When I gave birth to my daughter, Lydia, one of the first people I called to tell was Tamara, who adopted two of my older sons from foster care.
Chubs and Little Hector ended up adopted because I was addicted to crack for many years. When Chubs was 2, Children’s Services (ACS) came to my house and took him. I visited him two times. After that, I didn’t go back. I knew … Read More
I felt extremely bad about myself as a parent when I came to prison. As a teenager I had really wanted a son. Once he was finally born, I wasarrested and handed a long sentence. Now, 14 years later, I still regret every day that I am not being the parent that my son needed.
I have a few good memories of my son. When I held him, he would stop crying. … Read More
When I was 12, drugs became my way to numb out all the ugly feelings I had inside from being molested and being ignored by my mother, who always put men ahead of her children. Eventually I tried meth and became addicted. Those painful childhood memories, the ones that no one talks about, disappeared with meth.
My addiction escalated when I was about 25 and caring for my four children under age … Read More
Twelve years ago, when my son Caiseem was 5, he came home from foster care, where he had been since birth. Caiseem is the youngest of my four children. I’ve always felt a strong connection with each one of my children, but with Caiseem, something was missing.
While he was in care, I would visit Caiseem at the agency, and during those visits I could feel that something wasn’t right. I felt … Read More
Translated from Spanish
When I was six years old, the same age that my daughter is now, my mother left me with my grandmother. Nearly every evening I would peek out in the street to see if my mother had arrived. But six years passed and she didn’t come back. I missed her so much.
Even though my grandmother was attentive to my needs, it wasn’t easy. When I wanted to share something … Read More