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Torn from My Arms, but Never from My Heart

The Loss of a Child Still Living

August 15, 2016 was the worst day in my 30 years of life and is a day I will never forget.

Middle aged, lesbian, fashionista, loving and attentive mother, full-time and successful carrier, a Leo, outgoing, friendly, social butterfly, independent. 

Me. 

I made good money earned by hard work with the sacrifice of spending less time with my children, missing more school events than I wanted, and truthfully, giving my second best to them.

Do not mistake what I say or how I mean that. I was a amazing mother. The love my children have for me, even now after everything will prove that. The photos of all of our little adventures and memories stored on tablets, phones, iclouds, tablets, and yes even printed out and put into books and picture frames. At the time I thought I was doing my best as a single mother to provide everything they wanted and needed. But I yelled a little to much, lost my patience more than I should’ve, and said, “wait till Mommy is done working” a little too often. 

I loved life and I loved being a mother. My two daughters where my entire world. The validation of my existence. My pride and joy.

Given full custody of my first born when she was two , her father not very involved.  That is until he remarried, had a child on the way, and his child support drastically increased $145 a week. Suddenly, I was in a whirlwind of chaotic, court dates, continuances, lawyers, fees, time off work, another lawyer, more fees and just like that. My oldest was moved into her father's home and taken from her home, her school, her sister, her cats, her toys, her friends, her room, and from me at the age of seven.

No, I wasn’t abusive, I have never done drugs, I rarely drank, and never with my children around.

And there are those who speculate and judge and give their opinion of why. And that’s ok. 

Because with the corrupt judge and lawyer her father had,  the fact that he filed for custody 23 days after his child support went up, and after almost five years of fighting, $20,000 worth of savings gone, I now have my daughter back home 50 precent of the time. But I’m not done fighting yet. Because what happened that day happened because of my sexuality, because I wasn’t the white picket fence him and his wife appeared to be. 

I’ve lost multiple jobs since then, including my seven year carrier. Two cars repoed, lost my home, my health, my sanity. 

Diagnosed with MDD and PTSD, my anxiety makes it hard to leave the house. 

The “Me” I described before morphed into a isolated, anxious, overweight, crying emotionally destroyed mess.

The damage done to both my children, words cannot begin to describe. 

But even now, as I doubt myself, I know I did everything the best I could, because as my little angles snuggle next to me and I hear the I love you mamma, I know that despite a cruel and evil intention, the love and the bond I created with my children will never be broken.

And never again will I put anything or anyone before my family. 

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Torn from My Arms, but Never from My Heart
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