Our suffering began well before we were born.
My
younger siblings and I were all exposed to prenatal drug and alcohol use at birth,
and each of us suffered the long-term effects. My sister and I were born with
severe cleft palates leading to speech disabilities; my younger sister was born
without arches on her feet and was in need of leg braces; and my younger brother
was born with a severe case of fetal alcohol syndrome.
For the
first 12 years of my life, I was never allowed to be a child. My mother would
trade the government assistance that was intended for our food, diapers,
clothing
and bills for alcohol and drugs. I resorted to stealing and stashing food
stamps,
which I would take to a nearby grocery store and ask the clerk to help me
maximize
the amount of food I could purchase.
My story
does not stop at neglect. My mother beat me every day sometimes so
severely
I thought my last breath was imminent. While all of us were neglected,
I bore
the brunt of the physical abuse.
By the age of twelve, I was desperate to find help.
I
approached my dance team coach and confessed the abuse I had kept hidden for so
many years. She was able to
convince my biological mother to let us stay with our paternal aunt and uncle
temporarily. Shortly after, we entered
the dependency system.
Though
our lives had greatly improved, I struggled with giving up the caretaker role.
I was always the “parent” of my
siblings and I could not understand how complete strangers could even attempt
to rationalize the neglect we suffered.
I was the one who was there when my siblings took their first step or spoke
their first word. I was the one who was
there when they needed to be bathed, fed, groomed and looked after.
Our CASA volunteer was our voice.
My
siblings and I lived in limbo for five long years, as my aunt and uncle fought
to gain permanent custody of us. After at
least two reunification plans failed, my mother’s rights were severed and my
aunt and uncle adopted us. I consider
us lucky, as we were not shifted from foster home to foster home. However, we
lived in a constant state of fear, thinking that at any moment we could be
released back into the hands of the person we desperately needed to escape. The
only one we could turn to for answers was our CASA volunteer. She tried to
comfort us and guide us through the process. She was a constant in our lives
and our voice in the courtroom.
I believe
my focus and my worldview that it is not the falling that matters, but the
rising every time we fall is in large
part due to the attention that my siblings and I received from our CASA
volunteer. I thank her for showing me that
my biological mother may have taken away my childhood, but I was in control of
what I would do with the rest of
my life.
The
support of my loved ones and my CASA volunteer enabled me to see my past as a
source of strength. It allowed
me to leave a life of suffering behind, graduate valedictorian of my high
school class, receive a bachelor’s degree
with honors and complete law school. Driven by a desire to save others from the
abuse I endured, I was a prosecutor
of child in need of care cases for the Shawnee County District Attorney’s
office in Topeka, KS, for 5-1/2
years. I am now giving back to my country as a member of the Judge Advocate General
Corp with the Kansas National
Guard.
