This picture was taken just a couple hours ago. I had just gotten home from class, and everyone wanted a piece of mama. Things have been going rather smoothly the last few weeks. All three little ones are healthy and doing great. I'm in the middle of my second semester at UTA, working on a bachelor's in Psychology with an emphasis in neuroscience. And Charlie's ex was finally forced to drop her case against him due to lack of any evidence to back her claims of abuse and neglect.
Today is still a hard day, though. It's March 4th, the same day two years ago that we took Zeph to Cook Children's hospital. It's the same day two years ago that Dr. Sophia Grant disregarded Charlie's medical history and signed an affidavit stating our son was abused and needed to be removed from our home. The same day two years ago that we were told we were no longer allowed to be alone with our children.
It's been two years, and it's still a part of our lives. In spite of an EDS diagnosis and two specialists willing to testify on Charlie's behalf, criminal charges are still pending. Seriously. Two years later. I'm not sure how that's constitutional by any means. He's still on the abuse registry. Until the criminal charges are gone, we aren't allowed to appeal the CPS's decision of abuse.
Over the last two years, however, I have painfully discovered that we are so incredibly lucky. Among those that have reached out to me who have also found the hard way that their little ones had EDS or OI, I haven't come across anyone who was allowed to keep custody of their children during their CPS case. We had the fortune of being allowed to keep the children in our home under a supervisor. While Charlie was asked by CPS to move out of the home, he was allowed to "visit" at anytime during the day. Those who have stories like ours were often denied visitation all together, or were allowed one to two hour visits weekly. Even if a family member is given temporary custody, it is still common for the parent to only be allowed specific visitation monitored by a social worker.
So many moms and dads lost their little ones and did not get to see them start to crawl, see their first steps, hear their first word. Charlie and I got to see Zeph grow. While the caseworker let us take our children home, she informed us that once the case was closed, they were going to take them from us and that we would have a chance to "work to try and get them back." Thanks to a tip from a friend, we hired an attorney, and CPS immediately backed down, never again mentioning taking our children. But the fear was still real. Any time I had a moment alone, I cried. What would I do if they took my babies away? What if we were never allowed to have them back? I still have nightmares about people coming away and ripping my children away at gun point, and it never even happened to me. I'm a different person because of what we've gone through, and it turns out we were the lucky ones. How much more scarred and damaged must those poor mothers and fathers be that actually lived it?
Two years ago, our family was nearly destroyed by a rare genetic condition called Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, and the pride and ignorance of a doctor. Now we're waiting for the poorly named justice system to end things so we can finally finish healing.
Please protect your children. Know your rights, and know what CPS is and isn't allowed to do. Know what you do and don't have to say when a police officer speaks with you. And most importantly, spread awareness that fractures in small children can be caused by Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Osteo imperfecta, and rickets (vitamin D deficiency). I actually read an article written and circulated by a doctor on the internet that said these things do not cause fractures and that doctors who aid parents with court testimonies are assisting abusers. I can't speak for others, but I know that my son was not and is not abused. He is fiercely loved. I've had the pleasure of getting to know some of the other mothers who have also discovered their child had EDS through fractures and abuse allegations.
I feel I need to take a second to say something about these other mothers. You and I will never cry as much as they have. You and I will never know just the kind of agony a silent house can truly be. I have experienced no pain or fear in my life that matched the mere thought that my children were going to be taken from me. To those mothers, if you read this, know that many of us pray for you daily. You're not alone, and I know that there are an arsenal of women who have tasted the same grief who are a simple email away. Keep reaching out. Keep being brave and telling your story.
As for everyone else; love your children, and know that you are so blessed to have them.
