. I admit, I was a little petulant, but I did feel I had good reason to be at the time.
My Dad came in later that night and talked to me, because my Mom told him about my concerns (I chewed her out on the way to the store for not considering my opinion or feelings on the matter. Not one of my prouder moments.) and he tried to reassure me that it would all be fine, and it wouldn't be more than 90 days at the most. Less if she followed the rules. I got a little peace from that.
Anyways, yesterday rolls around. I come out of my room at maybe like 11:30. My Uncle is picking up Subway. Baby lady and baby are not in the house but the stuff is there. I assume they went to an appointment or something. I have a nice lunch with my family, do some writing, read a little, help mom out with her computer (she's a now-working-from-home teacher who is definitely frustrated with the technology) and the day carries on.
About six yesterday night, My Dad and Uncle get into an argument. My Dad kicks my uncle out. This is fairly normal for them. It usually blows over. I'm not concerned. And I was right not to be. He came back before 8. However, at around 11, my Dad comes into my Mom's room (Mom and I are watching Dr. Phil together) and he is PISSED.
Apparently, my uncle hadn't known about one of my parents needing to be there to supervise baby lady and baby and had driven them to her mom's house earlier that day, hence the fight. Baby lady had said she would be home by eight. It's now 11 at night and neither are back. Dad tells off baby lady for violating the rules CPS gave my parents and her, because if anything happens to that baby, they'll be held responsible and could face jail time. Baby lady is defensive. Says she doesn't need my Dad watching every move she makes and telling her how to raise her child. This is when I find out that baby lady actually had another child, and lost custody of that child to her mom, because she was in jail. That child is now twelve, and she never fought to get her back.
My Dad says he talked to baby lady, and she says she will be back by 12. Meanwhile, I am FURIOUS. I am so pissed I can't see straight. This b**** is coming into my house asking my parents for a favor, and my parents are sticking their necks out for her, risking a lot by doing it, and she is treating it like it's nothing. And on top of that, I just wanted to punch her, because she has this baby she can cuddle and kiss and hold whenever she wants while my daughter is 2000 miles away in Florida and I would give everything I owned just for the chance to hug her. I wanted to be her. Sure, it's not an ideal situation, but she got a second chance, and she shouldn't waste it. It was the most angry I'd been in a long time.
My Dad takes his rage out on my uncle, over the subject of not holding a phone still for him while he tries to put some screws into it. They get into another blowout argument, and this time Mom gets roped in. Dad threatens divorce. It's five in the morning before I get any sleep.
This morning, I wake up. Things are back to normal (storms blow over in a night in my house, usually) but the baby's stuff is still there. I find out that baby lady did not come back. She'd said she'd be coming home at midnight, then one, then 3 AM, but she never came back. She and my Dad get into a huge fight where she blames him for all her problems. He doesn't take her crap.
Dad calls CPS to report this. It's the weekend, they are off, but he gets a hold of somebody. Then he talks to one of baby lady's friends, who will come by to pick up her stuff because Dad won't let her on the premises. I wonder if it's actually over.
I answer the door when her friend comes, and he and my Dad load up his car. Dad blocks baby lady on messenger, and has mom do the same. I rejoice in knowing that at last the nightmare is over, tell my daughter how much I love her and how I hope to god she will never have to question those words like baby lady's children probably will, and video chat my best friend, where we have a drink to celebrate.
Then, I remember that my best friend is unhappy in her current apartment complex because it's unsafe (drugs and such) so I ask her if she wants to use the voucher with me when I go to independent living. She says yes. It's a great high note to end on after a hellish situation.
Somehow I made it through all of that emotional turmoil without another trip to the hospital or engaging in any self-destructive behaviors. I even got up the courage to look at my weight this week and I wasn't scared or obsessive about the number. I'm really glad that I personally am doing okay, but I feel awful for that baby. Because her mother didn't want to stop living her life that baby will probably be put in the foster care system, and have not so good chances in it, probably, because it's not an easy place to grow up. I cannot, as a mom, fathom how you could not put that child first. Motherhood is sacrifice. You and your needs come second the instant that baby is born, and to essentially sacrifice your child because of your own disregard for the rules is something I will never understand.
I knew the way this would end before it started, just because I know the way my family works. It's a hollow victory. I'm saying a few extra prayers for that baby tonight. I'd appreciate it if you all did the same.
And... That's my last few weeks, I guess. Sorry, I know that was a lot. I don't know how to feel about it. I just needed to get it out.
Thanks for letting me share.
Love y'all.
Cloe
These truly are hard times upon everyone. My prayers go out to everyone that matters to me.
Hard times, one can only hope to make it through.
Ironically, the first cat in my family was similar to your dog
Yikes! I'm glad you were able to share all this chaos as, well, not doing so would have kept it all stored inside you and, most certainly, would've not allowed you to lessen your stress levels.
I think you and I have talked on the power of writing when it comes to coping with and getting through difficult times. You should be very proud of yourself for being able to share this along with not requiring another trip to the hospital. It is a sign of you growing stronger as a person. No doubt, as life may throw more your way, this small victory / success on your part to keep it together despite having so many things out of your control will serve as a 'marker' for how if you did it once then you can do it again.
I am very experienced in being mentally overwhelmed, diminished by others, and kicked while I'm down. However, over the past 12 years, I've been getting a lot better in keeping myself together despite hardships. It all started from a moment like you just shared. A time where, despite the traumas, you made it through and are still seeking happiness despite it being such an uphill battle.
Be proud of yourself, Ms. Rarity. Continue to write journals and stories to help gain additional control of your life. We can't control outside factors but we can control what we do with them. Perhaps you could make a story in which that poor baby ends up in a more positive environment? It may not make it true but it is a great way to express how you know there is a better life for a child who did not ask to be born to someone who does not put their kid first.
You may have seen my stories here on how I rewrote my experience in losing all my eyesight. Things IRL are not as great as the stories I've written. However writing the stories help me feel better about knowing I can have just a small bit of control over that which I can't directly improve.
I wish you all the best as you continue to fight for that better tomorrow. It is individual's, such as you, who help others see that they, too, can get through tough times. It's not easy but, quite truly, even this journal may have helped save someone from doing something they'd regret if not for seeing how you made it through without taking any such negative actions.