The war

23rd of June, 1998. My son was born. I was 17 and he was my world. Everything for me shifted when I held this beautiful boy.

I cuddled him. I nursed him. I would stare at his little fingers, his little nose, his gazing eyes. I was in awe. He was perfect.

I struggled, but it didn't phase me. I knew no different. There was no concept of village for me. He was happy. Healthy. Hitting milestones early. His doc was happy. I was in love.

There was a hidden darkness.

All that advice that everyone tries to shove down a new moms throat? Nope. Not one remark. Not one supportive person in my life.

My entire family was conspiring behind my back from the moment he was born to convince me to give him up for adoption. I had no idea. No one was brave enough to say anything to my face, it was all small gestures and passive aggressive statements and outbursts starting in the hospital and continuing on until they tried to take him from me.

It was ok though. I took all their attitude and remarks in stride. He was my darling, my little genius, my grounding wire. Then they took him. They. My family. My parents. My sister. All based on lies my sister told and my mother's ideals that I should not be a parent, ever.

They didn't want him. They were going to give him away. My son. Something else I didn't know until many years later.

The fight was brutal. I had nowhere to go and no one to help. We, my darlings father and I, went to his father's farm so he had steady work and we had a safe place to fight the battle.

He had a lawyer paid for by his father. I did not. He wouldn't represent both of us. He did nothing. Didn't file one paper, didn't read anything I sent. NOTHING.

I was on the phone, filing papers, reading past cases, studying family law and writing a detailed journal about every moment from the day he was taken. I fought a war that no one else cared to show up for.

His father and his father's wife would constantly tell me I didn't want my son back. I wasn't doing enough. Lying to my darlings father and telling him I wasn't doing anything at all to help get our son back. They never questioned the lawyer they paid for him to have. I did. Many times. And was shoved aside.

Court. I couldn't see him. I didn't see the judge. His attorney handled everything. With no documents filed. I filed my own. And got to see my darling. He was beautiful. And it hurt so bad. And was so short. I had more work to do.

I can't even recall all I filed, all the amazing attorneys, DAs and assistants that believed me and offered advise. It was endless.

I did something right and got the judges attention. My son was appointed an ad litem. She wanted to know everything I had to say. So I told her, and gave her my journal to copy. Every moment, every conversation, every thought from the day he was taken months before. She was not pleased. She assured me I would hear from her within the week.

My moment of hope. It had already been months. I had been through multiple drug tests, evaluations, another drug test and fought with everything I could find. Against two attorneys. My parents' and the father's. Alone. 18. They found nothing. Not a trace of drugs in my hair, no endangering mental health issues, behavioral traits, NOTHING.

The ad litem came through and I went in front of the judge. It was terrifying. I had my file folder full of everything I've filed and I'm standing in front of a judge between two attorneys.

Pro se, yes your honor. Yes, I'm sure I want to speak. I understand the possible consequences.

So I do. In length. Attempting to keep to a timeline of papers filed, court orders followed, more papers filed and crying. I can't help it. I ask the judge what I else I need to do to get my darling boy back. She calls me to the bench.

In front of both the attorneys she tells me she's heard from the ad litem who is convinced my darling needs to be with me. No question. That the entire case was built on lies, judgements and personal gains. That my darling was never in any harm. I waited for the but... and there was one. I had to take a parenting course and my parents had visitation rights.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

They brought my darling son in. I held him and cried. Months without him. Months of being doubted. Months of betrayal. And I did it. He was with me. I didn't let go.

I didn't speak to my parents again for years. I lived in constant fear of someone taking him. I was afraid to leave his father. I didn't set enough boundaries. They would be back if I was too harsh.

He graduates high school Friday. My darling. My love. My first born. My only son. He doesn't know what I've been through. He doesn't know the story, the war I fought, the fear I lived in.

He, like all children, see things skewed. I left his father and his father was devastated. I kept him from his father. His father has sacrificed.

His father is emotionally manipulative and has made my darling feel guilty. Guilty for not seeing him. Guilty for not calling enough. Guilty for me leaving.

I did leave. His father was devastated. But I was free. He never held a job. I gave him money to live AFTER I left him so my darling could see him. Spend time with him. Not see him struggling to afford gas to pick him up. I would call his father and tell him to spend time with him. I listened while his father complained he didn't have money to take him anywhere. I watched my son's heart break when he didn't show up. When he made excuses. I stayed in this city so my darling could be close to his father when I wanted to get him far away. I sacrificed.

And now my darling will be moving out. To his father's house. Which is 3.1 miles away. Because his father deserves his time too.

No. He doesn't. His father didn't earn it. He didn't call, he didn't come pick him up just because, he didn't make any effort. He met a girl, with a daughter. He spent time raising her. Fighting against her father to have primary custody. Picking her up after school. Spending money to support her.

He doesn't deserve you my son. You are better than him. I'm sorry for not taking you away. I'm sorry for not being strong enough. I'm sorry for being too scared your father would take you from me.

I'm sorry for never telling you any of this. It's not your burden.

I miss you. I love you with all that I am and all that I am not. My only son, my first born, my lifeline.