Monday, April 12, 2021

Co-Parenting Challenges and Listening to Our Kids

Reflecting on April 12, 2021: Co-Parenting Challenges and Listening to Our Kids

Originally documented April 12, 2021 | Posted now as part of my healing and reflection journey

There are moments in parenting where you feel completely powerless—where you’re just trying to hold it together and do what’s best for your kids, even when the situation feels impossible. April 12, 2021, was one of those days.

That afternoon, Nick got a call from Autumn and Aurora’s counselor, Kerith. She had read Nick’s summary email from Friday and wanted to follow up after hearing from DCF that morning. Nick shared what we knew so far during a short 10-minute call—just before he had to leave to pick up our youngest from preschool.

Later that evening, the school counselor replied to a message from Katie, confirming she would check in with the girls the following day.

Something Was Off

At 6:51 PM, Autumn called Nick. She sounded happy. She wanted to play Minecraft and chatted about her day. But then the conversation took a turn. She mentioned something about her mom being on her account, messaging her friends.

Nick tried to stay neutral and reassuring, saying maybe Katie was just checking to make sure she was safe online. Autumn asked about a strange app called “EZOneHand.” Nick looked it up while on the phone with her—it was just a keyboard tool—but in hindsight, the conversation hinted that Autumn felt like her privacy was being violated. And that was upsetting for her.

The Devices Taken

Shortly after, Andrew (11) called Autumn to ask if she wanted to play Minecraft with him. But the moment he called, he overheard Katie yelling and taking her devices away. He didn’t even get to say goodbye before the call ended. He was so upset, he immediately called Nick, worried.

At 7:28 PM, Autumn called again—this time from the home phone. Her devices had been taken. She was upset. The call was chaotic. Katie quickly jumped on the line, accusing Autumn of being aggressive and intimidating her, claiming she had thrown her tablet (which had already been taken earlier).

Autumn later admitted she threw a water bottle out of frustration after Katie had followed her around the house, recording her and pushing a camera in her face. She just felt hopeless and overwhelmed.

Trying to De-Escalate

Katie said, “Just come get Autumn. She’s scaring Aurora.” She said maybe Autumn could still come back in the morning for Grampy’s birthday surprise if she calmed down. We said okay and asked for Autumn’s backpack and devices—just in case, and so we could adjust parental controls. Katie resisted at first but eventually agreed.

When Autumn got on the phone, she repeated what Katie told her: “You can’t bring your tablet unless you screenshot your mom that you’ve blocked all your apps.” We told her not to worry about it—that’s a grown-up issue, not something for her to carry.

When Nick arrived to pick her up, Autumn was already sitting outside. Her hands were cold, and she had tears streaming down her face. Katie was just sitting in the car, unfazed. It broke our hearts.

Back in Our Home, But Still Hurting

On the car ride home, Autumn opened up. She was frustrated and sad. She told us how hard it’s been not being able to connect with friends or family—especially when she’s feeling low. She said she apologized to Grampy before leaving, saying she’d try to come back in a few days. Katie made her feel guilty, saying she was being selfish for leaving and missing his birthday.

What hurt the most was what she shared about the days following her hospital visit. Katie wouldn’t let her use glass cups, wouldn’t let her be alone—not even with pencils. Autumn had reached out to her friends, who sympathized and told her they’d felt similarly in the past. That meant so much to her. But when Katie found out, she told Autumn her friends were “trashy” and that they were just joking about mental health.

That crushed her. Autumn really believed her friends were sincere. She needed connection. She needed understanding. And she needed someone to believe her.

Looking Back

I’m sharing this not because I have all the answers, but because I’m still learning and growing. These are the things we’ve lived through. These are the moments that remind us how fragile trust and safety can be—and how much kids internalize when they don’t feel believed, seen, or heard.

If you’ve ever been in a co-parenting situation that feels like walking a tightrope, I see you. If your child is struggling and you’re trying your best to navigate complex emotions and systems—you’re not alone.

Sometimes there are no easy answers. Just listening. Just trying. Just doing what we can with what we have.

Saturday, April 10, 2021

When You Feel Like You're Failing… But You're Not

 

When You Feel Like You're Failing… But You're Not

Originally written April 10, 2021 | Reflecting with honesty and heart

Friday afternoon was one of those days that shakes you to your core as a parent.

Nick got a call from the school. The counselor had noticed that Autumn seemed “off.” When they spoke with her, she opened up in a way that both broke our hearts and confirmed our worst fears—she said her mom had been extremely mean and intimidating, making threats and saying things that left her scared and unsure. She wasn’t even allowed to talk to her dad during the school day.

The school did the right thing. They filed a report with DCF. DCF called Nick and said they would open an investigation early the next week.

The Waiting Game… and Worry

Nick tried to reach the girls that night, but no one answered. Not a text. Not a call. Saturday morning, he kept trying until Autumn finally picked up the home phone. Her voice was nervous, shaky. She said she couldn’t talk long.

We didn’t know what to do. All we knew was that Autumn had a soccer game that day in town. She was supposed to sit out due to injuries, but we figured Nick could just be there—to show up, to let her know she wasn’t alone. But she never showed.

The Call That Broke Us

Autumn called around 11:30. She was sobbing. She said her mom drove her past the soccer field, berating her the whole time about her “fake injuries.” She felt so low, so attacked, that she told Nick she didn’t want to live anymore.

That moment—the air left the room. We were terrified. Nick called DCF again. They had him file another 51A and initiated a wellness check immediately. An ambulance and Officer Churchy went to the house. After speaking with Autumn, the EMTs decided she needed to go to Harrington Hospital. Nick followed the ambulance all the way there.

They arrived around 2:00 p.m. We waited. And waited. And by 7:00 p.m., Autumn was still in the ER. Originally, they said she wouldn’t be going home with her mother at all. But after an hour-long conversation with her mom, everything changed—they were considering releasing her back into that same environment.

The Gaps That Hurt the Most

That night on Our Family Wizard, Autumn’s mom messaged saying she hadn’t been giving Autumn her prescribed probiotics or acid reflux medication—Asking for some of merdication when she was alreay in the hospital and acting like it was Nikc job to know she needed them & as f it wasn’t her job to remember, to care, to meet basic needs herself.

Moments like this make you feel completely powerless as a parent—like no matter how hard you're trying, it’s not enough. Like everything you do is the wrong move. But here’s what I want to remind myself (and maybe someone else out there reading this):

You're Not Failing. You're Fighting.

We’re showing up. We're filing reports. We're advocating. We're listening. We are walking in Courage and Love and Truth even when the system doesn’t see it or move fast enough.

It is heartbreaking. It is exhausting. But it is not failure.

In Times Like These, I Lean on the Seven Sacred Teachings:

  • Love: Creating a safe place where our kids feel unconditionally held.
  • Respect: Honoring their truth—even when it's hard to hear.
  • Courage (Mlkikn): Calling DCF again. Following the ambulance. Staying present.
  • Honesty: Acknowledging that this hurts. That it's messy. That it’s not easy.
  • Wisdom: Knowing when to ask for help, when to take a breath, and when to keep going.
  • Humility: Remembering we are not perfect—but we are trying our best.
  • Truth: Standing in what’s real. Saying out loud what needs to be said.

We’re not always going to have the answers. But we can keep showing up, every single day, with open hands and open hearts.

And that is how we love our children through the storm.

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