Until I leave this state, I will never be able to speak freely on my blog. Countless other outlets exist for my writing– short stories, my diary, etc.– yet it upsets me greatly to think that I can’t use Cocktails With Hemingway to share myself with you. One day I will be able to write about this time in my life. And if I can use those words to give somebody hope, encourage a person to take a stand for the things that matter most to them, or expose CPS for what they do to families….then my mission is fulfilled.
I am too scared to even reference postpartum depression here for fear it will somehow be used against me.
What comforts me most during this hellish ordeal is the fact that I’ve already won: THE GESTAPO DID NOT GET MY DAUGHTER!!!!!!
I’m being punished in ways I never thought possible for this decision, but Tatum is safe. She is home. Her loving and stable environment is where I cannot wait to take Adam. Anyone with his best interests at heart would want him back in Memphis. Tragically, Adam is nothing but a paycheck and a case number to the adults in his life supposedly ‘protecting’ him [with the exception of relatives and friends], and I want nothing more than to make sure he is safe with Tatum. Why won’t anyone help my innocent little boy who did nothing to deserve the nightmare that has been thrust upon him?
Never in a million years did I know the reality facing me until I came home to my empty apartment. I won’t say it was easy but it was…bearable…when I was focused on Chrissy and her needs in San Luis Obispo. If not for my boyfriend, Seth, and a few other people I don’t even know how I would handle this. And I’m still terrified to even hint at the slightest possibility that I’m not handling things well because I refuse to give ‘the department’ any ammunition.
With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,