What Were You Doing A Year Ago?

Do you even remember? I do. I was trying to address some valentines with Son#3 when Son#2 (who'd been home 5 months) was making all his noises very loudly. So we could hear, I thought I'd shut my door to give us some quiet--but Son#2 wasn't having any of that. He started trying to bust the door in. As I went to open it so he wouldn't break it, he busted in & a very large picture frame behind the door fell & glass went everywhere right by the door. I started pushing the door closed to keep Son#2 from walking in it & told Son#3 to get up on my bed until I could clean it up. Son#2 started busting the door hard with all his weight, so I left the room to draw him away from the door/glass & calm him. I started toward the kitchen & he took a swipe at my neck. I kept moving, hurrying, trying to get to the pantry & try to buy off his hunger with food. I never got to the pantry.


Son#2 chased me & chased me in circles around the kitchen table, around the living room---all the while I was trying to get my phone out & call Husband. I knew this was a bad episode & Son#2 was very wound up. He was SO angry that I'd dared to keep him from a room. Was he tired? Hungry? Constipated? It didn't matter. All that mattered was he wanted blood. He chased me &  every time he caught me he grabbed a hunk of flesh & twisted and held on for dear life.  When I could I tried to grab him behind the neck & push him down to the floor so he'd have to tire himself out to get back up & come after me, buying myself time. There was never enough time to pull my phone out AND call. I finally dialed 911-- and lost my phone, never getting to hit send. From the floor he grabbed my leg & took me down like a lion does his prey. He bit the calf of my leg and held his teeth in. I screamed & screamed, all the while trying to crawl away, kicking & screaming. When I got away I called Husband---another bite on the back of my bicep. More screaming, me pushing his face to make him let go of his bite/hold.

I won't go further. That's the jist of it--the whole 45 mins of it. The kids locked in separate rooms, hearing all the screaming & crying.  After Husband got home--and Son#2 calmed. I had blood everywhere, Son#2 had a black eye that was almost closed. So Feb 13, 2013 is the day. The day I knew it wasn't going to work with my baby living at home.

Now, here we are a year later. Son#2 is happier back in an an institutional type environment full time where he knows the boundaries & that he's outnumbered. We're going to court every few months, sharing custody with DHS & paying child support. There is a sense of relief, shared with a sense of loss. Every day. The sad part to me is we are all better off living apart. How is that part of the God's plan? I ask why, because there's no point. However, that is the hardest part to accept. But we have other children to raise that we are responsible for. And no one said life should or would be easy on this earth. One day at a time. And days like February 13th, are 30 minutes at a time.