[Locked from CJ people, but Kim wouldn't mind talking to other muses.]
You see them all the time on the news, or movies on Lifetime: the committed, driven mothers fighting for some sort of advocacy regarding their murdered, hurt, or missing child. As a lawyer I’ve worked firsthand with them, seen their pain up close and in all its detailed reality. And perhaps every dedicated mother knows that she would react the same way if something happened to her child.
At least I always figured I would, and here I am finding out for sure.
It truly is the worst feeling in the world to not know anything because that gives you the vast realm of your mind to create complex and unwanted scenarios. You want to think of only the best things, that your child isn’t hurt, isn’t cold, isn’t hungry or scared. And yet you can’t help but think of all the other things, the worst things. Especially when you know the person who has your child is unstable, to put it mildly.
When I first woke up I just wanted to die. Maybe it was the drugs and the pain and everything combined. All I could do was lie there hour after hour, and despite my mother and Trey constantly being with me, I wished they’d go away so I could suffer in private. As it is, they didn’t realize just how much I was suffering because I didn’t tell them. Why compound the worry and fear they were already feeling? But I’d be there inside my own mind and think of all the terrible things that might be happening to Leo, and even if Roger was taking rudimentary care of him, that didn’t and doesn’t change the fact that Leo witnessed what Roger did to Jordan and me, and he was literally torn from his home and all he knows. So when he comes back to me he won’t be the same little boy he was.
None of us are the same. I’ve had issues growing up involving my adoption and such, which I realize were so pointless. Why did I think that I was not loved and wanted? Did it really matter if my birth parents gave me up? The Watkinses adopted me because they wanted a child. They chose me. That should have been enough. I do not doubt that they loved me every bit as much as if I’d been of their blood. I regret the time I wasted worrying about all of that, trying to “find myself” or whatever it is I was doing. I knew this before the incident with Roger, but now everything is even clearer. My past priorities matter little.
Maybe I’m being selfish. I know I’ve helped a lot of people with my job, but I don’t care about work anymore. There are other lawyers to help them, but I am the only mother Leo has.
There’s also Jordan. Things could have been worse for her. He could have stabbed her too, or actually killed her. She could have been permanently paralyzed. When it happened I thought he’d killed her. I’ve told her that I blamed myself, and of course she said it wasn’t my fault, it was Roger’s. And yes, it was Roger who came into the house with a knife and hurt us. Jordan said we dealt with it the best way we could under the circumstances. But always and for the rest of my life I will ask myself, What could I have done differently? How could I have prevented what happened? There are numerous answers, and I didn’t do any of them. It all boils down to two things I did do: I stood there, and I did nothing. I didn’t try to get the knife from him. I didn’t use my tae kwon do on him from behind. I didn’t run in and grab the phone. I called Jordan over there in the first place. But as I said earlier, the decisions I made in my life are what brought us to that point. Not only that, but here I am at home, and I can walk and move around, and Jordan’s still in the hospital and still in the bed and she can’t go anywhere. I know she hates it. Jordan always hated staying in one place and not being able to do anything. It’s true Roger almost killed me, and if Woody hadn’t been on the phone and heard things and come over with the police, I probably would have bled to death right there in Leo’s room. But it feels like Jordan got the worst of it, and that’s just not fair. I know it should have been me, but I truly don’t think Jordan blames me, or hates me. Even so, I can’t shake all of the self-loathing I have, and may have forever. But I can’t concentrate on it either. There’s too much else at stake.
And anyway, people don’t want you to blame yourself. If you say you do they tell you no, you’re wrong, there was nothing you could have done. And they mean well, I know that. It’s not like I’ve never been on the other end of things. I know what it feels like when all you want in the world for someone who’s hurting is to feel better. You say things to them and you tell them things that you think will help because you want them to feel better, and you want yourself to feel better. There’s nothing wrong with that.
So I’m keeping it to myself, at least as much as I can. Sometimes it’s hard around Jordan because she might as well be a Catholic priest and me at confession. She can read me too easily. It won’t do any good for anyone else to know; they’ll only try to make me feel better and that’s a waste of their time and energy. I know Trey will for sure, and I’m already putting him through so much already. It’s not that I don’t trust him, or that I doubt his love for me, but I’m terribly afraid that all of this will drive him away. It’s so much to handle, I know that. And the truth is we don’t have a lot to build on, though what we have is pretty strong for such a short time. I love him, God, I do. I just want to hold onto him with both hands and say, “Trey, don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me no matter what.”
Still, I’m not going tell him or anyone else that I’ve stopped taking my pain medication; I’m not sure they’d understand. I don’t want my mind to be at anything less than 100%. And I don’t think I deserve the luxury of something that will numb the pain. Every twinge, every ache, every throb is a reminder of what my son is going through, whether it be mental or physical anguish. He does not have the advantage of painkillers or something like them; why should I? And I will admit… I started smoking again. I quit almost seven years ago as soon as I found out I was pregnant with Leo. But here I am, and I got my mother to run to the store and get them for me. I didn’t need to explain and she didn’t try to talk me out of it. Funny, isn’t it? Yeah, it’s really funny.
I need my mind to be sharp. I need all the energy I can expend to work on finding Leo. I don’t know where to look myself, but you can bet your sweet ass I’m not going to let the police or the Feds forget my boy. I’ll be damned if he fades away into one of the thousands of cold cases they’ve got. And if I ever feel my hope flag, that’s another thing I won’t tell anyone. The minute I start letting go, or let people think I am, the minute they’ll start giving up too. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.
Leo’s sixth birthday is in May. Will he be home for it?
Where are you tonight, Leo? Do we look at the same stars, the same moon? Is it even night anymore where you are, or is it tomorrow already? Did your father make sure you were warm last night when you went to sleep? Are you getting enough to eat? Do you have nightmares and cry for me?
Sometimes it’s just so hard. But Leo, Mama’s going to find you. No matter how hard it is, or how long it takes, I will find you.
At least I always figured I would, and here I am finding out for sure.
It truly is the worst feeling in the world to not know anything because that gives you the vast realm of your mind to create complex and unwanted scenarios. You want to think of only the best things, that your child isn’t hurt, isn’t cold, isn’t hungry or scared. And yet you can’t help but think of all the other things, the worst things. Especially when you know the person who has your child is unstable, to put it mildly.
When I first woke up I just wanted to die. Maybe it was the drugs and the pain and everything combined. All I could do was lie there hour after hour, and despite my mother and Trey constantly being with me, I wished they’d go away so I could suffer in private. As it is, they didn’t realize just how much I was suffering because I didn’t tell them. Why compound the worry and fear they were already feeling? But I’d be there inside my own mind and think of all the terrible things that might be happening to Leo, and even if Roger was taking rudimentary care of him, that didn’t and doesn’t change the fact that Leo witnessed what Roger did to Jordan and me, and he was literally torn from his home and all he knows. So when he comes back to me he won’t be the same little boy he was.
None of us are the same. I’ve had issues growing up involving my adoption and such, which I realize were so pointless. Why did I think that I was not loved and wanted? Did it really matter if my birth parents gave me up? The Watkinses adopted me because they wanted a child. They chose me. That should have been enough. I do not doubt that they loved me every bit as much as if I’d been of their blood. I regret the time I wasted worrying about all of that, trying to “find myself” or whatever it is I was doing. I knew this before the incident with Roger, but now everything is even clearer. My past priorities matter little.
Maybe I’m being selfish. I know I’ve helped a lot of people with my job, but I don’t care about work anymore. There are other lawyers to help them, but I am the only mother Leo has.
There’s also Jordan. Things could have been worse for her. He could have stabbed her too, or actually killed her. She could have been permanently paralyzed. When it happened I thought he’d killed her. I’ve told her that I blamed myself, and of course she said it wasn’t my fault, it was Roger’s. And yes, it was Roger who came into the house with a knife and hurt us. Jordan said we dealt with it the best way we could under the circumstances. But always and for the rest of my life I will ask myself, What could I have done differently? How could I have prevented what happened? There are numerous answers, and I didn’t do any of them. It all boils down to two things I did do: I stood there, and I did nothing. I didn’t try to get the knife from him. I didn’t use my tae kwon do on him from behind. I didn’t run in and grab the phone. I called Jordan over there in the first place. But as I said earlier, the decisions I made in my life are what brought us to that point. Not only that, but here I am at home, and I can walk and move around, and Jordan’s still in the hospital and still in the bed and she can’t go anywhere. I know she hates it. Jordan always hated staying in one place and not being able to do anything. It’s true Roger almost killed me, and if Woody hadn’t been on the phone and heard things and come over with the police, I probably would have bled to death right there in Leo’s room. But it feels like Jordan got the worst of it, and that’s just not fair. I know it should have been me, but I truly don’t think Jordan blames me, or hates me. Even so, I can’t shake all of the self-loathing I have, and may have forever. But I can’t concentrate on it either. There’s too much else at stake.
And anyway, people don’t want you to blame yourself. If you say you do they tell you no, you’re wrong, there was nothing you could have done. And they mean well, I know that. It’s not like I’ve never been on the other end of things. I know what it feels like when all you want in the world for someone who’s hurting is to feel better. You say things to them and you tell them things that you think will help because you want them to feel better, and you want yourself to feel better. There’s nothing wrong with that.
So I’m keeping it to myself, at least as much as I can. Sometimes it’s hard around Jordan because she might as well be a Catholic priest and me at confession. She can read me too easily. It won’t do any good for anyone else to know; they’ll only try to make me feel better and that’s a waste of their time and energy. I know Trey will for sure, and I’m already putting him through so much already. It’s not that I don’t trust him, or that I doubt his love for me, but I’m terribly afraid that all of this will drive him away. It’s so much to handle, I know that. And the truth is we don’t have a lot to build on, though what we have is pretty strong for such a short time. I love him, God, I do. I just want to hold onto him with both hands and say, “Trey, don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me no matter what.”
Still, I’m not going tell him or anyone else that I’ve stopped taking my pain medication; I’m not sure they’d understand. I don’t want my mind to be at anything less than 100%. And I don’t think I deserve the luxury of something that will numb the pain. Every twinge, every ache, every throb is a reminder of what my son is going through, whether it be mental or physical anguish. He does not have the advantage of painkillers or something like them; why should I? And I will admit… I started smoking again. I quit almost seven years ago as soon as I found out I was pregnant with Leo. But here I am, and I got my mother to run to the store and get them for me. I didn’t need to explain and she didn’t try to talk me out of it. Funny, isn’t it? Yeah, it’s really funny.
I need my mind to be sharp. I need all the energy I can expend to work on finding Leo. I don’t know where to look myself, but you can bet your sweet ass I’m not going to let the police or the Feds forget my boy. I’ll be damned if he fades away into one of the thousands of cold cases they’ve got. And if I ever feel my hope flag, that’s another thing I won’t tell anyone. The minute I start letting go, or let people think I am, the minute they’ll start giving up too. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.
Leo’s sixth birthday is in May. Will he be home for it?
Where are you tonight, Leo? Do we look at the same stars, the same moon? Is it even night anymore where you are, or is it tomorrow already? Did your father make sure you were warm last night when you went to sleep? Are you getting enough to eat? Do you have nightmares and cry for me?
Sometimes it’s just so hard. But Leo, Mama’s going to find you. No matter how hard it is, or how long it takes, I will find you.