Post #10 ~Part 4 - The Day They Took My Children

When I heard the knock, I almost didn’t answer it. Something inside me felt uneasy, like the calm I had been hoping for wasn’t real. I had already been through loss, violence, and confusion I didn’t know how to process. What I didn’t know yet was that the person standing on the other side of that door was about to deliver news that would shake what little ground I still had left under my feet.

When I opened the door, I saw the look on their faces before I heard the words. It was the kind of look that tells you life is about to change, whether you're ready for it or not. I remember gripping the doorframe, bracing myself without even realizing it. Deep down, something in me already knew the news standing on my doorstep wasn’t going to bring peace.

It was going to bring another storm.

It was the Department of Child and Family Services. Some people know them as CPS. They said they had received a report of domestic violence around the children.

I had dealt with DCFS before, so I didn’t think there was any harm in letting them in.

Boy, was I wrong.

When we walked into the bedroom, I immediately saw it at the same time they did. My husband had left his weed sitting on my dresser. Back then it wasn’t legal, but he had a medical license for personal use. I explained that to them, but they didn’t care.

One of them looked at me and said, “He doesn’t live here, and because of that we will have to remove your children.”

I remember begging them, “Can I at least call my mother to come take them?”

There was no compassion in their faces.

It was a Friday. All I knew was that they were putting my kids into foster care.

I was losing my children.

The children I loved more than anything in this world.

They loaded my kids into the car while I stood there sobbing in the middle of the street. It felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest.

Three days later, we went to court. My parents were given custody. The court handed me a list of things I had to complete. My husband was given a list as well.

Instead of trying to fix things, he left and started drinking even heavier.

Every supervised visit with my kids broke me a little more. Seeing them and then having to leave them again felt unbearable.

Eventually, I stopped going.

One night I was with friends who had meth.

I had tried so hard to stay away from it.

But that night I wasn’t strong enough.

And just like that, the one thing I had fought so hard to stay away from found its way back into my life.

The truth about addiction is that it waits patiently. And the moment you’re broken enough, it welcomes you back like you never left.

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