They Told Me I Couldn't

They told me I couldn't...

Go to school full time...

...or sometimes overtime, and graduate in four years

...or graduate with both a major and a minor

AND

Work part time...

...20 hours a week at a daycare center, making little more than minimum wage

...while still being good at my job

AND

Raise a Kindergartener...

...and give her all the things and experiences she deserved

AND

Take care of a baby...

...get up for midnight feedings

AND

"Live my life"...

ALL

In this...

...teeny tiny...

...room.


They told me I couldn't do it.



But I did.



And we all turned out...

 just...

fine.

(More or less eyebrows)

Never let anyone tell you what you "can't" do.

The Story of Us Part 4

For my own reference, the events I'm referring to in this post occurred in the year 2007.  I also want it to be clear, especially from here on out, that I am not writing this to assign blame or to 'trash talk' anyone.  I am writing our story, and other people happen to be in it.  I'll do my best to be fair to everyone, but sometimes I felt wrong was done to us and I'm not going to gloss this over - I'm going to be honest, from my perspective.  It is not the only perspective, but this is my blog, so this is mine.

The year started out as 2006 ended - me, M, and A, just spending time together, having fun.  That school year, 2006-2007, really was the best of my life, because of those blessings that the Lord had chosen to put in my path.

In the Spring, M turned 8, A turned 4, and I turned 18.  Still no potty training yet.  In fact, I have a hilarious picture from that spring of me holding A, having just picked her up and realized she'd had an accident in her underwear.  We worked on potty training by sitting on the potty and reading, A had a sticker chart, and when I could, I kept her in underwear so that she'd be aware of accidents, but it didn't really click.

We spent a wonderful weekend at my grandparents' lake house and I got some fabulous pictures.

First boat ride!

Passed out on the way home - and yes, this is before I was a CPST.

I graduated high school, but I held off on getting a 'real job' (one that paid, as I was rarely paid for watching A anymore) to spend the summer with my girls.  And we had a wonderful summer together, but that summer was also the year that things started to get difficult.  A's mom moved in with her new boyfriend and was often at odds with her grandparents, with A and I caught in the middle.  I didn't know what to do but try to protect the little girl I'd come to love as if she were my own family.

I remember a real turning point for us in August of 2007.  On Tuesday, I took A to the fair for the first time.  We stopped at Kmart to buy her new sandals and underwear, because once again, I'd gotten her barefoot and in a diaper.  It was stressful at first, getting there, spending all the money... but I remember sitting at a picnic table with A, eating ice cream cones, taking a picture of her covered in ice cream and sending it to my mom and thinking, yes, I'm glad we came, even if just for this moment.

On Friday, we went to the fair with A's mom and her boyfriend for the first time.  They asked me to come along to take A to play while they spent time together.  I remember finding this strange - they'd never taken her to the fair before, didn't they want to see her ride the carousel, eat ice cream with her?  But they didn't... so I did.  Before we got there, we had to run errands with them.  I saw where A was living, sleeping on a couch, and I felt sad.  It was hot and there was no air or water in the car.  I remember being stressed, but just trying to protect A - open the doors when the heat was too stifling and we were waiting in the parking lot someplace... trying to get her a sip to drink.  We finally got to the fair, and A and I had fun together, we did the things we hadn't had time for on Tuesday... but then I got a call to meet her mom and her boyfriend (we're going to call him D) at the ferris wheel.  When we got there, it was obvious something was wrong.  They were fighting.  Yelling at each other.  I tried to distract A... talked about Dora and Boots, her favorite topic.  In the midst of the fight, they stormed away from the stroller and left A and I standing there, not knowing what to do.  D threatened to leave without us.  I said I could have my mom pick us up.  She said no, he wouldn't leave... and he didn't, but he made us wish he had.

They continued to fight in the car.  They screamed at each other, hit each other.  A's mom cried.  Sitting in the back, in a backless booster seat, A looked to me and asked, "Mommy cwy?"

"No, no, sweetie.  It's okay.  Tell me who Dora's best friend is."

As D got angry, he drove recklessly and sped in and out of traffic.  I was scared for my life and for A's.  We got back to the apartment complex and they stormed out of the car without a word to us.  I called my mom the second I had the chance.  I asked her to get A's car seat and gave her the address where we were.  At that point, all I could think of was getting A and I out of there, although I wasn't sure how I was going to do it.  They came back out to the car.  They said no, they would take me home.  I told my mom to wait.  They continued in the car, and by the time we reached my house, A's mom was sobbing.  I asked them to please let A spend the night with me, that she didn't need to deal with a child on top of what they were going through.  I could take care of her for the night.  She shrugged her shoulders to say she didn't care, and I didn't wait around.  I took A and ran into the house, where she looked at me again and said "Mommy cwy?"

"Mommy's okay, sweetheart.  Would you like to play in the swimming pool?  I'll get us a popsicle, okay?"  I wanted her to forget.  I was deeply affected by what I witnessed that day, which I later recognized as an episode of domestic violence.  I didn't want her to feel the same way.  We were so hot and so thirsty, so we climbed into the swimming pool in our clothes, sat and ate popsicles... then I spent the rest of the night spoiling her.  They picked her up the next day and apologized to me, and I remember thinking that I wasn't the one who was owed an apology.  My own life was crazy - I lost my grandfather that month - but I never stopped worrying about A through any of it.

From then on, I told myself I'd do anything it took to keep her out of situations like that, and if that meant watching her for free or being jerked around and treated like a doormat, I'd do it for her.  Because I had a choice, a choice to walk away when things got hard.  She didn't.  And I wasn't leaving without her.

But I started college, I started working part time at a daycare center, and A started Head Start on my recommendation.  She got the last spot available.  She was almost told she couldn't come back because she continued to have potty accidents - but later I found out that they had deemed her completely potty trained after D had taken to spanking her any time she had an accident :(  I was glad she got to stay in head start, but my heart broke for how she was "potty trained".  A continued to have bladder control issues into elementary school and I believe they stemmed from the harsh practices used on her.

We spent Halloween together again.  I think this was the start of the princess obsession - A was Snow White.  And a terribly cute one at that.  She spent that night at my house, and then I dropped her off with a babysitter before going to class the next day.

When she needed me, I put my life on hold for A.  I left work to pick her up from Head Start sometimes.  In November, I had surgery to correct my endometriosis.  The day after my surgery, I got a phone call in the afternoon - it was the preschool.  It was 4 pm and no one had picked A up yet.  As it turned out, her grandparents and her mom and D had their signals crossed as to who would pick her up, but they called me because no one else was picking up and I was her emergency contact.

I couldn't drive, I had to wait for my mom to come and get me.  I was in a panic.  I was afraid she was upset and scared, so while I waited, I gathered up a snack and grabbed A's car seat.  As soon as we pulled into her school's parking lot I took off for the door, my mom yelling behind me not to tear out my stitches.  I didn't care.  At 4:30 they would call the police.  I couldn't let that happen, A would be so scared.  I had to get to her.  And I did, and she was sitting in the lobby looking at books with a staff member.  They asked me if I was supposed to pick her up.  I told them no, I didn't know who was, but I'd take her.  We took her home with us until her grandma got off work.  I was stressed for her though, hoping it didn't happen again.  But college let out between Thanksgiving and New Year's, so I had more time to spend with her and just assuaged my concerns by spoiling her some more.  The year ended with me uneasy and A's life up in the air... and unfortunately it wasn't something that was going to end soon... so we just tried to make the most of the moments in between.

Future veterinarian

"Hi, my name is A, and I cut my own bangs."

From here on out, it gets even harder to write, so please forgive me if it takes me some time to put part 5 together.

Ouv Foo!

Dear Princess,

Forgive me, I'm feeling sappy and warm hearted right now, even though I'm really not feeling well... and I was just looking at your Ellfant and remembering how I was mad when you painted his 'nails', but now I'm glad you did... because it reminds me of you.  And then it reminded my of another time, when you were only about three... and what I would've ordained as a miracle happened, were it in my power.

You were always my quiet one, unless you were having a fit.  Three years old and the only words you said were 'Mama' and 'Boo' (Blue), neither one of them usually at the appropriate time, object or person.

So imagine my surprise, when one day after I picked you up when I was done with school, we were taking a nap together in my bed like we always did (it was the only time I got cuddles!) and you woke up a little bit after I did.  I was fiddling with my cell phone like I usually did while I waited for you to wake, because you always slept on my left arm.  I saw you wake up and said "Good morning, Livvy!  I love you!"

You looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then said "Foo?"  And I replied "I love you," again, enunciating each word so you could hear exactly what I was saying.  And then out of nowhere, you opened your mouth again.

"Ouv Foo!"

Someone who didn't know you as well as I did might've mistaken it for toddler jabber, but I knew.  You said your first "I love you"... to me.  I smiled and praised, "Yes, Livvy, I love you, that's right!  I love you, I love you, I love you!"  Then I pulled up the voice recorder on my phone in case you said it again, and you didn't disappoint.  You echoed me.

"Ouv Foo, Ouv Foo, Ouv Foo!"

I still have that cell phone, the one with your first "I love you" on it.. and the charge cord... I'm not letting go of that.  Over and over you said it, once you realized how happy it made me.  I don't know if you knew what it meant, but you knew it was good and happy, and that we meant it toward each other - and that was enough for me.  Sometimes, I'd pull out that phone and show someone, "Look, here's my baby saying I love you!"  Nobody was ever as impressed as I was, but I was proud of you.  The first phrase I ever heard you say, and it wasn't "I want" or "That's mine"... it was "I love you".  Because that's just the sweet gentle little girl you always were.  Well - until you started trapping cats in corners and having meltdowns over popsicles, but hey, my sweet girl was still in there.

Days like today, it really makes me smile to remember those first little phrases.
Ouv Foo too, baby girl.
Katie

Happy Mother's Day

If you read that title and think that this post isn't for you, please reconsider.  YOU are exactly who I am writing this post for.

You, who have tried and tried to become a mother, because you have the heart of a mother, but whose efforts have never been fruitful.

You, who have lost babies you never even got to meet - you mothers of angels.

You, who have held your child in your arms and then had to surrender him to God.

You, who have brought an adopted or foster child into your home and raised them as your own - mothers, no different from any other.

And you, who have loved a child with a mother's love, even if no formal ties exist.

This is your day too.  No, this is your day especially, because you are exceptional for the struggles you have been through, for the courage you have had to walk where others dared not to tread.

Give yourself a moment to accept that today is for you.  You are not left out.  You are not alone.

A year ago, a little girl gave me the most beautiful gift I have ever received... in a cup of dirt.  My little green sprout, that turned into my big yellow marigold... and the card she worked on all day to wish me a happy mother's day.

I do not have any children, except for the children of my heart, of which she is one.  And apparently, somehow she realized as well... that there is more than one kind of mother.  This child was nine.

While your hearts are breaking today because you feel like this day isn't really for you, or because it reminds you of something you were robbed of (I admit to having shed a few tears already), remember that.  A little child had the insight to see a mother in someone who, by the definition of society, wasn't one.  Our children, pure and innocent, know the truth.  They know that this day is for you too - whether your child is in your arms, your heart, or with God.

Please take a moment to smile... and remember all the little yellow flowers that will be waiting for you someday, lovingly planted by those babes you can't hold in your arms this mother's day.

Your struggle is a hard one - one that I know very well - and you, more than anyone, deserve to be celebrated.

I don't even know what to write.

I miss my little yellow flower.

But mostly I miss the little girl who cared and understood enough to give me the best gift I have ever received.

Love you, baby.

Happy Birthday, Princess

Happy birthday, little girl.  Or should I say, big girl?  Ten, really!  Next year you'll have to start using your toes to count!

I miss you and love you more than you will ever know, but don't worry.  I'll be okay.  I know God is watching over you, and I know He will bring you back to me sooner or later.

I hope you had some cake and ice cream today.  I hope somebody sang to you and gave you a present.  It didn't rain like I was afraid it would, so hopefully you got to have outdoor recess.

We had cake and ice cream for you.  Princess and Ellfant celebrated with us.  It was oreo cake and birthday blast ice cream.  It was really good, but it would've been better if you were here.

Remember... I love you like the moon at night - big, and round, and warm, and bright.  I love you... goodnight.

Empty

That's how this week feels.  Empty.  And it's the most horrible feeling.

Once upon a time, I used a camera with film.  Once upon a time waaaay back in 2007 ;)  So one year is missing.  Three.  Although, actually, I do have this random picture from a little later that year...

Three

But since then...

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight isn't here... a miracle was busy unfolding... but here's a little girl who dressed herself a few weeks later...

Pardon my messy apartment.

Nine

...



This is ten.

Ten

We're having cake... but there won't be anybody to blow out the candles.  (But you better bet I'm going to make a wish!)

Nobody to open every present, even the ones that are clothes, and exclaim, "OH, THANK YOU!  I JUST DID WANT THIS!"

Nobody to model all those new outfits like she's destined for the catwalk.

There's a hole.

An hole that was left in my heart the last time I saw her... that will never be filled without her.  Not just some kid.  Her.  One of a kind.  My A.  The little girl who could light up any room, and yet still manage to throw the most royal temper tantrums.

That's what I feel this year.  A hole.  An empty hole.  An empty chair.  An empty bed.  My empty arms.

In everything I do, in every moment... empty.

I would give anything to make it different.

Happy tenth birthday, princess.  We'll celebrate... someday.

Important

Please read my other blog today.

http://crazy-arewethereyet.blogspot.com/2013/05/nobodys-child.html

The Naked Truth

Regular Days

Dear Princess,

Tonight, I'm missing you, and I'm thinking not about any specific memory, but rather just the normal days, the ones we lived all the time... together.  So tonight I'm going to tell you about those... just in case you've forgotten.

For years, you spent nights here more often than not.  I moved my bedroom around to fit a second bed in it for you.  When your baby brother was born, I put a cosleeper next to my bed for him.  It was tight, but we were okay.

Every morning, I'd wake up very early - in the dark, I'd creep out of our room and get dressed in the hallway in the clothes I set out the night before.  I'd pack your lunch for school, pack up my things for college (for the years I attended), get breakfast ready for you and your brother if he was with us, and then wake you up.  You'd always wake up sleepy-eyed and slow moving, so I'd help you change into your clothes for the day and tell you things to make you laugh, things we said every day... then once you were dressed I'd tell you how pretty you were and we'd go downstairs.  I brushed your hair while you ate breakfast, got your brother dressed and fed if he was with us, then we went upstairs to brush your teeth.  Once you were ready to go, I'd pack us all up, load us into the car, you safely buckled up in your harness or your booster seat, and we'd head for your school.

I know they didn't like it, but I preferred to walk you into school, if not to your classroom at least to the door.  Not until you were in second grade did I get used to just dropping you off.  I hated turning you over to strangers, even though you loved school and you (usually) wanted to go).  When I left your school, I'd drop your brother off if I had school or work that day, or if not, go back home to spend time with him.  I always missed you on those days, I wished I could have my big girl home with me too.

I loved picking you up from school.  Sometimes I had to send my mom to do it, but I always preferred to do it myself.  I loved seeing the big grin on your face after your school day and seeing you come running toward me down the hall.  I loved looking in your backpack and seeing the latest schoolwork and art that came home with you.  I loved seeing you say goodbye to your friends... it was like a little glimpse into the individual you were becoming when you were with your peers.  I loved to have a snack waiting for you in the car (even though it came at the expense of my upholstery).

After school, we'd head home, finish snacks, and then spend some time playing.  Outside, if it was nice.  You always wanted to play outside.  While I was in college, I'd read textbooks while I watched you play.  Once I was finally out of college, I was free to just play with you.  On days when it wasn't nice enough to go outside, you'd pick the activity.  Coloring, playing a game, watching a show, playing with your babies, reading books, whatever.  Mostly you liked to follow me or my mom around the house and help with whatever we were doing.

When your little break was over, I'd direct you to the counter to do some homework.  When I was in college, I'd get my own homework out to work on it right next to you.  After that, I just focused on helping you.  I dug out all the manipulatives and things we kept from my and my brother's school years to help you learn.  I loved seeing the lightbulb come on and watching you get better and better at skills you used to struggle with.

By the time we were done, it was usually time for dinner.  You were picky, and sometimes it was a battle to get you to at least try everything, but other times, when we were eating something you particularly adored, your mealtime enthusiasm was enchanting.  I still cut up your bites for you, although you were starting to get the hang of it in the last year or so.  You still liked me to do it, and I didn't usually mind, as long as you asked nicely!  Before we ate, you would always remind us to say the prayer, and more often than not, you were the one to say it.  You said the prayer my family has always said before mealtimes, but you always added your own unique twist:

"God is Great
God is Good
And we thank Him
For our food
And thank you for Carol, and Katie, and McKenzie, and Danny, and the cats, and my friends like Jordan and Ava and Hannah... and my Mamaw and Papaw and my other Papaw and my mommy and daddy and my puppy dog and baby brother and... I think that's it.  Amen."

You were the best pray-er in the family, for sure.

After dinner was usually a little bit of playtime, then baths.  When you were littler you needed a lot of help so I'd give you your bath, then wrap you up in a towel and pick you up and sing "Hush Little Baby" to you.  Then you got too big for that, so I took to sitting on my laptop outside the bathroom while you took your bath (so I could help you with your long hair when you called me), and then reach the towel for you when you were done.  Even though you were bigger, I'd still wrap you up in it, then give you a hug.  If you were feeling sad, I'd even sing.  I'd brush your hair out, and you'd always tell me how you liked it when I brushed your hair because it didn't pull too much, but then you'd go "ow!" because I hit a tangle.  You'd get your pajamas on, we'd brush your teeth (I took a turn, then you took a turn... until you showed me that you could do just as good a job on your own!) and then it was your favorite part of 'bedtime'.

Invariably, I'd say "Okay, go pick a book!" and you'd run off to your/our room, spend ages choosing just the perfect book you wanted to read that night... I'd pick a book too... and I'd remind you that God always picked the Bible.  We read your book first.  Sometimes you preferred to do a page out of an I Spy book.  Then we'd read my book, which was always one of a select few with a "Goodnight, I love you" sort of message (my all time favorite being "I Love You, Goodnight" - the book that ends with "I love you like the moon at night.. big and round and warm and bright.  I love you, goodnight," and the one that made you laugh at the page that said "I love you like frogs love flies", that you eventually memorized and read along with me), and finally we'd read a story from your children's Bible and maybe talk about it a little.  Then I'd give you hugs and kisses and your Ellfant, turn on the TV channel that was just a bulletin board and music (before I could afford a night light), and either go to bed myself or leave the room until you were asleep.

Sometimes you talked in your sleep.  Every once in a while you cried in your sleep.  I always heard you.  When you were there, I sort of slept with one eye open... listening... waiting... in case you needed me.  If I heard you sounding upset, I'd just come sit on your bed and stroke your hair and talk soothingly to you until you calmed down.  You'd never even wake up.  Then I'd go back to bed and wait until morning when I could give you a good, big hug again.

I miss those days, Princess.  Even the ones when you didn't eat your vegetables and I had to put them in the refrigerator for the next time you told me you were hungry.  Because any day with one of your hugs in it, was a good day.  We didn't have to do anything extraordinary to be happy together... we just were.  And one day we will be again.  For now... well, it's not the same as hugging you, but you'd better bet I'm huggin' your Ellfant and thinking of you... just like I promised.

Love you forever,
"Kai"