Our First Mom Moves Out

Do you remember in school when you had parent- teacher conferences?  Your mom and dad went into the classroom, and you knew they were talking about you but you had no idea what was being said?  That’s how I imagine Jade had to feel after our caseworkers would leave.  We would all excuse ourselves and have a sidebar upstairs.  It was painfully awkward, but what you need to realize is though she was an adult, her comprehension and decision-making skills were child-like and we had to understand the situation clearly to be able to help.

They visited frequently throughout the month she was with us and she and I would drive to JFS in my hometown for meetings as well.  There wasn’t progress happening and the case workers started to get tougher on her. She hadn’t taken a mental health evaluation, hadn’t managed to get a job and wasn’t showing initiative on her case plan like I described before.  They asked us on one of our last visits with her here if we’d be willing to care for Michael if it ever came to it.  We naively said “sure” thinking that wasn’t going to happen.  We know a lot of people in the court system and they were clear that losing a child was, sadly, a hard thing to do.

Some things were happening around the house that I started to worry about.  Aside from the fact that she was nowhere closer to being independent than when she first arrived, I started to fear an accident was going to occur under our roof.  Let’s be clear when I say she was never abusive and wouldn’t have hurt a hair on her son’s head intentionally, but she was very, very negligent.  I told you about the car seat incident before she got here. Situations like that became more frequent.  One night, as we were upstairs putting Rylee to bed, she left Michael in the middle of her bed in the basement, came sprinting to the second floor and slammed open the door.

“Michael just threw up all over and I don’t know what to do,” she shouted as we were lying there quietly in the dark. 

I reminded her that she needed to get back down to him so he didn’t roll off the bed. I helped her clean up the vomit and it wasn’t a huge deal. Later that week, she walked him outside in a stroller, naked except for a diaper, when it was only fifty-five degrees outside.  She said she thought he was hot.  While she was never malicious, I knew in my heart it was only a matter of time before her negligence caused him harm.  I needed to get back from work and she was going to be alone more.  We agreed when she moved in that she wouldn’t be at the house alone with D or Rylee and it was becoming inevitable that was going to happen if she didn’t get her own housing soon.

I spent hours that turned into weeks trying to find housing or a shelter for her.  She didn’t qualify for emergency housing, the waiting list for government housing was very long and the local women’s center was giving me a lot of run around.  If I didn’t put a roof over her head, she was going to be on the streets and I certainly wasn’t going to do that. 

I called the local women’s abuse center again. And again.  I wasn’t giving up.  I knew from some friends who volunteered there that they had programs in place to help mom’s get back on their feet.  They had the resources available to them to supervise her, they had strict rules and counselors who could provide her the health assessments she needed and help her heal in ways I knew I couldn’t.  I finally got back through to the director.  She told me no because she wasn’t a county resident.  I called the county she came from and they told me the same story.  Do you ever wonder how people end up homeless?  It’s because bad decisions or bad circumstances got them there and they can’t get out because the shelters are full or they don’t meet the requirements.  Homeless people don’t come with a list of qualifications when they go to the shelter, they’re desperate.  I’m not blaming the shelters either.  I’ve been to them.  They aren’t lying when they say they’re already over capacity.  You know I won’t chat politics, but you get where I’m going. 

“You need to write a letter explaining why she needs to be here and so does her case worker because she isn’t homeless if she lives with you,” the director of the women’s shelter said.

“So, if I kick her out onto the street then you’ll take her?” I asked.

“Basically,” she responded.

Eye roll emoji.

 “I’ll have it to you tomorrow”.  I had finally gotten her to agree to take Jade if I completed this task.  She explained to me that she was going to have to wait a few weeks until a bed was free.  There were certain requirements of infants and mothers and they already had girls sleeping on the couches. 

They called me in the middle of a meeting at work.  A bed suddenly was open and I was three hours away.  I left halfway through and thankfully, everyone I worked with was supportive instead of disappointed I was leaving early. We spent the evening packing and were planning to leave at noon the next day.   We loaded everything she owned into my car, only to find out she was limited to whatever fit into an under the bed storage bin.  We got in the car and I felt a rush of emotions.  I was sad they were leaving, worried for them and hopeful all at the same time.  Selfishly too, I was ready for my life to get back to normal. Normal never came.

I dropped her off on a Friday.  She had to change into scrubs while everything she owned was once again sanitized. Michael wore clothes they provided for him.  They went over rules and regulations and they were strict, but the lady who checked her in was so kind.  She assured me they’d take care of them and we signed all the necessary papers.  She commented on how smiley the baby was.  I hugged Jade for the first time as I turned to walk out the door and bit my tongue to fight back hot tears, one of the days of this journey I will never forget.  We had plans to see each other for a case plan the next week, but she called me hours later, having forgotten formula.

I saw her the following week, but little did I know that would be the last time I ever saw her with Michael.  Another day I vividly remember; warm sun pouring in our living room, the last time she’d ever be there.

They moved to the shelter on October 5th.  I had a temporary custody ten days later.  What drastically changed that quickly?  I’ll explain that next time.

Check back each Tuesday as we share a new chapter of this story.  Be sure to check out our instagram for even more updates.  →

This Post Has One Comment

  1. Lee Ann

    Ahhh!!! I know MOST of this story, and I know the outcome. But I’m still hooked on every word. You have many talents, Katie, and I’m so proud of your kind heart.❤️

    *Have to admit…your mom didn’t see this coming, but extremely happy it did!😘

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