Tag Archives: foster

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Mandy’s 40th Birthday

3/6/2019

You’ve been on my mind a lot today. Today you turn 40 years old.

I remember when Mama was pregnant with you. I remember Deron and I discussing it in the middle bedroom in the trailer. We didn’t know what was happening. Mama had been going to the doctor quite a bit and we were scared something was bad wrong with her. Then I remember the day you were born. I was in 2nd grade in Ms. Johnson’s room when PawPaw came to tell me I had a sister. I was so excited. I remember packing you around on my hip like you were my baby. I remember washing your diapers. I remember people thinking you were a baby boy and being upset about that. I remember the family going to church in the Buick and you saying, “Mama you’re pretty in the dark.”

I remember you tagging behind me to church, to town, and being aggravated that you wanted to go everywhere with me. I remember how you made up your own crazy dress days to mimic my high school days. You had your own style and you didn’t care what anyone thought.

When I left for college, you would come visit which I loved. I so hoped to be a positive influence in your life. Variety was so much fun with you and Andy.

As my life transitioned to adult life and responsibilities, we grew apart. I remember how devastated I was when I learned you were smoking. What was happening to my baby sister? Then you went to college and seemed to stray farther. I was losing my sister. But hope reappeared. You married, became pregnant and managed to complete nursing school despite these challenges. For a while things appeared bright. But it wasn’t long until things took a turn for the worse with divorce, job problems. I think you kept me away intentionally.

By the time you were pregnant with Carson, our relationship was virtually non-existent, superficial at best with you only calling when you needed something from me. But still I didn’t know. I didn’t know the extent of the problems you were facing or that you were spiraling down caught in the web of deception known as drugs.  How could I have been so blind? You did a great job of manipulating and hiding the truth…until you couldn’t.

Thanksgiving 2008 at PawPaw’s came. Carson was there with momma and daddy. “Where’s Mandy? Where’s Jared?” Mama turned her head and started crying. “They are in jail in Texas.” The scales began to fall from my eyes.

Jail. Rehab. Early rescue by parents. Brief times of appearing sober. Then repeat. How many times? I have no idea. I had no idea.

Christmas 2012-I begged you, pleaded with you to let me get you into Teen Challenge but you insisted that you were clean and sober and didn’t have a drug problem.  So why did the cycle repeat?

Fall 2014-Again I learn you were just getting out of rehab…again when your house burned. We were trying to find you a place to help you reestablish and you just left. Back to your old ways and habits.

Then in the spring of 2015, I learned by a video you texted me that you were pregnant. My heart broke a million times. How can you repeatedly get pregnant living the way you do, but I could not? Lots of prayer about that. Then you wrecked while pregnant and Deron said you were still hanging out with drug friends and getting high. Oh, how I prayed for the child you were carrying that God would protect her.

Then she came. July 28, 2015. Oh, how I loved her. You seemed to be doing so well initially after her birth until you went back to Jonesville. Again, you spiraled and ultimately McKenneth came to live with us in January 2016 as you were going to jail yet again. To my knowledge you’ve been back 3 times since that release.

Weeks, months between your contacts as I raise your child as my own.

So, all day long my heart has been heavy reminiscing and imaging what your life could have been and what our relationship could have/should have been. I have held back many tears today. But tonight, on your 40th birthday, I lay in bed rocking and holding my daughter, your daughter, God’s daughter as she went to sleep.

Then it hit me…by holding her I was holding you. I could hold back the tears no longer as I prayed yet again for you, for your salvation, for your deliverance, and for your life. This precious child with all her medical problems and her struggles may be the only way I can ever be close to you. I rocked her as she slept as I cried and cried and prayed for you. I imagined that I was holding you close as I did when you were her age when I was still your big sister and you still looked up to me.

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Should I Stand on Mother’s Day?

Mother’s Day 2016

 

As I woke up this Mother’s Day Sunday morning, I finally decided…

 

I had been wrestling, even tormenting myself analyzing the situation and debating myself. “What do I do when they ask Mothers to stand?” For many years, Mother’s Day has been very difficult. You see, I am a faithful churchgoer…who faithfully dreads Mother’s Day Sunday.

 

I’m not sure exactly when it began. In the early years of marriage, it was not an issue. I enjoyed being married to my best friend. Sure, we had our difficulties…finances, fights, and fears of the future. I never thought it would include fertility problems. I assumed one day we would have children. But I was OK either way. I mean, bringing a child into the world means bringing an ETERNAL soul into existence. That is a BIG, SCARY thought for me. There are already many children without parents who need a good home. In my heart, I dreamed of adoption.

 

But it never happened. As the years ticked by (19 now), my longing for children increased and the possibility decreased for a slew of reasons. I threw myself into my work and education. I accomplished my lifelong goal to become a doctor. And yet we remained childless and my arms empty. Mother’s Day became an increasingly difficult reminder of my infertility, my “less than” status as a woman, that God didn’t trust me to be a mother, that I didn’t matter as much as other women, that I would die alone without children. A myriad of lies tormenting me. If possible, I chose to work instead of going to church on that day. But sometimes there was no excuse. I was faced with being one of those left sitting, clapping, smiling putting on my joyful mask to hide my pain. To make it worse, the day was typically accompanied by baby dedications as well. Then to pile it on, I felt incredibly guilty because of my emotions and for feeling the way I did. Torture, pure mental and emotional torture.

 

Then the call came on January 20, 2016. “I need you to come get the baby.” My sister was yet again entangled and ensnared by her poor life choices. She was going to jail again. If my husband and I didn’t obtain legal custody, the baby would go into state foster care. We could not allow that.  We now have legal temporary sole custody. Our lives have been turned upside down. Life is being lived in the margins. It is tiring and chaotic without enough sleep. Even in the midst of uncertainty that causes heartache and pain, we are beyond blessed with this precious miracle.

 

But who are we? Aunt & Uncle? Mama & Daddy? Foster children call their foster parents mom and dad. We have no desire to “steal” anyone’s baby. We simply answered the call. But we HAVE bonded with her. She has bonded with us. She often cries fiercely when we leave her with others. We are her legal custodial parents even though “temporary”. But what is she supposed to call us? Other people call us mama and daddy to her. Should I correct them? To do so would potentially open the whole can of worms of what’s happening. I really don’t want to discuss that casually and repeatedly. It’s easier to just let them call us mom and dad. I did not birth her, but I daily “mother” her. Based on past history, it is more likely she will remain with us than return to my sister. I feel like she’s my child. At the same time, I feel like I’m an imposter, a traitor. I feel like I’m living one of those Lifetime Movies where a woman steals a baby, lies to the child and raises it as her own. But we didn’t choose this! But now wouldn’t change it either. Such conflicting emotions and thoughts!

 

Then came Mother’s Day, and it really hit home. Am I a mother? Do I stand? What if one of my family members or my sister sees it or hears of it? In my mind, I can see and hear the sneers, “Who are you kidding? You aren’t her mother!” But if I don’t stand am I saying that I don’t want her, that I don’t care to be her legal guardian? Am I rejecting the fact that I am daily doing what a mother does? I again tortured myself in the analysis. In fact, I seriously considered skipping church, because it was just too much to process.

 

The morning arrived. When I woke up even in my groggy state, I suddenly decided, “I’m going to stand up.” In that moment, I realized I may NEVER have this opportunity again. I cannot let it pass me by. We don’t know how long she will be with us. But for now, I do “mother” her no matter what I am called. I am STANDING in for my sister who made an extremely wise decision in the midst of a lot of bad ones when she called me.  I am praying for her to continue making wise decisions. I am praying for her to be released from the bondage and demons of addiction. I am thankful that she has given us the privilege to experience the joys and the tears of parenthood for whatever time we have with this child. Today I am honored that she (both my sister and the baby) gave me a reason to STAND UP on Mother’s Day.