18 August 2014

Getting Back to It

Last weekend I met two people I didn't know (well, one knew me as a child) and both of them said they had read our blog and knew our story. I don't think I can adequately describe how it feels when I hear that, to know so many people are reading our blog without having a personal connection to us, without it popping up in their news feed on Facebook. It gives tremendous purpose to all we've been through and validates how I've felt about the purpose of this blog from the beginning. I write mainly to help other people and as a cathartic outlet for myself. Some of the greatest help to me has been knowing others have been through the same things, and then to have them so perfectly verbalize things I'd been feeling but hadn't understood. It's...so great, so extremely satisfying to know I have been able to do that for other people.

One of the people I met encouraged me to get back to writing, saying our story needs to be told and it needs my raw honesty, the kind that allows readers to feel every crack of my heart. Writing our story since Noah left is something I've really struggled with. I've mentioned on our blog before that I didn't know how much of our story I would share after the point of letting Noah go. I'm still not sure. I'm trying to find the balance of sharing our story, being honest, and not...publicly shaming?...the cruel people and events that have intentionally, maliciously caused our family so much pain. It's insane really.

I don't want to focus on the pain, I want to focus on the joy, the peace. At the same time though I still want people to KNOW about the pain. The joy and peace are so much sweeter when you can see the pain and darkness that they followed.

It's kind of weird because in person I freely tell every horrid detail of what really happened from the moment we made that phone call to our caseworker. For whatever reason though I don't feel all the details are entirely appropriate for the blog. I am more ready now to share some bits and pieces though. There were moments of victory and tender healing that brought brief moments of relief. There were far more experiences of horrifying, mind-boggling cruelty and absolutely agonizing, soul-crushing grief.

However bad you may guess our experience has been, I promise you it was so much worse, so much more unfathomable. We and Noah's birth family were lied to constantly during the time between our initial phone call to our caseworker and him having new guardianship. We and his birth family were on the phone with each other constantly during those few days, trying to make sense of the conflicting information. After calling the source of the misinformation (lies) to get some clarity, our family was threatened. We were threatened into signing over our physical custody of our sweet little boy, told if we didn't do everything we were told he would be ripped away from us immediately. We still didn't have legal custody so we felt entirely powerless to stop it. It made no sense! We had made this choice, we weren't fighting against it! We were doing everything we could to make this the best possible situation for him, I only wanted clarity, I wanted the truth! We were tricked (lied to again) into an early morning meeting where we were told to sign over custody right then. What was already such an incredibly difficult experience for our family, an experience we chose, was made so much worse so unnecessarily.

That was just the beginning. 

The grief counselor we started seeing shortly before Noah's passing took note of every bizarrely absurd text, every inexplicably cruel word and action, as well as our measured response (or lack thereof), telling us anything further would require us to file a report with the police. None of it made any sense. When I directly asked the people involved why this was happening, what we had done to cause it, I was brushed off, told it was wasn't actually happening (what?) and that clearly it was all in my head (.....what??). There was no explanation, and everything that happened has left even our counselor baffled, with only grim guesses as to why all of this was done.

Daniel always thinks the best of people, gives them the benefit of the doubt maybe to a fault. I, on the other hand, have seen vividly the ugly cruelty some people hide behind the smiles they parade for the world. I feel strongly that every person is capable of loving kindness, charity and compassion, I believe that completely, no matter what their life has been. But I also believe that anyone is capable of anything. I do not trust people. When our adoption workers ask what causes arguments in our relationship (part of the many interviews involved in adoption), this is one of those things, Daniel's over-trust (my own opinion) and my lack of it. This whole experience was one of those times I wish desperately Daniel had been right and I had been so very wrong. Unfortunately, it wasn't. For now, that's where my recounting needs to end.

So now I'm going to be back to blogging. We've got some updates I'm ready to share, some perfectly, beautifully mundane things that our life has been made of lately, and mixed with those will be bits of untold parts of our story.

3 comments:

  1. So glad to see you're back to it! I check your blog daily, and look forward to hearing more about your story. Thanks so much for being so heart-wrenchingly honest. It helps others who are too scared to share our own stories.

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  2. To the commenters (more likely one person posting repeatedly) who's words I deleted. Thank you for so fully proving the truth of this post. Moderation is now on for future comments.

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