I often wonder if the foster parents that killed my son ever think about me and how Im doing. I guess in my head I hope what happened to my son has effected their life more than just not being able to be crappy foster parents. I never did anything wrong, yet my son was killed because she just couldnt be bothered enough to be a good caregiver. She was even getting paid for it. Stupid.
When I had Donald he was a miracle. I still remember taking him grocery shopping, out to eat with my parents, and how I danced with him on my chest. My heart still aches for him, and I still feel his touch even though its been 13 years. It takes the murder of a child to change someone in ways you can never get back from.
The house is quiet, all but for the beeping of Zoes monitor. It beeps with each breath and I wait for the pause. I wait for my heart to stop. I wait for the worst. Its a horrible way to live, but its reality. Its happened before.
13 years ago my perfectly healthy baby went into the home of strangers, strangers who were given the honor of caring for such an incredible soul. They failed to do what was best for him, I believe this with every ounce of belief I have. You can ask me why, I have a list
- She lied about having a baby monitor.
- She used a recalled product that had already murdered other babies
- She placed a 2 month old on his stomach to sleep, even after admitting she knew back to sleep was best
- She kept him 2 floors below her, alone in her basement. She claims he was cranky and would cry.
- She slept 2 floors away from a 2 month old for 8 freaking HOURS. EIGHT HOURS!!
Now having Zoe I can tell you she sleeps for a maximum of 3 hours IF that. Shes his age today. If she slept for 8 hours we would be in the emergency room.
I just can not get over how the memories flood back even though I push them away. The phone calls from the lawyers. The news media, the constant updates of information that left me speechless. How one person can completely deny someones place in the world.
So here I sit waiting for my Bean to wake up, hoping that right now, this very moment as I take this breath.. that this foster monster is tossing in her sleep having the worst nightmare shes ever had.. and that when she wakes up, it follows her for the rest of her life. That is what she has done to me. Made me live the worst mightmare ever for 13 years.
I just need to watch her breathe.. and pray and wait and survive this. Weird thing is, I wish she was crying, like at birth.. crying means breathing. 
Current Mood:
Angry &
Sad &
Tired &
Upset

Frustrated


Content &
Happy