When I arrived at her apartment, it was dirty. There were dishes
piled up, crusted with dried food. The trash was spilling over on to the kitchen floor where my grandson
could walk in it. "Try not to judge" I thought to myself.
I wasn’t sure at the
time what was happening with my daughter.
I thought she was going through a hard time, having just left the father
of my grandson. I didn’t know she was already in
the life of drugs and addiction. If I
did, then I guess I just didn’t want to see it.
During my visit, her neighbor came to her door. My grandson hurried to the door, trying to
push the door shut to prevent her from coming in. I thought it was strange behavior. I certainly got the impression he did not
want her coming in! I knew this woman would come over often, only because she
frequently answered the phone when I would call.
I stayed for about two hours. During the visit, my grandson stayed by my
side or on my lap.
About five minutes after I left, my daughter called me. I answered the phone and could hear my
grandson screaming and crying uncontrollably in the background. My daughter was laughing, saying “See
grandma, he does want you!” I told her I
was driving and couldn’t talk and hung up.
Instead of comforting my grandson, she was laughing! It was a strange call and unsettling.
This memory haunts me today.
It would be just a few months later that I would piece all
the clues together. My daughter would
often leave my grandson with the neighbor lady all day and overnight. She hadn’t paid her rent for several months
and was being evicted. She would frequently
leave my grandson with his father, who would then call me looking for my
daughter.
During the next few months I made numerous calls to the
county social worker who worked with my daughter when my grandson
was removed from her. I told the social
worker I suspected my daughter was using drugs.
I told her I suspected she was neglecting him. I also made reports to to
my daughter's probation officer. Every time I
would get the same answer – we don’t have enough evidence.
During October of 2007, my daughter was hospitalized for a
bad infection in her hip. While she was
in the hospital I took her clothing home to wash them. Inside her bag of belongings, I found a meth
pipe. I was shocked and wondered what to
do.
I did what I thought was right. I again called the social
worker and reported what I found. I
called her probation officer and told him what I found. The social worker said she could not prove
the pipe was around my grandson so there was nothing she could do. The probation officer said he couldn’t prove
the pipe belonged to her since it was not found by the hospital staff – as if I
planted a meth pipe in her belongs!
I finally broke down into tears while talking to the social
worker. I begged her to please tell me
what could be done to protect my grandson.
It was finally at this point she told me any adult can file an Order for
Protection on behalf of a minor if they are concerned about the safety of a
child. How I wished I had known that
sooner. I thought Orders for Protection
were used only by adults needing protection.
I remember going to the county court house on October 31,
2008. I asked the counter clerk for the
paperwork to file an Order for Protection.
She gave me the forms and I sat on a bench in the courthouse hallway,
filling out the form and writing all the dates and details of everything I knew
occurred during the previous months. My hands were shaking.
Once finished, I handed the paperwork to the clerk. She told me to have a seat in the hallway and
wait for my name to be called.
It was a stressful wait.
Finally the clerk called my name.
I went to the counter and she said, “The judge signed the form.” I asked her what that meant. She pointed to the box on the front of the
form indicating the judge agreed the child was in danger.
It’s funny. Even
though I felt sure my grandson was in danger, I did not fully trust my
observations or intuition. When I saw the judge’s
signature, I let out a deep breath. I
finally felt validated. I was not crazy. What I was seeing was not
good and the judge believed the same thing.
I asked the clerk, “So, it’s okay for me to go get my
grandson? I have the legal right?” She simply replied, “Yes, ma’am”.
I picked up the paperwork and walked out of the courthouse. That’s when the tears started. Finally somebody was helping my
grandson! Finally somebody believed
me.
As a kinship caregiver, I can tell you the “system” does not
always work like we think it should or even would. I was so naïve. I learned how tricky it can be to prove a child
is in danger. Even when I found the drug
pipe, thinking certainly anybody would agree that cannot be a good thing – the
legal system (probation officer) and human health services (social worker)
could not help my grandson.
From this experience I can tell you that it is very important
to keep good notes. Write down the dates of everything you
witness. Write down who you talked to. Write it all down because there may come a
day when those notes will make a big difference. Having my notes was so important when I
requested the Order for Protection. I
had the dates of every report I ever made and who I spoke with.
When I think back on that phone call when my grandson was
crying so uncontrollably, it still brings tears to my eyes. I hope to never hear him cry like that again.
I am a grandma raising my grandson. It’s all good today.
