One word Why? I thought..
One Saturday morning I received a letter in the post. It was two months since I was given this temporary accommodation and two months since the incident in the home.
I received a letter to inform me that I was offered a permanent accommodation. My third transfer. Finally me and my girls would be settled as a family. I was excited it was a three bedroom my eldest daughter would have her own room and the two girls could share, they could go school together, I was excited. It was over a year that I was technically homeless, well living in temporary accommodation.
I went straight to mummy the Sunday to tell her I would be taking the girls on the Tuesday, two days after, as I wanted them to be totally involved. I also told her I would spend the next day Monday preparing the house, connecting the electricity and all the necessities. Mummy had that look again, she just listened. Finally, I can get away. I thought.
Mummy didn’t really speak, the remainder of the time, but she heard me. I assumed everything was ok. I grabbed my eldest girl she was getting bigger, but loved her cuddles. I told her we had a garden She was excited she was asking me how her room would be, she loved rainbow bright and wanted rainbow brite wallpaper.
I went to the shop and bought the rainbow brite wallpaper the next day. The next day I was back down again to see my girls, and everything seemed ok, mummy gave me a bag with mangoes, for D. I took it home.
I woke up early that morning as I was expecting a delivery, the postman came and I noticed there was a large brown envelope on the floor. I opened it,
It read court order….
I was confused. Then I saw my two eldest children’s name, I was trembling like a leaf as I read the order.
I saw mummy’s name.
My knees shook and I fell to the floor.
I sat on the floor as my eyes quickly scanned the court papers.
My breathing had change, I was having a panic attack, this was definitely not anxiety. I felt as if the room was closing in on me. I was alone. I struggled to breathe. I crawled on my hands and knees to the kitchen crying whilst trying to catch my breath.
I needed fresh air. I could feel my chest getting tighter as I tried to control my breathing.
As I scrambled from the floor to get to the sink, my legs couldn’t stop trembling. This day is permanently etched in my mind. I looked around the room, I was almost certain I saw mummy standing at the door, but I was hallucinating. I felt my skin becoming clammy, sweat was on the top of my lips. I put my face under the tap, and allowed the water to cool me down.
Then I ran back to the living room dripping wet to where the letter laid. I read it again.
I felt to the floor in a sea of tears.
My own mummy had taken me to court behind my back, but when? and why? she had lied under oath, as a practising christian. She told the courts that she did not know my whereabouts. She lied that she had been looking after the children for three months, I had totally disappeared. Lies, lies lies.
I only saw mummy yesterday, I had never been away from my children. They saw me every single day. My thought went to my eldest daughter, I was so scared for her. She was my baby, now mummy had custody, mummy was in control, my baby, my little girl would be abused.
My children were made a ward of court? without my knowledge. Why? The words on the letter, bombarded my mind.
I read it again… It specifically said that I was not allowed to remove them from her care. If I broke the order, I would be liable for prison. My children, I gave birth to them. How can she just take them. I didn’t understand.
That day I laid on the floor and cried until I fell asleep, I don’t know long but I woke up with a headache.
I called mummy, and asked her why?
“HOW DOES IT FEEL TO FIGHT FOR YOUR OWN CHILD, she said. “ITS NICE, ISNT IT”.
This was mummy’s exact words, that have lived with me until today.
So this was revenge. Why did my mummy hate me? what did I do?, after all I was a very young child when I arrived in England? Why?
Well on that day the feelings were mutual, I had learnt my most heartfelt word. Rage. I knew from that moment mummy would be dead to me, I despised every bone in her body.
I knew that I would die fighting for my baby’s, I knew if I couldn’t get them no one else would.
I was terrified my daughter would be abused. I knew if she hurt her I would kill her. I was prepared to commit murder for my girls.
I called my best friend, she was ballistic, but supportive as usual, she listened while I cried.
Ironically although me and D, were still on bad terms. I called him too, Guess what? he was supportive no questions asked, he decided to fight with me, to get back my girls.
After that phone call, I knew that despite all the violence. I needed to stand in unity for my girls, nothing else mattered in my life. I also learnt that the D, I knew as a teenager was in their somewhere.
Wrong move mummy wrong move!