Tag: Adversity

Like An Avalanche

“The point was, I didn’t deserve my son to be taken.”

When my two sons were young, I had a constant fear of losing them to the state without cause. Thankfully, they are 19 and 22 and have never spent a day without at least one of their parents. Others are not so lucky. Today, I read a story in The Guardian about a mother who could not believe how fast the tables turned on her. LINK>’No matter what I do, I’m not in control’: what happens when the state takes your child.

All she wanted was change for bus fare but the store clerk copped an attitude, so she left (that’s her side of the story and I’m not here to question it). I do find what happened next tragic. The clerk made a “keep the peace” call to the police. When the police confronted her, she was on her way to work, pushing her young son’s stroller across the street. They arrested her for disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, and obstruction. Basically, they didn’t appreciate her challenging their authority. In their report, they indicated that they would have let her go, if she had not protested. 

It could have been worse, since Child Protective Services (CPS) initially placed her son with her brother. However, not informally as a temporary caregiver while she was locked up but formally, with the intention of allowing the state to take legal custody. This was even though, the doctor who examined the little boy wrote that he showed no concerns for neglect or injury. Nevertheless, the doctor authorized CPS to hold him for 72 hours, while the agency prepared to petition the court for custody. That’s how fast it happened. CPS hadn’t been in her life that morning but the situation didn’t just snowball; it came down on her like an avalanche.

From jail, her phoned her brother only to discover it was worse than at first believed. He told her that CPS had taken her son. “They said I couldn’t see him,” she later recalled. “I don’t have custody. I don’t have rights. Nothing.” So even though her criminal case was closed when the charges were dropped, the involvement of CPS wasn’t so easy to leave behind.

Forcible family separation – among the most extreme and intrusive of government actions – occurs much more often than many realize, particularly among Black and Native American families. One in eleven Black children and one in nine Native American children will be placed in foster care by the age of 18. Families come to CPS’s attention due to issues such as substance misuse, domestic violence, mental health needs, and homelessness. Most lack sufficient resources to address their challenges. Family separation essentially punishes parents and children for their poverty and adversity.

Foster care traumatizes children; forcible family separation generates immense pain and trauma for their parents. People’s everyday experiences as they interact with the state – whether public benefits programs, police, and schools, etc – fundamentally shapes what they know and think about government, inequality, and justice. Taking children has always been a political act that targets marginalized racial/ethnic groups to maintain power over them. Family separation teaches affected mothers that the state is an adversary, working against them, given their marginal social positions. CPS gives parents, especially mothers, first-hand experience with an antagonistic, controlling government. Caseworkers, attorneys, and judges claim to help, but in most of these mothers’ experiences, those officials are working against their interests. Mothers don’t see anyone on their side.

For the woman in this story, the path for get her son home became long and arduous, with CPS repeatedly adding obstacles.  CPS wanted her to demonstrate “progress” – as they defined it – in her ability to parent. The clock was ticking: per federal law, once children have spent 15 of the last 22 months in foster care, states are supposed to start the process of terminating parental rights permanently. Parents with limited resources face substantial, often essentially insurmountable, burdens to meet CPS’s requirements. It felt like as soon as mothers met one request, CPS added another. Their cases kept getting continued in court. Meanwhile, their kids were growing up.

Finally, a judge ordered that her son could go home – even though as far as she could tell, her situation hadn’t changed. What had changed was she had simply been assigned to a different judge, one who saw no reason her son couldn’t go home. And she figured her caseworker had grown tired of dealing with her. “I can’t even believe they took two years of my life,” she sighed. “They took two years of my son’s life that I can’t get back.”

In the US, CPS puts hundreds of thousands of parents each year through this devastating experience. Certainly, these parents are often experiencing substantial adversity; they cannot always meet children’s needs in their current circumstances. Nevertheless, all deserve to be treated with dignity; all ought to have a say.

Feeling Rooted In Ireland

This St Patrick’s Day, I am happily feeling my roots. It is something I was denied by both of my parents being adopted, until I was able to discover them thanks to my own efforts, when I was already well into my own 6th decade. The “advice from a flower” in the graphic above certainly suits the experiences of some adoptees necessitating that they grow through adversity.

My dad’s name was changed from his birth name, Arthur Martin, to Patrick (plus more than one adoptive father’s name for his middle, as his adoptive mother divorced an abusive alcoholic and later married a WWII veteran, who adopted my dad for the second time in his life at the age of 8). Turns out that my dad’s grandmother was full blooded Irish. My dad’s adoptive parents were poor and I remember stories of him almost starving to death as a youth in New Mexico while they staked a prospector’s claim near Magdalena New Mexico hoping to strike it rich – they did fail.

St Patrick’s Day always reminded me that my dad’s birthday would be on the following day. He also liked to drink beer but not the green kind LOL. Lately, I listen to the calm, relaxing music of Tim Janis while do my 6 blood pressure checks. If I can totally quiet my mind (not always possible but good practice), I can get my blood pressure down. Today I chose his Celtic Country offering with images from Ireland and flute music. I managed to get my blood pressure down 14 points over the 6 readings.

We used to go to a neighbor’s house for Corned Beef and Cabbage on St Patrick’s Day. She made the best and her parents came from County Cork so it was in her genes. She was a tiny elf like lady but often drank too much (maybe a cultural tendency) and was not patient with the arrival of our oldest son as he became a toddler, so we quit attending. After her husband ended up in a nursing home, we hiked up to their house. It was located up the perennial creek that flows by our own home and so we arrived to visit her, staunchly holding down their home base next to a lake.

We don’t eat beef anymore and potatoes are strictly a no-no given my blood sugar issues. Sigh. We won’t really be doing anything to celebrate “the” day this year (though quietly in my own way, I am). Even so, as I listened to Tim Janis’ music, I was able to feel deep into my Irish roots. What a wonderful feeling it is to know I have very old and deep roots. It will always be wrong in my own heart’s understandings that adoptees are robbed of this knowledge. There can be no good excuse and many adoptees are working to change that issue.