Saturday, October 25, 2014

I Lied to Them

I lied to them.

Over two years ago when we finally brought them home, after all those years of bureaucracy and fighting to make it happen. They were finally home. Home. I wrapped my arms around them and told them this was their home. Their mom. Their dad. Their siblings. They'd never have to leave; never have to move anywhere else again.

I lied to them.

They locked the doors to the restroom when they bathed or voided. They locked the bedroom doors when they changed clothes. They locked themselves in the closet when they felt scared. I told them that they were free to lock the doors as long as they wanted to, but that they no longer needed to. They were safe at home, with their family. No one would ever hurt them again.

I lied to them.

They bonded with my siblings. My nieces and nephews. My parents. My cousins.  I told them that this was their family. They were as much a part of it as every member that was born into it. Our culture was now their culture too. Our traditions their traditions. Our name their name. They would grow up with us, a part of us. All of their lives they'd have this extended family connection.

I lied to them.

I told them that they would have a chance to graduate elementary and middle school with the friends that they'd made. No more would they be the perpetual "new kid." They could let their guard down; get rooted. The people they'd met at church, in sports, in scouts, in the neighborhood - these were people that they would be able to establish a bond with throughout many years. They would have numerous years of memories of fun and friendship.

I lied to them.

When they woke up with nightmares, remembering their past, crying and screaming. When they courageously confided the horrors they'd survived. When they broke windows, walls, doors. Every one of these times they asked if we were "finally" going to send them "back."  Every time we told them that there was no "back." They were HOME.

I lied to them.

If this "meeting" fails, which it seems likely to, in a matter of weeks my family will be no more.

I lied to them.

They don't share my DNA, so I am powerless; dependent upon others to determine my babies' fate.

I lied to them.

Unless my God, whom I am beseeching with the tears and pleas of a mother's heart, intervenes, they will face their 11th move in their short lifetimes - their eighth in a decade.

I lied to them.

I didn't mean to, but I lied to them.

I lied to them.

I lied to them.

I lied to them.

And that makes me as just as bad as all of the people who hurt, neglected, and violated them all of these years. Maybe worse. It doesn't matter if I meant well; the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

I lied to them.

I lied to them.

I lied to them.

I will NEVER forgive myself.

I will NEVER get over this.

I hate myself more than I have ever hated another human being.

God, please protect my babies in the way that I will no longer be able to. Please hear my broken cry.

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