Thursday, March 4, 2010


Tears soon turned to anger as the reality of what was happening hit my son. I questioned myself a hundred times, but I felt it was right and I didn’t feel there was even a possible plan B that would result in success. We had to stop this before we had serious issues.

I was up at 3am on Tuesday morning to pack the car and my son and to depart for the airport. There wasn’t much to say. He didn’t want to understand why this was happening. He just said (and told all his friends) I was kicking him out of the house. How do you convey how deep your love is for your child and how much you ache for him to be able to stay when you are indeed ‘sending him away’? My reminders of love were met with angry sarcasm.

We arrived at his Uncle’s to open arms and a bedroom prepared. We had an appointment with the guidance counselor at school. As I met with her and signed paper work giving my sister-in-law parental rights I sobbed. He was mine. For good or for bad – and there was a part of me that felt like I was giving that up. I wasn’t of course, but the pain that weighed on me that day certainly felt like it. When the paperwork was in order the counselor took us for a tour of the school.

I was a mess. I could not stop the tears that were running like an open faucet. I met every one of his teachers and saw every one of his classrooms through blurry non-stop tears. I couldn’t stop crying. He accompanied me with a confident ‘don’t care’ front.

When the tour was complete, we returned to my sister-in-laws and relaxed for a bit before it would be time to pick up her other children. As I sat there, I had a seizure. Too much stress, too exhausted. I showered and napped.

The next day I got his clothes unpacked and had his room settled before getting back on a plane and having hours to think about and question what I had just done. I just had to breathe deep and go by faith. I just had to be grateful for family that was there when we I needed them most.

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