Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (33 page)

Derrick returned to work rather quickly because he really had no choice. He went to attend as many visits as he could, but there were times that he had to leave the car with me or drop me off because the visits were so frequent. His boss didn’t yet know about our situation. Every time they dropped her off for a visit, she had a bottle and I could tell it was formula. It was getting more difficult to pump when I needed to because of all the things that I had to do on a daily basis.

I continued Intensive Outpatient treatment per the Judge’s order. These classes were held three times a week for four hours per class. Since I had already been through this, I wasn’t really learning any new information. Sometimes the classes would be interesting, but mostly it was just a long annoying ramble from another drug addict with serious legal problems. I couldn’t help but wonder who was really sober. Of course they all claimed to be, but I had my doubts. I did, however, find the most comfort from this group on a sad day in May. I woke up in the morning still groggy and made my way to the coffee machine. When the coffee was made, I sat down to my computer as usual to check my email and try to get my day started. I had an email from my mom. The moment I read it my heart sank and I began bawling my eyes out.

Chloe is four today. I’m so sad and heartbroken. Take care of yourself Sweet-pea. Love, Mom

This would be the first of many birthdays that I would be away from her. I had been so busy and focused on getting my baby back home that I didn’t even know what day it was, but I knew my mind tried to block it out. I sat at the computer desk and just cried. I was so sad. It felt as if my heart were breaking all over again. I went to our visit that day with puffy eyes. I tried to present myself as best as I could, and I hoped that they wouldn’t think anything bad about me. She mostly slept for the visit, which was for the better since I wasn’t mentally there anyway. I was with Chloe - wondering if she was okay and wondering if she still thought about me. Nothing was her fault, or Zoe’s fault, and I was so very sad at the thought of them maybe thinking that it was. I wanted desperately for this pain to go away and to wake up from this horrible nightmare. I wanted my babies to be back with me. I really couldn’t accept that they were just gone. I was dropped off at my scheduled class at the Outpatient Center and didn’t know how I would get through it. The counselor started the group off with everyone going in a circle giving a quick rundown of how their progress had been and how they were doing in general. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to hold my tears in. I was typically pretty stable in the group sessions and didn’t show too much emotion. Everyone looked surprised when I couldn’t explain what was wrong because I was crying so hard. They knew that there was really nothing that could be said to make it better. They were just there for me. They gave me hugs and pats on the back and zero judgment. It was probably the best help that I could have gotten from anyone at the time.

I started Drug Court shortly after our last Court Hearing. It was extremely nerve-racking. The Judge, along with Social Workers and my Attorney, would go over all of the progress that I had made for the last two weeks and make any revisions if they felt it would benefit me. One of the first things that I did was explain that going to Alcoholics Anonymous groups were not helpful because the members made it clear that it was only for a group for alcohol abusers. They kind of seemed like they believed that alcohol abusers were better than drug abusers. God forbid if I were to accidently say, “My name is Elizabeth, I am a drug addict.” I had to be sure to say, “My name is Elizabeth; I’m an alcoholic.” It felt more strange to call myself an alcoholic than it did a drug addict - whether that makes me a bad person or not. The Court understood my position and they allowed me to replace the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings with Narcotics Anonymous meetings or Cocaine Anonymous meetings. Either way, I had to go to a lot of meetings. They wanted me to go to five meetings a week. I was extremely busy with my schedule every day, and it was more difficult to sit through the night meetings. This was the time that I just wanted to put on my pajamas and watch TV. But after attending each meeting, I was always glad that I went. I always felt better about my situation because it was clear that I was not alone.

I began to wonder why the Court didn’t order Derrick to do anything except drug testing, and he refused to go to the meetings with me for support. Deep down I knew that he really needed these classes - probably more so than I did. I started to resent the fact that I had to do more work than he did to get our daughter back. He definitely helped put me in all of the horrible situations and allowed some really low-life people into my home and life. He was the one that put drugs in my coffee and exposed me to substances that I never wanted to even be around. It was hard for me not to become irritable over this, and I was quick to snap at him. I understood that I made my own choices and I was responsible for them, but at the same time he had issues just as much as I did, and he should have been doing just as much work to better himself for our daughter.

He started to come home with that look on his face again. It was the same look that he had when I was pregnant, and it was the same look on his face that I vividly recall when we used drugs together a year ago. I carefully questioned him - only for him to lash out at me and twist the conversation around to where it somehow ended up being my fault. He never confessed to using any substance, and once again it was easier for me to accept his lies than deal with the truth. Deep down, a part of me knew that if the Social Services were to order a hair follicle test, he would surely fail. The better half of my brain desperately wanted this to happen. Then the Court would see that it wasn’t just my fault, and I wasn’t the only bad person who made mistakes. This would give me an excuse to take my daughter and leave.

Occasionally, I would daydream about taking my daughter and going to my mom’s house. I knew she would take care of us while I got on my feet, and I would be away from this person who gave me so many conflicting messages. We were speaking more now, and she was always supportive when I would tell her about my new accomplishment or the last visit with my baby. I tried to avoid talking about Derrick because I already knew how she felt, and I knew that it wouldn’t be a productive conversation. I made sure that I was on time for every visit, and every time I saw my little girl she got bigger and bigger. It was adorable when she started smiling, and I always remembered to bring my camera with me to the visits. Eventually, the visitation was transferred to the Foster Care office. The staff agreed to supervise the visits because they were so frequent, and the Social Services had other visits to supervise as well. I liked the visits better here. The women that supervised them were always really nice, and they never made me feel uncomfortable or bad about my situation. The next Court Hearing wouldn’t be until my baby was 6 months old. It was horrible to have to think about waiting so long to get her home, but at least being able to see her grow and visit her almost on a daily basis gave me the opportunity to bond with her and let her know that I was her mom.

Besides the typical issues that I had with Derrick and my thoughts of him never changing, everything was going as good as it could for the situation. His boss called me one day after my outpatient classes and asked me if I was interested in picking up some part-time work. She needed an assistant for all of the administrative tasks that she was too busy to handle. I gladly accepted. We needed the extra money, and it was nice to begin living a life outside of Court orders. She first had me pick up some cleaning jobs to fix up post-construction projects. It was fun and it kept me busy.  Eventually I was working in her office and running errands for her. I hated getting up early, but I knew that it was good for me and it would help to rebuild my self-esteem.

On June 24
th
, 2007, Derrick and I took a trip down the mountain to do some shopping. Our Court date was coming up next month, and we were hoping we’d get unsupervised visits so we could at least see our daughter at our home. Her room was all set up but because I knew that I was going to nurse her when we brought her home from the hospital, we weren’t in a hurry to get a crib. I had planned for her to sleep in the bassinette next to me. We definitely needed to get a crib so we’d be ready for the Social Workers to come over and do their home inspection. We got our baby the nicest crib that the store had. It was a cherry-oak color, and we really didn’t care about the price tag. We were both happy and excited as we packed up the Jeep and headed back home to set up the crib. As we were making the drive back home, we noticed a huge cloud of smoke. The cloud was definitely not there when we left just a few hours earlier. “What the heck is that?” I panicked. “Is that smoke?” I asked, totally confused. “Whaaaa…what the hell?” Derrick was just as confused as I was. “Is Tahoe on fire?” I wondered out loud. As we drove closer and closer to home, it became more evident that it was indeed our town that was on fire. By the time we drove through the state-line, it was so smoky that it was difficult to see very far ahead. As we drove around the bend of the lake, we were actually seeing flames on the top of one of the mountains. This was definitely not good. We didn’t know the exact neighborhood, but we knew that the foster home that our daughter was in was in that area. Luckily, she was with a temporary foster mom while the foster parents were on a week long vacation. We closely watched the news as we set up her crib, and we were eager to see her the next day.

We walked into the office and she was sleeping in her car seat. We talked with the foster care workers about the fire and heard stories of them having to assist an elderly couple who had been evacuated from their home that later burned to the ground. “Your baby is with the temporary foster mom we told you about, and her house actually caught fire and burned to the ground. She told me that she literally had just enough time to grab the baby and the diaper bag and that was it. I asked her if we needed to find a new place for her to go, but she offered to keep our baby with her while she stayed with her close friends. We had to inspect their house for safety and everything was just fine. We were so surprised that she was so insistent on continuing to watch her considering the circumstances. “I am so glad I didn’t know this information yesterday!” I laughed, thinking about how freaked out I would have been. “That was awesome of her, and please make sure you thank her for me,” I said, thinking about how selfless this woman must be. I felt very grateful that our little girl seemed to be in good hands as hard as it all was.

Our next Court Hearing arrived before we knew it. Of course, I was nervous because the Court System and Social Workers were unpredictable. But I knew that I was doing the very best that I could, and I had a feeling that they would see that. The Judge quickly looked over the report and granted us unsupervised visits three times a week. They would take place at our home, and we would get to have her for four hours at a time. I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. Finally I could be a mommy in my own environment without having to sit in an uncomfortable chair the entire time. I was looking forward to the little things, like cuddling with her on the couch, showing her the flowers in the front yard, and feeding her lunch. Derrick had to work the day the foster care worker dropped her off. A part of me was kind of happy that I didn’t have to share the first visit at home with him. She did extremely well and hardly cried. She had never been to our home so she wasn’t used to the environment, but she at least knew who I was. Everything felt the way it was supposed to, and I was bummed that it had to end. I knew, however, that she would come home sooner than later. The fact that we were making progress was a very good sign.

After about four weeks of unsupervised visits, we were granted overnight visits. My Attorney was able to get this accomplished at my Drug Court Hearing. We would get to keep our daughter for the weekends and resume the same daytime visitation during the weekdays. She was practically home for good - except some back-and-forth inconveniences. To make things easier for everyone involved, Derrick decided to buy a truck from his brother. That way, I could pick up the baby at the Foster Care office once in a while to make things easier on them.

When we went to pay Donnie for the truck, Derrick left the Jeep idling, and I got in the driver’s seat. He had just received his tax return so he had extra money. He was taking longer than usual, and I was getting suspicious. He came up to the driver’s window and I rolled it down. “Hey…” “What?” I demanded while getting inpatient. I was having another bad day. It was Zoe’s third birthday, and I was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep. At times, I noticed it was becoming more and more difficult to focus on the present moment. I was stuck in the past and refused to accept that my girls were gone. I didn’t speak of it nearly as much as I felt it. I frequently would get vivid flashbacks of some of the precious moments that I shared with them. I would tuck them into bed as they dozed off to Charlotte’s Web, and I would see them run to me when I picked them up from a long day at daycare. It couldn’t be over. There was no way it could end like this. I’ll get them back too. This isn’t real.

Derrick had that look on his face. He was high. He had money, and he was in there forever. He had gotten high with his brother. “Do you wanna smoke some shit tonight?”