Friday, June 13, 2008

• I don't come here often. In fact, it has been a long time since I have been here, but I need to write. My friend Colin (the co-author of a great book called You, Me, and Morrissey) told me once that you need to write through the pain. Tonight, there is a whole lot of writing to do.

  I have been trying to be strong. I have been trying to be positive. I know that I did what I had to do. I know that part of being a mother is making decisions that are difficult, and that sometimes that hardest decisions to make are the ones that hurt us the most. Inside, though, I am dying. When I go to the microwave and can hear Sophia saying, "Order UP!" when she took her turn cooking. Cooking with me is something she loved to do. When I sit down to watch Bryce play a video game and imagine Xander sitting next to him, watching him, and asking to play his Cars game over and over again. When I pick up their room and see their toys - the toys they were told not to take with, to erase every bit of their life here with me. Xander chasing me down with hugs and kisses obsessively. I feel bad about the times I shoo-ed him away, the times I told him to go play, the times that I should have been holding onto him tight. I just never imagined them back in his care. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. It does me no good. I miss doing Sophia's hair and the big hugs she gave me.  I miss her telling me that she loves me super duper much and that I am the best mom in the world. I miss the way she felt, sitting on my lap.

  I feel like I have been robbed by the justice system. No. I feel like I have been brutally raped. I can say that. I feel that there is no justice in family law because if there was, they would really give a damn about kids instead of about the legalities and jurisdiction.

  I am so angry. He left them and when he did, I picked up where he couldn't. I loved them. They thrived with me. They were happy. He didn't call. He didn't write. He didn't visit. And there they are, with him.

  I got to talk to them on Tuesday. That was the first scheduled phone visitation. They sounded great. The conversation was forced. He had us on speaker phone and they were driving to the grocery store. That is against the agreement. Neither one of us can listen in on the call. He cut my conversation with them short, by half of what I was allowed. Another break in the agreement. Later he harassed me by text message. Violation number three. What was I thinking when I believed he would have the maturity to follow a plan we both worked together on? He has no maturity at all. He doesn't love those kids. Those kids are his way of not having to pay child support, of getting back at me for leaving, for being happy.

  When I want to hear their voice, I go to my phone. Before they left, I recorded both of them saying something to me. I hear Xander saying I love you over and over again.I hear Sophia telling me she is going to miss me. All I want is to hear their voices.

  Tonight I was supposed to have my second phone visitation with the kids. I called at 6:00 and no answer. I called at 6:03 and no answer. No answer at 6:07. No answer at 6:10. No answer at 6:22. 6:30 came, the time when my visitation was over, and again, no answer. I should have known better.

  I try not to be sad around Emily. When she does hear me, she says, "Mom, you still have me."

  Yes, babygirl, I still do have you.

  I am getting nervous. No sign of the papers that were supposed to be sent to me. Everyone involved knows a settlement has been agreed upon. The GAL, his lawyer, everyone. Before I would release the children I made sure he called my cell phone and left a message stating that he was agreeing to the settlement in place. I wrote a letter ot his attorney asking where exactly in the process we are, since this should have been resolved this week. he had everything he needed to take to the courthouse. He just didn't do it. 

  I feel so worn.

  It is because I didn't get to talk to them tonight. It is becuase it triggered in me, August thru November, before a court order was in place, when I didn't get to talk to them. The pain. The hurt. I didn't have Emily then, though, and I do now. That is good. I have Emily now.She is safe and she is really thriving. It has been fun with her. She is such a cool kid.

  Please, Lord, give me strength. Help me be strong.

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