Tuesday, July 8, 2014
His mother
The full moon stared at me through my bedroom window keeping me awake wondering if you were looking at it too. I wonder if you are cold tonight. I wonder if you are hungry. I wonder if you miss your baby sleeping upstairs. I wonder how the same moon can mean such different things to us. I wonder why your family couldn't love you, you seem loveable to me. I wonder a lot of things about you. I wish I could love you back to life the way I have your son. I wish I could have been there when for you more. I wish someone would have told you that you could be a wonderful mother. I wonder if your defeat is what kept you from getting the help you needed. I wonder if you know I do love you. I wonder if you know that when I look into your son's eyes I see you, or if you know that when he is difficult I try to handle him with the patience and love you'd want for him even if you couldn't do it yourself. I wish you did. I wish a lot of things.
January 17 2014
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Gasway"
"Yes"
The voice on the other line is Mom's social worker, but something is wrong. Her stoic voice is unsteady. My stomach knots.
"Js mom is dead."
Silence. No air. Drowning.
"I am sorry, what?"
"She was murdered. This morning."
I gasp for air, "WHAT!"
Her voice softens. "They found her body this morning near the base."
The house suddenly feels incredibly empty and impossibly quiet. I begin to cry.
"I am sorry. I just am having a hard time processing this." The boys look at me curiously and concerned.
"Mom, what's going on. Is dad okay?" I wave at them to be quiet. This makes them even more worried.
"I never in a million years thought this would happen to her. Why her!?" and the flood gates open and I begin to weep, big heaving, air gulping, embarrassing cries. I think about J. How horrible this is for him. Even if he doesn't understand yet, he will some day. There is silence on the other end, and the I can feel that worker is bewildered by my reaction. She doesn't understand that I loved his mom, just as I love him.
"Me either Mrs. Gasway. It is terrible."
I suddenly feel aware of my nakedness and just want to end this conversation, "well thank you for calling me."
"You are welcome. I am sorry."
"Me too. I will talk to you later. I need to hang up. I am very upset." I can't stop thinking about her last moments. She must've felt so alone. She must've thought of her children. She must've worried about their futures.
"I understand."
"good bye"
"bye"
I hang up and explain what has happened to the boys. The first thing they want to do go upstairs, wake J up and hug him. I say okay, even though I know it's more for them than for J.
We hug him. The boys and I sleep together all in one room. I send Casey several messages hoping he will answer. I want him here with me RIGHT NOW, and not half a world away. There are so many things I wanted to ask her. I had always hoped that she and J would someday be able to have a relationship. Every child wants to know the woman that gave them life, even if they aren't raised by her. I mourn the fact that he will never get that. I mourn his loss and worry about the impact it will have on him when he is old enough to understand. I can never replace her for him. I can love him with all my mother's love, but he will still long for her. All adopted children long for the woman that gave them life, even if only to look into the eyes that look like their own. He does look like her. He will only know her in pictures and this makes me very sad. I can't stop thinking, my mind is so loud and only my husband knows how to quiet it. Exhausted.
At 2am he finally calls, my sweet husband. He talks to me away from the edge of an exhausted anxiety induced break-down. At 5:30 he demands I call someone to come and help. I am slurring my words in my emotional and physical exhaustion he says. I don't hear it. I refuse. He tells me to sleep, but the kids are about to wake up. He asks to speak to Cooper. Alone. I overhear him telling Cooper to take charge until someone else gets there to help. I am offended. I think I am stronger than I am. He asks one of the soldiers to call his wife and send her over. It is 6:30 when she arrives unexpectedly. My husband knew I would refuse her help. I don't want anyone to see me like this, but she is sweet and comforting. I do not feel judged by her. She let's me sleep and feeds the boys. She was wonderful. For the next few days I am afraid to leave the house. I don't who the killer is. What if it is the guy from the library?
**I'd find out the day of our March court date that during that last torturous visit she would tell her worker (and later, the grandmother of her oldest children), "He picked that woman. He loves her. She is mommy now. I don't want anyone to take him away from her." She loved him so much. She loved him selflessly.
"Mrs. Gasway"
"Yes"
The voice on the other line is Mom's social worker, but something is wrong. Her stoic voice is unsteady. My stomach knots.
"Js mom is dead."
Silence. No air. Drowning.
"I am sorry, what?"
"She was murdered. This morning."
I gasp for air, "WHAT!"
Her voice softens. "They found her body this morning near the base."
The house suddenly feels incredibly empty and impossibly quiet. I begin to cry.
"I am sorry. I just am having a hard time processing this." The boys look at me curiously and concerned.
"Mom, what's going on. Is dad okay?" I wave at them to be quiet. This makes them even more worried.
"I never in a million years thought this would happen to her. Why her!?" and the flood gates open and I begin to weep, big heaving, air gulping, embarrassing cries. I think about J. How horrible this is for him. Even if he doesn't understand yet, he will some day. There is silence on the other end, and the I can feel that worker is bewildered by my reaction. She doesn't understand that I loved his mom, just as I love him.
"Me either Mrs. Gasway. It is terrible."
I suddenly feel aware of my nakedness and just want to end this conversation, "well thank you for calling me."
"You are welcome. I am sorry."
"Me too. I will talk to you later. I need to hang up. I am very upset." I can't stop thinking about her last moments. She must've felt so alone. She must've thought of her children. She must've worried about their futures.
"I understand."
"good bye"
"bye"
I hang up and explain what has happened to the boys. The first thing they want to do go upstairs, wake J up and hug him. I say okay, even though I know it's more for them than for J.
We hug him. The boys and I sleep together all in one room. I send Casey several messages hoping he will answer. I want him here with me RIGHT NOW, and not half a world away. There are so many things I wanted to ask her. I had always hoped that she and J would someday be able to have a relationship. Every child wants to know the woman that gave them life, even if they aren't raised by her. I mourn the fact that he will never get that. I mourn his loss and worry about the impact it will have on him when he is old enough to understand. I can never replace her for him. I can love him with all my mother's love, but he will still long for her. All adopted children long for the woman that gave them life, even if only to look into the eyes that look like their own. He does look like her. He will only know her in pictures and this makes me very sad. I can't stop thinking, my mind is so loud and only my husband knows how to quiet it. Exhausted.
At 2am he finally calls, my sweet husband. He talks to me away from the edge of an exhausted anxiety induced break-down. At 5:30 he demands I call someone to come and help. I am slurring my words in my emotional and physical exhaustion he says. I don't hear it. I refuse. He tells me to sleep, but the kids are about to wake up. He asks to speak to Cooper. Alone. I overhear him telling Cooper to take charge until someone else gets there to help. I am offended. I think I am stronger than I am. He asks one of the soldiers to call his wife and send her over. It is 6:30 when she arrives unexpectedly. My husband knew I would refuse her help. I don't want anyone to see me like this, but she is sweet and comforting. I do not feel judged by her. She let's me sleep and feeds the boys. She was wonderful. For the next few days I am afraid to leave the house. I don't who the killer is. What if it is the guy from the library?
**I'd find out the day of our March court date that during that last torturous visit she would tell her worker (and later, the grandmother of her oldest children), "He picked that woman. He loves her. She is mommy now. I don't want anyone to take him away from her." She loved him so much. She loved him selflessly.
December 7th 2013
10:30 am. The phone ring paralyzes me. This is normal now. It is the land line. This means it is either a social worker or a doctor. I don't want to answer it anymore. "Hello, Gasway's" The boys are doing their school work at the table a few feet away. They pretend they aren't listening, but I know that they are."
"Mrs. GAsway, I was wondering if you would be available for a visit today."
"Of course."
"is 1:30 pm at the library okay for you?"
"I can't be there until 2, well I have to drop one of the boys off somewhere at 2, but I can drop him off early, and try to be there before 2. I can't promise I will, but I will do my best."
"Well, mom has to be some where at 2:20."
"I will be there as soon as I can."
We hang up and I put J down for a nap. I hope that he can get enough sleep before he sees his mother. I want him to be well rested and ready to play. It has been 9 months and she has only asked to see him a handful of times, and only once did she actually show. That was in September.
1:15: I wake him up. I dress him in a pair of overalls, and a longsleeve t-shirt. He looks adorable. I doubt this is how mom would dress him, but I am not sure. I wonder if this will upset her, remind her that another woman is picking out his clothes, changing his diapers, wiping his tears. The thought crushes me. We all put on coats, hats, and gloves and pile into the car.
I can feel the familiar pressure building in my throat as I park the car in the library parking lot. I want my husband to be here with me. Why do I have to do this alone?
1:50pm: As we approach the library Mom, and her social worker meet us outside. Mom is wearing the same clothes she wore to court two days ago. I don't think she has washed her hair since either. This makes my heart ache for her. She reaches for him and he turns away from her. I pry him off my chest to hand him to her. She smells of cigarette smoke and fried food, "how is mommy's baby? Did you miss me? I missed you". He looks for me over her shoulder. This was hard, but is nothing compared to what is to come. I am not his mother.
When we get inside there is a strange man smiling at me. He is obviously with mom. He was at court too. Is this Js dad? Is this mom's pimp? Who is this man? Why is he here? Is he dangerous? We head into children's section. Mom walks far ahead of us with J and I hang back to talk to the worker. We are engrossed in a conversation about future visits, when J comes running out of the play section and slams into my legs. He begs to be picked up. He is terrified of this stranger, his mother. Regardless, she is his mother and I am not, and the only way for him to become familiar with her again is for him to spend this entire visit with her. They both need this. I grab his hand and head towards the table where his mother sits looking defeated. She looks completely broken. J complies until he realizes where we are going. I get a few feet from his mother and he throws himself onto the ground, kicks his feet, flails his arms, and starts screaming a scream he has only ever screamed when he was physically hurting. My tears come without notice, and I swear I hear the crackling of my heart as it wretches in my chest. I step over him, and look at mom's worker, "I can't do this". I walk to the other end of the library. He continues to scream for the next 10 minutes. I weep. I weep for both of them, but they cannot know. I send my husband frantic IMs on Skype hoping that he will get them and respond. Though I doubt it. I feel a twinge of guilt because Army wives are supposed so suck everything up and not bother their husbands with stress from the homefront during their deployments, but I decide I don't care.
"Annie?!"
I look up from my Ipad, and let out a relieved, "Nancy."
Another homeschool mom, a friend. Relief courses through me and I let out a long sigh, followed by uncontrollable sobbing that shakes my entire body. I feel weak to cry in front of anyone.
"do you hear that screaming?"
"yes"
"That is J. He is visiting with his mom."
"Oh, annie I am so sorry."
She hugs my shivering body. I feel so frail in her arms. She hands me a tissue and that's when I notice him. The strange man that came with mom. As Nancy and I talk he circles our table and leers at me. I feel like prey. I am so thankful that Nancy decided to come to the library at this exact moment, and I know that it wasn't a coincidence. I say a silent prayer of thanks.
After roughly 10 more minutes, Mom, the man, and her social worker appear in the hallway that connects the children's section to the adult section. I ask Nancy to wait for me, and she says, "Of course". What a wonderful human. I meet them. Mom wont make eye contact with me. J is wandering about the stacks alone and she seems completely uncaring and detached from him a shift from how she entered the building. I run and pick him up. He smiles at me, and I know that he is okay. The man keeps rubbing Js head, and trying to play peek-a-boo with him. I feel complete molested. They leave, but the worker stays.
We walk back to the toys and I put J down. I am a little worried that they will come back and steal him. I know it's irrational, but I can't help it. The worker begins to talk to me about our March court date. "I am going to recommend a straight goal of adoption at our next court date."
"Okay, are we going to continue visits?"
"Yes, I'd like to try to have a visit a week. That is, if mom shows up."
Really? We are going to torture this poor kid! I know that he will adjust and that if she shows they could build a bond.
"That sounds great to me. Though I would like for her to arrive before we have to show up so that if she doesn't come we aren't left waiting on her. I think it is best if Js life is disrupted as little as possible."
"I think that is reasonable."
We leave. On the way home Casey call's me. I begin to sob. I tell him how awful she is. How terrified J was. I tell him about the strange man and how I feel molested and completely vulnerable. I tell him that I wish he was at home because I would feel safer. I am sick of doing this alone. I think I might lose my mind. I didn't know this was the last time we would see her. For the next 7 nights in a row J wakes up with night terrors several times a night. I wonder what fears the visit triggered.
"Mrs. GAsway, I was wondering if you would be available for a visit today."
"Of course."
"is 1:30 pm at the library okay for you?"
"I can't be there until 2, well I have to drop one of the boys off somewhere at 2, but I can drop him off early, and try to be there before 2. I can't promise I will, but I will do my best."
"Well, mom has to be some where at 2:20."
"I will be there as soon as I can."
We hang up and I put J down for a nap. I hope that he can get enough sleep before he sees his mother. I want him to be well rested and ready to play. It has been 9 months and she has only asked to see him a handful of times, and only once did she actually show. That was in September.
1:15: I wake him up. I dress him in a pair of overalls, and a longsleeve t-shirt. He looks adorable. I doubt this is how mom would dress him, but I am not sure. I wonder if this will upset her, remind her that another woman is picking out his clothes, changing his diapers, wiping his tears. The thought crushes me. We all put on coats, hats, and gloves and pile into the car.
I can feel the familiar pressure building in my throat as I park the car in the library parking lot. I want my husband to be here with me. Why do I have to do this alone?
1:50pm: As we approach the library Mom, and her social worker meet us outside. Mom is wearing the same clothes she wore to court two days ago. I don't think she has washed her hair since either. This makes my heart ache for her. She reaches for him and he turns away from her. I pry him off my chest to hand him to her. She smells of cigarette smoke and fried food, "how is mommy's baby? Did you miss me? I missed you". He looks for me over her shoulder. This was hard, but is nothing compared to what is to come. I am not his mother.
When we get inside there is a strange man smiling at me. He is obviously with mom. He was at court too. Is this Js dad? Is this mom's pimp? Who is this man? Why is he here? Is he dangerous? We head into children's section. Mom walks far ahead of us with J and I hang back to talk to the worker. We are engrossed in a conversation about future visits, when J comes running out of the play section and slams into my legs. He begs to be picked up. He is terrified of this stranger, his mother. Regardless, she is his mother and I am not, and the only way for him to become familiar with her again is for him to spend this entire visit with her. They both need this. I grab his hand and head towards the table where his mother sits looking defeated. She looks completely broken. J complies until he realizes where we are going. I get a few feet from his mother and he throws himself onto the ground, kicks his feet, flails his arms, and starts screaming a scream he has only ever screamed when he was physically hurting. My tears come without notice, and I swear I hear the crackling of my heart as it wretches in my chest. I step over him, and look at mom's worker, "I can't do this". I walk to the other end of the library. He continues to scream for the next 10 minutes. I weep. I weep for both of them, but they cannot know. I send my husband frantic IMs on Skype hoping that he will get them and respond. Though I doubt it. I feel a twinge of guilt because Army wives are supposed so suck everything up and not bother their husbands with stress from the homefront during their deployments, but I decide I don't care.
"Annie?!"
I look up from my Ipad, and let out a relieved, "Nancy."
Another homeschool mom, a friend. Relief courses through me and I let out a long sigh, followed by uncontrollable sobbing that shakes my entire body. I feel weak to cry in front of anyone.
"do you hear that screaming?"
"yes"
"That is J. He is visiting with his mom."
"Oh, annie I am so sorry."
She hugs my shivering body. I feel so frail in her arms. She hands me a tissue and that's when I notice him. The strange man that came with mom. As Nancy and I talk he circles our table and leers at me. I feel like prey. I am so thankful that Nancy decided to come to the library at this exact moment, and I know that it wasn't a coincidence. I say a silent prayer of thanks.
After roughly 10 more minutes, Mom, the man, and her social worker appear in the hallway that connects the children's section to the adult section. I ask Nancy to wait for me, and she says, "Of course". What a wonderful human. I meet them. Mom wont make eye contact with me. J is wandering about the stacks alone and she seems completely uncaring and detached from him a shift from how she entered the building. I run and pick him up. He smiles at me, and I know that he is okay. The man keeps rubbing Js head, and trying to play peek-a-boo with him. I feel complete molested. They leave, but the worker stays.
We walk back to the toys and I put J down. I am a little worried that they will come back and steal him. I know it's irrational, but I can't help it. The worker begins to talk to me about our March court date. "I am going to recommend a straight goal of adoption at our next court date."
"Okay, are we going to continue visits?"
"Yes, I'd like to try to have a visit a week. That is, if mom shows up."
Really? We are going to torture this poor kid! I know that he will adjust and that if she shows they could build a bond.
"That sounds great to me. Though I would like for her to arrive before we have to show up so that if she doesn't come we aren't left waiting on her. I think it is best if Js life is disrupted as little as possible."
"I think that is reasonable."
We leave. On the way home Casey call's me. I begin to sob. I tell him how awful she is. How terrified J was. I tell him about the strange man and how I feel molested and completely vulnerable. I tell him that I wish he was at home because I would feel safer. I am sick of doing this alone. I think I might lose my mind. I didn't know this was the last time we would see her. For the next 7 nights in a row J wakes up with night terrors several times a night. I wonder what fears the visit triggered.
December 5th 2013
The waiting room provides no comfort. Long wooden pughs, pastel blue walls - a feeble attempt to calm us. I am not calmed. I pray she doesn't come. I love her. I want her to get well, but I don't think she will. I have been sitting here for nearly an hour as social workers, parents, foster parents, public defenders, and off duty police officers filter in and out. I wait anxiously to see her. The mother of my foster son. I love him too. I have good days where I thank her for all she has done for him, and I want so desperately for her to be reunited with him for them to live happily ever after. I have bad days where I want to punch her in her face for all she hasn't done for him, for all the struggles he faces because of her. I am the one to help him face those struggles, and it hurts to see him try so hard to overcome. Babies shouldn't have so much to overcome. She was just a baby when she first became a mother. The cycle of life for some, and this is where I always end up. Wishing I had a magic wand.
Black hoodie, dirty hair blonde on bottom black on top drawn up into a hasty bun on top of her head. She isn't alone. Who are these people. I feel the breath drawn involuntarily out of my body. I can't breath. They call his name and we all get up to head into the courtroom. As I stand up I cannot feel my legs. They are unreliable and I am so thankful that my mother in law has come today. I will need her.
More long wooden pughs. The only seat is next to her, and her companions. I find out later that I sit next to her sister. We are so close our thighs share space. "Your honor, I recommend the goal of Adoption." They gasp and I feel their eyes on me like erasers trying to rub me out of reality. It hurts. I don't want to cry here, not in front of them. I want to wait, but I feel it rising up inside of me. "I approve the concurrent goals of relative placement and adoption." I feel her heart break. I feel it inside of me as if it is my own heart and I am not sure I can keep these tears from falling. This is not what I wanted for her. I want her to hope, to work hard to be the mother her son deserves. I know she wants it. I feel her desire. I also feel her defeat.
We share the elevator on our way out of the court house. The silence is like concrete pressing down on us, engulfing us, drowning and paralyzing us. Finally her sister breaks the silence. I am grateful. "How is J anyway?" "He is great. He is teething, so he is crying a lot. But he is healthy." I want to ask why she, and his mom didn't come to the hospital for his open heart surgery, or to visit during the 5 days he was recovering, but I don't. I have so many questions. EDIT: I found out much later that sister didn't come because she was giving birth, and mom didn't come because she was terrified her baby would die during the surgery. This makes me glad that I reserved judgment, even if everyone else told me I was naive.
Black hoodie, dirty hair blonde on bottom black on top drawn up into a hasty bun on top of her head. She isn't alone. Who are these people. I feel the breath drawn involuntarily out of my body. I can't breath. They call his name and we all get up to head into the courtroom. As I stand up I cannot feel my legs. They are unreliable and I am so thankful that my mother in law has come today. I will need her.
More long wooden pughs. The only seat is next to her, and her companions. I find out later that I sit next to her sister. We are so close our thighs share space. "Your honor, I recommend the goal of Adoption." They gasp and I feel their eyes on me like erasers trying to rub me out of reality. It hurts. I don't want to cry here, not in front of them. I want to wait, but I feel it rising up inside of me. "I approve the concurrent goals of relative placement and adoption." I feel her heart break. I feel it inside of me as if it is my own heart and I am not sure I can keep these tears from falling. This is not what I wanted for her. I want her to hope, to work hard to be the mother her son deserves. I know she wants it. I feel her desire. I also feel her defeat.
We share the elevator on our way out of the court house. The silence is like concrete pressing down on us, engulfing us, drowning and paralyzing us. Finally her sister breaks the silence. I am grateful. "How is J anyway?" "He is great. He is teething, so he is crying a lot. But he is healthy." I want to ask why she, and his mom didn't come to the hospital for his open heart surgery, or to visit during the 5 days he was recovering, but I don't. I have so many questions. EDIT: I found out much later that sister didn't come because she was giving birth, and mom didn't come because she was terrified her baby would die during the surgery. This makes me glad that I reserved judgment, even if everyone else told me I was naive.
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