Goodby My Blessings

         March 3, 2004 is the day I did something I never thought I would do. I said goodby to my three beautiful children. I still remember my youngest daughter calling for me as I walked out of the CPS office. The pain pierced my heart, but still I could not cry. The tears burned behind my eyes, but would not come. Was something wrong, I wondered as I made my way to the car where my husband waited. I leaned down to look at him as I got into the driver's side of the car. Tears streamed down his cheeks and I knew he was feeling the same pain I was. My heart broke but still I could not cry.

         Several minutes later I drove to the shelter where Howard and I were staying, the pain of loss weighing heavily upon me. I wanted to cry, but I just couldn't. I parked the car in the shelter's parking lot, and just sat. I turned to Howard and he tried to give me a smile, but he could not. I knew his heart was broken as was mine. He reached into the back seat and took out the photo album we had with pictures of our children and he took out one picture. It was one of all three of them, smiling at me. That is when the tears finally came.

         I raged at the injustice of what Howard and I had gone through, even though it was in the back of my mind that we had done this willingly, or at least somewhat willingly. I knew Apryl, Edward, and Angela were in a home with parents that could take care of them better than we could, but still my tears did not dry up. We had fought so hard for so long, listened to lies being told in court, did what we were suppose to, but still, we were considered unfit parents.

         Was it because we did not make one hundred thousand a year? Was it because of some genes in my blood that caused me to have depression, that made the caseworkers at CPS decide I was an unfit mother? These questions ran through my mind and I began to see red. I wanted to hit something or throw things but I didn't. I took several deep breaths, calming myself. It just didn't seem fair that children who are beaten half to death, or sexually abused in families that do have money, are returned to either be killed or live through hell for years. I realized then that it was all about money.

         I had done some research and found out that CPS in Texas gets around $50,000 for every child they put up for adoption. My children were just pawns in a scheme to make money. It was cold comfort to me that we would be allowed to send letters to our children, and recieve letters and pictures of them. I wanted my children with me and at that moment, sitting in the shelter's parking lot, I wondered if I would be able to live through this pain.


         That was nearly two years ago, and though the pain still gets to me at times, I realize that my children are being taken care of by a family that loves them as much as Howard and I do. I am still mad at CPS for what they put us through, but I have come to realize that I can't change the past. All I can do now is keep writing letters to them and hope that one day they will want to see Howard and I again.

         I know that many of you who read this are going to think that I am just angry at what happened and I have to rail at someone but until you have been in my shoes, and seen the inner workings of CPS, you just don't know how they can be. They talk a good game about reuniting families, but they don't tell you that they lie in court in order to make sure some children that should be returned aren't.