Where the tables began to turn

I always knew most of the problems that Bear’s biological Mom had but I didn’t know them all.  What I did know of, I don’t think I truly understood.  They were big mental health words that sounded like they belonged in a movie.  Unfortunately there were a lot of other things going on in that household that I didn’t know of.  Bear’s bio Mom was living with her bio Dad and one night when Bear was with us, her bio’s home was raided and both bio parents arrested.  Dealing drugs, using drugs, weapons in the home, gang activity…you name it, it was probably happening and off to prison they went. 

Insert family drama.  More specifically, Bear’s Grandma who was receiving guardianship of her by default.  Trust me, not really the next best choice.  She had her own fair share of mental issues and a drinking problem.  Hell, she had let enough crazy men into her life to abuse her kids growing up but the child system let her go ahead and have guardianship anyways.  Easy for her though when she realized we would do it all. 

Perhaps this is where we realized we were in the middle of a mess.  We had no legal rights but we did it all, bought it all.  We knew how to put this baby to sleep and knew what every fuss meant.  This baby knew us and cried when we handed her over to anyone else, including the Grandma.  One specific day I went to pick up the Bear to find her crawling under Grandmas kitchen table getting ready to chow down on some spilt prescription pills.  And the hits just kept coming, over and over. That is where I could write story after story.

I was young, we were young.  We were frustrated but what do you do?  Yes, I called CPS.  No, they didn’t do shit.  Was there proof? Was the baby physically abused? OBVIOUSLY we were over reacting according to them.  For the next few years I would grow increasingly frustrated by CPS.  I would learn the horror that kids go through because the system is so absolutely fucked up.  But I was one of two people trying to fight a huge up hill battle and we were tangled in the mess.  There was no walking away.  The point you realize you are fucked is always too late.  All we could do was start documenting everything.  

So we did.

Bear was one happy baby with us and the two days out of the week she wasn’t with us she would spend crying and upset. Which left me crying and upset. Which left Dustin stressed out.  But damn we clung to one another like a raft.  Our families started really understanding what was going on and tried to be supportive but that was all they could do.  So we kept on.  School, baby, school, baby.  At this time we had no problem keeping her.  No one else cared to speak up and actually want to raise Bear. So we were it.  Throwing her first birthday party, watching her take her first steps, teaching her how to feed herself, listening to her say “da da” for the first time (to Dustin), letting her scream on Santa’s lap at Christmas, and taking her for hay rack rides.    

There we were on our own life raft just holding on.  Two college kids finishing school with a house fill of bright plastic toys, extra diapers shoved in our back packs and empty sippy’s lost under the couch.  Dustin and I didn’t know what else to do besides keep going forward and hoping someone would direct us at some point.  Hoping perhaps things would just work out on their own. But hoping was useless to be honest.  Whether you believe in God’s plan or not it fucking sucked.  We loved that kid more than our own lives by this point.

Posted by Shannon on January 10, 2012

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