Portrait Update: St. Louis Missouri

You published my story on Portraits of an Economy on Mother's Day. My husband and I were in the middle of what felt like a never ending adoption limbo, waiting to find out if we could keep our daughters and sacrificing everything we could to continue channeling money at our lawyers. We were waiting on consent from two of the three biological parents involved (while fighting the third) and honestly, even though we knew we were the best thing for those girls, we also knew the law doesn't really care when it comes to adoptions. The law cares more about whether or not you can prove the neglect that stipulates the disruption of parental rights.

Rereading my portrait, I can tell that I was angry. Or maybe just incredibly frustrated with the whole situation. I'm not entirely certain. I do know that the whole thing had worn me down to the point that I could actually see myself saying goodbye to my daughters. I would be folding laundry and wondering what we would send with them and what we would keep for those inevitable hours spent sobbing on the floor of my closet. I detached a little, not in any desire for freedom but more because I knew that this was going to hurt. I knew it was going to cut me to my soul and I would never recover from the loss of my children. Everyone told us to be patient, that obviously no judge would award an ex convict custody, that no judge would take them away from us. But some days it was really hard to believe those people. Most days it was impossible to see that this would ultimately be over, that we wouldn't live in limbo forever and we wouldn't always be letting go of everything else in pursuit of our family.

I had lost my ability to believe in miracles. I let go of a belief that I had always held close to my heart - that when things are meant to be, the Universe or God or fate or whatever would deliver the right conclusion and it would fit perfectly, even if it was a smidge uncomfortable at first.

Over the past several days, we have been gifted so many miracles I don't even know how to begin to describe the cloud of happy I am on. We received the consent papers from the two biological parents and they were filed without a hitch, meaning we are completely free to adopt one of our daughters. We finally, FINALLY, are paying off our lawyer in full tomorrow and should be finished paying him for good. But most importantly, the judge denied a request from the biological father who had been causing so many issues and requested that our lawyer and our children's lawyer (guardian ad litem) set up a court date so he could issue a final adoption decree. Remarkably enough, the court date is exactly 41 weeks from the day we recieved our daughters. I am shaking my head at the fact that we can't seem to make a pregnancy last longer that twelve weeks but we will 'birth' a family in a normal gestational period.

I don't know that this is in any way fitting with the theme of Portraits of an Economy and so I understand completely if you don't publish it, but I just...I have hope again. I have faith that everything will work out and that life will carry on. I'm not naive, I know that a whole host of things could happen between now and then and we might still walk out of the courtroom without being declared a family. But I can face it now with the knowledge that perhaps a pessimistic outlook is not going to carry us as well as being hopeful, blindingly hopeful, over the potential of our happily ever after. Mainly, I can hold my daughters and kiss them and love them and I'm not secretly wondering how many more times I'll get to do it. I get a lifetime of being their mom. I no longer fear the potential of waking up one morning and my house being empty because someone has taken my children away.

I know with the economy the way it is people are losing hope left and right. They are drowning in bills and facing unemployment and wondering how they are going to get everything handled and still feed their children. There is so much to be afraid of and worried about. But there is also still so much hope and potential for great change, for miracles, to surprise us. I am hoping for the best for all of us, hoping that everyone gets a chance to see a miracle happen in their life and feel unabashed joy again.

Portrait: St. Louis, Missouri

We moved just as school started. This was supposed to be our fresh start. When I was laid off in 2005, we had to file for bankruptcy and lost our house. A friend sold us her trailer for less than most used cars, so we were able to stay in the school district, but it was very old and very tiny. We went from having over 5 acres to living in a trailer park. It took me a year to find another job and a month later, my husband lost his. He was out of work for eight months. He finally found a good job, it paid ok and though it was far away, he commuted with a friend and it was steady work. When my sister took over my parents’ restaurant last summer, my husband went to work for her. It was a pay cut, but he really wanted to get back into cooking and we both liked the idea of supporting the family business. We decided to move close to the restaurant since our old trailer wouldn’t make it another winter and gas costs were getting out of control.

Now, I’m not so sure. I love being closer to my family. We have a beautiful apartment that is so much larger than the trailer. But, I miss our small town. I miss my close circle of friends that were always there for me and each other. I’m worried for them, I’m worried for us.

We’ve been hearing about it for months, seeing effects for months, and now they are circling closer and closer to home. Our hometown corporate identity, Budweiser, was sold. The Chrysler plant closed. A tax hike for the transit system failed so we may have to start driving our daughter to school when route cuts start this spring. There were layoffs in the shop at my company (I work in the office). People at my husband’s work complained about fewer hours. Then a friend is laid off from her job. It’s tough, but she’ll get by. Her husband still works. Another friend is laid off. This friend is the sole support for his disabled wife and their daughter. We worry and bring food when we visit because we’re not sure they’ll manage on their own.

Now my job is cutting back. The cost of my health insurance will no longer be covered by the company. I already pay for the rest of the family, but I saw the new rates, and we just can’t do it. My husband is beginning to lose hours, as well. We both work in luxury industries and I’m tied in with construction. Our move tripled our housing costs. Even though the savings in gas essentially canceled out the difference in housing, everything else costs more in the city. Household goods, toiletries, and, the big one, food (I have two teenagers at home).

We know how lucky we are. My daughter goes to a wonderful private high school and both kids have braces. All of that is paid for by my parents. My kids will have the college education I didn’t, also thanks to my parents. They couldn’t afford it for me, but they can do it for them and I am grateful.

So we’ll cut a little, here and there. Try to put by a few dollars, just in case. We’ll try to help others where we can. We’ve always lived on the edge. Sometimes it was on the edge of poverty, sometimes on the edge of middle class. We’ll manage somehow. Soon the kids will be old enough to get part time jobs at the restaurant, join in the family business. We hope. All we can do is hope.

Sarah
St. Louis, MO