The Mouths of Children Today

Maybe I'm old fashioned, maybe I'm old school or bordering near being The Crypt Keeper as my daughter likes to call me...but it's amazing to me how kids have changed since I was young.

I know it has to do with how they are raised and their environment. I know kids always mouth off to their parents, just to see what they can get away with. I remember attempting the "storming off out of the room" routine that I always saw on television. Somehow that never worked. My mother was never like Pa Ingalls. When Brittany's behaviors were at her worst, she'd swear at me like a sailor. I never knew she knew all those words and I still don't think she knew what they meant. I told her if I had ever talked to my mother that way, I'd have gotten a slap. So, I never knew where it came from, but then it made me realize it came from other kids at school.

This past weekend, I went to visit one of my best friends that I've known since I was 12. She was with me when I thought I was straight and we've had a few years of losing touch with each other for what ever reason. She has been with her boyfriend for 12 years I think, so it is more than a passing thing. And he is a wonderful guy...I love him to pieces. He has 2 kids, the girl is 15 and the boy is now in college. It's true, the girl is a bit high strung, but the language that came out of her mouth shocked me...what shocked me the most was that her father was joining in with her...with F**** You....no F*** you. Oh I say that glorious word all the time, amoung others as do most people. But then when I said to my friend, "Wow she does have a mouth on her doesn't she?" My friend says, "Well, we let them swear and it's not a big deal. We used to talk to them and tell them not to, but it's just easier to let them talk the way they want."

Is it me, or is that crazy? Oh I know they disagreed with choices I made about Brittany when she was younger. They thought she shouldn't be on any medication, Period. And I respect their decisions in parenting as their own. I guess we will always disagree on this point. I think about this girl in the workplace, dealing with the public, hopefully she knows when it's okay to use the language and when it's just not appropriate. For me, it's disrespectful and blurs the line between parent and buddy. But I see young people today in the clothes they wear and the way they talk...it's just amazing to me that it's been allowed to happen. Of course, you can do the best you can do and kids still make bad choices and don't turn out the way you hoped.

Oh I'm sure my mother thinks I turned out wrong myself. I used to think she taught me some good things, but maybe they were things I already knew and were in my soul...because she, herself has not learned them. So, it's not all parenting....

But some of it should be.

The Girl...

Well, by popular demand, here is a picture of Cindy and I. I am on the right. It's not a bad picture, I guess.

Yesterday was my 41st birthday. I was so touched that my daughter, Brittany, remembered. She called me! She says, "Well Mom, it's the BIG 4 1!" I always think about my mother on this day. I always wonder what she thinks about, or if she even does anymore. Whenever Brittany's birthday comes around, every St Patrick's Day, I think of her, remember all the things about her birth and everything leading up to that point. But I guess I am different than my mother.....and for that I am grateful.
For my birthday, I was able to buy myself something I have wanted forever...a LAPTOP computer! YAY! Oh it is beautiful...it gets me in the spirit to start writing again. I received another rejection letter from my book, but I am not deterred. Right now, life is good.

A Girl in Waiting....

By popular demand, this is the story of the girl I found...

Sometimes things happen and it seems like the wrong time, wrong place and you think it will never work out...but somehow it does.

Back in 2004, I was in the process of moving back to Iowa from Cheyenne, Wyoming, due to my grandmother's failing health. I was coming out of an unfulfilled relationship with a woman 12 years older than me....(I will be 41 in another week...yikes!) and she was 49 when we met online. I was with her for almost 3 years and though I really thought I loved her, I knew all along there was something missing. She never wanted to live together....I was a visitor to her, we'd go out to eat, watch movies and spend the night at her house. I wanted more than that...she tried to be sort of a mother figure to me....something I've had too much of with women....telling me how I should do this or that. Either accept me for who/what I am and get over yourself. When you are with someone and find yourself wishing for that perfect person for you...it's time to leave. So, knowing I was moving back to Iowa to care for my grandmother, I began going through Planetout.com and read through several ads and left my own and answering a few. I answered alot of ads and no one wrote back. I left for Iowa in November for a week to look for a job and attend an interview. I came back and someone had written me back. Now, of course, it is unclear to me whether she answered my ad or I answered hers. She lived in a town 2 hours away from where I would be living, Marshalltown, Iowa. So we started writing each other emails in the time before I moved. She was 4 years younger than me, which I enjoyed knowing. She grew up on a farm in Illinois and had gone through many deaths in her family and also had worked in the same field as I was in....with developmentally disabled adults. Her name was Cindy.

So I moved to Marshalltown and we kept emailing. Then we started chatting on yahoo messenger and I never laughed so hard. It felt good, really good. Getting to know each other through letters and chatting was such a good thing. And though it seems this is how I've met most of the gfs I've had, this time seemed different. We went through Thanksgiving and Christmas writing each other and then started calling each other. We started talking about meeting in person. I couldn't wait, but lordy it was scary...but I just couldn't help jumping in. There was so much ease of which we talked, it was like I hadn't talked to anyone before.
Well, since I was not working yet, in January, Cindy decided to book a room at a hotel in Marshalltown, to come and meet me. She got double beds, just in case...she thought of everything in case one or the other happened. I knew once I saw her, that would be it for me.

I am, by nature, a shy person in many situations...especially meeting women. My last gf I met in a hotel room also and spent hours not wanting to make any moves. The minute she opened the door, all of that melted away. We sat on the bed, talking and I made the first move. Something which I have NEVER done before. We laugh about it now as I try to tell her how shy I am and she laughs..."whatever!" We spent that weekend together and it seemed so natural and there was no question that I loved her and people would think we were crazy but it was that fast and all encompassing. I'd really never met anyone like her, just so simple, no pretenses....I think it's that farm air....fresh! LOL I wanted someone I could be silly with and didn't care that sometimes I am emotional and accepted me for me, flaws and all.

So we were together then. Problem was that I'd made this committment to my grandmother, so we'd have to see each other when we could. I finally found a job and would drive to go see Cindy when I was off, every couple weeks. I began feeling pressure from my family, they complained when I wasn't working, that my grandmother was paying my expenses and when I was working, I was working too many hours, blah blah blah. Plus I wanted to be with Cindy so much, for good...it was stressful on my heart being pulled from so many directions. All the talking behind my back, I didn't sign on for that. But my family is famous...or infamous, for not talking to anyone...better to talk behind your back than to your face. My grandmother knew she was declining in the time I was there. She understood this. I was doing this for a transition period, when it was my father, aunt and uncle that should be figuring out what to do, but they wouldn't talk about it, and I just did it. Instead, they threw up their hands...gee, Julie solved everything. Of course, they thought I'd stay forever. I wasn't counting on meeting Cindy, that's for sure. How could the master plan be for me to finally meet the perfect person at this particular time in my life. Like dangling the carrot and then say....oh just kidding! Cindy was only in Keokuk to look after her mother, as she promised her father before he died. She'd lost her father, a brother and a sister in the past 10 years.

So, I did some homework, made several long phone calls, searching for another option for my grandmother, because even if I stayed, I had to work and her health was declining. I finally found the perfect organization/agency that did home health care, doing the things I did...grocery shopping, picking up meds, housechores, cooking. I talked to my aunt first when we went out for lunch. My aunt is the one I've been closest to, because, kind of like me, she was the black sheep. She drank sometimes too much...at the most inopportune times, of course. She agreed with everything I said and said she would help me talk to my grandmother. We had this plan to talk after I got off of work sunday evening. When I arrived, my aunt was drunk and says, "Go ahead, Julie, tell her..." I was pissed...this was not how I wanted to do this. But she forced my hand. My grandmother was good about it and had assumed I'd be leaving. I talked to her about this place and she didn't want a stranger coming in. Well, Cindy and I were leaving for Wyoming that week. I knew the airwaves were hot and heavy with conversations about what an ass I was for coming and then leaving. If they had taken responsibility in the first place, I wouldn't have been there. The flip side is though...I would never have met Cindy had I not been moving back...so I had to be grateful. When Cindy and I came back from Wyoming, my idiot rich uncle had talked my grandmother into selling her trailer(which was a really nice trailer) and moving to assisted living that she can't really afford. This is what happened, and I've been the bad one ever since. Though my father didn't talk to me from the spring until I initiated things in December. How sad that is. In the interim, he and my stepmother discovered it was my uncle to did the nastiness. So my grandmother is in assisted living for a mere $3000+/month. Once the money runs out, she'll have to go to a nursing home because they don't take title 19. This place is the ritz of places. My grandmother knows why I left and she told me, "Don't feel bad...I know that I've gone down hill in the 6 months you've been here. You gave me those 6 months in my house, I might not have had." How that broke my heart...but I knew she knew. And my aunt too. My grandmother really likes Cindy and she told Cindy "You better take good care of her!" LOL

So in June of 2005, I moved in with Cindy and it's been wonderful. I hadn't lived with anyone since the gf in Rock Springs, WY. It was an interesting adjustment, especially because it was so hard to find a job here. Cindy helped me so much, never judged me, never questioned me, though sometimes, she probably should! Today I am more in love with that girl than ever....there's never been anyone I've felt so at home with. Her mom even loves me! Though Cindy is not out to her family, her mother accepts me as Cindy's friend and probably thinks I am staying here temporarily....somewhere inside, I think maybe she knows, not the extent. Who knows. So we've been together a 1 1/2 years now, and living together almost a year and I can't wait for the next day with her. Cindy is an MRI tech with a traveling mri truck and the stories she tells! She's so cute!

I loved it when my daugher, Brittany met her. "Well mom, you finally found yourself a younger woman!" LMAO

Poem For Mother's Day

In honor of Mother's Day, I present this poem I wrote a few years back after I saw my mother out on the street. It's now been 17 years since I've seen or talked to her. Sometimes, it's a good thing....


Passersby
I saw you walking out on the street today,
Like you hadn’t a care in the world,
Making conversation with someone you know;
Strange,
You seemed to have so much to say,
And I had to wonder
If you ever wonder about me.
I saw you walking out on the street today;
Just a passerby I seem to be,
As you walk on past,
Never taking a second glance at me,
Or even a first,
I wonder what is in your mind
As your feet carry you away.
Strangers on the street,
Just passing by on the way to somewhere else;
No recognition, nothing familiar,
No one knows your name,
Just passersby to each other--
But
I once called you mother.
1997

Choices & Changes--Part 13

Life was a bit too scary then in the fall of 2004. Brittany's statements to DHS were in early September and I did not find out until mid October. I am puzzled still as to the events. My first instinct was that this was all due to my being gay. She would not have chosen that horrific thing to say, had I been straight. But, to this day, I still believe that she didn't choose it on her own. Maybe it was not intentional, maybe it was...I do not know. I just know Brittany and I know how easily she is led into a conversation...it's part of her disorder, it's why she never understood that she was really lying, she believes it's the truth. I've thought of this scenario ad nauseum in my head....all the foster mom, or anyone would have to say is, "Did something happen with your mom?" Or "Did she hurt you?" But I feel that the foster mom does not approve of my being gay and it has crossed over to Brittany.

My conversation with the DHS director was maddening, to say the least. She asked me what happened, so I told her about the behavior. She didn't believe I did anything and didn't even know IF I was under investigation or not. How could she not know? It seems everything was a mess because Brittany lived in a different county than where this allegedly took place. And in the Cheyenne office, there was a new supervisor/director. The Rock Springs/Green River office couldn't handle it because it was out of their jurisdiction. So she suggested calling the Cheyenne office since they were handling it. I called there almost every day, leaving several messages. Finally, after a few days, I get a return phone call. They don't know who I am or anything about the case. They suggested calling the Cheyenne Police Department to see if a report was filed. Now, wouldn't you think if a report was filed, they would have been knocking down my door? The first detective I talked to knew nothing about anything and referred me to someone else. The case ended up being passed around to 3 different detectives. In mid Novemeber, almost 3 months since this whole thing began, I finally talk to the last detective and he was decent enough to ask me to come down to the station to fill him in because he'd just been handed the case and knew nothing about it. I told him I would be happy to. No one even wanted to talk to me...it was frustrating that I was the one who had to make all these phone calls and push someone to tell me anything. I mean...what if I really had done something? It makes me fear for the children caught in all the red tape of bureaucracy.

Once down at the station, talking to the detective, who was very decent and honest, I decided it was only fair that I tell him everything. I told him Brittany's complete history up to then and where I believe this came from...and yes, I told him I was gay. He was very respectful and understood my concerns and felt I was on the right track after what I told him. He said that he was fairly certain that the case would be dropped, as there was no evidence.

I was leaving for Iowa to visit my grandmother, whose health was failing, both of them, actually. My grandmother(the one I lived with early on) needed someone to be with her. I really grappled with so many things. This whole ordeal bothered me beyond all comprehension. It was just one more thing. I felt betrayed, after everything I've gone through with her and I knew another tough choice was on the horizon.

After my visit with my grandmother, I decided that now was the time to make a move back to Iowa to live with my grandmother. I had decided that if I backed out of Brittany's life, at least for now, she couldn't use me as a weapon. I have felt like I've given her up over and over again...it's that open wound that just keeps getting punctured again and again. For some reason, it's how it's supposed to be. I believe that.

I chose not to contact Brittany and I didn't for the longest time. I wrote her and told her I was moving and I would write her. It was difficult not mentioning anything about the events of the past summer, but I didn't. One of my best friends told me, "Julie, no one would blame you if you just cut those strings. You have been through hell with this kid...you just kept hanging on even when she beats you down. It's okay, you don't have to be the hero."

So I moved back to Iowa and didn't hear from Brittany for the longest time. I contacted the DHS director and told her all that went on. She didn't realize all that had happened and told me it should not have happened that way at all. Gee, really? I told her I was not contacting Brittany on my own, in order to give her space. She agreed that for now, it was a good idea. A couple months later, Brittany called me and we talked and God, how it tugged at me. But things got a little better, I think.

In the interim of moving from Wyoming to Iowa, I met Cindy online....and so another chapter of my life. I was still living with my grandmother(another dramatic story). In May of 2005, I was going to drive out to Wyoming to visit friends and Brittany. Cindy was going to go with me. A couple days before I left, Brittany called me in hysterics at work. She and her foster mom were having a knock down drag out fight. I talked to the foster mom, also. She told me that Brittany became enraged and began hitting her, "assaulting" her, as she put it. She still didn't believe all that was different about Brittany, after all these years. She said she was calling because Brittany was telling her that I was coming out there to take her home to Iowa to live with me. Here we go again. I explained to her that nothing of the sort was happening, nothing like that had ever been talked about. It had started over laundry. Something so simple. I suggested to the foster mom about getting Brittany re-evaluated. She said she did and whomever tested her, evaluated her, stated there was nothing wrong, though she might be a little slow. I think the person who tested her is slow. Brittany must be a modern miracle to go from mild retardation to just fine in a few years. I spent this phone call talking with Brittany, reassuring her that she's done so well living there and I knew how hard it was, and that it was hard on me, too....and sometimes, the hardest things turn out to be the best things we can do. Did that ever break my heart, hearing her cry for me to be with her. Still tears me up. I finally mentioned to her about last summer and what happened and that she cannot tell those stories. I told her how serious that was..how I could have been arrested, lost my job and lost everything. All she said was, "I know, I know."

So, I went to Wyoming and saw her. I generally do not visit her unless someone is with me. I feel like I never know what she will say, who she will say it to. I believe things are better now. I saw her in March for her 17th birthday and it was good, so good. I am concerned about her future because I feel she has been sort of brainwashed by these people in believing she is just like everyone else her age. Clearly, she's not. Not realizing these things could prove dangerous in the future, in the job place. She goes to counseling at school and says it helps her to talk. The guardianship ends when she's 18 but she won't graduate til she's 19...so we will see.

Like I've said, I know in my heart of hearts that this was the plan, in some grand scheme. I've chosen to believe there is a reason for the struggles, the heartbreak, the fighting to get someone to listen to me. It has been my path and it has been hers to carry on, wherever it leads her.

I know there will be more challenges ahead....after going through the past 17 years, I think I can make it through anything.

I hope!

Where To Go, What To Do...Part 12

Things had settled down pretty much over time and Brittany appeared to be doing well. I was bothered, though, by the simple fact that the foster parents really did not believe that Brittany had all these problems. They thought she was a normal teenager. I know that she's not and that's just the cards that were handed to her. It's important to accept the things that just are and not wish they were different. Before I get too far ahead of myself...

Things were going fairly well in 2003, so I had an idea that I would bring Brittany back to Iowa for Christmas. She hadn't seen anyone in the family for at least 6 years. It was a big undertaking because I had to drive to Green River, get Brittany, bring her back to Cheyenne and then drive to Denver to fly out. We did all this and it was a good trip for Brittany and I and she was pretty well behaved. My dad and stepmother were there and I think Brittany had a good time. Until it was time to leave, Brittany had a major blowup. It had been so long since I'd been around that...I'd forgotten how I felt, especially in front of my grandmother and parents...they hadn't seen a whole lot of it. So after we both calmed down my parents drove us to the airport in Des Moines. Apparently, Brittany had what I call "reentry problems" and has had them quite alot. Meaning, problems coping with getting back into her ordinary everyday life. We talked about this before going. It still happened...it's just a natural consequence for Brittany. Life eventually got back to normal. So I thought.

I had noticed over time, that the foster mother's demeanor toward me had changed. She was always cold to me now, barely speaking and I knew something had changed. Brittany decided to tell her that I was gay...without my permission. I explained Brittany that it probably was not a good idea and she should always ask me first. She said, "Oh she's okay with it." When I started to see this change, that was the only thing I could think of for a reason.

Flashforward to 2004: It was summer. Cheyenne, every year has the well known Cheyenne Frontier Days, that is filled with activities, a carnival and fun stuff. I had Brittany for the week and things seemed to be going fine and we had a good time together. Brittany was now well into puberty(which was frightening!) at the age of 15. There was nothing really eventful about the week, no real behaviors, nothing going on. So, when the week was done, I drove her back home. Once we got out of the car, she accidently dropped her bags on the ground....then got mad and had one of her screaming behaviors. This was normal for Brittany, so I just helped her bring her things in, while trying to calm her down. She leaves me in the driveway, running into the house screaming back at me, "Stay away from me!"

Oh great. Nice way to bring her home, I thought. Doesn't that look nice! Well, I get up to the door and the foster mom runs up to Brittany, comforting her, saying "Oh honey, what happened? Are you okay?" Then they both looked at me like I'd shot someone. I'm thinking....this is strange because the foster mom KNOWS about Brittany's manipulations, why would she give into that and assume it was me? I explained to her that nothing happened the whole week and that she'd just dropped her things outside and had a behavior. No big deal. Brittany wouldn't even look at me, say goodbye or anything. So I left, figuring it would all blow over and it wasn't anything to worry about.

Now a week later, I start calling Brittany every friday, as I've always done. The answers I got were, "Oh she's not here;she's asleep;she's out shopping;she's not available right now." This went on for over a month. I knew something was not right...she can't not be home every time I call. Finally, I get angry enough that I was just going to show up to see what the hell was going on. Then my conscience gets me and I decided to call one last time before going. The foster mom gets angry with me and tells me, "You need to call DHS." Then she hangs up on me. WHAT?!
So I spend the next few hours trying to call the director of DHS. Finally, later that afternoon, I get a hold of her. She tells me this....Brittany has told her foster mom and subsequently DHS that while on her visit with me, over a month ago, that I sexually abused her! I about dropped the phone. I couldn't have heard her right. Apparently, she said that I was watching her take a shower and that I barged in her room and "fondled" her. I just could not believe this was happening. The director said, "We've been trying to get a hold of you." I said, "That's interesting because no one has called me." She says, "Well, I told the foster mom to tell you to call me when you called again....but that was over 3 weeks ago." I then explained the past month of phone calls and what really happened. It has baffled me ever since, whenever I think about this. Why didn't DHS call me themselves....and why did they leave it to the foster mom to do THEIR dirty work? Clearly, I don't think they ever took Brittany's accusations seriously...but it was just one more item of proof that Brittany DID have these problems/disorders that the foster family swore she didn't have.

Outcome in the final 13

The Point of No Return--Part 11

Choices. Was this ever a difficult time in my life. Initially, I was told it was either or...no in between. Then, it was found out, these were not my only choices. There was a different worker in the office, taking over for the regular one who was on maternity leave. Ah DHS...how the BS flows from there.

It had been a few months already that Brittany was with this foster family. The issue of Guardianship came up. I have found out since, if this had all happened in Iowa, where I am now and where I am originally from, things would have turned out differently...and not in a good way. But this was Wyoming and if I signed over guardianship to these people, I would still have my paternal rights. I could see her and spend time with her, have her for visits, etc. I would not have a say so in her day to day life, in a legal sense. I saw no other solution as hard as it was to realize I'd never have her back and these people would be raising her. But at least, I would be in her life. I had prepared myself to give her up, which was so hard to think about. I was suddenly struck by the irony life had presented. Here was the life I fought so hard to keep with me, go against everyone for...and it turns out, I let her go after all. I had to believe this was the best decision. So I did it. Signed the guardianship papers. DHS had to find Brittany's father also, so he could sign also. I had no clue where he was...Brittany had not seen him since she was probably a year old. So he signed them.
During the time of the guardianship, I had moved to Cheyenne, Wyoming...about 4 hours away. I'd found a good job with another agency there and I'd met someone online, who was moving to Cheyenne in a few months, though not to live with me. So I decided it was time for a new start. Brittany was taken care of and I didn't have those worries. I took Brittany to Cheyenne so she could help me look for an apartment and see the town. She loved it and it was good having her here. We talked about the guradianship and she had a difficult time with it at first. We went out to eat and she started worrying about what it all meant. I told her it only meant that the foster family could make decisions about Doctors and school things. I also remember telling her that sometimes people, including moms, have to make really hard decisions about their kids...even when what's best hurts the most. We cried together and remembering it now makes me emotional. Of course, I did what I've always done, try to make her laugh. I told her, "Don't be crying in your lemonade...it waters it down and they'll kick us OUT!" We laughed through our tears and even now she brings up crying in her lemonade.
As she settled in at the foster home, the foster mom talked to me about having her weaned off of her meds. I was against it, but I thought that maybe at the least, she should be reevaluated. Maybe she wasn't on the right meds. No, she didn't think she needed the meds. I just thought...well, have fun! So, they did this and Brittany has not been on any medication since.
I have disagreed with this, even though, for the most part...Brittany has done better through the past 5 years that she's been with them. The problem is, and always has been, that the foster mom has not believed anything was wrong with Brittany, other than being "a little slow". She believes she was misdiagnosed and because I don't have much of a say so, it's been difficult to make them hear what I am saying.
So, I moved to Cheyenne in 2003, I believe and would have Brittany every couple of weeks or so. The drive was horrible so eventually, I would just go to Rock Springs and spend the days at my friend's house and take Brittany out there. This worked out fairly well. Everything went well...until 2004.......

Crazy Daze---Part 10

As it turns out, Brittany had attacked one of the workers in a fit. It wasn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things. She threw a roll of paper towels at the woman and called her a "bitch". But it was in their policy to take everything seriously. Part of the problem was that Brittany had been there way too long. She'd watched several kids come and go. No one was giving me any other solution. DHS wanted her back home so they didn't have to deal with her any longer. I wasn't willing to allow that because nothing had changed.

So we all went to court...several times. And each time, DHS stood up and cut me down. Saying I was the problem....I wouldn't go to counseling, blah blah blah. The one judge asked me why. I told him that while counseling could help me in cope with things, it's not going to help the problem, and that is Brittany's behaviors. And at the arraignment hearing, I felt so bad for Brittany because the judge would not let me explain things to her. She had no way of understanding about court. So she ended up saying the wrong thing...that she denied doing this act, when she had planned on saying, yes, she knew she did this. But it really didn't matter much, I guess. It had been discussed about sending her to some girl's school up north and thank God that didn't happen. Those girls there are just bad girls...Brittany is not like them at all. They just put her on probation for a year, and counseling. And she was to stay in the youth home at least another month.
Then I had to attend a meeting at DHS. At this meeting were Brittany's case worker, the dhs director, someone from the counseling center and a couple other people. The psychiatrist had prepared a report on Brittany's disorders, the autism, especially and wrote that she needed to be in a residential facility. None of these things were brought up in court, or allowed to, and the one woman from the counseling center briefly talked about the report, like it meant nothing. Then she says outloud, "Well, if some of these things are not happening at school, then it must be a problem in the home."
Oh I became irate...how tired I was of hearing how I was to blame for her behaviors. I looked the woman square in the eye and said, "Excuse me, have you ever met Brittany?"
She says, "No."
I ask her, "Have you ever met me before?"
She says, "No."
I tell her, "Then you have no right to judge me. You have no idea what I have been through with this child. I've been called names, I've had knives and scissors thrown at me...you don't have a clue. I am trying to get Brittany some help and all you want to do is blame me."
The room got suddenly quiet...
This meeting was pointless, like all the others.

Brittany wasn't any better and the people at the youth home really tried with her, but they just could not do it any longer. The decision had finally been made that Brittany had to leave. Her behaviors were just too disruptive. So DHS found a foster home. What's interesting to me is that I was against her going to a foster home at this point. What if she destroyed someone else's home/property or hurt someone....DHS said, "well it is a chance we have to take, since you have chosen not to take her back." I was also told there was such a thing as a "theraputic" foster home, but she had to have an IQ of 70. Brittany's was 66. Hmm suddenly she was tested again and it magically appeared to be 70. DHS had their own people to do testing and I feel that something fishy was going on there. As it happens, the first foster home didn't work out for Brittany but not because of her. They just decided it wasn't what they wanted. Then another foster home was found and Brittany loved it. There were several foster kids already there, so she had the brothers/sisters she wanted. By all accounts, she was doing okay.

About 4 months into it, DHS was pushing for the foster parents to adopt Brittany. She was 13 now. But Brittany told them no, she didn't want them to adopt her and because of her age, they had to listen to her. The foster mother was nice to me and we got along well, looking out for Brittany, but also aware of her manipulating nature. I was told I had to make a decision...either take her back or give her up completely.

Either way is no easy journey.....

Paradise Lost--Part 9

What I did next was no easy task. I was mulling over what to do when I received a rare phone call from my grandmother(my mother's mother--not the one I lived with). She began to believe what I was saying that it was not my doing and Brittany herself couldn't help it. She said, "Well, you don't know, she could get up during the night and try to kill you." It hadn't occurred to me. Brittany's moods changed so rapidly, it was hard to say. But then one day, she raised her hand to hit me and I stopped her(luckily due to some training for my job) and guided her to her room. That was it for me. I was not going to live like this...there had to be an answer somewhere. I decided I would call DHS myself and ask for some guidance or help somewhere for Brittany. Plus, I thought it might look good for me that I was asking, given that I was so "Guilty" of neglecting her according to them. I talked with the worker who I'd dealt with already. She spoke with her supervisor and they both got on the phone with me to say: "There is nothing we can do. Maybe the next time she blows up, you can take her to the ER and they can evaluate her."
Ugh...excuse me? You walk into my life, tell me I am guilty of neglecting my daughter, but when I ask for help, there is nothing you can do?
I told them that there was no way I could do that because (1) provided that she is CALM enough for me to drive her there, she would be all calm for sure by the time I got there and (2) I would look like an idiot...not to mention, I would get more questions and blame.
So I decided to call Brittany's therapist and he happened to suggest what I had just done. I explained to him, that I had and told them what DHS told me. "WHAT THE HELL!?" He barked. He could not believe they told me that. So the therapist made some phone calls to different agencies. He called me back to ask if I'd be willing for her to go into foster care. I told him anything that could help her. He called back awhile later and told me about the youth home there in Rock Springs. I agreed to that. Brittany did not want to go all that much, of course and we cried together and I told her that this was all to help her and I would do anything, go anywhere on earth to help her deal with life...help myself also. So, I took her there, met the workers, and as it turned out, one of them I had worked with in the past at my job. Brittany appeared excited once we got there. She had her own room and could mingle with other kids. This was April of 2001. I returned home alone and it was the most cleansing feeling in the world. I walked through the door and it was as if 12 years had melted away and for a moment, I felt guilty for feeling so good. I think a part of me will always feel guilty even though I know I have no reason to. So I immediately got back to work and was thrilled to not have these worries at home. But there were more to come.
Brittany had been at the youth home for about a month and the workers didn't believe that there was much wrong. "She is so sweet...." Brittany is a sweet, loving child...when the mood strikes. I just said, "it will come. Watch and see. You will see the dark side and the mood swings and the violence." And they did. Suddenly, the police were called almost daily, which was their policy. During this time, I changed Psychiatrists. I credit this man so much. He was wonderful and really listened to what I was saying. Not to mention the fact that Brittany had a behavior right in front of him...I was so grateful for this. After going through my whole history during pregnancy and everything since then, he realized a different diagnosis. Oh he stated that she probably was Bipolar but something in addition....he called it Pervasive Development Disorder, which, he explained, is a form of Autism. It has most of the symptoms of autism but not everything that would make it autism. He said that everything fits. I went home, looked it up on the internet and the hair on the back of my neck stood up when I read some of the symptoms and behaviors. Almost to the letter of things Brittany did and has always done that I couldn't explain. He put her on some medication, Zyprexa along with the Depakote. Now I am not saying that she was suddenly better, because she was not. Brittany was wrecking havoc at the youth home. Part of the problem was, there were some workers that would allow her to do things she shouldn't and some workers who would follow through on consequences. This made things difficult. During this time also, I began to have meetings with DHS because they kept asking me to take Brittany back home. Nothing had changed. I said no. They really didn't know what to do. DHS still wanted me to go to counseling....I put it off. It just didn't feel right. To me, it felt like they were saying it was still all because of me.
The people at the youth home worked hard with Brittany...trying to find some type of goal that would work for her, something to make her responsible for her actions. Nothing worked. She was having accidents, wetting and soiling her clothes and hiding them. Brittany called me once and one of the workers said something to her and she screamed at the worker in a voice that made me even question this was my child. It was a blood curdling scream. It was in the fall of that year, I believe, that I received the shock of my life. It came in the form of ARRAIGNMENT PAPERS...being served to me at my door. That's right. I reread it several times. My 12 year old daughter was being charged with BATTERY.

Hell Hath No Fury....Part 8

I was still working in the sheltered workshop. When I would leave in the morning, Brittany would wait for her bus. Usually there was no problem because she would wait with her friend across the street. While I was at work, a little after 8am I believe, I received a call from the school. "Brittany didn't arrive to school this morning," they said. I explained that she probably missed the bus and I would go check on her. Well, I was just about to leave work, and I received another call, "Brittany's here. Apparently, she was walking to school and a man picked her up and gave her a ride. Brittany says she doesn't know this man."
Oh Lordy. This had happened a few years earlier. Brittany was missing for 3 hours in Iowa, right by the river. She'd gotten angry at me and decided to leave...I attempted to follow her, but lost her...then it got dark and I couldn't find her anywhere. I had to call the police with a description and everything. The policeman was just leaving my house, when they'd gotten a call that some man was bringing her home. The man picked her up and she had said she wanted to go to the mall. That's where he took her and then called the police. I've always been so grateful that was a good man. I never got a chance to thank him.
Flash forward to 2001....
I talked to Brittany about strangers over and over again. Brittany thought everyone was nice and no one would ever hurt her. We talked and talked about this. "Yes mom, I know."
The next day, she did it again...only this time it was the librarian who picked her up. Of course, the school was legally obligated to report me for neglect. A DHS(department of human services) worker came to visit with me and I explained everything to her. She said that the charges would be founded but it would be so low on my record that it would never come up through a regular search. Great. Here I go again.
Well, as it turns out, things went progressively worse after that. The school was calling me constantly to deal with one of Brittany's behaviors, whether it be a violent outburst(she threw a pencil and almost hit someone) or a change of clothes because she wet herself. How much could I keep leaving work? My boss was so wonderful but I could see nothing was going to change, only get worse. Brittany was in therapy with a wonderful therapist who was just as good for me as he was for Brittany. I made this decision to quit my job for 1 month, just to see if Brittany was any better with me home. It was not long before I had my answer.
One fateful day, Brittany had an awful morning...as she most genuinely did. She screamed to me that she was running away, so not to bother waiting for her after school. To Brittany's credit, she adored school, she always has. She said not to even bother looking for her at school. Who knows what the day will bring. In the afternoon as the bus dropped her off, she saw me watching her get off the bus and went into a rampage right there in the front yard, throwing her backpack, screaming. I had to go outside and make her come in. Once in, she yelled, "You are the WORST mother and the WORST person in the UNIVERSE! I HATE YOU!" Then she stormed off to her room. As odd as it seems, I was somewhat immune to this behavior by now. I was used to being the worst anything in her eyes. I let her stay in her room, didn't talk to her or bother her for quite some time. After about 45 minutes, I saw her in her room. Still had her coat on, standing on her bed, staring out her window. She told me she wanted to kill herself. She's said this before and I am fairly certain she was just talking, but you never know. I asked her if she had a plan of how she would do this. She says, "No, but it's better than being here with you."
Immune to everything else, this cut right through me. I decided I'd leave her alone again...being as she'd rather be dead than be with me anyway! After a few more minutes, I came back. She was still standing there, staring. I envisioned her trying to escape out her window and running off. She said, "I just want to go out and live in the wild."
I told her then that I would have to call the police if she escaped out the window, just to keep her safe. I then left her alone again.
5 minutes later, she comes out of her room in a totally different mood, all sweet and loving, "Mommy, is there something I can do for you around the house?"
"What?" I asked her. "Do you remember anything about the past hour, the things you said?"
"Yes, but I don't want to talk about it." She said.
Wow.
That was when I knew I had to do something.

The Madness Continues...Part 7

Brittany and I lived in a town called Rock Springs, Wyoming...which is southwest Wyoming, about 3 hours from Salt lake City. It was kind of dry and desolate and very spread out, about 20,000 people. I had been working in an agency for developmentally disabled adults. I'd been promoted to a "facilitator"...which is, I managed 1 of the 6 group homes. I enjoyed it so much, but it became evident that Brittany's behavior was overshadowing everything in my life. So, I made the decision to step down, after 6 months. I just became a "skills trainer" in one of the other homes. Well, due to some sexual harrassment issues from another manager(another long story!), I was transferred to another department. I now worked in the sheltered workshop where many of the clients worked during the day. This was a day time, 7am-3:30pm Mon-Fri job, which was good for me, and I could be home in the evening with Brittany. One of my coworkers at the workshop told me about her mobile home she was trying to sell, north of town and wanted me to look at it. I was sure I couldn't afford anything, but we went to look at it. I subsequently bought the trailer in August of 2000 and Brittany and I moved out there. I thought it would be good for Brittany to have her own yard and I could better get a handle of things.

Brittany was now 11 and her behaviors were sporadic at best. I warned her that if she slammed her door, the door was coming off....and it did come off for quite some time. The school she now attended was a really good school with wonderful teachers that were patient with Brittany through everything. Brittany had been in special education classes since she began school. When we first moved to Wyoming, Brittany's IQ was tested. It was then 64, which falls into the mild retardation range. Now, I am not neccesarily a believer in IQ tests because people are more than just a number. Here it is now, 3 years later. I went to a meeting with teachers there and I was told she was tested again, now it was only 66. They also stated that she is mentally behind at least 3 years, meaning she was more like an 8 year old. This made sense to me. Brittany still had "accidents" with wetting, mostly. With the behavioral problems since she was young, it was more difficult than usual potty training her. Now when she wet herself, it was behavioral. Her hygiene was horrible and I basically had to take care of her like a baby, with her kicking and screaming all the way. She would sit on my kitchen floor and just pee. I'd ask her why she didn't get up and go to the bathroom and she'd say, "Well, I wasn't going to make it anyway."

I will never forget Thanksgiving of 2000. I had decided to make Brittany and I our own big dinner. When it was time to eat, Brittany wanted to sit in the living room and watch tv while eating. I told her no, we were going to eat at the table and have a nice dinner. She became irate and I did what I usually did, told her to go to her room until she calmed down. She screamed, "Oh yah, well I am NOT eating!" I told her just to go to her room and when she wanted to calm down and come eat with me, she could. She came out almost an hour later. I asked her if she wanted to eat now.
She yelled at me, "Well YOU said I couldn't eat! You don't want me to have anything!"
I had to kind of giggle at this because this was the usual turnaround for Brittany. Well, she did eat but it really showed me alot of things.
I have noticed since she was young, there is a pattern to her behaviors. Somewhere between Thanksgiving until after New Year's, Brittany's behaviors were always at their worst. I believe it is from all the stimulation the holidays bring...just overload. So, I learned not to really care for those holidays...especially Christmas. And the Christmas of 2000 was not any different...only worse for me. I had very little money, just barely scraped up enough to buy Brittany a few little presents. She opened them, telling me, "That's all I get? You NEVER want me to have anything, do you?" Somewhere between anger and hurt, I told her, "Well, you don't have to even have this. I can give them to someone else!" No, of course, she didn't want that.
Just when I didn't think things could get any worse...in comes January of 2001.....

Just When You Think It's Safe....Part 6

I look back on my college life...and honestly, there isn't a whole lot I remember. I remember how young Brittany was when I started and all that happened to me, I cannot even believe I lived through it. But I did.

To say that life was stressful then is a horrible understatement. The Ritalin helped many things. It helped me be able to talk to her...but it didn't solve everything. Many people believe, that is, people such as my family, that you give someone a pill and TA DA, it will solve every problem under the sun and if it doesn't....then it doesn't work worth a damn. When Brittany was around 5 years old, I took her to a therapist. Things began to bother me...from her laughing inappropriately, injecting conversations that didn't fit what anyone was talking about...now, with a 5 year old, it's cute....but when they are 30, it's not so cute. These were things I wondered if anyone else noticed about her. Brittany would lie right to my face and truly believed what she was saying was true. I could see her doing something, and she could see that I saw her do it and yet...she was loyal to her lie to the very end. After the therapist saw Brittany without me in the room, she called me back into the office. She had Brittany wait for a minute outside. She told me, "She is good. Brittany is one of the best manipulaters I have ever seen. She had me manipulated and I am a trained professional for God's sake!" I've never forgotten that.

The Ritalin worked pretty well until around the age of 7....then, the effect was gone. We had moved, I believe, so another Doctor put her on Dexadrine, which is basically the same as Ritalin, though has a diet suppressant in it(it's what's in Dexatrim)...so she didn't really gain weight. Things slowly were heading out of control the older she got. Since she was diagnosed, I tried many different things to discipline her...to no avail. Oh many people assumed so many things about me...family and professionals, that I was failing in disciplining her. I tried time outs, I tried making charts and graphs, giving her stars....tried taking things away. She'd gotten down to just her bed in a room and she just didn't care. Nothing worked.

We moved to Wyoming in 1998, Brittany was 9. My girlfriend at the time, really stayed out of things between Brittany and I. Brittany knew how and where to push my buttons. Sometimes, I could be so calm, like I should be but I dare the calmest person to be in a room alone with Brittany at that time and they would go crazy. Brittany and I were very close....it was undeniable....she'd been through a hard time, me...not being able to pick a good sane woman for some time...but at the same time, I lived with this stress every day and it only became worse.

I left my then gf and moved Brittany and I into an apartment in 1999. Brittany spent some of worst times here. It was then that I saw the mood swings. She destroyed my apartment, slammed her door so hard, that it came through the other side. She would yell at me the minute I came home. She would destroy everything in her path, call me horrible names I'd never heard come out of her mouth before and then 5 minutes later, say sweetly, "I love you, mommy," and cuddle up to me. I was not sure how to deal with this. When she was 11, I left for a few minutes for work...then the Police called me, saying I'd better get my butt home. Brittany had taken everything out of my cupboards, food everywhere....trashed the place, then called the cops to say I was neglecting her. The cops said, "You know I could throw your ass in jail right now?" I told them, "Yes, and it would be a vacation, believe me." I could not keep a babysitter, no matter how much I paid them. Brittany threw the phone through the window. Of course, the cops never came back to check to see if I was neglecting her. Really worried, weren't they?
I finally took Brittany to a psychiatrist once her SSI was approved and I had some insurance for her. He diagnosed her with Bipolar disorder. I could see it. He put her on some medications...Depakote and Seroquel. I didn't really notice much of a difference. Then I found her pills on the floor...she wasn't taking them all the time, and she was truly out of control. I called the Psychiatrist and he instructed me to take her to the psych ward in Lander, Wyoming, 3 hours away. She was there for 6 days when they called to say she was all regulated on her meds, there had been no problems, she was ready to go home. The minute I got there, she screamed and ran up and down the hallway in hysterics. They could not believe this. Immediately, one of the social workers began to tell me this was a discipline issue, that I had not tried this or that program. I began to walk out. She stopped me to ask what the problem was.
I told her that I was not going to listen to one more person blame me for Brittany's problems.
They made Brittany stay 3 more days as a punishment. I came back and she was better. For the moment. The next morning, I took her to breakfast. When I wasn't finished, she stood up and began screaming. I got up to pay the cashier and she touches my hand saying, "It's okay, honey, I have one at home just like her."
I smiled politely and said, "Trust me, you don't."

Next: 7

Life Goes On---Part 5

My stepmother was the first of my family members to come around and I will always love her for that. She sent me a big box of baby clothes and anything I'd need for the baby. People seemed to be coming around. Even friends of my grandmother didn't understand why she was so indifferent. But my mother...another story altogether. I've had a tumultous relationship with my mother, at best. But during my pregnancy, she appeared to be the most loving mother ever. She lived 3 hours away...she'd send me letters and had come up a couple times to see my grandmother. But all of that changed once I made my decision. I never heard from her and after awhile, I thought that maybe I should go see her and she surely couldn't deny the baby if she saw her face to face. After all, it was her only grandchild(and still is). But I was wrong. Brittany was 2 months old when I took the bus to go see my mother. Apparently, she had written a letter that I hadn't received yet. She came to the door and told me, "What are you doing here? Didn't you get my letter?"
I said, "No, I didn't".
SHe says, "Well, I don't want to see you or that baby."
Shocked, I said, "Why not? She's your grandchild, no matter what you think of me."
She said, "If I see her, I'm going to want to see her all the time."
I said, "Well isn't that the point?"
"Still, I don't want to see either one of you...and I will never change my mind. You made your decision and I've made mine. Goodbye." And slam went the door. I have only seen her once since then, when Brittany and I were on a bus going to the same city to visit a friend of mine. In some crazy coincidence, my mother was on that same bus....I sat behind her. Brittany was maybe a year or so old. I tapped her on the shoulder, "What are you doing here?"
I said, "Visiting some friends."
She turned back around and as soon as there was room, she moved to the front of the bus. I did catch her watching us every now and then, so I made sure I readly loudly to Brittany. But she was true to her word, she has never changed her mind. Though I think over the years, her curiosity has gotten to her.

After some prodding from my friend, whose parents I was living with...I enrolled in College, at Iowa State University. I was surprised at the various programs I qualified for. I went on public aid to help support us while I went to school full time....it was not easy, not at all. I started that fall of 1989, when Brittany was 5 months old. I'm not sure I would have the energy now and now that I look back on that time, it seems a blur. I wanted to study Social Work as I was inspired by the 2 social workers that helped me in the hospital. So I worked and studied and took care of my baby. She really was a good baby. Somewhere after she was 1 1/2 or 2, I noticed that Brittany was really behind in her "milestones". She wasn't walking or even trying to....she didn't really walk until maybe a year and a half. I talked to the pediatrician, he said the usual, "Kids grow at their own pace. Things will pick up." She hit the terrible twos, but then it lingered on and on into her threes. This was the time when I really noticed the behaviors. Spanking did not work...she looked at me with this look in her eye like, "How dare you spank ME!" So I didn't spank her very long...I knew I had to figure something out. I tried time outs. Once I watched her in such a rage, at 3 years old...it was almost surreal. I didn't understand where it all came from. Between 3 and 4 was when I came out to myself and dealing with her behaviors and attempting to go to school. It would take me 3 hours sometimes to get her to bed...she would scream and cry, get out of bed to defy me. I couldn't even take a shower as I'd have to lock her in the bathroom with me...then once she could unlock the door, she'd escape and I'd have to stop, get dressed and look for her. Yes, she was out the door. People would always see me looking for her, and I am sure it looked like I was neglectful. I was turned into DFS(family services) for neglect at this time. To this day I believe it was my first gf's ex for spite. Someone came and talked to me, "Do you watch her at all when she goes outside?" Gee, no, I hadn't thought of that! Two weeks later, I received a notice in the mail, that the evidence was founded for "Denial of Critical Care." Never heard from them again. Like they were really concerned. During this time, as I will never forget it...I woke up one morning to see Brittany standing over me....watching me with this glazed look in her eye. That has always scared me when I think of it. I decided it was time, due to my stress level, to talk to the Dr. During the exam, Brittany could not sit still, getting into everything in the room. He told me, normally they would do testing, but it was obvious she had ADHD(Attention Defecit Hyperactive Disorder) and prescribed Ritalin. Sorry Mr. Cruise, but sometimes it works. I was so thrilled that someone could name this. Ritalin worked wonderfully then....she could focus and she was not doped up like some people think. But without the medicine, she was truly unmanageable. She would throw herself down in the middle of a busy street, refusing to get up, she would take off to the quick shop in an instant and start eating the candy from the open bins there. The only time I've dealt with the police is because of Brittany. It was hard to believe that this was the baby I fought so hard to keep with me....there had to be some big master plan for giving me this to deal with.
part 6 coming

Part 4...

In Iowa in 1989, anyway, a woman had 96 hours to change her mind AFTER the papers were signed. I've found in other states, this is not true. So, once I left the hospital, my mind was a shambles. I had everything figured out and now it was complete chaos. My family...my grandmothers(both of them) and everyone else who stated they loved me, cared about me...didn't seem to REALLY care what I wanted. But in retrospect, I allowed it to happen. Comments were made, like it really wasn't a big deal to give up your baby...so what, life goes on, right? I didn't see how it could.

Then I got a phone call from my cousin...someone whom I've never really gotten along with, but we were pregnant at the same time. She asked me if I wanted the baby. I wasn't really sure what to answer. Did I? She said, "you don't know what could happen...you could get married one day, have a different life and the baby could grow to hate you for not trying." I thought about that long and hard. I didn't sleep much, eat much...it was on my mind and something inside of me was growing stronger. Suddenly, there was no other answer.

The next day, I began making phone calls, finding out information....what my first steps were. I contacted the lawyer I'd switched over to and told him I wanted to revoke the papers. I was doing all of this in secret because I was still living with my grandmother and I knew once she found out my plans, it would not be pretty. And I couldn't have been more right. My grandmother ranted and raved...uh mostly ranting. No one in my family spoke with me...you'd think I had the plague or something. I ended up moving next door with the neighbor's as a good friend of mine lived there with her parents, who were also friendly with my grandmother...that is, until they took me in. My grandmother wouldn't speak to me.

I picked up my daughter from the foster home and began my life along with hers.
But that's just the beginning...

Struggles-Part 3

It was a Tuesday morning when everything changed. The baby's lawyer had arrived from Eagle Grove, Iowa...a place I've never been, nor do I know exactly where it is. I was in an even lesser known town of Marshalltown. It was then that he informed me, "There's been a little problem..." Now when someone tells you that, you know it ain't "little". "The adoptive parents have dropped out of the adoption."

WHAT?

"Why?" I ask him.

"It appears the baby has a heart murmur and the parents are concerned for her health. The doctor tried to talk them down, but that was their decision."

Everything was set up, everything in place. Now what? What in the world would I do now?
Oh, but the lawyer had an idea.

"Why don't you just take her home and try it out for a bit. See what happens."

WHAT? I began to think this guy had a used car business on the side. "She is not a used car for God's sake. If I take her home, I ain't bringin her back!" The lawyer left when my hospital phone rang. It was my grandmother, the one I lived with to that point. I explained to her what was happening. She immediately barked, "You cannot bring that baby home!" I attempted to calm her down, telling her I had not made any decision yet. I had just finished with that conversation and hung up with my grandmother and my phone rang again. It was Debbi.
"Are the lawyers there?" She asks.
"Yes, well they just left."
"Dammit," she says. "I wanted to talk to you before they did." That is when she explained everything and my heart went out to her as she cried through the phone. She told me that she had had a heart murmur, a bad one...a hole in her heart that never healed, which was why she couldn't have a baby herself. She grew up going to dr after dr and she didn't want that for the baby....it was too uncertain. They'd been up all night, thinking of everything, talking, crying and finally decided they just couldn't do it. She asked me what I was going to do. I said I didn't know, but if they weren't going to raise her, I didn't want anyone else but me. She asked me how and of course, I didn't know. I've never talked to Debbi again, though she said to keep in touch.

After hanging up, I felt a strange energy around me...there was a reason this happened. I wasn't supposed to go through with the adoption. Call it fate, karma, whatever....this was my chance. I remember my grandmother saying, "If it were fate, you'd have a job!" I had to laugh at that logic. Fate doesn't care if you have a job. Oh I didn't have any answers. No one in the family wanted me to have this baby.

Then the lawyer came back to say what would happen now. He stated that since I was to leave the hospital that day, the baby had to have somewhere to go. The hospital was gracious enough to let her stay for one more night while a temporary foster home was set up. The lawyer also stated that if I were to go with another couple, he would have to drop out, due to a conflict of interest. So I went home to a mass of people calling me, telling me they knew of a friend, family member or a friend of a friend's cousin who wanted to adopt a newborn little girl. I couldn't focus on those things. I made some calls, found another lawyer in the next day, who in turn, found a farm couple in Minnesota who wanted a baby. Of course, I was being told by my family that there was no way I was mature enough to raise a baby. So I let them tell me what to do one more time. I wanted to do what was best for the baby. Give her a home that I couldn't provide.
So the next day, I went back to the hospital to sign papers signing away my parental rights to this child. The nurses let me hold her one last time to say goodbye. If I ever had a heart, it died that day for sure. I held her, cried, tried to tell her what I needed to....hoping somehow she could hear me. Then I left her there in that hospital.

Struggles-Part 2

Life was interesting after making this decision and feeling comfortable with it. At the time, I'd been living in a dumpy apartment and then my grandmother offered for me to move in with her until after the baby and I got on my feet...so to speak. I spent the next few months talking with Debbi and John and getting to know them. I began to feel so close to them, like they were my best friends and I was giving this gift to them. This made me feel more at peace with the decision somehow. Like I couldn't let them down. Debbi and John were paying my rent and medical expenses during this time. I never realized how much red tape there is for an adoption. The parents had a lawyer, the baby had a lawyer and things had to be set up for when the baby was born.

As the months passed so slowly by, I just wanted it to be over. I had spent the first 4 months of my pregnancy in the bathroom with morning, noon and night sickness, as I called it. I spent more time in the bathroom throwing up than doing anything else. I lost 25 pounds and some people didn't even believe I was pregnant. Like I would make it up....oh yah, people do do that, don't they? Not me...I swore I'd always remember how awful I felt and let that be a lesson. I guess I was 7 1/2 months along when I took Lamaze classes. I enjoyed that but it also told me that my time was limited.

Then the time came. I was 2 weeks overdue in March, 1989. Finally the dr said I needed to be delivered. Suddenly, all the time I'd been waiting and wishing to end, was here....but now I wanted more time. I went to the hospital and was attached to monitors and people poking and prodding me. I'd just come from the Drs office where they'd done a pelvic exam and the baby had not dropped at all, so that exam was painful. Here I was in the labor room now, with a strong hefty woman putting a catheter inside of me. I thought if one more person tells me to relax...oh she did it, she told me to relax. I shouted, "You know, I'd like to stick my hand clear up to my elbow up that Drs ass and tell him to RELAX!" The nurse, laughed, "Hmm are we a tad bit hostile today?" Ya think?

Anyway, I had been asked whether I wanted to see the baby and hold her. I'd been told it wasn't a good idea for me to hold the baby, but I at least wanted to see her. So Brittany was born at 1:45pm on March 17, 1989, a friday....yes, St. Patty's day...by C-Section. I had learned that the umbilical cord was wrapped twice around her neck and had I been insistant on having a natural childbirth, one of us would not have made it. I'd had no labor pains of any kind, nothing. But Brittany turned out to be over 10 lbs. I believe the cord around her neck was the cause of her later disabilities.

That first day after her birth was somewhat of a blur, as the drugs began to wear off. I received flowers and phone calls from Debbi and John. The next day, I decided to hold her. My thinking was that because I was truly going to go through with this adoption, it would be the only chance I had to hold my daughter. Of course, the nurses were against it, but I had every intention of following through, no matter how difficult it was.

The day after that, Sunday, I realized I had not heard from Debbi and John for awhile. I immediately thought something was wrong. Monday comes along, and still no word from anyone. Then Tuesday came, the day I was to get out of the hospital. Everything happens for a reason, as part of a big complicated plan, we know nothing about. I will forever believe this to be true.

Next:part3

Daily Observations

Today is the start of a new section I call DAILY OBSERVATIONS. Today's deals with a growing trend of **gulp** fashion.

My job requires me to take my clients to work on their goals....whatever it has been set up for them to work on. Every Tues/Thurs I take one of my clients to the mall where we walk usually 2.5 miles through the length of the mall. The daily mallwalkers have become a staple of the day and hence, so have we. While leaving the mall, we were walking behind an african-american couple, where the man was wearing the apparently required attire...the long pants/shorts that hang clear down below his ass. His girlfriend/partner/whomever looked respectable with her jeans belted and where they should be. I've never understood this trend...I've seen alot of white guys and gals too attempting this. Maybe I am just too old to get it.

My client whispered to me, "he's gonna lose his pants," as the man reached cleeeeear down to put something in his front pocket...which was down by his ankles. He looked at the woman and said, "she looks okay." Then he says, "I don't have much of a butt but I wear my suspenders."
I told him, "I have too much butt and there ain't no way my pants would ever fall down!" He laughed and laughed like I've never heard him laugh before. It made my day.

Maybe I'm too white, too old school....I don't know. Why is it approriate to show your unders to everyone within eyesight. It makes me laugh when I see someone pull up their pants....they only pull them up a miniscule....my god, we don't want to pull them up too much, someone might not see those boxers. UGH!

Its meaning will forever delude poor pitiful me.

Brittany's Struggle-part 1

This is my girl Brittany, who is now a whopping 17 years old. It's hard to imagine. I am proud of this picture because she looks so grown up and I've passed it around to family members.

Brittany's struggle began probably from when she was born and I am proud to say she has done so well in the past few years. I have to admit, this might not have been the case had I not made the ultimate of sacrifices.

I was 23 and pregnant by a man(I use the term loosely) who when I informed him of his impending fatherhood, stated that he was already married with 2 children. Hmm. I guess to me, it was a blessing. I'd had no relationship with this man. Yes, I never questioned my sexuality at the time, but knew I was looking for something...a brick to fall on my head, something that would just excite me. Then I would know what everyone was talking about. I knew this man, like all the others, was not it. But now I had to face it and make life altering decisions. The thought of having a life inside me, was thrilling...I had a chance to make something happen. Enter the family....

I was living and working for a man that was my best friend inside and out. He'd known me since I was 19. His name was Tony, an older gay man who took care of his elderly mother. I was living in a room in the back of his house, taking care of his mother while he worked. This is where I met Brittany's father, whose name also happened to be Tony. I'll call him TonyS. He made the moves on me one afternoon while I was steadily involved with some wine coolers. TonyS and I worked in shifts taking care of Tony's mother. Confusing?

My family consisted of both my grandmothers who lived there in town. Both of my grandfathers had died earlier that year. All of my family was not happy about the news, of course, because I was not married and it looked bad. This was 1988...not the 50s. Though on my father's side, everyone had been divorced more than once, my aunt would end up to be divorced 3 times and my father is on his 3rd marriage. So glad that doesn't look bad. My father's mother, Millie, I was closest to. She was not thrilled to say the least. Neither was my father and stepmother. I wrote a letter to my mother telling her the news. She wrote back saying I should get an abortion as "that baby didn't ask to be born." I thought, what baby does? I didn't believe in abortions for something I did all on my own. I still don't. No one in my family spoke to me for quite awhile. Until my stepmother talked to me about what my plans were. It had tortured my mind, but inside I had planned to keep the baby. She showed me what a struggle it would be and talked to me about adoption. So after much thought, deliberation and weighing out the good and bad...I decided she was right. I went looking for someone to adopt my baby.

Searching through the paper, I found an ad from a couple looking to adopt. So I wrote and called. I found a couple. All I still know about them to this day is that their names were Debbi and John and they lived around White Plains, New York. John was a vice president of a bank and Debbi was in some kind of marketing/advertising. They'd been married for 10 years. They called me and I felt an instant connection to them, especially Debbi. A few times of talking, they decided to go with me, compared to others who had called/written. Debbi told me later that the other women/girls had some kind of drug background.

Of course, once I announced this decision, everyone in my family was happy. Suddenly, they were all so proud of me. It taught me that if you do what they want, they love you. And so, I had decided to give my baby up for adoption.

Coming soon....Part 2

Dirty Dorothy and the Pantyhose

Recently, I was living with my 83 year old grandmother, overseeing her care. She lived in a trailer park with pretty decent mobile homes. I got to know many of the elderly women and men in the community there. One such neighbor that lived just across the street from my grandmother was someone we just called "Dirty Dorothy". I am not sure why this name stuck, but it seems to fit somehow. Many times, Dorothy would be out digging in her yard with a flashlight past 11pm. Dorothy told my grandmother not to ever call her unless her blinds were up...which was usually afternoon, as she informed everyone who knew her, most nights she would drink a 6 pack of beer and then sleep past noon. I worked from 1pm-11pm and when I came home, Dorothy was always outside, even during the winter months.

Last spring, Dorothy was to go to her grandson's wedding and had fussed and fumed about what to wear. She stopped over to tell us she had decided to wear the "same damn dress I wore to his last wedding. I doubt he will even notice." She stated she was going to buy some pantyhose or some nylon stockings to wear, she couldn't decide which. These were the hot topics of discussion for the day. Later that day, Dorothy came back to tell us about her excursion out shopping. Apparently, she bought a couple pairs of pantyhose. Once Dorothy tried them on, she told us, "I didn't want that damn cotton crotch lining in there. It makes it too hard to pee. So I took me a pair of scissors and cut out the crotch and MY GOD! I just about cut off my pussy hairs!"

My grandmother and I laughed until we cried. How interesting to me that she decided to cut out the crotch while she had them on. She explained, this way she wouldn't have to even take them off to pee.

Whoda thunk it?

Coming Out...A Lesson in Psychology

Here it is, the mother of all stories.....

I was a late bloomer, 28, when I discovered it, much by accident. I've heard many people say they always knew or had some tell tale signs in junior high and high school. Not so for me. I'm sure the signs were there...after all, when I was 9 or 10, I created a male personna for myself named Matt..gee who would have guessed I'd grow up and figure out I was a lesbian? Certainly not me. I didn't date boys, but as with most people, just believed I was straight, I didn't know of anything else. I didn't date because I never found any boy that was ever interested in me, and when I finally did in high school, he turned out to be gay! I had several crushes, although I didn't understand that's what they were at the time, on girls/women throughout my twenties. It was not sexual, if it had been, maybe I would have figured something out sooner. It was all encompassing and took everything out of me, but I thought it was all just close friendship. As an adult, I went out with men and not all were losers. I went through the sexual thing with them because I thought I was supposed to. It truely bored me and I thought, "This is what everyone goes ga-ga over? You've got to be kidding me." Well I became pregnant in 1988 when I was 23. Another whole saga ensued, but that is yet another story. But when my daughter was 3, I met Teri.Teri was beautiful. Tall, long blonde hair and blue eyes. She lived behind me with her then girlfriend, Doreen and Doreen's 2 kids. Teri and I started talking only because of my daughter, who developed her social butterfly skills with Teri. Teri wanted to meet me and offered to babysit. I was at the time dating a man named Dave. Dave didn't excite me at all...another forced relationship, but Teri...I couldn't breathe unless I saw her, talked to her, heard her voice. Teri and Doreen eventually told me they were lesbians. I understand now, that Teri assumed I was too or at least Bi or questioning. Teri and I became very close, but I was convinced that she was just my closest friend. Teri ended up moving to her own apartment across town. She invited me over one night, we had a few beers and talked for hours. That is when she confided in me that she was diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder. What?! Okay...I was sticking by her, being her friend as she "needed" me. She went to bed in her bedroom a little while later and I was to sleep on the couch. She began having nightmares. Being the person I was, I went in and sat with her for 3 hours until she came out of them. Then she smiled that smile and asked me to lay with her on her bed. We held each other(why, if I thought I was straight, did I not think this was odd?) for a few minutes and then she turns to me and says, "Julie, I want to kiss you." Huh? Somehow lying on her bed, wrapped up in each other was perfectly normal, but kissing was...oh no! How could she have known my head was playing games with me for weeks until this point? I must have had that shocked as hell look on my face because she says "Oh God, I'm sorry....I thought you were....I mean...." she didn't know what to say, but I got the hell out of there, making some excuse. I couldn't be gay. No way. I had a kid for God's sakes. I spent that weekend totally wrapped up in myself. Understanding things I'd never questioned before. At the end of the weekend, I understood it all. I was a lesbian. Teri and I ended up having a tumultuous relationship, not even a relationship due to her illness. Not an ideal person to make you come out...but I will always be grateful for that special person coming along to show me what was so embedded within me, I didn't even know it. I didn't come out to my family for 2 years due to the issues regarding my daughter's birth and my decision to raise her as a single parent. I thought, "Lordy, they could barely handle that, and now I'm gay, too?!" I didn't live real close to my dad and my mother had disowned me when I decided to raise my daughter and not give her up. So I copped out and wrote a letter after my stepmother(whom I get along with pretty well) nagged me about never knowing anything about my life. "You never tell us anything!" She says one day. After so much of that, I thought, "alright, you want to know...fine." So I laid it all out in a letter. My sexuality was never mentioned(to my face) by my family until I had a conversation in 2001 with my stepmother, only a mere 6 years after the fact. It was a nice conversation that I will never have with my father. She stated that while she didn't understand those feelings, she understood that I could not be happy with a man and if that was what made me happy then she was happy for me. I was 28 when I came out to myself and I am now going on 41, my daughter is 17. The women I chose to be involved with uptil my current girlfriend, had some kind of mental disorder, were self-destructive or controlling. It's a path we must all walk through to get where we are going. Where are we going? You won't know til you get there. Everything happens for a reason, I believe that. I can't say I am all that close with my family and I am not so sure it was right to come out to them, but I've always been honest, so if you don't want to know the answer, don't ask! No one can tell you when or how to come out. Coming out to yourself is a journey just like coming out to your family is. My family just doesn't talk about it, which is kind of relieving. It's a quiet disapproval, which is subtle, but nice compared to others. Funny that I have a cousin who also is a lesbian and has been with her partner for going on 13 years. My grandmother said, "Gee I wondered why they bought a house together!" =) It takes a strong person. You know, I used to say that we are no different that straight people, but now I believe we really are different. We are stronger and more united in our resolve because we've had to fight for what is in our souls. Straight people know no such fight. Being true to yourself is never wrong. Neither is love.