On Family Court & Deadbeat Moms

I cried after court this week.

Yes, we went to court again.  Yes, we're dealing with Abby's mom again.  And yes, I don't talk about it too much for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is that this is a very personal family issue and I grew up in a house where family issues stay in the family; and also because this is Abby's story and she has an opinion and feelings and I sometimes don't feel like it's my place to parade the junky parts of our life out there for God and everyone.

This time it's different and I'm not sure why, but it feels like I have to get this all out and off of my chest because I feel like I'm suffocating.  For years my most fervent desire was to find someone like me. Someone who is busy raising a kid that's not her own; a kid that she has no responsibility to other than the responsibility she puts on herself. Someone who understands me when I say that raising this child that I didn't grow - who I've really only known for about 7 years (and they've been tumultuous at best, downright impossible at the worst.) is easily the single hardest thing I've ever done.  Sometimes it feels like teaching an old dog new tricks and that it's easy to disassociate because she isn't "technically" my responsibility.

I don't have a legal stake in Abby, but I'm emotionally and financially involved in all of the things that make up the nuances of her life.  I've scrimped and saved for her. I've laid awake in bed at night discussing her. I've agonized over her decisions and I've celebrated her successes. I taught her how to shave her legs and I explained periods and boys and sometimes I advise her on her hair or make-up. I buy her school clothes and supplies and I make her lunch every morning. I drive her to and from sporting events and play practice; I cheer in the bleachers and in the auditorium. I go to her band concerts and her choir concerts and her plays and her volleyball games. I advocate on her behalf. I take her to the doctor's office and schedule her follow-up appointments and pay her co-pays. I sat outside and prayed during every single therapy session she's ever had. I wash her clothes and try not to make a huge deal out of her incredibly messy room.  I make sure she is fed, that she goes to church and learns about God and that she understands that her brother is not her half-brother, he's just her brother. I make sure she has chores so she learns responsibility, but I try to let her be a kid because she grew up really, really fast and all these years later, Uriah and I still mourn that; but we don't regret it.

In the grand scheme of all of the times we went to court on Abby's behalf - on our family's behalf - this week's hearing was very, very minor.  And yet it was huge.  Abby's mom requested a change of child-support.  She wants to pay nothing.  She wants to have zero financial obligation to her child.  No child support. No medical bills. And the sad thing is that, based on her "testimony," the court will probably side with her because that's actually how the law is written.

And so I cried in the car, in our driveway, after biting my tongue for the half-hour hearing because I wanted to scream to everyone in that court room that this whole thing is a big farce; it's a classic case of fake and dodge responsibility, which, based on our involvement with Abby's mom, is pretty much her M.O.

The thing is: Uriah and I can obviously support Abby without any financial help.  We've been doing just that for the 5 years that Abby's been living with us full-time.  And in 5 years, we haven't pursued help from any outside financial institution - not for medical help, not to enforce the child-support obligation that is owed. This doesn't make us awesome nor does it put us on a pedestal; it simply means that we've buckled down and done what needed to be done to raise our kids, it just so happens that one of our kids technically only belongs to half of us. But I don't believe in that technicality.  I worked a full-time job to make sure Abby's summer programs and after-school care were paid for. I made sure she got to her Girl Scout meetings and that she was able to play volleyball. And now I stay at home as much for Finn as I do for Abby, to drive her to and from school; to make sure she has dinner ready before she goes to her activities and that she doesn't have to eat alone or be home alone or have the obligation of constantly watching out for her little brother. I stay home so that there is always someone here for her when she needs us - phone call from school for tylenol for cramps or a request to stay after and be picked up later to get some work done.

I don't want to have to explain to Abby that once again, her mom wants nothing to do with her. She doesn't call, she doesn't write, and now she doesn't even want to support her from afar.

And I don't want to rant about Deadbeat Moms. I don't want to feel like the justice system is slanted - and not in our favor, which it doesn't need to be but I do think that it needs to be more balanced in general. I don't want to have to deal with the anxiety and annoyance that comes with listening to someone sing her own song of "poor me."

And so I cried in the car. It's easy to be frustrated when things don't look the way we'd like them to or when things follow a path that we think isn't the correct path.  I cried to clear my mind and my heart so that I can see more clearly this new path that is opening up to us.

I can see a little more clearly now that this has potential to be just what we didn't know we always needed.

I cried after court this week.

Yes, we went to court again.  Yes, we're dealing with Abby's mom again.  And yes, I don't talk about it too much for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which is that this is a very personal family issue and I grew up in a house where family issues stay in the family; and also because this is Abby's story and she has an opinion and feelings and I sometimes don't feel like it's my place to parade the junky parts of our life out there for God and everyone.

This time it's different and I'm not sure why, but it feels like I have to get this all out and off of my chest because I feel like I'm suffocating.  For years my most fervent desire was to find someone like me. Someone who is busy raising a kid that's not her own; a kid that she has no responsibility to other than the responsibility she puts on herself. Someone who understands me when I say that raising this child that I didn't grow - who I've really only known for about 7 years (and they've been tumultuous at best, downright impossible at the worst.) is easily the single hardest thing I've ever done.  Sometimes it feels like teaching an old dog new tricks and that it's easy to disassociate because she isn't "technically" my responsibility.

I don't have a legal stake in Abby, but I'm emotionally and financially involved in all of the things that make up the nuances of her life.  I've scrimped and saved for her. I've laid awake in bed at night discussing her. I've agonized over her decisions and I've celebrated her successes. I taught her how to shave her legs and I explained periods and boys and sometimes I advise her on her hair or make-up. I buy her school clothes and supplies and I make her lunch every morning. I drive her to and from sporting events and play practice; I cheer in the bleachers and in the auditorium. I go to her band concerts and her choir concerts and her plays and her volleyball games. I advocate on her behalf. I take her to the doctor's office and schedule her follow-up appointments and pay her co-pays. I sat outside and prayed during every single therapy session she's ever had. I wash her clothes and try not to make a huge deal out of her incredibly messy room.  I make sure she is fed, that she goes to church and learns about God and that she understands that her brother is not her half-brother, he's just her brother. I make sure she has chores so she learns responsibility, but I try to let her be a kid because she grew up really, really fast and all these years later, Uriah and I still mourn that; but we don't regret it.

In the grand scheme of all of the times we went to court on Abby's behalf - on our family's behalf - this week's hearing was very, very minor.  And yet it was huge.  Abby's mom requested a change of child-support.  She wants to pay nothing.  She wants to have zero financial obligation to her child.  No child support. No medical bills. And the sad thing is that, based on her "testimony," the court will probably side with her because that's actually how the law is written.

And so I cried in the car, in our driveway, after biting my tongue for the half-hour hearing because I wanted to scream to everyone in that court room that this whole thing is a big farce; it's a classic case of fake and dodge responsibility, which, based on our involvement with Abby's mom, is pretty much her M.O.

The thing is: Uriah and I can obviously support Abby without any financial help.  We've been doing just that for the 5 years that Abby's been living with us full-time.  And in 5 years, we haven't pursued help from any outside financial institution - not for medical help, not to enforce the child-support obligation that is owed. This doesn't make us awesome nor does it put us on a pedestal; it simply means that we've buckled down and done what needed to be done to raise our kids, it just so happens that one of our kids technically only belongs to half of us. But I don't believe in that technicality.  I worked a full-time job to make sure Abby's summer programs and after-school care were paid for. I made sure she got to her Girl Scout meetings and that she was able to play volleyball. And now I stay at home as much for Finn as I do for Abby, to drive her to and from school; to make sure she has dinner ready before she goes to her activities and that she doesn't have to eat alone or be home alone or have the obligation of constantly watching out for her little brother. I stay home so that there is always someone here for her when she needs us - phone call from school for tylenol for cramps or a request to stay after and be picked up later to get some work done.

I don't want to have to explain to Abby that once again, her mom wants nothing to do with her. She doesn't call, she doesn't write, and now she doesn't even want to support her from afar.

And I don't want to rant about Deadbeat Moms. I don't want to feel like the justice system is slanted - and not in our favor, which it doesn't need to be but I do think that it needs to be more balanced in general. I don't want to have to deal with the anxiety and annoyance that comes with listening to someone sing her own song of "poor me."

And so I cried in the car. It's easy to be frustrated when things don't look the way we'd like them to or when things follow a path that we think isn't the correct path.  I cried to clear my mind and my heart so that I can see more clearly this new path that is opening up to us.

I can see a little more clearly now that this has potential to be just what we didn't know we always needed.