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They kept asking me if I was of sound mind and body and if I was being coerced into signing. Did anyone else have that happen? Was anyone else asked that?
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I didn't have to go to court. My TPR was handled at the agency. I did have to sign a paper saying I was not coerced into signing over my rights.
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What's weird is I don't remember anything after that. I know I must've taken the bus back because I took a bus there and I remember every sight, sound and smell of that bus ride to the courthouse. Yet I still can't remember anything after I signed my name. It's gone into the darkness; into the blank recesses of buried time and memory. I can remember picking up the pen and then 3 or 4 months pass and I realize I'm still breathing but my mind has cancelled out everything in between.
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I don't remember a lot of the details, either, but I've always attributed it to age and the time that has elapsed since it happened. I do remember going by myself to sign the papers. I remember sitting in the room and saying "just get this over with." I felt defeated, I think, and just powerless. He was in foster care and I knew I couldn't just keep him there indefinitely. I was so undecided in a way, but I knew I couldn't handle parenting then and had no help or support, so I just had to do what I had to do.
I don't remember how I got there. I know it was a weekday, but I don't remember if I worked or took the day off. I don't remember how I got home, I imagine I took the bus. I think I must have been pretty numb. I remember coming home around dinner time, my mom was home, and I felt miserable, but got no love from her. No emotional support, no nothing. I don't think it was even spoken about. I think she may have said something like "ok, so it's over now" and then proceeded to dish out dinner. I think that was really the worst of it. Not having that acknowledgement of how difficult this decision was and how much emotional pain I was in. How I had to do it alone. Thank god I had good counselors and a few supportive friends that I could talk to. No one in my family would talk about it, except my aunt, who, when I would get an update and show her his picture, would say "don't worry, Peachy, you will see him again, I just know it."
I think the worst of it was the silence and the expectation that we should just "get over it." So many of us were harmed by that, and although I think no matter what, it is still a painful thing to go through, it could have been so much less painful if we just had some acknowledgement, if our grief could have been validated, and if we had the emotional support of our families in particular.