We
recently had a meeting regarding my oldest and her permanency. This was a meeting that we had waited for,
prepared for, and anticipated a feeling of hope when it closed. Our preparation was in vain, her very
well-articulated and thought out letter was in vain; no voice to be heard. Tears of frustration and a cycle of feeling
defeated surfaced instead. It wasn’t an
all-out horrific meeting, but one that informed us of the time delays and
obstacles that could drastically change what forever would look like for our
daughter.
In
taking a step back, Thad and I are for the most part used to how things may or
may not go with the state. We understand the brokenness of a system that just
doesn’t have the resources or support it needs to run efficiently, we understand
the human error that can overshadow and prolong an anticipated outcome, we
expect for the rescheduling of hearings because we know our court system is
over booked and severely behind. We
understand these issues and we prepare for them, but today was different. This was HER day, a day she hoped to share
her voice, to be heard for the child she is and what she has experienced, a day
where they would have the opportunity to understand her and where she felt like
her journey to forever would finally begin.
As we
sat in that stale, blank conference room with representatives surrounding the
elongated table I could almost hear the anxiousness of our heart beats. I was such a proud mom in that room. My girl held her head high, she kept her
emotions at bay; even when I shed the tears on her behalf. I knew what she was feeling; the intense pain
of not knowing her fate. She heard
things in that room that she had never before been made aware of, talk of the
worst case scenarios and potential cultural obstacles; words that shattered her
hope. In strength she sat there calm,
maturely and respectfully challenging what they were saying, questioning what
her forever would look like.
Indeed
I am so proud of my kiddo, proud of her strength and who she is in spite of her
circumstances. I am very proud, but I am
also completely sad and burdened. She is one of the strongest kids I know, yet
at the same time so powerless. As they
spoke I could see her spirit deflate within as the realization that she has no
control in her forever brutally sank in.
She is a teen….that means she can access birth control without my
consent, she can choose an abortion without me ever knowing, yet her voice is
mute within the walls of this system.
Two and
a half years of waiting to know whose child you will forever be is difficult
for anyone, but even more difficult for a child who wants nothing more than to
finalize their forever with a family they love and whom in return love them to
the moon and back.
