Sunday, September 16, 2018

Farting against Thunder

I am so tired. The tears sting my eyes as I struggle to open the padlock on the security door and then open the locked door while balancing the files of court documents in one arm and my bag in the other. How many times do I have to bend down and look a child in the eyes and say “I love you still”, and then prize their little arms from around my legs or waist while they are being pulled away from me by an abusive parent, a family member, a stranger or a social worker?

Another day in court. Another child I could not save. Another court case where the outcome was a fait accompli. The child’s fate was sealed before we even had a chance.

I lock the doors behind me, put the kettle on, make a cup of coffee and flop down on the couch. The tears slowly flow down my cheeks and before I realize it I am howling. Great big sobs are forcing their way out from deep within my chest. I am struggling to breathe. I am drowning in my grief. My mind is numb. I cannot think coherently anymore. My thoughts are with the children that have been taken away and then with my pain and then fly to what my mother said. “Dianne, you are farting against thunder”. Perhaps she is right. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love, I can’t seem to make the social workers or the Commissioner of Child Welfare understand that the interests of the children come first. And I hear my own voice howling in the emptiness and silence and wonder if that is really me. Have I become insane? Have I finally and truly lost it? Is this the moment that I give up and leave it all behind?

I struggle to bring my breathing under control and to stop the hideous howling that is coming out of my mouth. I grab a tissue and wipe the snot and tears away and look at the horrible distorted face staring back at me from the mirror. The vision staring back at me makes me start crying all over again, and now I can’t stop. I lie down on the couch and bury my head in a pillow and sob until I fall asleep.

I wake up hours later, cold and disorientated. And then I remember. For more reading buy the book Saving Mandela's Children" from Amazon available in paperback and on Kindle.