Chapter 17 - The Night I Almost Gave Up
I testified about the kitchen confrontation exactly as it happened. I had pushed Vanessa away from Lily. I had slapped her during the struggle. I should not have let the situation become more dangerous, and I would never ask a child to learn from me that hitting was how adults solved problems.
The judge listened. Andrea described the conditions in my home and the children's adjustment. The court kept the protective placement in place, emphasizing that every adult responsible for the children would be held to standards of safety.
Afterward I sat alone in my car and cried.
At sixty-three, I had thought the hardest part of raising children was behind me. Now my house smelled of baby lotion again. There were diapers in my handbag, tiny socks in the washing machine, and court dates on my refrigerator. I loved those children more than my own breath, but I was tired.
I called my oldest friend, June.
“I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this for years,” I admitted.
June came over with a casserole and stayed while I put Noah to bed. She didn't tell me I was a hero. She helped fold laundry and asked what I needed the next morning.
We began building a circle around the children: June for emergencies, Rosa for preschool support, Andrea for services, and a neighbor who could help with grocery runs. Being strong, I learned, did not mean doing everything alone.
That night Lily found me sitting quietly at the kitchen table.
“Grandma?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Are you tired?”
“A little.”
Her mouth trembled.
“Vanessa got tired of me. Are you going to get tired of me too?”
May you like
I pulled out the chair beside mine.
“Come sit. There's something you need to hear.”
