I have lived in 17 different foster and group homes between the ages of 2 years old to 17 years old. I have experienced a lot of abuse of many kinds. One good thing that was required for foster children in my county was mandatory therapy. I was fortunate enough to get very good therapists who listened to my cries for help, and helped me to understand that none of this was my fault. I had poor bonding skills due to the fact that I was abandoned by my mother after the age of two, so the bond was permanent and I knew that no one else was able to be my mommy. I was placed in a foster home where the biological son viciously molested me, though my voice was not heard. I was adopted by a family that should not have been able to adopt children, they were physically and verbally abusive towards me, and later they relinquished my adoption due to "poor bonding." I was then placed in a mental health facility for evaluation at the age of 6 due to the accusations that my adoptive parents made against me saying that I had attempted to kill the family dog by hanging her by a curtain cord...(Note: this was a full sized collie and I was a malnourished 5 year old). I was also accused of force feeding my adoptive little brother berries that I knew were poisonous and I pushed him into on coming traffic...I must have been a little serial killer in training! Any ways the psychiatrists at the facility classified me as being mildly schizophrenic and put me on medication that made me drowsy. I was there for a year, then sent to New Alternatives, a group home where I awaited a new foster family. This group home was ok, there was no abuse and the staff were pretty nice, but not always patient...I was in the corner a LOT! I became quite mischievous and learned how to sneak food to my bed from the age of 2, so we had quite an ant problem!

My new foster home was HUGE! The foster parents were an elderly couple and the wife was an Italian lady so she had real fancy Italian sitting and dining rooms that were for show and special guests. She had 6 other foster children and they were all older than me. I was nervous so I told them not to mess with me because my dad was an astronaut and he was going to take me to see Mars...they didn't buy it! The foster dad was real nice, but he had cancer and later 5 days before Christmas, he passed away. He died right before my eyes and I didn't understand what was going on and I saw the paramedics pumping his chest and it was very traumatic for a little girl my age. We did not celebrate Christmas that year, but I was used to that. The mother became very verbally abusive after her husband passed away. She is full blooded Sicilian and my experience with Italians is that they either speak too softly or quite loudly...in this case it was the latter. She was very cruel verbally to many of the children there, they all grew up with rather poor self esteem as a result of her bashings. Some incidences ended up becoming physical, but no one followed up on any of the kids' reports. She was and still is very friendly with a director for Social Services. I lived there for many years, and it wasn't ALL bad, she made sure that we all were well clothed and fed. She boasted on how well she fed us, but there were many nights when we were not allowed to eat dinner because we were in trouble, but she was a good cook, and we did eat very well. We did not receive love, nurturing, and moral support. Instead, she gave us the opposite. Plus we had many chores to accomplish in cleaning the house, but as we grew older she did not intimidate us as badly. I moved out when I was 13 years old to go live in a new foster home because I was able to voice my opinion and my Social Worker finally listened to me. I moved to a new intra-county city where I used to live when I was adopted. The parents were both pretty nice when I met them, and they too had 6 kids including me. Later that first evening I learned that the foster kids ate macaroni & cheese and watched tv out in the green room while the parents and their real daughter ate steak and rice pilaf in the dining room inside the house. We also had many chores and we were basically separated and ignored by them unless a social worker was expected to show up for that day. I went to school and the brother and sister from my adopted family attended the same school and I hadn't seen them for almost 7 years, the sister recognized me one day and invited me over for pizza. I went and let me tell you I am so happy that they gave me up! The parents were divorced and the dad had custody of the kids, they lived in an apartment that was roach infested and he was a bus driver that looked at porn and smoked weed during most of his free time! The kids were using drugs too, and I took up smoking because the sister did it and we hung out at school together. I later left the home I was living in when one of the girls received a present of towels and dishes with a note that she needs to be out in 2 weeks, for her 18th birthday.

I had a choice to either go to Hillcrest (a receiving home for kids waiting for foster homes) or to return to my Italian Foster home, I went to Hillcrest for 2 weeks and when I did not get placed I went to the Italian lady's home. It was worse than ever between us because now I smoked and shop-lifted and I was quite rebellious and I wouldn't let her intimidate me. I ended up moving to Casa De Amparo a small section of a large mission and I stayed there for almost a year while I waited for a foster home to take me in. I liked it there, the nuns were real nice to us at mealtime and the staff were attentive and supportive. We also were allowed some freedom if we advanced to a high level during our stay. (Levels for example red being bad and Gold being good). I managed to stay in the high levels and therefore I was allowed to go for walks by myself and I was thankful for that. I also took up poetry as a way of healing and letting out my feelings. I am fortunate to have this talent! I later was placed in a Spanish foster home where the mother did not speak english. It was not too bad, I learned a lot of spanish and I ate real good food! The mom had 3 daughters of her own that were grown but they all lived at home and they pretty much bossed my foster sister and myself around. They did not like us getting too much attention from their mother and so while they were home we stayed in our rooms. The mother was real nice and I taught her some english as she taught me some spanish , we would play word games and she also taught me how to make tortillas and chili with cactus! I loved to eat! They were very prejudiced about my having "black" friends and we fought about that a lot. One day my social worker came to my school and told me to get my books and that we were going to see my therapist, I had a weird feeling that something wasn't right, so I left my books in my locker. My therapist announced upon my arrival that my foster mom and her daughters were packing my stuff and that I was to be moved to another city with another home and another school right away. I was baffled that my whole life was being ripped out from under my feet and all behind my back! They said that they did not tell me for fear that I would run away although I never had done that before. I was hurt, scared, and felt betrayed to say the least. Immediately, I chose to hate this foster mother even before I met her because I was so angry that they could move me so far away from my friends in high school and where I had managed to grow up in the same area. I had laid my head on the pillow the night before in my bed not knowing that I would never rest my head there again...the life of a foster child is very scary because you never have foundation, and when you think you do, all of your security and friends and entire life can be taken away from you with no warning.

Sitting there on my therapist's couch, tears streaming down my cheeks, I asked my Social worker what went wrong at my foster home. She told me that she had only placed me there temporarily until a spot at this new home had opened up. I was so upset and hurt that she could betray me that way. She could have just told me that I was only staying with that family for a short time until a better home opened up, but she had misjudged me and assumed that I would have run away if she would have told me, she feared that because I would have to change schools and live in a new town that it would scare me into taking off. The truth is, if she would have told me, I would have been able to prepare myself and I could have said goodbye to all my friends properly and maybe even look forward to the change, but it did not work that way.

After a few unpleasant words were said to my therapist and social worker, I stormed out of the office and got into the car. My social worker came out about five minutes later and got into the drivers seat and she looked like she may have been crying, she looked at me and apologized for the way she chose to handle my placement, but I was too angry to forgive her at that moment. We drove to another therapist's office in Escondido, CA and that is where I met Joan, the new foster mom. She was there with a foster son of hers and I hated both of them as soon as I laid eyes on them. I got into her van without even saying hello and it was obviously a very uncomfortable situation for all of us. Joan tried to make me feel comfortable and she looked sincere when she told me that she was sorry for the way this all had to happen. I blew her off, and ignored everyone as I sat there and tried to fight off all the tears that would not stop running down my cheeks. My heart was breaking, how could I leave everything I loved behind? Why was this happening to me? I was so angry!

We pulled up to a nice home out in the country areas in Escondido. Joan lived by horses and sheep and other animals, and I had never been exposed to anything but the city and suburbs, so I secretly liked that. We went into the house and there were 6 other kids there and they all greeted and welcomed me, I blew them off too. They could not understand why I was rude to them, but I didn't care. Joan took me to my room that I shared with 2 other girls, Wendy and Maria. Wendy was 11 and Maria was 16. Maria was going to the high school that I would be going to and she was one grade higher than me. I didn't like anyone there, they acted like they were all one big happy family and I didn't want to be a part of it.

I went through many arguments with the children in the home because I was so mean to "their mother," and I told them that they were stupid because she is not their mom, they would scream back that she was the best mom they had ever had and they would get so upset at me. I was so jealous of them because they all seemed happy and it really was like they were a family, and part of me wanted to be a part of it, but I knew that they would reject me, and I still hated Joan because I put the blame on her for my social worker moving me there. School was stupid, I made some friends that would get to school in the morning and then we would all meet in the parking lot and go to someone's house and smoke pot all day and drink. I hardly ever went to school for an entire day. I would forge notes or just accept Saturday school, it did not matter, anyway. All of the children at home grew to dislike me and they knew I was "bad" because I would be out of it all the time. I dressed in all black from head to toe, I wore black lipstick and heavy black eyeliner. I wore my hair fanned out in front and heavy hair spray, I was 5'10 and weighed about 110 lbs, all of my clothes were baggy. I hung out with gangster crowds at school even though I was white, they still talked to me, but always reminded me that I was not Mexican. I was so unhappy and I was headed down hill very fast.

Joan still managed to teach me some common manners like not chewing food with my mouth open and to say please and thank you, she was helping me to better myself without my knowledge. She would buy me clothes with flowers on them or a dress or things with color, but I would not wear them. She tried to show me that I was beautiful, but I did not believe her.

I was sitting in my Science class on the first day of 2nd semester when Daniel walked in. Right then and there I was love struck! It was strange because I only liked to date Mexican guys or the druggie ones that I hung out with. Daniel was a Junior (I was a freshman) He was on the varsity football team and I later learned that he also wrestled on the varsity team. For 2 months I had a huge crush on him and I didn't know his name. I thought it was Nathan! I did not show anyone how I felt, I would turn away if he looked at me. I knew he could never be interested in me, anyway. I started to try on the dresses that Joan bought me, and I wore less make-up and learned to do my hair differently, like the popular girls did. I improved my looks greatly by doing this and Daniel started to look at me more often in class, but it just made me even shyer. I started making new friends with nicer people and my other friends did not like that I dropped them so I always had to watch my back, because they threatened me. I went to school all the time so I could see Daniel every chance I could get. I obsessed about him. I went to football games every weekend and I almost made the cheer squad, but it was too expensive. I signed up for Matmaids, because he was a wrestler, so I got to see him a lot. I still did not talk to him, but he seemed to notice me a lot, how could he not? I was building my life around him!

Joan liked the changes I went through and she helped me pick out clothes and took me to get my hair styled and helped me with my homework. She gave me advice and helped me to feel more secure with myself.

I found out that Daniel was dating a very popular Senior, and it devastated me. I still had a crush on him, but I noticed other guys and stayed with all of my activities. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have gotten involved in school and the extra activities, so I truly believed that he walked into my classroom that day for a reason.

Joan tried to get me to like myself a lot. She kept telling me that if I didn't like myself I could never learn to love others. I thought that was stupid. I was ugly, no one wanted me, I hated myself. One day Joan and I were arguing about this, and she pinned me to the ground and sat on me. She would not let me move, I was so angry with her! She told me that she was not going to give up on me, she was not going to toss me out the door like all the others. She said I have potential to become somebody, I am beautiful and smart and very talented with my poetry. I was crying and I felt like she had crashed through my sturdy brick wall and I was so vulnerable without it. I was scared, no one ever cared about me, not even my mother could keep me, so what was this lady doing? Why did she care, I didn't understand. She helped me get up and she took me to the bathroom, I sat down on the counter and she told me to look at myself in the mirror, I shook my head no. She grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me towards the mirror, "Look!" I saw a red faced puffy eyed snot nosed girl, I turned away in disgust, "I am UGLY"! I screamed. She told me to look deep into the image into the mirror, deep into my soul, what do I have to offer people, what is it that people compliment me on? She asked me to think about it and she walked away. I sat in the bathroom for at least an hour, looking at my face, my eyes, myself. I remembered how everyone complimented my green eyes and how they said I was so tall I could be a model, I looked into my eyes in the mirror and saw a scared little girl who wanted to come out...I know it sounds weird, but I needed to face Myself. I did, and I came out of that bathroom in amazement and awe. I was beautiful and I did deserve to be loved and loved by others! I talked with Joan about my whole life and my fears for hours, she was a new person to me. I would not call her mom, but I accepted her as a mother figure. The other kids in the home did not trust me, I had given them and their mother and father hell for over 2 years, they were not so quick to forgive.

I don't talk about Joan's husband too much. He had cancer in his lungs, and he was always on oxygen. He was a very bitter man, and Joan and him slept in separate rooms. I lived there for over 2 years and he passed away, like my other foster dad, right in front of me. This time it was summer and the kids and Joan all went to South Dakota for vacation and I had to stay back because I was working and Lee, (the Dad) could not travel because he was too sick. I got to know him a little more, I learned to never trust men because they could hurt me, like the others did, so I locked my door at night. During the day I would make him lunch and we would talk about his kids and how he feels like his physical therapy is working. Joan and him fought all the time and they never acted like they loved each other, but he told me that he loved her with all of his heart even though he complained a lot it was because he was blowing off steam for being stuck to that "damn" machine all day. For at least a year, Joan had asked him to fix the ceramic Tom Sawyer figurine in the front yard. His hat was chipped and his fishing pole had been broken off, but Lee always refused. The weird thing is that I called him Dad, like I called my other foster dad with cancer Dad. I didn't like calling him Lee because it was my therapist's name. Anyways, he fixed the Tom Sawyer stand and he trimmed the rose bushes and mowed the yard. (we had a sit down mower) He did more in those 2 weeks than I had seen him do in 2 years! It was as if he knew...One morning he was hollering...(whispering because he could not holler) for me to come into his room, I was scared to go in there, but he sounded like he was in trouble, so I went, he told me that his oxygen had run out overnight and that he needed me to turn on his machine, so he told me how between wheezes, and when it came on, he was so relieved, he kept saying, "Thank God" over and over, I was worried because he had tears in his eyes and I kept asking if he was alright and he said he was fine. I went and made breakfast but he wasn't hungry and he decided to take a nap, so I went for a walk to play with Rosie, a horse that lived up the street, that I had befriended. I came back an hour later and Dad was sitting up on the bed and he kept saying that he wanted his daughters (he had 3 of his own) and I told him that I would call Judy and Laurie because they were back already. I called them and told them that he was acting weird and that they should come over, the told me that this has happened before and that they would come later, but that I should call an ambulance if he asks me to. He kept getting worse so I called them again and they came over. They called an ambulance and after it came and left Joan pulled up with all the kids, I ran out there and pulled her to the side and told her what happened and she said he'll be ok this happened before. She called the hospital and she got a scared look on her face and left. I was left to watch the kids and try to calm them down, but I was terrified and they were all acting rowdy after driving for so long so when they wouldn't shut-up I told them that they better behave because Dad was probably dead and he could see how they were behaving from Heaven. That shut them up for a second until they all started crying and I felt so bad. By the time Joan came home, the kids were napping and doing homework and Joan got out of the van. She was with all of her "real" kids and they all got out around her, I stood at the door to see what she would tell me if he was ok or not and she walked past all of her own kids and ran up to me and hugged me and started sobbing, I understood why and started sobbing with her, it was so hard for me to understand death, and it scared me. I realized right then and there all of the good things about Dad that I will miss and that he was not so bad. It is hard to explain, but you don't realize how much you have with someone until they are gone.

Joan also scared me by bypassing all of her kids to let it out in my arms, it symbolized tat she truly did look at me as one of her own and I was scared of that. We talked about a month later about how difficult it was for me to live there after a death and I chose to leave on good terms. A big part was because of Dad's death, but also because Joan's love scared me because I felt that I didn't deserve it.

After my foster dad passed away, I realized that it was too difficult to stay with Joan. I was scared because his death brought back many memories about Frank's death in my Italian foster home. Also, when Joan ran up to me and hugged me, I knew that she truly did love me and it really scared me. I did not know what it felt like to be loved as a daughter, and I could not understand why she loved me, I knew that she would end up changing her mind if I let her, so I felt that it was best if I moved on, and we part on good terms.

My social worker allowed me to choose my next home, and this really excited me. I KNEW I would pick a really great home for myself, I made out a list of questions that I felt should be asked in order to discover if this was the right home for me. I worked real hard and finished the list in a few days. I had things on there like, "Why did you decide to become foster parents?", and "What is your motivation to foster these children?" I knew how to read through people and I knew that these questions would require good and honest answers.

My social worker came to get me and we went to a home in the same city, just across town, which was good because I just had to walk a few blocks to another bus stop in order to continue to go to my high school, and that was a big plus, because I was so active in it now. The home was nice, it was a blue two story home on a quiet cul-de-sac. We knocked and a short lady with blondish brown kinky hair answered. She seemed alright, and she introduced herself as Cheri, the foster mother. We walked over to the dining area, and so far, the house looked utterly spotless, not a speck of dust anywhere. It was a nice home, there were a lot of porcelain figurines and the home was nicely decorated. There was a teenage girl sitting at the table with a man, she was working on her homework and the man seemed to be helping her, that was a plus because it was good when the foster parents sat down and helped with school work and stuff. The mother looked at the girl and the girl shut her book and went upstairs. The man introduced himself as Tom, the foster father. He seemed nice and he was younger than the last two dads that passed away, and I asked him if he had cancer or anything like that he said he didn't, so I was comfortable with him and I knew that he was nice because his eyes twinkled when he smiled and he seemed so genuine with his words and his laughter. Although I was abused by many men in the past, I knew immediately that I did not have to fear him. We all sat down at the table and my social worker and the parents started to discuss some things that I was not interested in hearing. Soon my social worker turned to me and asked me if I had any questions. Here was the moment that I was waiting for! I took the list out of my back pocket and told them that I had written a few down. I began with why they became foster parents, and they told me that they used to run an all boys group home and that when they bought their home, they decided that maybe they should take in foster children since they loved their work and had all of the extra room, so that is why they became foster parents. It was a great answer and they seemed sincere, as well as with all of my other questions, so I decided that if the tour went well, that I would want to stay with them. The lady took me upstairs and there were 4 bedrooms, one was the master where Tom and Cheri slept. The one next to theirs was empty but Cheri told me that Liz, a girl that lived with her, but stays at her Aunt's house, keeps all of her things in there. Then we went into Tiffany and Jessica's room. Jessica was the girl that was downstairs earlier and she was now at a desk finishing her school work and she introduced herself. She seemed nice, but kind of slow. She was about 16 years old. Tiffany was laying on the floor watching tv and she got up to introduce herself, she seemed ok, too. She giggled a lot and was kind of hyper, but they both seemed nice. Then we went to Sommer's room where I would be stating, and it was a very charming room, lace curtains and bedspreads and there was a large black and white cat resting on "my" bed, named Roo. Sommer was about 16 as well and she did not have the nice approach when she met me, she just said "hi" and that was it. Cheri told me that we girls had our own phone line and our own tv's and vcrs in each room. That was really cool! I really liked the idea of having our own line and tv, no one else ever offered me those luxuries. Also, we went into the back yard and they had their own swimming pool, and there were two big dogs that were real friendly. This house was everything I ever dreamed of! The lady also took me into the garage which was converted into a large bedroom. She told me that they had two sons that were in the US Marines. This is where they stayed when they came home. One was 18 and the other was 20. All in all the home was great! I was sold.

I went home to Joan's and chattered non stop about how wonderful this home was and my social worker told me that it would take a few days to make all of the necessary arrangements. By the time I had to move, Joan was tired of hearing how great this home was and she told me that she hoped that this would be as great of a family as it was a home. We hugged in her driveway after my social worker loaded the rest of my things and when I realized it really was happening I started to cry. I told Joan that I really wanted to stay, but I just couldn't and she said she understood. She was crying too. I said goodbye and got into the car. Joan waved and watched us drive away. I was so sad and I felt empty, but as we headed closer to my new home, I became filled with a familiar sense of excitement for a new life and a new change.

We were greeted at the door by Tiffany, who offered to carry my things to my room. My social worker, Diane, and Cheri sat down and filled out some papers. I put my stuff in the room and went downstairs, Diane was thanking Cheri and told me that she had to run to go to court. I was kind of scared to be left there alone, but I told her it was ok. Cheri walked her out and when she came back she told me that there were some rules to discuss and sat me down at the table. She ran by the usual "if you mess up you are out" routine, and then she told me that there was a list of chores that we had to complete in the am before school and the pm after school. She also explained that she has company daily and that she provided a tv and telephone upstairs for us for a reason, we were not allowed to use her phone or watch tv downstairs. We had to stay upstairs and not come down with the exception to eating and our chores. When her husband came home from work, we could come downstairs to eat, but we had to stay in the dining room while they ate in the sitting room. She also warned me to stay away from her sons because if she ever found out that I did anything with them I would get kicked out. I was SO amazed at this lecture, I could do nothing but blink in agreement. This was the same lady who sat here and told me that she loved all of the girls here as her own, and that they did a lot of activities together and that they were like a big family...? I was astonished and confused. I could never have misjudged these people, I can't be wrong! These people were perfect! So instead of telling her that she was awful and cussing her out and grabbing my bags that were not unpacked and walking out the door, I decided that I was going to win this lady's heart if it killed me in the process! I said ok, and went upstairs. The next morning there was a note for me on the table, it contained my chore list for the am and the pm, the am duties were the downstairs bathroom and the kitchen. I won't go into detail, but basically I had to clean both rooms from top to bottom with a toothbrush and bleach and I had to wipe everything down and there was no spots or rings on the counter allowed. This was before school so I had to get up real early and I have never been a morning person. I was amazed at all the work that was expected of me to clean these two rooms, the list was in complete detail of each task that was expected of me and the steps she wanted me to do to complete each task. Everything was set in perfect order in intricate detail. I was so mad, but I kept my mouth shut and completed these tasks for a month or so until one day I came home from school and she had a girl over that was from my high school.

I looked at Cheri and calmly told her that I felt she was wrong and I was not going to accept my punishment, but that I would wipe it off. I then pointed to the cream on the counter and asked her how she could have cold cream in the server if no one has touched the fridge all day. She gave me the most evil look and hollered at me to get out there and pick up the *hit! I went upstairs and locked my door. I was very upset, but I was not going to yell and fight because I wanted Shauna to know that I was still cool. My phone rang and it was Cheri screaming at me to come downstairs, I hung up on her. It rang again and again, and I finally picked it up and asked her "What?" She kept yelling at me saying that I was disobeying her and that she would send me to Hillcrest and stuff, so I told her that I would not come down until Tom got home. That pissed her off even more because Tom worked all day and he left in the early morning before we woke up, and he got home at around 6:30 or 7:00 pm, so he had no idea what a tyrant she was towards us. I told her that I trusted Tom more than her and if he knew what she made me do he would tell me that I didn't have to. Tom was nice to all of the kids, he was so sweet and caring and so opposite from Cheri. But he loved her and they had a good relationship. Still, I trusted that Tom would agree with me that Cheri was wrong. When I told Cheri that I wanted to wait until Tom got home, she went off on me! She came upstairs and pounded on my door and told me that I have nothing to say to her husband I only answer to her. I still remained in my room. Finally, Tom did come home and after Cheri got her say in, he came upstairs and asked me what happened. I started crying and I told him about my punishment and how Shauna was there and I didn't want her to know. I told him that I did my chores and it never made a difference, that she ALWAYS found something wrong. He told me that he would talk to her about it, and then he went downstairs. About an hour later he called me to come down and eat. I came down and Cheri was standing in the kitchen looking very upset with me. Tom told me to just get my dinner and not to say anything. Cheri started in on me saying that I had no business going to her husband and that he was wrong for agreeing with me, we all started arguing and everyone was shouting and I stepped back and looked at this family and thought of how I always destroyed peoples lives whenever I entered their home. Then Cheri looked at me and Tom and shouted "It's either her or me!" That was the final straw, I screamed, "I am sorry for causing all this trouble, don't worry, you will never have to see me again!" and I dashed upstairs. I began to pack all of my clothes in my back pack and Tom came upstairs and said that Cheri had calmed down and that I need to go and eat my dinner, he then looked around and asked what I was doing and I told him nothing. He said that I shouldn't feel that I have to run away and that Cheri sometimes gets irrational. I assured him that I would be down in a few to eat my dinner and that I was not going to run away. He really looked concerned and I reassured him that I would come down to eat, he said he wuld wait for me, so I went down and fixed my plate. I had no appetite but I wanted him to get off my back. I waited until he went upstairs to tend to Cheri. Then I quietly went upstairs and got my things. I did not want to break a family up. I hated Cheri with all of my heart for being so awful to us girls. I could not understand why she became a foster parent if she was going to treat us so miserably. Honestly, I think she saw the opportunity to have some house maids and instead of paying us, she got paid for us. We were all teenagers and in high school. We had to buy our own clothes, and hair make-up supplies. She also had a girl that "lived" there, but she really stayed with her aunt. She showed up only when Cheri told her that her Social Worker was coming. I truly believe that Tom tried to make a difference, and that he cared and he was the one who came up with the idea to become foster parents. I think Cheri saw it as a good opportunity to fire the maid. I crept downstairs and left the house with my heart pounding in my chest as I thought of how mean Cheri was and how I had really messed up in choosing this home. I thought of my 17th birthday, when Cheri did not even acknowledge it and when I asked her if she could drive me to my friend's house she threw a fit and on the way there I asked her if she thought my mother ever thought of me on my birthday, and she looked at me and said that my mother was so messed up on drugs that she probably didn't even remember me, let alone my birthday. I had always had this image of my mother on my birthday sitting in a dark room with a candlelight cake staring out of a high rise window with a view of the city as if she were looking for me. She always looked so pretty, and she always had one tear rolling down her cheek. When Cheri said that to me it shattered that image and stabbed me right in the heart.

Now, I was leaving her home, headed down the street with my backpack on my back, I had no idea what would happen to me or where I would go, but I would find something. I remembered that one of my old druggie friends lived a few blocks away, I didn't know her too well, but a familiar face would be nice to see, even if it wasn't a very good choice, I went to her home. One of the requirements in Cheri's home was to give her a list of all my friend's addresses and phone numbers. My friend, Heather, was on that list, but I gave her the wrong address # because I forgot it, but she had the right street. I figured I would be safe to hang out there for now. Heather was getting ready to go out with some older guys that I did not know. She was really nice and told me that I could hang out with her. About a half hour after I was there her phone rang and it was Tom looking for me, she told him that she hasn't seen me since school and he said thank you and hung up.

We got ready to leave and we told her friends that we would meet them outside. We went outside and sat on her patio smoking cigarrettes and waiting for her friends. I had not had a cigarette for awhile, but I figured it didn't matter. All of a sudden Heather pointed down the street to some neighbors house 5 doors down from her, there was Tom's work truck and he was talking to some lady at the front door. Heather said that she knew who she was and I better make a run for it, but then her friends pulled up and we jumped in their car and told them to get going just in time to see Tom walk back to his truck and he saw me, but he was too late. I was amazed that he cared that much to go out and try to find me, but I was relieved that he did not catch me in time to make me go back to that house.

We went to some lookout point and there were me, Heather, and two guys all together. We parked and got out and walked around. They had liquer so we started drinking, I had told myself that I would not do any drugs, but I figured that drinking would relax me a little. We got back into the car and listened to some music and they all wanted to listen to what happened to me earlier that evenng to make me run away. They said I could stay with them if I wanted to. Then they broke out a pipe and started to pass it around. It had been awhile since I had done any drugs and the only thing I did was smoke weed. One time I tried my ex-foster sister's crystal by snorting it, but it was real gross, so I didn't do it again. They were blowing smoke and laughing and everytime it got to me I refused. It looked different than I remembered, there was a lot of smoke and it didn't smell strong. I asked what kind of pot it was and they laughed at me and told me to try it. I finally gave in and said what the hell, it didn't matter anyway, I was in enough trouble. I took the pipe and it was made out of glass, I could see the smoke burning through it, it was so foggy and white. They told me to hit it before it burnt out so I took a real long hit and held my breath. I blew the smoke out and it was so intriguing. The smoke kept coming out much longer than pot would. Also, it had hardly any taste to it, it was very smooth. I asked what it really was and they told me I just smoked crystal. I kept taking hits and pretty soon nothing mattered to me, I did not care about anything, but the next hit. It made me feel good, and I decided to stay with the guys for the weekend. They were in a motel and all we did was smoke weed and crystal. I was aware enough to be amazed at how many people were so desparate for this stuff. The guys were dealers and there were a lot of people in and out. One guy came by with his mother's airbrush kit to trade for a quarter bag. It amazed me how such a small substance could hook you in so quickly and make people so desparate they would steal from their own parents. The guys were very nice to me, they bought me everything I needed, cigarettes, food, and gave me all the drugs I wanted. I did not sleep for days, because I was so wired. I trusted the guys because the only interest they had was how high they could go before they came down, and sex was the last thing on their minds. That was good, because I prided the fact that I was a virgin. I had run away two times before from other foster homes and both times I had had a man attempt to rape me. The last one got sent to jail for two years and I finally felt that abuse chain come off of me, I knew that I would never have anyone abuse me sexually again. I felt free and finally justified. These guys were harmless. With drug abusers, they feel that if they have more company, the merrier. No one likes to get high alone. So I was welcomed with open arms because I did drugs with them. After the third day away, I called my therapist to let her know that I was alive. She told me that Cheri was sending me to Hillcrest if I did not return. She begged me to come back and put up with Cheri until they found me a new placement, I told her I would kill myself if she sent me to Hillcrest. I hung up and after two more days, I had the guys take me back to Heather's house. We all sat around and got high at Heather's and at about 7:00 I left to walk back home. It took me 2 hours to walk a few blocks. I did not want to go back there, but it was cold and Heather's mom said that Tom had been by and she would not let me stay there because he would take action on her if she did. I finally walked up to the front door and put my hand on the doorbell. I stood like that for about an hour. I watched through the window above the door all of the girls go upstairs to bed and the lights turn off. I stood still. Then I placed my fist on the door but I could not knock. I went to turn the doorknob, but the door was locked! Cheri NEVER locked the doors, it was a very quiet and safe neighborhood and I remembered when I first moved in how I found it odd that she kept all of the doors open. I went around to the back and had to be real quiet and real careful not to wake the dogs. I was so wired that when the dogs ran toward me they sniffed me and ran the other way, as if they were afraid of me. I tried all of the windows and they were all secured. I was raging! I sat on the patio for about 2 hours telling myself out loud to go and knock on the front door, finally I did. Cheri answered the door and I said "Goodnight" and walked upstairs and laid in my bed with all of my clothes on, I was so cold. I looked at the shadows on my ceiling and they seemed to form a fist and it started coming towards me, but before it got there, Cheri swung open the door and told me to get dressed that the cops were coming. I found it amusing in my state and said ok. The police showed up and basicaly told Cheri that there was nothing they could do, she told them that I was high as a kite and they asked me if I was and I told them I might be. I thought it was all funny. Normally, I would have been scared, but I just did not care if they got up and shot me at that point. The policemen were mainly interested in the dealers, but I told the that I knew nothing about them and forgot where we stayed. They told Cheri that if she wanted me out of her home that it was a matter with Social Services not them, they only intervene if I broke a law or endangered somebody, I thought it was cool that Cheri wasted her time with them and I couldn't stop laughing. She told me that I would be taken to Hillcrest first thing in the morning. I layed in bed laughing with my eyes open all night.

The next morning Cheri came in and told me that we had to go to County Mental Health for an evaluation because I had threatened suicide and Hillcrest would not take me until they knew I was sane. When I successfully passed the evaluation, I was then taken to Hillcrest. I was placed in with the little children until an opening came up in the next age group.

Hillcrest still looked the same. UGLY. I hated that place, we never got our freedom and we were penned up like animals. We were on a behavior system and it sucked. The food was bad, everything was bad. At least I remembered that they had smoke breaks for those 16 and up, so I looked forward to my next cigarette. They had taken them from me when I first got admitted. Later, I discovered that they discontinued the smoke breaks and that they were strictly a non-smoking facility. I was miserable, I could not sleep, but I was tired, I had been up for almost a week with little or no sleep.

Finally they moved me with kids that were still younger than me, but they ranged from 7-16. I enjoyed that area a little better because we had rooms with only one roomate and the staff were nice and if I made it to a good "level" I would be able to go out on group outings. The food was still bad, and the classroom was not a learning experience, basically we got to watch the Simpson's and the news. I made a lot of friends and befriended a few staff members. I shared my poetry with a select few of the staff and they found a place for me in their hearts. I grew on them and I helped them with the kids because the kids looked up to me, and had no respect for the staff. I felt special, like I was needed. The kids always wanted to hold my hand or sit next to me and the staffwould ask me to write poems for them and they would cry with each new poem I came out with. We had group meetings and one time we were talking about Easter break and how almost all of the kids in that room were going to get to go home on visitation with their parents or a family member. All of the kids were complainig about how they hated their parents because they were too strict or their grandmother was stupid and they were all just totally thankless to have these relatives to go home to. I couldn't take listening to them complain anymore, so I jumped up and started yelling about how lucky they were to have family members to love them and apreciate them and how they should walk in my shoes because my mother dumped me off in this very same spot 15 years ago and she was all I had and I never saw her again and they were so lucky. I told them how I never will know if I have any brothers or sisters or Aunt's or Uncles, or Grandparent's to go home to. How I would be stuck there at Hillcrest for Easter while they would be at their homes with their families. How I would have given ANYTHING to be able to be in their shoes...to have family, to know my roots...how my soul longed to know where I came from. I had noboby to love me. I was nobody. By the time I calmed down everyone in the room was crying and all of the kids apologized and said that they loved their family and the staff members hugged me and they were all crying. I felt better because I got a lot out of my system, and those kids now realized how precious their family could be.

The area of Hillcrest Recieving home that I was staying in was called N.A.#6. (New Alternatives). Part of the daily routine was that after snacktime in the afternoon, we would have an hour or so of "Quiet Time" to relax or write letters. They provided stamps and the envelope, so I sent many letters to friends. I ran out of people to write to rather quickly, so during one particular quiet time, I recalled an address that I had looked up in the yellow pages while I stayed at Cheri's house. It was an adoption search and reunion ad. I had called the 800 number and left a message on the recorder. The next morning a lady named Toby called and told me a little about he services, and then sent me a brochure in the mail. On this particular day, I came across that brochure and decided to write them a letter.

I sat down and began writing. I poured my heart and soul out in that letter, telling of how I longed for my mother and how I still could recall laying my head on her chest as she held me and hearing her soothing voice talk softly to me as I listened to her heartbeat. I told of how that could never happen between us again because I was too old to climb into her lap and of how I had lost so much because of her and how all I wanted was to have my mommy back. I wrote down all my thoughts and hopes and dreams. I cried and sobbed and smeared some words with my tears. When I could no longer write any further, I stuffed the letter into the envelope with a copy of a copy of my birth certificate for search information purposes and gave it to the staff to be sent.

I knew that nothing would become of that letter, so I wasn't worried about sending it. It would just sit on some person's desk and collect dust. I just felt better writing it, and I only sent it because the staff bought the stamp. I recalled one time when I was about 7 and I was living in a group home, I sent a letter to my mother in the care of God. I wrote a letter asking God to find my mother and then I made an airplane out of it and let it soar out my window. We lived up on a hill and so I watched as it flew down into the canyon, but I never did get a response. I figured God was busy and just did not get around to it.

I forgot about the letter and went about my daily routine. I played with the younger kids, and got involved in a game of Speed with the staff members. We ate dinner and went to bed. The next day was the same routine, except a lot of the kids were on family leave and I was kind of lonely. I hung out with the staff there for that weekend. I had one staff member that I was especially close with and her name was Jana. She was a Christian and really nice. A lot of the kids would pick on her because she was so sweet and cheerful, not hardcore and to the point like most of the staff there. I liked her because she genuinely cared about the kids. I became close with her and she was the first person I would turn to in most situations.

One night during dinner, I was called into the phone room by a staff member saying I had a call. I figured it was from my social worker because all the calls were screened for immediate family or case workers, my immediate family was unknown, so it had to be my worker. I picked up the phone and said hello. There was a woman on the other end who started talking excitably. She said her name was Toby and that she recieved my letter and she was so heartbroken by it's content that she waived her fee and found my mother for me...FOUND MY MOTHER!?! After 15 years! This was unbelieveable, she had to want something from me, but she insisted that she was happy to help me out and she was crying so I started to believe her...but then she said that my mother was going to call me tonight and that I cannot tell anybody because they won't let her talk to me and they will refuse to let her see me...this was TOO much to take in at once, not only was my long lost mother found, but she was going to CALL me too? I almost fainted and I was crying in joy and I promised that I wouldn't tell. The lady told me how she gave her daughter up a long time ago and how the system wouldn't give her back without a fight. She told me how my mother and her spoke about my mother driving to Hillcrest and picking me up without anybody noticing, she said that my mother wanted me to come and live with her in her home...it was all so weird and exciting...the staff members that were standing in the room with me could not figure out why I was crying and laughing and jumping up and down, finally I was told that I had to get off the phone, so I promised Toby that I would not tell, and she told me to expect my mother to call me at 8:00 pm that night. As soon as I hung up I had 3 staff members asking me what the call was about and they thought I won some writing contest and all I could do was laugh and cry and shake my head yes in response to them.

I felt so lightheaded, as if I were in a big hollow bubble and I had to find Jana immediately. Nothing else mattered, I HAD to find her. She was in the cafeteria and she had just sat down to eat. I ran over to her and pulled her arm and started chattering to her really fast and she looked at me as if I was insane. I told her it was the most important day, moment, minute of my life and she had to come at once and talk to me in private. She pointed to her food and asked if it could wait and I said absolutely not! She compromised and took her food with her as I dragged her down the hall to a private office.

I made her swear to me that she wouldn't tell anyone and she said that she couldn't promise that, so I said as a friend of mine, not as a staff member to use her best judgement. I told her everything and we both jumped up and down and got all excited and even shed some more tears. Then we realized that she will be calling me tonight, and she told me that we have to handle this the right way. I knew that would happen, but I also felt good that I told because I did not want to run off with my mother, I wanted to do everything the correct and responsible way.

Jana talked to her supervisor and I was told that I could not speak to my mother when she called until my social worker spoke to her first. I was devastated, and I started to sob, Jana ran over and hugged me and said that I waited 15 whole years and one day would not make a huge difference, she was right, but I wanted my mom, I wanted to hear her voice and know that it was really true, that she was really talking to me. I was so anxious.

The man that had to answer her call let me sit in the office with him. I was sweaty palmed and I had a dry throat. My eyes hurt from all the shed tears and I was looking at the phone and the clock. At 8:00 exactly, the phone rang and fifteen years vanished away and I was 2 years old and I was standing outside in the Hillcrest parking lot watching my mother drive away from me...I looked at the phone as it rang and my heart leaped up into my throat, and tears sprang from my eyes and my stomach hurt and I wanted to wail in agony over the fact that my mother had picked up the phone to call me and now they won't let her talk to me...

I remained quiet, except an occasional gasp for air as I held back the huge sob in my throat, the man picked up the phone and he was talking to MY mother. I was angry at him for being so lucky, why did he get to hear her voice before me?! I was so hurt and confused. She asked the man if I was there and he said yes, but who was calling? She told him "a Friend", and he told her that I had told him the story and he knew that she was my mother...I was so scared that she would hang up, but she started to cry and he assured her that she would be able to talk to me if she cooperated with my case worker and if she was honest from this point on. He told her that I was in the room if she wanted him to relay a message to me for her and she said to tell me that she loves me and she will talk to my worker and be cooperative so that she could talk to me. When they hung up, I let that sob loose and Jana came to my side and held me as I cryed in her arms, it was so hard to let that man talk to her, my mother, who I have not seen or heard from in over 15 years. She sad she loved me...my mommy loves me. I felt strange, I was so tired and exhausted from all the excitement, Jana let me turn in early, and I dreamed many dreams of my mother and our reunion that night.

The next morning I woke up and it all felt like a big dream. I knew that te events that took place the day before had to be real, but I feared that I had dreamt the whole thing up.

I walked out of my room, and there were five staff members outside my door. As soon as they saw me they jumped up and all started talking to me at once. They wanted to know how I felt, if I was okay, they were so excited for me! This confirmed that yesterday really had happened, but a new fear took the place of the forgotten one...what if my mom never calls again? What if that was the only opportunity for me to be with my mother, and I blew it because I told on her. I was paralized by that thought.

My luck has never been good as far as timing is concerned, and my mom had called on a Saturday. My case worker had Mondays off, so I had to hope and pray that my mother would call me back on Tuesday, after my social worker approved it. Those next 3 days went by so slowly, I longed to hear my mother's voice.

Finally, the day came and my Social Worker approved my mother's call, after a long lecture directed towards me, they gave me the ok to talk to her with a staff member in the room. Of course I chose Jana to witness the call, I needed her support. We went inside the office at 7:45 to wait for "the call". I was SO nervous and I kept looking at the phone and expecting it to jump out at me at the first ring. I paced the room, and Jana and I were pretty quiet. There was a thick cloud of anxiety in that tiny room. Every minute seemed like an eternity, and my stomach ached with fear that she wouldn't call, and my mind played with the thought that if she didn't, I may be a little relieved.

At 8:00 on the dot, the telephone rang. I jumped from the sound of it, and I looked at the receiver and could not pick it up, I could not move. The phone rang again, and it was such a hollow, loud noise..all I could think of was that MY mother was on the other end, and I didn't know if I was ready to face the truth after all of these years. Jana nudged me, and it broke my train of thought. I slowly picked up the receiver and squeaked out a small "hello." HER voice spoke to me, asking if I was Tammy, and when I said "yes", I could tell that she began to cry. I was terrified. She started telling me how sorry she was and how this has just eaten her up inside and she has always had me in her thoughts and her heart every single day that we have been apart. This was so much to take in, I told her that I was not mad at her and that I always have remembered her, and I told her that I had taken a few notes and I had some questions. I asked her if I had any siblings and she said no, because she knew she was a bad mother and she could not bring another child into the world and put it through what she went through with me. I asked her about any other family, and she told me I had a Grandpa and Grandma and an Aunt and 2 little cousins and a whole lot of relatives living in Las Vegas. She said she lived in Bakersfield, CA. I asked her if she knew my dad and she said that she did not want to talk about him. She said she was not married, and that she was still with Bubba, the same boyfriend she was with when she abandoned me. Bubba was bad to me, and when she said that, I knew that I did not want to live with her. We talked for almost 2 hours, and we were both very nervous, and very guarded with our words. I was scared to run out of things to talk about because I didn't want her to hang up, so I talked and talked until my voice got hoarse. Finally, it was after 10:00 pm, and I was told that I needed to wrap it up. I was so scared to let her go. She told me that she will call me tomorrow and she promised me that she would never forget me again, she would never hurt me. I told her that I was scared, and I felt like a two year old little girl again, lost and confused. I was VERY vulnerable and I felt as if the strong, sturdy brick wall that I had built around me so long ago that had strengthened with age and abuse was no longer surrounding me. I felt as if a fragile egg shell had taken it's place and that any second I was going to crack, and all of my emotions would come oozing out of me. I was on the verge of unstoppable tear drops, but my mother kept saying that she would call, so I had to take her word for it. It was so hard to trust this stranger, my mother, who had deserted me so long ago. We said "Goodbye, for now," and hung up. As soon as the receiver was cradled on the rest, tears rapidly streamed down my cheeks. Jana got up and put her arm on my shoulder consoling me. I told her that I should be happy, and that I am, but I hated being so confused and scared. I loved my mother, I never lost the love for her, it stuck with me for all these years and turned into a growing need, a fantasy that has now become reality...I didn't know if I was ready to face it.

A couple of weeks went by, and I began to talk to my mother on a daily basis. I began to tell her my feelings and I started to trust her a little bit. My Aunt sent me a letter, and when I opened it up, I saw a picture and it looked exactly like me! I knew that this was MY Mom!!! I read the letter and it was my Aunt, my Mom's only sister. She said that she was so happy to hear the news and she always had me in her heart and hoped to one day find me. Enclosed in the letter were two more notes from her children, my cousins. The first one was from Megan, a nine year old little girl and she wrote that she just learned about me and said she was so happy to have a new cousin. She signed it with love at the bottom. The last note was from my cousin Andrew, who was 6 years old, and he wrote in very big writing, "I love you, my Cousin Tammy. I love my new cousin." The pictures enclosed showed two very adorable children that had the same features as me...I was overjoyed! I finally had my own people! People were running around out there with MY nose, and MY eyes, and MY chin! It was the neatest feeling! Something that is indescribable.

I was in the Rec Room playing cards with a few of the kids when Jana walked over to me with a package. The night before, I had spoken to my mother and she told me that she put together a photo album for me. I was so excited that I was finally going to see what my real mother looked like! At bed time, the night before, I had a very hard time falling asleep because I was so anxious to see my mother's picture. I kept trying to imagine what she could possibly look like. I had a recurring fantasy all these years on my birthday and I had an image in my mind that stayed with me throughout the years. She was tall and elegant, with dark brown hair and ivory skin. She was beautiful and graceful...I had built her up with each new fantasy. Now was the moment of truth, I took the box from Jana, and went into the office to open it alone. I wanted to unravel her by myself, I had waited for so long, and now that this was it, I was paralyzed. I sat on the floor and held that box in my hand for what seemed like an eternity. My breath was held, my heart was pounding, I could not move. This was it. Jana came in and expected to see me sprawled out on the floor gazing at the photos. She was rather surprised to see me there quietly holding the unwrapped box. At her urging, I finally broke my trance and started tearing the box open. I unwrapped a beautiful pink album with purple flowers decorating the front. After about five minutes of just staring at it, I finally took a peek inside. I was astonished at the photos. She had my face, almost identical. We had the same eyes, the same smile, the same nose. I really felt like I belonged somewhere now. It was a calm feeling, almost serene, I felt like I was somebody, like I was NORMAL. I finally knew WHO I was. Seeing my mother's face for the first time, I knew that I would never feel alone again. My mother was not at all as I pictured her. She was about 5'2" with wavy brown shoulder length hair, she weighed about 160 lbs, and she was wearing a blue dress with black polka dots. Her eyes were the same shape and color as mine, but they were sad. She was smiling in every picture, but her eyes did not match her smile.

I had to get out of Hillcrest. I needed to be in a foster home, so that I could have visits with my family. I got desperate and I knew only one place that I could turn. I called my social worker and asked if she could talk to Agnese for me. Agnese was the Italian lady that was my foster mother for a big chunk of my childhood. I had already went back to her before, and I knew she would take me back again. She was a yeller and she needed a lesson in better parenting skills, but she had a heart somewhere under that tough Sicilian exterior and every now and then she would let a little love shine through.

About a week later, Diane, my social worker called to let me know that Agnese had agreed to let me live with her again. I was so happy to finally be able to live in a home and have the freedom to do whatever I wanted without having to ask if I can go for a walk or to the bathroom. I could finally take a bath in a bathtub when ever I wanted, I could eat when I wanted and choose my own meal. I got really excited and soon I became anxious to get out of Hillcrest for good.

I started acting out and I became rebellious. I don't know why, I guess it was because my freedom was so near and I hungered for it, I could almost taste it. I felt cooped up and I was antsy. I ended up spending more time in the time out room in those last two weeks than my entire 6 month stay. At one point during one of my tantrums, Eddie, one of my staff friends who I really liked, turned to me and had a very sad and disappointed look in his eyes. He asked me why I was behaving like this after all the good things that I have done and the example that I had set for all the younger children, why was I destroying it now. That really affected me, and I knew that I was wrong, and even though in all my past placements, I was used to going out with a "Bang", I was someone that those kids looked up to, and I had to leave them with a good image to remember me by.

On my last day at Hillcrest Receiving Home, I was glad to be leaving, but I felt sad, like I was leaving a life behind, a life that I had come to know and that I was used to. Most important, I had become somebody there. Kids loved me, staff befriended me, my poetry hung on the walls of the office. I was almost scared to go back out into the world again, I had come into Hillcrest stoned out of my mind and a runaway, with no family to call my own. I was leaving as a role model and a loved person, someone who would be remembered, I had left my mark there. I was leaving as someone's daughter. Jana and I didn't talk much throughout that day. We kinda avoided the subject of having to say goodbye. I had stuck up for her when the children abused her, I was there for her to talk to during the rough days, she was there for me through everything that happened. We were great friends, she had shown me her way of life through her Christianity, and I showed her my feelings through my poetry. I loved Jana, and I knew she loved me too. The sad part was that we could not continue a friendship for another year because she had to wait until I was an adult before she could be my friend outside of Hillcrest. It was unfair, but it was the rules.

When it was time to leave, I gave all the little kids a hug, and shed a few tears, I told all the older kids I would write and we exchanged addresses and promised to keep in touch. I said goodbye to the selected staff that I had come to trust as my friends, and then Jana and I walked out to the front lobby where my social worker was waiting. I tried to act tough and told her that I would call and send her updates on my reunion and stuff and she asked Diane if she could take a picture of us outside. We stood in front of that Hillcrest Receiving Home sign and she wrapped her arms tightly around me and said "Don't Go", she was joking, but serious at the same time. We hugged and bawled and promised to still keep in touch and meet with me after my 18th birthday.

I got into my social worker's car and as we drove away, I felt a small emptiness inside me as I realized that I left a piece of my heart back in that monumental building. That was where my journey had begun, and where my search had ended. The very same place where my mother had left me was the exact place where I had found her. I had found myself and my strengths there as well. Hillcrest was always going to be an important milestone in my life, whether I liked it or not.

We drove down to North County, to Agnese's home. We walked up to the front door and Agnese greeted us with over enthusiasm, as usual. I walked in and smelled the zesty aroma of fresh spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove and breaded veal frying in the pan. The front living and guest dining rooms were spotless as always. It was extravagant Italian furniture, the very same furniture that had filled me with awe ten years ago when I had first walked into her home. I used to come down the steps at night and sit in that formal room and just be filled with wonder at all of the delicate figurines and antique photos that decorated the room. The rooms still had that effect on me, and I felt like I was home again. I walked upstairs and Agnese told me which room was mine, it was the corner room and I had it to myself. I was happy with that, and she had also arranged my own phone line. The room looked much more smaller than it did a few years ago. I laid my stuff on the bed and eagerly went downstairs, knowing that Agnese had a tradition of impressing the social workers with a great meal, and I sure missed that lady's cooking! We all sat down to a great meal and discussed the last month's events and all the family that I had discovered. Agnese frequented Las Vegas almost twice a year and when she found out that my Aunt and Grandfather lived there, she said that she was going there in a couple of weeks and she could meet them. I got all excited and she informed me that she was counting on me to watch the kids for that weekend, and it upset me. I wanted to see MY family, what right did she have going to meet them before me...it wasn't fair, but I didn't argue, I just nodded and excused myself saying that I had to unpack. My social worker came upstairs to announce that she was leaving and she gave me a big hug and told me to call her anytime if I needed her for anything. I said ok, and she left. Agnese came in later on and talked to me about all of the things that have happened with the family since I left and how she was happy to have me back. I was happy to be back, and I went to bed.

The next two weeks were nice. I watched the kids a lot while she went shopping and it was summer time so I had no school. Agnese's granddaughter, Kristina was a few years younger than me and we were close before. She lived there now, and we grew close. I talked to my mother and my family on a daily basis. The letters and pictures came daily and I felt special. Agnese went to Las Vegas and she went out to eat with my Grandfather, and my Aunt, and her family. I was so jealous that she got to see them and I didn't. I was very protective of my new found family, they were MINE, so why did SHE get to see them first. It was not fair. I didn't voice my anger, and when she got back, I was so anxious to hear how it went and what they were like, and she came storming in the house yelling about how the kids were still up and the house was a mess, after Kristina and I had spent the last three hours cleaning, and it was only 8:00 in the evening.

I pretended not to be anxious and I did not run up to her and ask her about my family. I let her get settled and I went upstairs and put the kids to bed. I then put my pajamas on and brushed my teeth. I walked downstairs and patiently sat down and watched tv with Agnese waiting for her to bring up the topic. Finally, I could not stand it anymore and I asked her how dinner went. She got all excited and said that my grandfather really loves me and he had tears in his eyes when he talked about me. She said she kept calling my Aunt, Tammy, because she acted and moved just like me. she really liked my cousins and she said she enjoyed their company. That was good to know.

A week or so later, my mom called saying that she wanted to meet me and I was overjoyed! We agreed to meet in Las Vegas, so I could see everyone else too. We planned the trip for the next week, I told her that I wanted to stay there for a couple of weeks and she made arrangements to mail me my tickets.

That entire week seemed like an eternity. I had my suitcase packed the night of our conversation! I called a radio station and dedicated a song to my mother and told them about reuniting with her and they played my voice on the air as well as the song, "Somewhere Out There." I got a few CD's together and made a tape of "I Love You" songs for her. I made her a picture frame with my picture in it, and I drew her a drawing of me and her together. I also sent her "The Leaf" a poem I had written while I was living in Cheri's home about a leaf whose mother had let fly off into the wind and she had to fly from home to home. She mailed me back her poem in response to mine titled "The Tree." It was beautifully written and basically it said the "Mother Nature" was not good to her and she felt that she didn't have the strength to hold on to me and it was one of the hardest decisions that she ever had to make to let me fly away from her in the wind, but she knew that I would be better off. I liked it, but I felt that she could have put less blame on her mother and just admitted that she just could not keep me. I was happy to know that she had the talent though.

On the night before my trip, I wrote a fresh journal entry. I talked about how I had anticipated this moment for so long and how I would finally come face to face with my mother and how my prayers have been answered. I could not stay still that night, and my stomach was as tight as a double knot. Somehow my eyes closed and I dreamt many colorful dreams about looking into my mother's eyes and walking through a park with her. I also had vivid memories of when I was little and I remembered being picked up by the police for wandering on the sidewalk in only a diaper at night. I remembered how I swallowed some of Bubba's pills and she had to gag me with a spoon to prevent me from getting poisoned by them. I remembered sleeping on the floor as her and Bubba slept on the bed and they did not sleep. The tv was still on and it was snowy because the programming was over for the night. I pushed those bad memories out and concentrated on the good moments ahead as my mother and I would finally meet as mother and daughter for the first time in over fifteen years.

Jana had volunteered to drive me to the airport, even though it was against the rules. I felt that it was perfect, being that she was the one that was with me during all the commotion, it was only fit that she be with me on the most important and challenging day of my life to see me off. I greeted her at the door, said goodbye to everyone and we took off to the airport. Jana gave me all the updates on the kids at Hillcrest and we pulled into the parking garage. We both started chattering about how awesome this whole experience will be and how it was such a miracle. Finally, my plane started to board and Jana gave me a reassuring hug and sent me on my way. As I boarded the plane, the thought that there is no going back played with my mind. This was it. The day has arrived for all my dreams to come true. Somewhere in Las Vegas, my family was preparing to meet me. Was I ready?

It seemed as though it took me forever to get through that dim tunnel to board the plane. I had butterflies in my stomach, and I kept silently reassuring myself that it was going to be ok. I was scared that when I stepped off the plane in Las Vegas that no one would be there to greet me, but what made me even more nervous was the thought that there would be people there. I was used to being alone, so the idea that no one showed up would be less intimidating than the idea that all of these people whom I have never met were going to be anticipating my arrival, and most of all...my mother was going to be with them.

My palms were damp as I placed my carry-on bag under my seat and I sat next to the window. This would be the second time in my whole life that I ever flew on a plane and I focused on the excitment of taking off on the runway into the sky. I loved the rush of the plane speeding down the runway and watching the pavement turn from a flat surface to a racing series of grey, black and brown lines until the plane's nose lifted and the feeling of my neck being forced against the back of my chair was great! I was a little on the wild side, I also loved turbulance!

As we floated in the sky I realised I was breathing hard, I tried to take my mind off of the true purpose of the trip and tried to focus on the houses and trees below that were rapidly blending with the land, and I concentrated on the cars that began to look like ants working their way down a path. Soon, I relaxed enough to drink a soft drink, but I refused the peanuts. I started to fantasize getting off of the plane and walking over to a small gathering of people, my mother would be crying, and my Aunt would be there with her family and it would be just like the reunions on Unsolved Mysteries, with everybody crying and hugging each other. I didn't like to hug people because it made me vulnerable, I hoped that only my mother would hug me and maybe my Aunt. But I would not cry...I couldn't let them see me cry.

I kept glancing at my watch every five minutes, after about eight glances, the captain announced that we were getting ready to arrive in Las Vegas. My heart leaped into my throat and I began to try to salvage my composure. The plane landed and pulled into the correct gate. I stayed in my seat and allowed almost everyone walk by before I moved to get up. My stomach was so knotted, "this is it", I whispered to myself and walked off the plane and into the terminal. I wondered if I looked pretty enough and I knew that I was taller than everyone, so I stood up as straight as I could, and tried to smile my best smile, but it was difficult to not show my nervousness as my eyes kept darting back and forth scanning the area in front of me. Before I knew it, I was out of the terminal and entering the waiting section for the gate's arrivals, immediately I heard someone whisper "there she is!" and before I knew it I was enveloped in this circle of people and there was crying and laughing and they were saying how I was beautiful and then the crowd made way and there she was...my mother, I was face to face with her and she whispered, "Oh Tammy, oh you have grown into such a pretty young lady," She grabbed me and started to cry as she whispered, "I am sorry, I am so sorry..." I tried hard to fight back the tears, and I was overwhelmed by al of tis commotion over me, I felt light headed, but I held my ground. My mother stopped hugging me, but she held my hand. I noticed that people had begun to crowd around due to the obvious reunification that was gathering their curiousity. My mother was shaking as she introduced me to the others. I saw a elderly man who looked giddy and excited to see me, he was bald except for the hair aorund the top of his ears and behind the lower half of his head. His hair was silver and he had a goatie beard. He looked like a funny guy and he had a stream of tears that he kept brushing away, he was introduced as my Grampa Guy. He took my hands and said that he was so happy to finally see me again and I nodded and said I was glad to get to meet him. Then my mother motioned for a short thin lady to come over and I recognized her from the pictures as my Aunt Cristy. She was the one that I thought was my mom at first. She brought over these two little kids that immediately stole my heart, they were so beautiful and they were my little cousins, they both shyly hugged me and my Aunt joined them as well, then she introduced me to her husband, Jeff and he hugged me as well. After the introductions, the tears, the hugging, my Grandfather suggested that we be on our way so that I could make myself at home at my Aunt's house. Everything was happining so fast, and yet I almost felt comfortable because it was finally dawning on me that these people were MY family and all of this was for ME. I never felt so good in my life, but the other feeling I picked up from everyone was guilt. They each told me about how they should have been there for me, BUT, they couldn't for whatever reason, I kept having to reassure them that I went through all that I did for a reason, and God only knows where I would be if things happened differently.

That night went by so fast. We got to my Aunt's house and we had a big turkey dinner with all of the trimmings, and it wasn't even Thanksgiving! my Aunt was a great cook and both my mother and her told me that they were going to introduce me to some Jewish food tomorrow at a local bakery. After dinner, my Grandfather had to go home to get ready for work, he was a bartender for a fancy restaurant and he worked the swing shift. My cousin Andrew who was barely 6 at the time clung to me from the moment he saw me. He ate dinner next to me and afterwards he sat in my lap and played with my hair. He kept telling me he loved me and he was so happy to finally have a big cousin. My cousin Megan was about to turn 9 and on her birthday, we were going to have a family reunion with almost ALL of my family in attendance. I was nervous because my Aunt and my mother kept talking about some of them and their bad habits or how to act around them.

After my cousins went to bed, Andrew had to be coaxed to go to bed without me, my mother, my Aunt and I stayed up and they told me stories of how I was when I was younger and it was neat to know about my past. I soon became really tired and I fell asleep on the couch. Every now and them, I would come to and hear my mother and my Aunt whispering about how I looked like I used to when I sleep and how they were so happy to know that I was finally safe and happy under their roof. I only had three days to spend with my mother because Bubba demanded that she return after three days. My trip was for two weeks and the reunion was one week away. I slept peacefully that evening. I felt whole...complete. I wondered how long this happiness would last.

I think the story left off when my mom was going to leave me and go back home to Bubba after 3 days because he demanded it. Well, she left while I pretended I was sleeping because I feared telling her goodbye again, she whispered "I love you" and kissed my forehead and walked out the door...the moment the door shut, I lept off the couch and ran into my Aunt's room and started bawling...something told me that I would never see her again. My Aunt insisted that I was just scared and that I would see her very soon...I was hysterical...I cried for hours...the emptiness crept back into my stomach again...it has been almost 5 years since that day, and I have not seen my mother since...(well once she visited my Grampa and I found out where they were eating for lunch and after he left my friend and I followed him, I spied through some stained glass windows and caught a few glimpses of her before I turned away in disgust and ran out of the hotel).

What happened was, she called me to see if I wanted to go to her home in Bakersfield for Memorial weekend and go to Knott's Berry Farm and stuff, but I told her that I did not want to stay in her house, she asked me why and I just said that I would not be comfortable...after she continued to press me for answers I handed the phone to my Grampa...he told her why. Bubba is a creep and he molested me when I was with her as a baby...it was even suspected and in my case file as pending investigation, but of course no one pursued it. My Grampa told her this, (she had seen the file with it in there and said that Bubba would never do that) she told my Grampa that I was lying to pay her back for giving me up...I was astonished that she would accuse me of such a horrible thing! She stated that I was jealous of Bubba because she was with him all this time and I was not with her...other things were said, they all hurt deeply.

I hated my mother after that...I had been dumped by her twice, after 15 years of being apart, and seeing me for 3 days, she dumped me again. Chose Bubba over me again...even though I was willing to compromise, I only asked that I never have to see that beast...but she was looking for an excuse to ditch me, and my accusations towards her boyfriend gave her that excuse.

The first two years were full of pain and torment, sure I had my other relatives, and that was great...but in all of my life, I had only known about my mother...and SHE was gone forever...my heart was ripped out of my chest and stomped on...I did not want that to happen again, so I kept the innermost part of me closed off to my family, and I would not hug my Grampa and I cussed him out on a regular basis. My father tried so hard to gain his daughter back, but I would not touch him either...he was SO willing to be a part of my life and his wife wanted SO much to be my mother figure...I pushed them away as well.

I worked, alot! I worked full-time at the MGM Grand Hotel, and part time at a watch shop inthe mall. I bought a brand new car and I always wore expensive clothes and make-up. I prided myself on the fact that I remained a virgin through high school. I had a boyfriend whom I met at work (MGM) but he was 6 years older thatn me and he kept breaking up with me to sleep with other girls because I refused. After dating him for about 3 years off and on, but not sleeping with him, I found out he was engaged to some girl in the park. I was SO enraged and heart broken...I stayed home and refused to go anywhere with the exception of work.

One of my friends convinced me to go out with her to a night club one evening, I was under 21 but she knew the bouncer...to make a long story short I drank an extreme amount of alcohol and went home with a complete stranger...he later paged me and I foundout his name and we basically slept together for a month or so...my concept was that I guess I had to sleep with a man to keep him, even though I didn't love this guy, I slept with him because I was angry at my ex-boyfriend and because I didn't care about myself. Needless to say, that day came when I discovered that I was pregnant...the guy accused me off being cheap and easy (even though HE was just as cheap and easy because it takes two) he said that it wasn't his, he insisted that I take a pregnancy test at his house...I did. He cried like a baby when that stick turned blue. He confessed that he used drugs which surprised me because he was 10 years older than me and he worked as a loan processor for a prestigious Mortgage firm, he was a college graduate with a degree, he drove a Lexus sports car and bragged of how he was the greatest top salesman...a drug addict? He worked out at a gym, he took care of himself...I had a hard time believing it, he proved that it was true...and I was purely disgusted...I thought only "losers" abused drugs...people who were undisciplined and with rocky childhoods, not men like him.

He begged me to get an abortion, but I refused...I knew that this baby would be special, I would NOT put a man ahead of my child's life! He insisted that he would have NO part of this baby's life and that was just fine with me.

When I announced the news to my family I got all negative reactions, my Uncle said that I would be taking money out of his pocket as a taxpayer because I would collect welfare, my Grandmother feared that I would end up turning out like her daughter, my mother, my Grampa feared that I would live off of his social security with the baby and leave him with nothing to live off of (which was fair to fear) no one was supportive. I called my step-mom and she had a hard time believing me...it WAS April Fools Day, and her daughter just tried using the same joke,even though I WAS serious! When she finally DID believe me she asked me what I planned to do, I whispered that I was going to keep the baby, for fear that she too, would insist on abortion like all the others did...surprisingly she sighed with relief and said "Thank God" I knew at that moment that everything, would be ok. I asked her not to tell my father and she said she would let me tell him.

My father took the news well, they were so supportive that I felt out of place in Las Vegas with my mother's side of the family. Even though my Grampa now accepted it and my Aunt and Uncle kept their comments to themselves, I KNEW that my place was with my father and "Ma Faye" in San Diego. I did not want to burden my grandfather, and I preferred to be as far away from the father as I could be, he had been circling my neighborhood and calling me with propositions to not keep the baby.

I moved to San Diego and lived with my mom and Dad. They had me pay rent and got me a job telemarketing at night with my Ma. She did it for the extra money, and it payed well. I also baby sat my neighbor's kids during the days. My parents were very helpful and I tried to show my appreciation by cooking them great meals and keeping the house clean. My dad and I were stil rocky, because I was scared of rejection and he had not faced his guilt completely...Faye went through lamaze with me and when it was finally time, they were both present during the birth of my beautiful little boy. I named him Austin Lee. Austin, because in the name book it said the meaning was Mother's helper, and Lee after my father.

My dad's name is Lee Franklin, I had the 2 foster dads that died of cancer, the first one was Frank Moore and the second, Lee Olson...Frank...Lee...Lee Franklin...I thought that was a neat way of God showing me that there is always a reason for everything.

My son has changed my life for the best. He is solely the most important aspect of my life...my greatest achievment. I treasure him with all my heart. His father and grandmother are missing so much. His father has agreed to pay some money each month to cover his child care...but e has never seen him and refuses to see any new photos of him. He has only seen 2 pictures of his son.

Austin does have a wonderful father figure...my future husband. I met him when Austin was 3 months old. He knows that Austin comes first and he accepts Austin as his own. Right now heis in the Gulf, but we are counting the days until his return. I feel sorry for his father because he has no idea what a gift his son is, and soon he will miss out on his life entirely. As for his grandmother...my mother, I refuse to allow her to hurt me anymore, I have forgiven her in my heart and I have moved on. I do not want my son to be exposed to her abandoning ways. She still pretends that I do not exist and I think that it is for the best.

I am now working full time at the same company where both my father and Ma work at. I have a good, yet demanding job and I am providing for my boy. He has taught me to grow up and fend for myself. We have a nice big apartment and he has his own room (a kids paradise!) I take pride in raising my son with love and patience...he is approaching 2 , and I can't imagine ever letting him slip away from me...I feel sorry for my bio-mom that she missed out on so much.

I now speak at foster parent training and other functions that are related to the foster care system. I enjoy educating others about my experiences, and hope that they take my message to heart.

copyright Tamara D. Widner 1997/1998

Tamara Dawn