Story of a Failed Mind Control Subject

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Chapter 16

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Chapter 16
Losing Austin for the Last Time

So I decided to keep Austin and go stay in FL with Alex’s mother. I admit that it was stupid now, and that I did it because I desperately wanted to be in FL. I also hoped (stupidly– ah, yes, I was very stupid), that Alex and I really would raise Austin when Alex got back from crab fishing in Alaska. He promised to send me money every month, to help out, until he got back.

I moved in with Olga. She lived in a sort of retirement area, in a trailer. Things were awful from the start. She stayed up in the living room until 4 am. Then she went to bed. I wasn’t allowed to go back and sleep in the bed while she was up watching TV, and I couldn’t sleep with a blaring TV.

She wouldn’t touch Austin. She wouldn’t help with him in any way. I couldn’t afford to get a babysitter even to go long enough to do some job hunting. I couldn’t leave him with her, either, because she wouldn’t have anything to do with him! I was stuck. But there was hope. Alex was going to send me money, and then I’d be able to get a job, right?

Nope. Alex’s money was under his sister’s control. And Ron and Gail Smith didn’t want to give me any money. They decided that I was “no good” and by god, they didn’t care what Alex wanted. So they lied to him about it and told him they were giving me the money and I was squandering it. They never gave me anything.

I did finally manage to get enough WIC and aid to get us some food. Shortly after that, I got benefits, and I moved out into a little Home for single mothers. There, I got a job helping with a paper route in the early morning hours while Austin slept. I got enrolled in tech school, and was waiting for it to start… while I wrote every couple of days to Alex. More youthful stupidity, I’m afraid. Love letter after love letter. I sent him gifts. I … made a complete ass of myself.

And Gail continued to lie to him and block me from speaking to him and telling him she was a liar.

Well, it happened that one of the other girls there, named Candace, started talking to a post-abortion hotline in Georgia. She had a lot of the typical issues. She was traumatized because this time she’d actually had the child instead, and she was falling apart from the horror and shame and guilt. Well, she was forbidden to contact them, and begged my help. So (stupid again!), I helped her.

So they kicked us both out. And her ‘friends’ from the hotline in GA came and got her.

Here’s where it gets really insane again. Like the rest of it isn’t, eh? But this is another one of those situations in which things just get creepy and terrifying again.

When we got there, there were four girls there including us two. We were supposedly getting “discipleship” training there. But one of the girls disappeared. I confess that I thought little of it at the time. Her stuff was cleaned out by the staff, and nothing more was said, except that she’d reconciled with her family and wouldn’t be back.

Not long after that, the other girl disappeared. When I asked where she went, every single one of them gave me blank stares. Empty. Nobody home. Did I imagine her? Did I imagine them both?

Then the strange behavior with regards to my parenting started. I would be sent to the other end of the huge house to do chores. Some time later, someone would come to me, after Austin had been crying for a long time, and tell me that I was neglecting him and he’d been crying forever. Now, is it just me, or if you send someone to the other end of the house, away from their child, to do chores, wouldn’t you go get them as soon as their child woke?

Apparently, though, this made me a bad mother. Little incidents like this escalated. Furthermore, we weren’t allowed any outside contact with anyone. No one could call in, and no one could leave. We were taken to church every Sunday, but not allowed to interact with others, or we’d be punished when we got back. No one tried to interact with us. I wanted to get a job, but I wasn’t allowed. When I asked to leave and be taken to a shelter, I was told that it wasn’t possible. There was no shelter; I had better stay there.

Candace came to me again and told me, adamantly, that Austin was a NEGLECTED child. She began to tell me this repeatedly through the day, like a litany. It wore at me, until one night I took Austin and ran away. I went to the police in Chickamauga, and I was taken directly back to Jacob’s house!

Once more, there was no escape. Then Jeff began to tell me that I had to give my son up for adoption. That I was harming him. That I was neglecting him (utter trash, I realize now! I loved and if anything, doted on my son!). I began to realize that this was what they’d done to the other two girls. And both of them had refused. Then vanished.

So I fasted and prayed for 3 days and 3 nights. I then had a vision, in which I walked with Jesus in the clouds. It was a long discussion, during which Jesus told me that the Bible wasn’t exactly correct. He also told me that I would have to relinquish Austin to keep him safe.

It was a long and difficult conversation. It ripped apart a lot of my paradigms as far as religion. I had been a devout and even obsessive Christian. I’d studied seminary, and I’d gotten Concordances and everything else. Photos of original documents, studied Hebrew and Greek translating (couldn’t do it myself, but cross-referenced it a lot). All because I’d begun to doubt, so I’d been trying to cure my doubts and my lack of faith.

I refused still, though, and tried to run away again that night. Only to find that I had a guard on me. I retreated after ‘going to the bathroom,’ which of course fooled no one. So the next day, I told Jeff, “You know someone who wants to adopt a child.” He said he did (of course).

That night, I handed Austin over, hoping that he would be okay and that I might be able to survive long enough for him someday to know me. To meet me. Alas, as I cannot afford to hunt him down when he turns 18, I doubt that this hope will ever come to fruition.

But I chose L- and A- M-, who promised to try an open adoption. They promised to send pictures, though they didn’t want reverse contact. I felt I had to be content. I got to know them as much as I could during the 10 days. It seemed that having my cooperation made the sale of my son a lot easier.

On the 10th day, I saw a check to Jeff from L- and A- for $50,000. My son was now legally theirs, and as such, they had given a “charitable donation” to the people who procured him for them.

I ran away that night, and I was chased with searchlights and dogs. They hunted me for several hours that night, and I thanked god that I liked to read and had learned a few “hiding your scent trail” tricks from books. Who says reading is a waste of time? Or more like, no wonder they burn books, hey?

I went to Dalton (ironically where L- and A- lived). I did get to see Austin one more time. He was happy and healthy and chubby and even more beautiful than when I gave him up at 6 months old. Not so willingly, I might point out. But not a product of State removal, either.

I’d been motivated by Austin’s birth and presence in my life. I’d been trying to get things together. But I couldn’t. I wish now, and understand now that I could have, that I’d gone back to Tony and Corenn instead of with Candace. I believe I’d have a good life, with my son in it, now. Regrets. I have so many of them around this issue.

When I ran away from Jacob’s place, and I finally believed I was no longer being pursued, I sat down under a monument and prayed for death. I wanted to die more then than I have at any other point in my life besides one… the next and last time I saw him. She let me see him while she went to the bank. We played and laughed and I fought the agonizing tears.

And then we got in the car and I went back to my hotel. And when I got out of the car, he started screaming. She made me go, that she would “take care of it.” The sounds of my son’s cries will haunt me forever. The sound of my baby crying, and having to walk away has left a mark on my soul that nothing else could.

Not rape. Not torture. Not seeing my mother die. Not being abandoned again and again.

No. It was the loss of my son that finally crippled my soul. It broke me, that cry pursuing me into the pits of hell. I have nightmares of it. I think of it and I cry. I can’t think of it and not cry. This very moment, tears pour down my face, and that cry echoes in my mind, and my heart. And it will echo there forever.

Yes, even if he has a happy life, that’ll haunt me still. You see, he could have had a happy life with me, too. Having him in my life had motivated me to grander things. It had catapulted me into a place where I felt I had no choice but to make a good life. My son was at stake.

And then he was gone. Forever. I’ll never again hold my lost baby.  I can never go back to that moment and comfort him. I can never go back to any of those moments and undo what happened. My son is gone. My baby is gone. All that’s left of him is the grown man he’s become… and a cry that has haunted me for 17 years now.

The thing is, I will never, ever understand how she could do it. How she could take him when she KNEW I didn’t want to let him go. How she could take him from his weeping mother. I don’t understand how she could take him even knowing that losing him was driving me to feel suicidal. I can’t understand how she could lie and then ‘change her mind’ and not send pictures or ever allow me to see him in any way again.

It’s so monstrous that I simply cannot get my mind around it. I can’t understand how ANYONE can take a child out of the arms of a weeping mother. One did it on that MTV show, in front of millions of people. Is this what we’ve come to? Taking the children straight out of the arms of weeping mothers? AND WE APPLAUD THE TAKER! As if she’s doing a great thing, rescuing the child from the horrific fate of being born to and raised by his or her MOTHER.

How? How can any person do this? How can any woman condemn another to the loss of a child? Can they simply not understand the soul-devouring agony of losing a child? And if they can’t.. then how the HELL can they be the best thing for the child?? I’m staggered by the depth of agony that this loss causes, and by our society’s complete demonization of “birthmothers.” They are, after all, you know; all prostitutes, crack whores, and skanks. Or teens.

Salvation lies only in ripping the newborn from his weeping mother’s arms. Selling him while calling it “fees.”

And by the way, I saw another Other Man then. He was watching me. At the monument, and at the hotel. He was there when I got back. He was there when they took me to the hospital because I cried nonstop without even sleep, for 3 days after losing my son.

This is what we’re doing to women when we take their children away at birth. We are sentencing them to something more destructive and painful than anything you’ve read up until this email. Of all the horrors I’ve experienced, I would experience any of them again before I’d lose another child, did I have the choice. Because that loss was the first one that really broke my spirit.

But in fairness, I should have known it was going to happen that way. I dreamed it, and I knew the dream was prophetic. But somehow… I don’t know. I guess somehow I didn’t really realize the fullness of it all.

I knew it was going to hurt to lose him. That much wasn’t hidden from me. What WAS, though, was the degree to which it would devastate and destroy me. And the fact that it didn’t have to happen. That he could have had a good life with me, too. And he should have. It’s a basic human right to be with your family.

Written by sandit4glp

July 30, 2010 at 1:31 pm

Posted in Chapter 16