Sweet Boy, I saw you: A Story from Behind the Front Lines

         

            Oh, sweet boy, you were my unexpected birthday present. I was still a green worker at my county’s social service office when I first met you. How did you end up here on this side of social welfare? You came from a good family, and your parents had the multiple degrees to prove it. Your mother was a Nutritionist, and your father a Psychologist. At one point your parents were both licensed and practicing in their fields. I guess drugs have unlimited boundaries, because of all the children I have had to remove, you and your sisters had a good start.

            On the day I met you, you had no idea about the celebration I had at the office that morning, or that I didn’t get to kiss my kids goodnight. When I met you, your world was being pulled from underneath you. Nothing you could have done in your life would have prepared you for what was coming. Nothing in my life could have prepared me. I related too much. You were the same age as my daughter. Your sisters, the same age of my sons. In social work there has to be an emotional disconnect, but you sneaked through a small crack that I did not realize was there. You were the first chink in my metaphorical emotional armor, and I love you for it. You changed me.

            When I met you, I had just finished putting the pieces together, but I pray that you never do. Your grandmother called in a report, and it had been the third or fourth report in a short period of time. I thought you were homeless. I thought no one loved you. I thought you were hungry and dirty. I thought you needed to be saved, so did the judge that ordered an immediate pick up. It didn’t matter that my friend baked me my favorite red velvet cupcakes and decorated my office. It didn’t matter that my own children would not see me until the next morning. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know if I would have the gas money to get back. It didn’t matter that I had nearly 70 investigations that had not been touched, and three more had been placed on my desk that morning. I was to save you, sweet boy. You.

            Your grandmother called several times while I drove the four hours to come and pick you up. The county you were in, did not have the workers to spare to meet me halfway. Your grandmother directed me to wait in a gravel lot about five minutes from where you were. She went on to explain that your father was there and she was not sure how he would react when I had to remove you. This was unusual. I called for a police escort and headed to save you from your deplorable conditions.

            When I arrived, I was overwhelmed and confused. The house that stood before me could be considered a mansion. There were four new cars in the driveway and your grandmother met me and the officer outside. We walked into the house to find you and your younger sister sitting at the table in Catholic school uniforms. You were clean, well fed and healthy. Dinner was still cooking; I can remember the smell. Your mother was there. She did not look as well. She had sores on her face and hands from all the scratching. Her hair was oily and stringy. Her clothes were ill fitting and her feet were dirty from walking barefoot.

            Upon seeing this scene, I was angry. I was more than angry, more than livid. You did not know I was coming to forever alter your lives by the will of your grandmother. Your mother needed help, as did your father. Drugs had gotten a hold of them and turned them into shells of their former well educated selves. Your grandmother couldn’t bear to continue to see your mother suffer. She knew that the only way to get your mother help was to create her rock bottom. Your grandmother knew, you three beautiful children were your mothers Achilles heel. But, I want you to know that your mother loved you fiercely. She did the best she could in her fog to ensure you had a good life. She took you where she knew you would be protected when she left you for hours or days at a time. At some point she gained enough clarity to get you three to safety. Please know she was doing her best. Drugs are powerful, and your mother and father had to fight a battle against a demon they never saw coming.

            When I explained to your mother what was happening, she sobbed. Her shoulders shook with an unimaginable pain, she looked smaller than a child in that moment. Your sisters came out the door and immediately started to wail, though your mother tried to contain her tears for them. You were inside helping your grandmother gather totes of clothing. You were strong when you emerged. Placing the tote in the garage, you hugged your mother and kissed her goodbye. You told your sisters that everything would be ok and tried to calm them. Your youngest sister clung to your mother’s waist with her legs wrapped tight. She locked around your frail mother’s neck and wouldn’t let go. I reached for her, but she wouldn’t come. Your mother had to pry her off of her to hand her to me. Her neck was now red where your sister clung for protection.

            The wailing was now uncontrollable from your mother and sisters. You strong, sweet boy didn’t shed a tear. Your hugged your sisters tight and directed them to get into the car. You told them I was nice and they were safe. You calmed their fears. I offered up my birthday cupcakes and your sisters eagerly accepted. You sat in the third row quiet, long brown hair in your eyes watching your sisters relax. I explained the best I could what was happening and where you were going. You only had one concern, “Will I get to stay with my sisters?” The answer was the best I could give, “I will fight for you to stay together.”

            Silence fell over the mini-van as darkness fell. The littlest blue eyed girl was hungry. After making a quick stop to get food, those beautiful sisters of yours were fast asleep. You held out sweet boy. Just when I thought I had made it through, I heard your quiet sobs from the dark back seat. I turned the music up a little more. Not to mask your crying, but to mask my own. You were so strong for so long, and when you broke, I broke too. How long did you have to be the strong one? How many times did you have to play this role?

            When we made it to the shelter, I got my answer. It was late, the little ones were still sleepy, but you were alert. You knew your job was not through. When we entered the shelter things became very formal, and you adjusted. The youngest sister had a hard time sitting still, so you wrangled her and held her next to you. The shelter workers asked questions I didn’t know the answer to, but you did. You gave them everyone’s birth date, allergies and medication with dosage information. At that moment I knew, you had been the adult in your house for a very long time.

            Your grandmother called me the next morning to make sure you made it to your destination safely. She asked me an important question, and there, my fight began. Your grandmother asked if she could gain custody of your younger sister. My heart raced, my face felt hot, and I had to work to control the tone of my voice. “No, ma’am. You cannot have the middle child. If you take one, you take them all.” I was yelled at and berated. I gave her the information on the upcoming hearing, and she gave me the information for her attorney that would be fighting for her to get her wishes.

            I fought for you as I said I would, since you could not fight for yourself. I fought for your mother, as she was too far gone to realize her mother wanted to separate you three. I fought for you, as I would fight for my own children. You stayed in the shelter for six weeks, but you were together. I kept my promise to you sweet boy, and I visited you often. Your grandmother eventually took you all back into her home. Through it all, you remained strong for your sisters. I hope your life has a happy ending my strong, sweet boy. You deserve the world.