InspirationAddiction & Recovery
No voice. That’s how I felt when I was five years old and told that I was a foster child. My Mother sat me down and told me I was going to meet my biological parents and that this was going to be a good thing because I would now have two Mommies and Daddies. I thought this sounds good because now I would get double the birthday presents and attention. Needless to say I got none of that and my life was about to be turned upside down.
My first visit took place at the foster agency in a room made for children with small chairs and toys, it felt cold and sterile. Eventually there were more visits where they would drive out to Long Island. However, they were usually very late or a no show. This went on for a couple of years until my world came tumbling down. My mom sat me down again and told me they wanted me back.
The first words out of my mouth was, I’m not going!
My Mom asked, do you want us to fight for you?
When my Mom asked me if I wanted her to fight for me of course my answer was a resounding yes. I didn’t want to live with those people. The court battle began, there was a fair hearing and all these adults were testifying about what was in my best interest. I kept thinking when is someone going to ask me what I want, what’s in my best interest? When was my voice going to be heard? Finally after months of talking to journalists, psychologists, and doctors I got my day in front of the judge. After all these months this is my moment.
Waiting weeks for his decision the time has come. My Mom sits me down again. She tells me she’s very sorry but the judge is sending me back to live with my biological parents. I cried and screamed. I was devastated. Why did the judge just dismiss my feelings? What about what I wanted. This was my first experience in not being heard.
(Adrianne Lugo – To be continued weekly)