Anaydena: How I Lost My Kids - Part 1

I am not a mother that lost her kids due to drugs or any sort of addiction, abuse, or neglect. I lost custody of my children from sheer putting trust in the wrong people. I grew up around my family, and I have a great appreciation and longing for family, but sometimes the only person you really can trust is yourself.

I want to get my story out there because:

1. I am a writer, and as a writer, what better way to get out your feelings than to write?
2. I don't want the story to get switched up, as you'll see further what I mean.
3. I am frustrated, and this is my last cry for help.

I am only hoping that one day my children understand my thought process and forgive me for putting them through this. Even though I am glad they're being well taken care of, they need to be with their mother, because no one can take care of you better than your own mother.

A mother's love is powerful and can endure any pain, suffering, or blockade that arises. A true mother knocks down these walls, and that's what I am striving for. I want my kids back, I never wanted them gone in the first place. I wrote a Public Letter to my three children, and I hope that one day they'll see it and know that no matter what, I will always love them dearly.

I was born and raised in Richmond, Virginia, USA. This is where I met my ex-husband. I met my ex-husband 3 weeks before I turned 18, and on my eighteenth birthday I moved in with him. We had our hardships - I lost my job and he quit his. For four months we struggled with many typical couple problems, but one day my ex-husband came to me and asked me if I would move to Texas with my mother and get a job - he would get one too in Virginia - and when we both saved enough money we would live together again. Initially I didn't want to, but he talked me into it. While in Texas - about three weeks later, the day before Thanksgiving 2004 - I found out I was pregnant. I immediately called and told my ex-husband, he seemed happy and he wanted me back with him in Virginia. A few weeks later I was on a plane back to Virginia - 6 weeks pregnant. I had miscarried when I was 16 years old, and I was afraid this baby wasn't going to be carried to term either.

Since a very early age - despite me hating dolls - I knew I wanted to be a mother. We went to my first OB/GYN visit for the baby a week after I arrived back in Virginia. Yes, i had gotten a positive pregnancy test, began to throw up already and started to show slight pregnancy symptoms, but reality didn't settle in until my first ultrasound. My baby showed up on the screen almost a near spec, but the realization of me becoming a mother hit me hard - in a good way. Before I found out I was pregnant I smoked two and a half packs of cigarettes a day, the day I found out I was pregnant, I smoked one cigarette after finding out and didn't want or crave another one after that. I wanted to be healthy - for the baby. I began to have cravings for fruit (melons, strawberries, apples), tomato juice and Burger King Whoppers (not healthy, I know).

About a month after I returned to Virginia from Texas, we got evicted from the apartment we were sharing with our upstairs neighbors who had gotten kicked out, but my ex-husband let them live there - all the while the neighbors were selling drugs from the house. We moved not that far away into a two-story house that had been converted into small apartments. The apartment my ex husband and I lived in we were sharing with another tenant - a lady heavily into Crack cocaine. The apartment was a two bedroom apartment, a room for my ex husband and myself, and a room for the lady. I never left the room minus having to go for doctors appointments. The neighbors that had moved in with us and began started selling drugs from our old apartment now lived in one of the upstairs apartments and began selling from there.

My ex husband began to get into the business as well and that's how we paid our rent - drugs for the lady that we were staying with. I slept on a blow up mattress that had several holes in it and, at three to five months pregnant I had to pump the air mattress up every few minutes, I wound up giving up and just sleeping on the deflated air mattress. At the time, my ex husband had proposed to me - I said yes - but we had wanted to wait to actually get married. My ex-husband was gone upstairs - selling - all the time and only came to check up on me every few days or so. One day in February 2005 he told me we were moving to another apartment. I was ecstatic! No more worrying about if a buyer of the drugs that they were selling upstairs decided to bust in the apartment and shoot me, with the baby. I wouldn't have to worry about the lady that was smoking her drugs in the house harming the baby. I soon learned that it was nearly just as worse as the house/apartment we resided in.

This new apartment he took me to wasn't too far away from the "Drug House" - as I called it - and it was at the very tip top of a three story apartment building. This was the north side of Richmond, Virginia - the dirty and "ghetto" part of Richmond. Drugs were abundant and shootings we just as common. The new apartment didn't have lights, no television, no running water, no blankets. I was upset. I was around five months pregnant by now and I began to get more and more worried about the baby. I was eating healthy, walking around best I could in the confined space of my room, rubbing my growing tummy, and tried to stay as positive about my situation as possible. It could be worse, right? I could be completely on the streets. I sucked it up and any concerns or comments I had, until my ex-husband told me he'd be back the next day. I went totally ballistic. I have a very serious unhealthy fear of the dark, especially when I'm alone. We argued, he said he had to leave, but he didn't return for two days.

When he arrived two days later I told him I wanted to go back to the other apartment - at least I had running water, a television and electricity. My ex-husband left again for another few days and came back about a week later and took me back to the old two-story apartment/house. The police had raided the apartment/house while I was back at the dark apartment and soon they condemned the apartment/house. Our car had broken down not too long before this, so we packed everything we could into boxes, put them inside the car and parked the car in the parking lot of our very first apartment. My future father-in-law agreed to let us stay with him in the basement he was living out of from some people who owned a house and was renting it out on the south side of Richmond. Though the basement was shelter, a comfortable bed, had electricity and we were starting to doing well financially, the basement had mold and it was virtually like a studio apartment. Soon, my ex-husband's sister also started living in the basement with us.

It was like having four people living in a studio apartment. My baby was beginning to become very active too. It started when I was pregnant about five months. I went to try to see the sex of the baby. I hoped and wished for a baby boy. My grandparents picked me up and took me to the ultrasound appointment I had made. While giving me the ultrasound, the doctors were joking about my baby's head being big, so I mentioned that it got it's big head from it's father. The doctors began joking about how I could not only get an African American guy, I had to get a Caucasian guy with a big head. At that moment it seemed as if the baby realized that the doctors were talking about it's father and immediately gave the bird - stuck up it's middle finger - to both of the doctors. I laughed hysterically and said, "It got that from it's father too." They finally told me that I was going to have a baby girl, and I must admit I was a bit disappointed. I did want a little girl, but only after I had a boy first. On the ride back to the basement/studio apartment, my grandparents were talking about the baby's behavior and I was in the backseat - drowning them out - wallowing in my disappointment that it was a girl.

Just as I was about to take a nap during the drive, I felt the baby kick me like she was trying to tell me that it was going to be okay, or that she loved me, or maybe to tell me to shut up and stop thinking like that. I instantly felt an overwhelming sense of love for this baby girl. I rubbed my tummy and began to sing to her. From that moment forward I felt a love for her that has never wavered. When I was 8 months pregnant I finally got my first apartment in my name, I was so happy. We were living comfortably and Anaya - as my ex-husband and I had decided to name her - was to be born six weeks later. Anaya didn't want to come out on her due date - July 25, 2005- so exactly a week later, I was induced.

My mom flew from Texas to Virginia to witness her granddaughter being born. My ex-husband and my mother were in the room and my grandparents were waiting in the lobby to meet their first great-grand child. My biological dad was nowhere to be found. During the delivery, while I was ready to push, the nurse continued to yell at me to put my hands behind my knees and push. I looked over to my right - the side my ex-husband was on - and noticed that the IV that was in my arm had somehow became entangled in the rail on the bed. I tried to inform the nurse, but she continued to yell at me to put my hand behind my knees. Frustrated, I finally just decided to unravel the IV from the bed rail myself. I reached over with my left hand to untangle it, but the nurse scornfully slapped my hand and forced my right hand behind my knees. At that same moment, the doctor was shaping Anaya's head as she was coming out and accidentally ripped my clitoris in the process.

My initial thought was to hit the doctor. I immediately drew back and when I sat up to hit the doctor, little Anaya popped out. I was so relieved that I just slumped back onto the hospital bed. Anaya was born, the most beautiful baby I could ever ask for. They placed her on my chest and I stroked her arm and kissed her forehead. After the afterbirth, I fell asleep and woke up again in the recovery room. I refused to be separated from Anaya, so I told them I wanted her all the time. I wanted her in the room so I can watch her sleep. I couldn't believe I had pushed out Anaya's little 8lbs. 14oz. body, that i had help create life. Even as I was pregnant with her, I started reading nothing but parenting books and about taking care of a newborn because I wanted to become "Super Mommy".

I breast fed, went through the breast engorgement phase, but I was determined to breastfeed because everything that I had read said that breastfeeding was more healthier for the baby. Up until Anaya was nine months old, we were just a family of three. When Anaya was 9 months old I found out that I was pregnant again.

I found out that I was pregnant with my second child when I was a month and a half shy of my twentieth birthday. Immediately people began to convince me to abort the baby. Angry, I kept mostly to myself and continued to pamper my growing pregnant belly. At about three to four months pregnant I started discovering that my ex-husband was going online and posting profiles to find other people to meet romantically.

I was devastated. After about the fifth or sixth time that a new profile for a dating site popped up on my computer, I went into an anxiety attack. My ex-husband wasn't just trying to talk to these other people online, he was talking about meeting them. One such instance I found out happened when I had Anaya laying on my chest while we took a nap beside my ex-husband when he was on the computer. That night I decided that I was going to confront him one last time about it, if it didn't stop, I was going to leave. I had nowhere to go - he knew that - but I was determined to get the truth out of him. He kept denying that he did anything wrong, he explained that he didn't create the profiles - I nearly lost it. Anger coursed through me as I continued to confront him about the profiles, and mid-yelling I blacked

I'm not sure how long I was out for, but when I awakened I went into the living room - where he was found - and sat on the couch. The pain in my chest was near unbearable, so I decided to call the ambulance. When paramedics arrived I was sprawled out on the floor, gasping for air. Scared for the baby, I didn't refuse paramedic help as I normally would have. When I was strapped to the heart monitor on the ambulance, the monitors began going haywire. My heart reading was going off the charts, the beeps were haunting and I thought that I was going to loose the baby. I began to frantically tell the paramedics to check on my baby, but they just told me to calm down, sedated me, then strapped me to the stretcher. I woke up to the rapid and continuous beeping of the heart monitor in the hospital they had hooked me up to. I clicked the "nurse help" button repeatedly and two nurses came into the room.

They told me I had to calm down because I was out for two hours and my heart rate had dropped - I was endangering the baby. I quickly tried to calm down. I had stopped smoking cigarettes after finding out about my pregnancy with Anaya, but after a while I had picked it back up. I stopped smoking cigarettes again when I found out I was pregnant with Ayden, but at this point and time all I could think about was having a cigarette. I soon calmed down, but I learned that I was apparently anemic and I had high blood pressure. I was told that this was common in pregnancies - though I didn't have this trouble with Anaya - I didn't worry too much about it. The next morning I was back in my bed. My ex-husband woke me with a kiss and explained to me that if I did happen to look at the histories on the computer and it showed that there was someone on the computer looking at a dating site, it was because he had deleted the profile.

Every day I would go to Baby Center, a parenting website, and chat with my friends, but I didn't know the URL, so I would go under my histories to see what the webpage was - that was how I found out about all the profiles. This day, however, I decided I wanted proof. I needed to know that he had stopped, so I purposefully went on the computer and looked at the histories for the sole purpose of easing my mind. He had deleted one profile - like he said -, but I had found out that just that morning he had made another one. Instead of going off or getting upset, I just decided to act like I didn't know - what I don't see won't hurt me, I thought. The next month my ex-husband decided that perhaps it was time that we got married. We had been engaged for almost two years. I thought for about a week about it and decided maybe I could make it work - we did have a child and one on the way, and I didn't want to be the typical stereotype. November 16, 2006 we went down to the Justice of the Peace and signed the papers of marriage.

I knew that my ex-husband was still going online and posting profiles for dating sites, so throughout the pregnancy I continued to smoke to calm my nerves. Ayden's due date was February 7, 2007, but he arrived at 38 weeks old on January 25, 2007. The day before Ayden's birth I cleaned up the whole house and threw out a lot of things to make room for the new baby. There were two big black leaf bags, three grocery bags, and one box full of trash and other things I wanted to throw away. When my ex-husband came home that evening from work, I asked him to take the trash out, he said he wanted to nap first then he'd take it out. I said okay and woke him up two hours later - at his request - to throw the trash out. He griped and said to wake him in one more hour. For five hours I tried to wake him up once an hour to take the trash out because the smell was starting to bother my sensitive pregnant nose.

Finally, at midnight, I had enough of the procrastination and smell from the bags I went into our room to try to wake him one last time. When he didn't wake I got very upset and responded to his seemingly lack of care with, "Well, I'll take it out then! If something happens to me or the baby, I'm blaming you!" He sleepily replied - in so many words - that he didn't care and to let him sleep. To save time I gathered up everything that I was going to be throwing away: the two big black trash bags, the three grocery bags and the box full of stuff. It was January in Richmond, Virginia, and there was ice on the ground as it had just sleeted earlier. I nearly fell down the stairs on my way to the dumpster, but I made it there and back safely. Mad, but safely.

The next day my ex husband went to his first job early in the morning. As soon as he left, I felt myself having the urge to urinate. I went to the restroom and laid back down on the bed. Five minutes later I felt the urge to urinate again, but when I went to the restroom this time just a little trickle seemed to come out. I felt weird, I felt like a dam had just busted in my bladder, but it just came out as a trickle, so I went to lay back down. Five minutes later I felt the urge to urinate again. I began to think that maybe I was starting to show early signs of a urinary Tract Infection (UTI), but then I started noticing tinges of pink mixed in with the water in the toilet, but because the lighting was poor, I just simply thought that my eyes were playing tricks on me. I continued to go to the restroom every five minutes for about an hour, but it didn't start to worry me about the baby until the pink that I thought I saw in the toilet turned darker.

Now, every mother knows that unless you are the very super rare 1% of women who still have their menstruation during pregnancy, seeing any type of blood while pregnant is a sign that something is typically wrong. I thought I was miscarrying. The last time I ran to the bathroom I grabbed my laptop and started searching pink mucus in pregnancy and it said that it was going into labor. The day before I had skipped Ayden's regular check-up, so I was worried. I called my best friend - who lived across the hall from me - and explained to her what was happening. She informed me that she went through the same thing when her eldest daughter was born. I began freaking out. Two weeks prior to this, when I went for my 36 week pregnancy check up, they informed me that I was anemic and that I needed to take iron pills to help build up my blood count or I was going to loose too much blood on the birthing table and I'd die or need a transplant. I hadn't been taking my iron pills.

I called my ex husband and told him what was going on and told him I was going to call my OB/GYN to see what they say about it. When I called my OB/GYN they informed me that the day prior I had missed an appointment and asked if I was able to make it in that evening. I agreed, but I didn't worry too much. Ayden wasn't due for another week and a half, so I figured they would just give me something to stop the labor process if indeed I was having him early - surly today wasn't going to be the day he came out, I thought. My best friend drove me to the hospital where my OB/GYN was located, and when I went to the back they checked me and told me that I was already 3 centimeters dilated and asked me if I was ready to meet my baby boy today. I was mortified, I wasn't planning on having him today, so I didn't bring anything with me to the hospital and any affairs I had definitely was going to have to wait.

Sometime around six o'clock that evening I was upstairs in the hospital room being prepped for birth. I told my best friend to call my ex-husband and tell him what was going on. Around seven o'clock my husband arrived at the hospital. My best friend took Anaya downstairs to wait in the lobby for my dad and little sister to arrive and take over care for Anaya while I was giving birth. Around eight o'clock my dad and little sister arrived and were waiting downstairs for me to have Ayden. My husband went downstairs periodically to check on Anaya and give an update on what was going on with the baby and me. Once such time, around ten thirty he said he was going to check on Anaya and he'd be right back. Once he left I decided to call my stepmother who couldn't make the birth. After talking on the phone for about ten minutes with her I began to have labor pains that continued to grow ever excruciating.

My ex husband still had not arrived back from checking on Anaya and I began feeling Ayden crowning. I was alone, so I quickly said goodbye to my stepmother and began pushing the nurse help button like my life depended on it. No nurse answered the call, so I began to repeatedly call my ex-husband - who also didn't answer his phone. I began to panic because no one was coming to help with Ayden's birth and I could feel Ayden's head crowning. I was worried that Ayden was going to come and fall onto the floor. A few minutes later the nurses arrived in the room, took a look at my condition and began setting up for Ayden's birth. My husband hadn't arrived still, so I called my dad. He informed me that my ex-husband was on his way back up to the room and that he should be there any moment.

Around 11:10pm the nurses were about to shut the door - which meant they weren't going to let anyone else in once it was closed - but right when they were about to shut the door, my ex-husband walked through it. The next few minutes I spent pushing, and at 11:30pm on January 25, 2007 Ayden was born. If you'd like to learn more about Ayden and the struggles he endured with his Autism, feel free to visit my other hubs How My Son Was Stolen - A Personal Autism Journey and How My Son Was Stolen - A Personal Autism Journey Part 2.

When Ayden was six months old I found out I was pregnant with my youngest child, Layla. Originally her name was supposed to be Tauri (pronounced Tore-ee), after my little sister, Tori (Victoria), but I thought better of it at the last minute because I didn't want it so that every time I call my sister or my daughter that they couldn't distinguish between the two because they both are pronounced the same. I began working as a cashier right after I was cleared from the doctor for postpartum recovery, and I worked all throughout the pregnancy with my youngest daughter.

This pregnancy, minus some marital problems, went along without a hitch. Layla was born April 7, 2008 by inducement. In the delivery room - the night before Layla was born - I decided that even though for over half a year I had called my growing belly Tauri, the name didn't quite sit right with me. A few hours before delivery, the night before my Layla was born, I expressed my concern for the baby's lack of name to my ex-husband. After a minute of thinking, my ex-husband asked me if I would consider the name Layla. I thought about it for a little while - a few minutes tops - and decided that it went well with the scheme of Anaya and Ayden's name.

We had already agreed months before that the baby would have my mother-in-law's first name as the baby's middle name and Layla's name was settled. I remember that right after deciding on the baby's name, I fell asleep. I was half sleep/half awoke when I felt the doctor starting to deliver the baby. I was so sleepy still, I almost sat up, the doctor said, "We're taking the baby," and I fell right back to sleep. When I woke I was in a different room, so I knew that I hadn't dreamed my baby being born. I immediately began to push the nurse's button, and when a nurse arrived in my room, I demanded to see my baby.

Layla was just as perfect as Anaya and Ayden in every way possible. The day we left the hospital we got the professional newborn baby pictures done - and Layla was just posing away. "She's going to be a little diva, watch!" I gushed. Oh Lord, how I was right!

The children grew as planned. At four years old I taught Anaya to read, and she took to reading and learning like a fish took to water. They were polite, and I rarely ever had to discipline them. Ayden began preschool per his developmental pediatrician's request, and he began to blossom at the first school he attended - Greenwood Elementary. Layla had blossomed into a little firecracker and a very attached momma's baby. If I was watching television with the kids and had to go to the bathroom or to the kitchen, Layla would attach herself to one of my legs - usually the left one - and I'd drag her with me or pick her up and she'd play while we were in there because she hated me to be out of her site.

In 2009 I decided to visit my mother in Texas and let her meet Ayden and Layla - of whom she hadn't met yet. The week after my birthday the kids and I flew down to Texas with my little sister and stayed at my mother's apartment. One morning after some words were exchanged about my children, I became enraged and pushed my mom. My mom then kicked Anaya, Ayden, Layla, and myself out in the blazing sun with three suitcases to carry. Luckily my brother lived pretty close by, so with the suitcases and babies in hand, we began to walk to my eldest brother's apartment. We left the next morning or so, and I vowed to never see my mother again.

My marriage had started to get worse and I began to seek solace in other people. The mental abuse was so draining, and I began to sleep on the couch instead of in the bed with my then husband. I had fell into a very deep depression and started thinking about getting a divorce. I thought better of it because the children loved their father, I didn't want to be another statistic, I didn't want to split my family, and I didn't have anywhere to go. So, instead of leaving in 2009, I just got very depressed and miserable. December of that year I quit my job to become a full time homemaker, but even though I was excited and happy to be with the kids, my soul wasn't happy. The kids then became my sole source of happiness.

January 2010 I decided to take charge of my emotions and started to realize that the kids were all the happiness I needed. Because Ayden was still going to school and attending therapy regularly, I tended to his needs - admitting that I spent a little more of my time with him. Layla was always clinging to me, so I was always spending time with my younger two. I remember one day telling Anaya that I loved her and she said, "Mommy I know you love me, and I love you too, but sometimes I wish you would spend more time with me."

What a slap in the face! I was speechless. I hadn't realized that I had neglected time with my eldest child. Even though I would watch movies and television with the kids, Anaya wanted something to do with just mommy, and I was no longer going to deny her that. I promised Anaya when she was born that I was going to try to be the best mommy she could have ever wanted, but I was wrapped up into trying to get Ayden to where I was satisfied with his progress that I hadn't noticed that I wasn't actually doing one-on-one mommy time with Anaya.

The next morning I woke Anaya up early and helped her make breakfast for the family. I was so proud of my big girl, and the pancakes, eggs, and toast were delicious! From that day forward I set aside time for each of the children, one-on-one. Typically Layla's time was in the morning and I would color or draw with her, then Ayden once he got home from school we would do some therapy lessons, and then Anaya I would teach Anaya the whole Kindergarten curriculum, and she would read to me at night before she went to bed.

Everything seemed perfect, except the fact that I was still unhappy in my marriage. Everything in my marriage had begun to unravel, but I was so engrossed in my children that I didn't care. Anaya turned 5 in August that year, and the next month she began Kindergarten. This was Anaya's first time being away from me - all but Ayden had never attended preschool or day care. The first day of school, I decided that, like I had done with Ayden, I was going to spend the whole first day with Anaya to help her transition.

After about twenty minutes sitting in her classroom - with no other parents, I walked over to Anaya and gave her a kiss.

"Anaya, I have to go get Ayden now, I'll come pick you up later, okay?"

"Mommy, I'm fine, go home. I'm not a baby you know."

Realization hit me. No, she wasn't my little baby Anaya anymore, she was now Anaya - the semi-independent 5 year old. Anaya could make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches better than I could, she could read on a third grade level, her penmanship needed some work, but she could even work the DVR, VCR and DVD player by herself. She could definitely handle school. I reluctantly left the classroom after showering her with thousands of kisses and choking back tears as I watched my little girl do her schoolwork without even looking up to say a quiet goodbye.

I am currently trying very hard to see my children, but as I do not have all of the funds or means, I have set up a fund raiser to help me raise money to see my children, if you would like to help out, click here: Help Mia See Her Children. The end date is July 18, 2014 because I want time to plan the trip, I'm trying to see my eldest daughter for her birthday because I missed my youngest children's birthdays this year already.

This is the end of this hub, but I am going to be making a part two, as this one has ran very long. This is the background, the next will be the result. I hope you have enjoyed my recount of events of my children. I love them dearly, and I want them back. Through hell or high water I will work to get them back until my back breaks and I'm in the ground six feet under if I have to.