[Janeytwo]

Told with no excuses and/or fear-based apologies. Neither would be acceptable anyhow.....


Summer. I am 17. I’m standing on a porch with a six-month old baby girl on my hip and I’m two months pregnant. I’m living in one room of this box-sized, rundown house off 8 Mile with busted plumbing under it (there’s raw sewage seeping into the backyard) and this ratty-haired little dog that does its business in the underwear drawer of one of the seven other people who lives there. I’ve got formula and diapers through the State for my daughter but I myself am starving. There’s a can of Wolf’s Chili and a box of Ho-Ho’s in the cupboard and a half-full jar of dill pickles in the fridge. Yum! None of that food is mine but the pickles seem like a safe bet to eat because they’re already opened so who would care? I scarf them down juice and all.

I’m trying to make a decision. See, I’ve got 3 options.

1. I can take up the offer of the 16 year old 9th grade drop-out guy who says he’ll marry me and we can live in the basement of this drunk’s house over on 9 Mile and he’ll work pumping gas and I’ll work at the White Castles and it’ll be bliss! I can see the end of that road stretching out before me. Shoot, four years later at most, I’m a divorced 21 year old burned out welfare mom with at least 3 more kids, no diploma (I’m a high school drop out myself at this time)and no future that doesn’t include scrounging for food, money and self-respect. Still, for a while if I take thsi way out...for a while I could say I’m somebody....one step up from gutter trash...I’d be just your garden variety white trash with a quote/unquote “limited education” and a hand-full of food stamps. It’s a tempting offer though because it means I could maybe keep the baby I’m expecting but I know that's illusion. I know that, down deep somewhere.

2. I can continue to live hand-to-mouth until I’m so far gone the State steps in and takes my 6 month old daughter.

3. I can accept the fact that it’s time to make a hard decision. It’s time to go home because soon winter will come and if I lose this place to live which is a very real possibility seeing as how I’m dirt poor, then my baby and I face the prospect of life in the bitter cold with me moving us from rundown place to rundown place while I try to figure out how to work with no help. Do I leave my baby alone all night while I sling hash right up till I delivery my next child? Do I work during the day and try to find some other girl my age to watch my daughter at night and then go on the welfare train after I give birth to my next baby? Yeah right.

The problem is that “home” isn’t a good prospect either. Home is where stepdad rules. Stepdad has two daughters (my half-sisters). And when one of my half-sisters (his beloved daughters) is in the living room and accidentally trips, stepdad comes barreling in and slams one of our heads into the wall for causing it even though we were five rooms away at the time. I left home because I couldn’t stand to watch him beat my baby brother into the dust any more just because the poor kid picked up one my half-sisters toys to look at it. Half-sisters were untouchable goddesses. The rest of us were expendable nothings.

Me? I used to stand up to Stepdad and take what came. That’s why stepdad hates me like he hates no other...well....except for my six month old baby daughter. I think he hates her more. He hates her so much that her teeth will chatter and she’ll learn to hide in corners and the only thing that’ll stand between him and his desire to pound on her is me raging at him while he threatens to beat me into the floorboards. And my mother, standing between us, screaming while all the other kids hide in their bedrooms. Mom will say wicked hateful things to me because she knows that she’s selling out her children’s safety in order to have a roof over all their heads. I don’t hate her. I understand. She’s just surviving. She doesn’t want to be in the midst of all that violence anymore than I do. She’s beaten down in her own way too and she doesn’t know how to get out.

But winter is coming and I’m pregnant again and I need to face the fact that there is no glory in the street-life and that no dark-horse of a knight is coming to rescue me from this dismal existence of endless poverty that I’m currently living in. The knight’s just going to hit me with a chair and call me trash. Better to be home with the screwed up people I know rather than my daughter, unborn baby and I facing the crazies we don’t.

And there’s one more thing I have to do. I have to make the really hard decision. I step off the porch, my daughter in my arms and head to a restaurant to use their payphone. I need to call CSS. It’s time to face the fact that I cannot keep my baby that’s coming. I’m in no shape financially, mentally or any other way to be a mom again. I’m barely in shape to be the mom I am to my 6 month old.

2 years later will find me making the same phone call yet again. By then I will be beaten down, humiliated, used, spit on, abused and completely demoralized.

[Dickons]

Hi Janey,

Good post, perhaps it will make people stop and think before judging others without having a clue to what like can be like, and just how hard it is to make a decision that will cost you dearly for the rest of your life.

On the news last night a couple were facing the choice of having to give up their rights as parents to ensure their child had care he/she needed, different circumstances but not different in the reason why they were considering giving up their rights, to do what is best for their child. I was glad it was on the news because then those in the government who can actually make a difference, may be spurred on to do their job.

Take care,
Dickons

[cetalley]

Aww, the good ole days, I can remember being so hungry, I reached for the peanut butter jar,OPENED IT ,PULLED OUT A TABLESPOON FULL and was whacked with this big ole butchers' knife,, after being made to eat the peanut butter with my own blood, I at least learned to sneek it into the bathroom or closet. Gotta love those MOMs, especially when we, as children ourselves, make excuses for WHY they are the way they are. There truly are many, whom will never get it. One cannot judge, when one has not had to make those choices!.... Some wise old woman, once told me..."you pick yourself up, dust off all you can, then head held high..do not ever allow them to see you cry!" To hell with wise old women! c.j.

[crick]

Oh wow Janey...my heart just lurched for you reading that post. How difficult and sad! I appreciate you sharing that, truly do. ((HUGS))

[JustCourtney]

My heart breaks for you, Janey. I am again struck by the beautiful way that you write, and the horrific things that you write about. I only hope that it helps to have others read your story, and that one day you will be writing about happier days filled with love and beauty.

[RavenSong]

Bravo, Janey, bravo for telling us that part of your story. You've got a lot of guts, girl...a lot of courage. When people say that financial situations, i.e., poverty, should never factor into adoption decisions, I want to strangle them...tell them to open their eyes and get a clue. Of course being in dire straits factors into the relinquishment decision -- why wouldn't it?

When I became pregnant, I was 16 years old and living in a foster home. My foster "mother" was a drunk...she passed out every night at 8pm on the couch after drinking two bottles of Pink Duck (is that what it really was called, or am I not recalling the name right?) I was allowed to eat twice a day -- a mustard sandwich for lunch (that's right, just mustard between two pieces of white bread) and a Banquet pot pie for dinner, which I heated up and ate before I left for night school. (I had to finish high school at an adult "night" school because pregnant girls weren't allowed to attend the same regular high schools where the "nice" girls went. God knows, we might contaminate them...)

Even at 16, I knew that one mustard sandwich and one chicken pot pie were not enough nourishment for a pregnant teenager and her unborn baby. So I panhandled most afternoons down on the boardwalk at the beach. I was good at panhandling...I was a downright pro at it. I'd started panhandling when I was 14, when neither of my parents could be bothered with feeding and clothing a teenager. I knew how to coax the kids flipping burgers at Jack In the Box into giving me a burger or taco on the sly. The teenage boys at the Wienerschnitzel went even further...they always threw in a large Coke with the hot dog...if I was lucky, they gave me the fries they were about to throw out into the garbage can.

I panhandled each day at the beach and turned my quarters into Stuart prenatal vitamins and stuff that sounded nutritious to a 16-year-old, like Kern's Apricot Nectar, Knudsen's Buttermilk, fresh fruit, etc. My foster mother had a meltdown when she found my stash hidden in the refrigerator. She screamed bloody murder and told me that anything I brought into her house belonged to everybody, not just me. I learned to eat my illicit food stash down at the boardwalk, to never take it into her home again. I dreamed of going home to my abusive mom's house, where it was warm and the refrigerator and cupboards overflowed with good, solid food. The woman was an absolute sadist, but darn it, her children never starved in an unheated room.

It's hard to be a kid who nobody gives a crap about. It's hard enough to be a teenager, with all the hormonal stuff and drama. But throw in pregnancy and having to make adult decisions...it takes my breath away just to remember it all.

Your pickle story and C.J.'s peanut butter story remind me of the time I had to feed my baby sister a bowl of Cornflake Crumbs (they came in a shaker can for coating chicken), covered with water instead of milk. I left my drunken father's home shortly afterwards and returned to my mom's house to live. I had just turned 15...

[Janeytwo]

Hey everybody.

You don't know how much I appreciated everyone writing me back on this thread because I gotta tell you guys it was very hard to not delete it the second I wrote it. The fear was rampant. Fear of judgement, fear of hatred, fear of hurting other human beings with realities they didn't really need to read about with their morning coffee. Fear of dragging up stuff for people that they'd just as soon forget about in their own lives. Fear of people thinking I'm some ego maniac looking for pity. Ick!! That last one makes my teeth rattle!

So thank you from the bottom of my heart.


Dickons

just how hard it is to make a decision that will cost you dearly for the rest of your life.

It's funny you know. I look at words like "hard" and "difficult". And I try to put them into context with my dual decisions to relinquish. That moment I wrote of - standing on the porch with my daughter in one arm and the pickle jar in the other - making the decision to call CSS? That moment was fleeting like those moments in life when everything stops except for the breeze and we standing there and go, "Okay. This is what I need to do. No bull. No lying too myself. No backing out."

I think in those moments our hearts harden against illusion because illusion is something we cannot afford. We know the truth from the roots of our hair to the tips of our toenails. I can remember that moment like I'm there now. It was one of those beautiful summer days where the sky is that azure blue color and there's not a cloud in sight and the ground is warm from the sun. My need to do what I knew was right at that moment hardened my resolve to the consistency of cement. When I think of relinquishment being hard; that's how I see it. How a person accepts their reality, nods their head once, sets their jaw and goes forward.


Cetally (((( Cetally )))) I don't even know what to say about how horrible that scene you described looks in my mind's eye. I am so sorry that you lived that and that my post pulled it out of you.

If there is anything I wish for you my friend, it is for you to have peace in your life now and always.


Crick Thank you for the hugs! They mean the world to me!!


CourtneyCarl

only hope that it helps to have others read your story, and that one day you will be writing about happier days filled with love and beauty.

Thanks "CC" it does help to have people read it. It really does. And you know what? I am happy! I love life! It is so vast and grand even in the rain; even in the winter there is always something to be savored, to be learned, to be cherished. I am, in this life, truly fortunate. I have found freedom and comraderie in this sacred place; this forum. I have found good people here willing to accept where I have been. I have been loved by my husband and children. I have been called "friend" by people I've met along the way. There is no greater blessing than that.


RavenSong Like with Cetally, I don't know what to say. You've been to hell and back, IMO.

You know....I made a choice to run and in that choice ended up on a porch eating dill pickles.

But you guys didn't have the luxury of escape. Everything was thrust upon you both. :-(

I think it must be very hard to square with that.

I've thought alot today, too, about my stepfather. He had a childhood that was the stuff of nightmares. And so on some level he was still a frightened child himself. I try to remember that.

Sigh...learning to see the human being behind their rage; their flaws; their fear and mistakes.....never easy.


Thank you guys again for walking on the road with me. It has made the journey so much lighter.

[cetalley]

Janey, please do not feel badly for me, even at that age, I knew there were surely others whom had it worse. Whe we grow up in a certain enviroment, we except that enviroment as normal. I did not have the courage to leave. I was offered that from my DAD, but turned it down, because it would have caused many problems with social services, i always felt they would take them away too...besides I am the middle child...the one whom has always felt, like I needed to take care of all the others. I survived, as you, and raven, along with many 1000's of others, where my mother was a failure...my Dad more than made up for it. So I am truly blessed, it was brought back to mind when talking about pickles... I am happy you could share that part of your journey. Some things in our life, like adoption, is extremely hard to talk about...that is why I journal...it is good to purge the toxins...thanks for helping me to purge.. C.J.

[paigeturner]

Janey, Cetalley and Raven,

I haven’t been able to stop thinking of this thread since you posted it. The imagery you invoke is so stunningly heartbreaking. The raw honesty of your words brought tears to my eyes each time I’ve read and re-read them. How? How did you survive to become so amazing and strong? I can’t find the words to tell you how much the words you write here mean to me. Thank you all for sharing snippets of your lives with us.

[-maggie]

Janey, Raven, & Cetalley ~ Your stories truly touch my heart. I am in awe of your strength and courage to share your journeys.

[quantum]

You are all such beautiful writers, even though the stories you are writing are not so beautiful.

I just want to thank you for sharing, and thank you for educating me.

It also helps me to appreciate what I grew up with! Yes, my family is dysfunctional, but I had the basics plus, so that's good.

And I think I've been someone to say 'you shouldn't relinquish for financial reasons' but there are different sorts of financial reasons. Relinquishment because you can't buy designer clothing for your baby is COMPLETELY different than relinquishing because you can't buy food for your baby and see no way out of that...

for you all and

You are all wonderful women and I'm honored to know you.

[JustPeachy]

Wow, Janey, that was one powerful post, and to you and others who told their stories as well, my hat's off to you.

In comparison, I had things easy. Really. I cannot imagine going hungry when it is just me, much less during a pregnancy, and dealing with abuse on top of that and having to make a gut-wrenching decision to relinquish. The strength and courage it must have took is beyond anything I've ever experienced. You are all such awesome ladies, and I admire you for not only going through what you did, but for coming on here and telling your stories so eloquently.

Janey, I'm glad you didn't delete your post!

[loveajax]

Janey, you are such an amazing writer. Truly. I honestly feel heartbroken reading your post. I honestly can't even imagine....I've never wanted for anything, and it kills me to think of you in that horrifying situation. I seriously think you should think about writing something...whether it is a memoir or even 'fiction" based on your experiences.

Raven and CJ, I also wanted to thank you for sharing your stories.

And it is sad that we live in a country where women have to make decisions that they do not want to make solely for financial reasons. (I always have to turn things political!).

[bajj]

Janey you have once again touched my heart. (((Janey))) Thank you for being so honest, so raw, so open. You do write very well.

Raven and CJ, thank you two also for sharing. You all did good.

Take gentle care.

[Janeytwo]

Hey guys!

Wow you guys!

Thanks for all the new responses. (Said with sort of a shy grimace....LOL!)

I don't think of myself as strong...definately not amazing. So, it's hard to hear words like that spoken in relation to me. I just see myself as someone who's back was against a wall. I asked God to help me do what I felt was right and He was good enough to stand with me.

Not...not that I'm trying to discount all your guys' kindness. Not at all. I appreciate every kind word.


As I read I see people saying that they had it easier.

Nah my dear friends. Not easier...just different that's all. Just different. Everybody walks the hard road at some point in life but maybe they're simply dealilng with other stuff, or maybe its the same stuff on another scale. That doesn't make it any less painful or worthy of respect. A person still has to stand up and walk the walk and you guys have done your share.


You rock!


Got to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues and you know it don't come easy

Ringo Starr