Day #3 - 30 Days of Truth

Something I have to forgive myself for.

Whether it's our fault or not, as mothers, we take responsibility for anything that happens to our children. Within our control or not. Ask me what I need to forgive myself for.

I'll say for not coming to my son's rescue.

He was taken by his father and step mother at age six and I didn't see him or speak to him again until he was eight.

Two years.

The most heart breaking and difficult years of my life. Past, present, or future.

The event began when I was a young police officer on probation. Family members would get word from time to time that he was fine and being cared for, although continually moved or concealed. Little comfort, but it brought me small moments of peace when having to do things by the book.

My department had advised me that they'd do everything they could, but in the meanwhile, being a sworn member of law enforcement, I couldn't go maiming or breaking down doors. No rash decisions. No impulse moves. No negative reactions. They also outlined the negative impact on children torn from homes via police escort. Like I hadn't had to do that a million times already. I knew. I'd seen the faces. The aftermath.

I wont break the story down here. That's not what this is about. It's about self forgiveness. I don't know if that will ever happen, but that's what this is about, right?

I did everything by the book. I never acted on impulse. I wanted to. I wanted to jump in my car every time I heard he might be somewhere. Break down the door. Tear my son from whatever place he might be at, and gravely injure whomever he might be with.

I never did.

I did what I was told. I acted within the parameters of the law.

I did the right thing.

Didn't I?

When I finally got my son back, I didn't hunt his father down like a dog and bring him the kind of justice I felt he deserved. Fortunately, life has done that.

I did the right thing. Didn't I?

I allowed justice to work its hand.

Involved parties went to court, went to jail, etc etc.

My son. He went through years of hell. Emotional hell.

I held him as much as I could. Worked myself to death to do all I could to repair the emotional damage that had occurred.

But what if?

What if I had been willing to risk my career and go break that door down? Taken him back two years before the end. Been willing to risk a career and a bad moment for the two years that followed.

What if?

Would he have gone through the emotional hell that he did? Would it have been a different kind of damage? Would I have gone to jail for taking things into my own hands? Wouldn't any other mother have risked anything to get their child back?

Responsible. I will always feel responsible for not doing more. For riding the line exactly as I was told. For not throwing caution to the wind and letting my mama lion fly and just getting him back. There would have been other careers, other ways to survive.

Instead, I followed orders. Anguished or not, I stood back and followed the lead of justice, only to have to spend years putting the pieces of my son back together.

The price to pay for that? Not thinking that I'll ever be able to forgive myself for not throwing it all away to do what my heart wanted to. I need to, but I just don't know if that's possible.