From Dragonfly: The Worst Consequences

Some people might think that the worst consequence of my gambling addiction/crime is being here, in Carswell. Prison is hard. Very, very hard. However, I'll tell you that my absolute worst consequence happened exactly six years ago today... it was the last day I truly mothered three amazing kids.

In 2008, I was living as a family with a partner and three kids. They were not my biological kids, but I loved them with all my heart. We'd been together for a while and, at this point, the kids were 12, 10, and 2 1/2. I'd met their parent before the 2 1/2 year old was even born. I'd known the kids for two years before we became a true family. When we all moved in together, in summer, 2006, I thought I had met my future - a partner and kids that I would love dearly. When I had to have a hysterectomy in May, 2008, I wasn't worried. I told the doctor I already had three kids, so I was okay not being able to bear my own.

Mother's Day, 2008, May 11th... I was just four days post-hysterectomy. I was still barely eating and moving, but that was okay. I was going to celebrate Mother's Day and it was perfect. My partner's mom came for brunch. We gave her a refurbished computer that I'd spent hours on, making sure she had the programs she needed. She was ecstatic. Brunch was delicious. Everyone was happy. We were all invited to my partner's Mom's house to go set up the computer. I wasn't feeling up to it, so they all left me to nap. I went to my bed happy, happy to be a Mom.

It was two years earlier when I received a gift at some point from my partner. The gift included a statement that "I love the kids as if they are my own," then it said, "They Are." I believed in that. I was still gambling, though. My partner was involved in a tragedy at work - where a gun man opened fire. Nothing was the same after that point with our relationship, but I stepped up with the kids. My partner needed time and I believed I could fix everything. That is a gambler's/addictive mentality. I could not fix everything. I had a new high-stress job. I was, also, still running the summer camp I'd helped start years earlier. I now took on much responsibility with the kids. I loved my time with the kids. However, I was emotionally broken, and the tragedy that occurred at my partner's work affected me as well.

My gambling increased, as I found myself trying too hard to be the "savior" and take on too many responsibilities. I started to make really bad decisions for myself. I became desperate because I had no healthy outlet. It became the time when my addiction had taken over my life. On that Mother's Day, 2006, I had planned in my head to commit suicide just four days later. I had a meeting with the Board of my organization on Tuesday. My plan was to tell them everything. Knowing that my reputation was gone, and I held way too much belief in my reputation, I believed the only answer was suicide. I could never see an end to my gambling any other way. I knew that whatever I did to kill myself, though, I couldn't do it at home. I wouldn't want the kids to find me. What selfish thinking that was, but it is where my inability to think rationally brought me.

Asleep on my bed, I heard loud raps on my door downstairs. Due to my recent surgery, handling the stairs was still painful. Rap, rap, rap. It didn't sound like a typical knock. It was already dark, the house was still quiet (they weren't back from grandma's yet), so I slowly made my way downstairs. I peeked through a window that has a view of the front door. All I saw was two police officers, one using the back of his flashlight to hit my door. Immediately, my stomach fell, had something happened to my family? Was there a car accident? Is this how you find out your life has changed forever? At that moment, all I thought about was my family, not myself. I opened the door.

Standing right at the door were two very familiar faces. They were two members of my Board at work. One, I considered a good friend. I'd asked him to join the Board. The other was the Board President. The cops were there for "show," I suppose, because they said nothing. I invited them inside, but instead was handed a letter. It was a letter putting me on "administrative leave pending criminal investigation." My worst nightmare was unfolding. I thought the police were going to haul me off in handcuffs, instead, I was just asked to put together anything/everything I had that belonged to the organization. I had a lot of things at home, including my laptop computer, I was on sick-leave due to the recent surgery and had to be able to work from home. With my recent surgery, I wasn't supposed to lift. Then, I had to walk the stairs carrying a heavy(ish) box. I did it, though, slowly. My mind was racing, so I didn't have time to take it all in. I was on automatic pilot.

As soon as I closed the door, I began sobbing uncontrollably. I didn't know what this all meant, what was going to happen. I started to imagine being hauled off at anytime. I called my partner and we talked by phone. I said that if a police car were in front of our house, to not bring the kids in. I didn't want them to see it. We'd talk when they got back. A bit later they pulled in. No cops were casing my home. I was being very paranoid. I sat in the kitchen with my partner. I shared the letter and we talked next steps. The anger at me could be cut with a knife. She didn't know what I'd been doing. She didn't know how sick I really was. At the end is when I finally said the words for the first time, "I think I'm a compulsive gambler." It's the first time the words officially were told to another person. I was raw and becoming rawer. I wanted to just share everything.

While at first, I thought our family could survive this, it quickly became apparent that we could not. I needed help. My partner needed space. I was still suicidal. Being around the house caused horrible tension. The kids sensed something was wrong. I'd hated myself for so long, that it never occurred to me the harm that this could cause "my" kids. I just loved them so much, and believed I mothered them well, that I wasn't able to see how all this could unfold.

That was my last Mother's Day with "my" kids. I left and went to live with my family two thousand miles away. I started therapy and GA. I got stronger in every way. I no longer was suicidal. All I wanted to do was understand my addiction and finally realize that I was not "broken." I was always in fear of what would happen legally against me, but as time continued on, I was able to just accept that something could happen, and I could move forward in my life.

I was given an incredible gift a year later. After not talking at all for about 9 months, the kids came to visit for a week. I was allowed to spend a week of quality time - helping answer their questions and holding my "baby" - who was now 3 1/2 - once more. We built good memories that I cherish. My favorite moment was when we were in their hotel room. The baby was on my lap, the two others were doing things to make us laugh. I thought to myself, this is the happiest I've ever been in my life. I made a "memory" book of the week and kept one for myself and sent one to them. I thank god for the opportunity to love these children and what they brought to my life. I now love them from afar. I think of them often and they will always have a place in my heart. It took a long time for me to accept that they were never, really, my kids. I felt a parent's love, and perhaps they loved me as a parent, but they belonged to my partner.

Mother's Day is hard for me. T.S. usually gives me something, and that's the best! I'm a much better parent, generally, to T.S. because I am a much better person today. When I see a little boy, with blondish wavy hair, I immediately think of the baby I loved, and my heart breaks. T.S. knows that look and tells me that I need to become a "mom" again... adoption, surrogacy.. there are options. T.S. wants a baby sibling. I truly believe that T.S. was put in my life so that I could continue to feel a mother's love. She helped me heal in so many ways. I may have met her when she was entering her teen years, but our bond is real.

You do not have to be a biological parent to be a good and loving parent. Children just want someone in their life who tells them they are loved, who guides them, and who spends time with them. I will never know what it feels like to birth a child, but I know what it is like to mother a child. It is the most special bond in the world. I am lucky to have had two incredible experiences loving children. All four of them are my heart, even the three that I lost - the worst consequence of my actions.