Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (31 page)

“I don’t know the exact situation, but I’ve seen lots of mothers abandon their babies. I know a good mother when I see one. I am documenting in the report that you’ve been holding her for hours on end and quietly crying. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this happen to decent parents. It’s happening all the time now,” the nurse confided. “We wanted to ask you, is there an official document or order saying that they can legally do this?” Derrick asked. “Actually, I was going to let you know that I haven’t received anything yet. For all I know, the order could come through the fax machine in a few hours, but I did ask them to send something over and they haven’t done it yet. I began thinking about Plan B. Part of me wanted to take our baby and just go. We could start driving to Texas. They couldn’t touch our baby if we could get to another state that was so far away. The only thing that held me back from this was that my Probation had not ended. I still had two years to go. I knew that being a fugitive on the run wouldn’t solve anything, and it would just make everything worse in the long run. I still considered it for a moment. Derrick and I talked it out and decided to deal with the crappy hand we got. I got to hold and feed my baby for four hours in peace that night. The nurse somehow saw and believed in my love for my baby, and she’ll never know how much those four hours meant to me. She put her job on the line just so I could have a few precious hours holding my new baby and cherishing the short moments that would be abruptly taken away. When the nurse on the new shift walked in, she quickly took my baby out of my arms and returned her to the nursery.

It was around 6:00 a.m. when the nurse took my little girl back to the nursery. I was so exhausted, and although I had only gotten around five hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, I still couldn’t sleep knowing that she was in the other room. We took shifts to spend time with her, and as every hour passed, I became more and more anxious. As delusional as the idea was, I still had a desperate hope that it was all a big mistake, and they were going to soon realize this. The compassion that I received from the nurses allowed me to hang on to that last tiny little shred of hope. If a nurse who had been working in the hospital for over 20 years could see my intentions, then surely I could get the Court to see them as well. On day three, the same Social Worker showed up in my hospital room. He was delivering the Court order and informed us that the Court date would be on Tuesday. It was only Saturday. I was trying to think of ways that I could prolong my hospital stay just so I could spend more time with my baby and avoid her being placed in a foster home. If I could stay with her until Tuesday, then I could go to Court with all of my documents as proof that I had rehabilitated myself. The Court would have to give her back to me. I still held on to hope because I had no other choice, and, of course, I was very attached to her.

Around midnight that night, Derrick’s parents finally arrived from Texas. They walked into the labor and delivery unit, and they looked completely exhausted. They had been driving for 29 hours straight. We all stayed up with our baby until about 4:00 a.m. His mother cried most of the time. I finally went to sleep dreading what was going to happen in the morning. I had a feeling that the hospital was going to discharge me. My feeling was right. I slept until about 8:00 a.m. and woke up to one of the nurses taking my vitals while explaining to me that the doctor said it was safe for me to be released and spend the rest of my recovery time at home. Luckily, the same nurse who let me have my baby for four hours in privacy was working that day. She went out of her way to extend my stay for as long as possible. I was able to spend the remainder of the day in the nursery with my baby until later in the evening.

Derrick’s aunt and parents returned to the hospital to visit. I was still sad and miserable but having the extra support around made it a little bit more bearable.  I forced myself to take a shower and put on my clothes. It was nice to get out of the hospital gown. I was afraid to go back to my room to pack my things. If I took too long, they might take her sooner. Then I wouldn’t get to see her again. We all passed her around for the remainder of my stay and talked about what we could do to fight the system. Around 8:00 p.m., one of the Social Workers arrived holding a car seat. I felt sick to my stomach. My baby was supposed to be going home with me in the car seat that we had for her - not some old and used Social Welfare System car seat. I said goodbye to her before Derrick. I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle staying in the room as the Social Worker prepared my baby for a 2-hour drive down the hill to stay in some foster home that I knew nothing about. I cried, and then kissed her, and I told her that I loved her and I would see her soon. I really had no idea when that would be. I handed her to Derrick and picked up my bags. I stood there for a minute and watched him cry while he held her. That’s when I walked out. Between him and his mother crying, it was just too much.

I paced outside the nursery room and then walked through the halls and out the entrance door. As I walked down the long hospital corridor, I held my head down. I didn’t want anyone to see my tears. I would save the hysterics until I at least got into the car. When I went through these same doors only four days ago, I was so excited to meet my new baby and start a new life with her. I had erased any fears that I had, and I was absolutely certain that she would be going home with me. When I walked outside, I noticed that the weather was perfectly fitting for this misery I was feeling. It was dark, cloudy and raining. It looked like hell and it felt like hell. I was now living in another hell.

I finally found the Jeep in the parking lot, opened the door and sat in the passenger seat. It stunk like stale cigarettes. For the first time in nine months, I lit a cigarette. I knew that it wasn’t going to help anything, and I knew that it was flat out ridiculous to start smoking again, but I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to rip my hair out, bash my head into the windshield, or even down a bottle of booze. I knew that I was just thinking on impulse, and I would not normally do any of that again, but I was so depressed. I saw Derrick walking to the Jeep. He opened the door and got into the driver’s seat. We just sat there for a few minutes waiting for his parents to come. I saw the same nurse who had treated me so decently running towards our car. I rolled down my window to see what she wanted. I thought I might have forgotten something in my hospital room. She had tears in her eyes, and she reached through the passenger window to give me a hug. “You take care of yourself okay? And you bring that baby here to see me when you get her back okay?” I had tears in my eyes as I hugged her back and thanked her. “I promise I will. Thank you so much for everything.” She had to go back in to finish her shift. As she walked back towards the hospital, we backed out of the parking lot and drove away. It was the saddest drive of my life.

Derrick’s parents and his aunt followed us back to the house. His parents were going to be staying with us, and his aunt lived right down the street. By the time we pulled into the driveway, it was almost dark. As much as I appreciated his parents coming all the way from Texas, I definitely was not in the mood for any sort of company. It’s not that I didn’t want them to be with us; I just didn’t know how to grieve in front of so many people. As I got out of the car, I grabbed the bag that was next to the diaper bag that we had packed for our baby. Seeing the diaper bag made me sick to my stomach so I just left it in the car. I didn’t want to bring it in the house because I would be even more upset than I already was. I really wasn’t prepared for how hard it was going to be to go home without my baby. I went straight to our bedroom to lie down. I told Derrrick that I was just tired. He went back to the living room to visit with his family. The house was extra cold that night, and I had never felt such emptiness in my life since I lost Chloe and Zoe. My baby was not in my belly anymore, and she wasn’t in my arms either. I felt cold and alone and empty. I wondered if she was okay and who was taking care of her. I wondered if she could sense that I was not with her. I just wanted to hold her and make her feel secure and safe in my arms - in the arms of the only person that she had known from the beginning of her existence. I pulled my blanket over my head and cried myself to sleep.

Derrick let me sleep for a couple of hours. He came into the bedroom to tell me that his parents were hungry, and they wanted to know if I wanted to go with them to grab something to eat. The only place open at that hour was Denny’s, and it actually sounded really good. I hadn’t eaten hardly anything while I was at the hospital because I was so distraught. My appetite was definitely catching up with me, and it would only get worse as my milk started to come in. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do about that either. I didn’t have my baby to feed, but I wanted to be able to nurse her every chance that I could. Everything was so frustrating, and I just didn’t know how I should handle the basics anymore. We all drove together in one vehicle down the highway to grab a late dinner. I ordered strawberry crepes, and I slammed down a Pepsi. I hadn’t had a Pepsi in a long time because it gave me really bad acid reflux when I was pregnant. I felt a little bit better after I put something into my stomach. After we ate, Derrick’s mom asked me if there was anything that I needed from the store. I didn’t want to spend her money, but I desperately needed to get a few things including a breast pump and pads. Dealing with the symptoms from post-pregnancy is not the most exciting thing. When you have a brand new baby, you hardly even notice these inconveniences.

I almost felt like I could understand what it was like for the women who had to suffer going through the loss of a child. My situation was very different from an actual death, because I knew that my baby was alive and okay. However, emptiness and then loss immediately after pregnancy and delivery is one thing that I’ll never forget for as long as I live. If Derrick’s parents hadn’t come all the way from Texas to show their support and do what they could to help, the entire situation would have been much more difficult. Derrick and I probably would have been fighting, and we wouldn’t have been able to tolerate each other’s emotions very well. At least we had a set of parents there to help us. They made us dinner every night and took us shopping to get things that we needed. The day after I was sent home, a very heavy snowstorm kicked in. It lasted for a couple of days. When the snowstorm eased up, there was only one day left until we had go to Court and try with everything in our power to get our baby back. I was still in my recovery phase, but it wasn’t going to stop me.

I spent every waking hour researching the law and printed out documents from all of the self-improvement classes that I had taken over the last six months. I was going to go to Court prepared, and I was willing to do anything that it took to get my daughter back. I really didn’t know what to expect from the Attorneys and Social Workers, but I imagined it probably wasn’t going to be anything nice. The night before Court, I came to the conclusion that the only way that I would ever be able to get my daughter back would be to get the CPS on my side. If I couldn’t get them on my side, I would never see my baby again. The Judge automatically did what they wanted. I hadn’t heard of one case where the Judge ruled in favor of the parents if the CPS objected. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to do this, but if it meant leaving Derrick, I wouldn’t think twice. I was sure that my mom would let me stay with her if it came down to that - as long as I wasn’t bringing Derrick along with me.

Our first Court Hearing was on Tuesday morning. We made sure we brought along Derrick’s parents as well as his aunt. We wanted to look into any and all options to keep our baby as close as possible to us. I hated this place. I hated this Courtroom and I hated the people in it. I never wanted to go back to this place again, and I had done everything that I could think of to avoid that happening.
Here we go again
, I thought to myself as we were nearing the entrance to go through the metal detector. My stomach was in knots and I was worried that I was going to get a full-blown panic attack. Our case was the first to be called. It was the same scenario as it always was. The Attorneys were laughing and joking with each other, and to them, it was just another typical Tuesday morning. To me, it was a hearing that was extremely important, and I was so desperate to see that it would go as well as possible. I took it upon myself to hand every single Attorney in the room a packet that I put together with copies of my progress. My Attorney arrived at the very last minute. She advised me that I probably should have gone over the paperwork with her before I freely gave it out. She made a good point, but I wasn’t thinking about that. Each folder for the individual Attorneys also had a cover letter. I did my best to explain the current situation I was in, as well as how the events in the past led to my progress today. I made it clear that I took full responsibility for my actions, and that I had every intention to do whatever necessary to better myself as a mother. It was my desperate plea; it was the only way for me to get the point across.

Luckily the Judge that was in charge of the case was the same Judge that I had with Chloe and Zoe. If it had been this Judge instead of that temporary Judge who terminated my rights at my last hearing for the girls, things just might be completely different. Everyone updated his or her arguments, and we went through the same routine that I was unfortunately all too familiar with. The Judge had compassion for me. Despite the snow and the inconvenient traveling that the Social Workers would have to do, he ordered that Derrick and I would be allowed to have five visits per week with our baby. I was completely surprised, and although I was very disappointed that we clearly were not going to be able to take our baby home, I felt as if this was a very good sign. I didn’t see why the Judge would allow me to have so many visits with my baby if his long-term plan was to terminate my rights. This was another little glimmer of hope that I was given, and it certainly helped me carry on with what was left of my motivation. The Attorney for the Social Workers argued against this and attempted to get the visitation schedule reduced to two days a week. The Judge was firm with his order, and I was so relieved and happy. A small amount of my pain and fear was lifted that day.