This is my story

I am Daniel Ryan

I am in utero

I hear voices singing “Danny Boy”

I am Danielle Rene

I have entered the world screaming and the color of a blueberry

I do not wish to be here, not this way

by my own terms,

but not on the terms of those around me who wear

masks and hair caps

screaming “She’s not breathing”

Frantically removing the ties from around my neck

the umbilical cord tightly woven

around my blue neck.

I am Dee

I am 9 months old

I have expressed to the young girl a few doors down that my

“Name is Danielle but you can call me Dee.”

and thus my nick name

I am Dee

I am 5 years old

I have been taken to specialist after specialist

until one proclaims “dyspraxia nervosa”

and I do not know what that means

my parents look gravely at me

but tell me they’ll help

should it ever come to pass I need it.

I am Dee

I am different from the other children

I take every statement literally

I worry constantly

I think I am smarter than everyone in my class

but I can’t prove it.

no one gets me

no one understands me

I am left to my own world

my imaginary friends accept me, with their crazy name

“koo koo” and “Quiche”

I can’t remember them now.

But I remember their names

As clear as my own.

I am Dee

I am 12 years old

I received a letter from my parents at 6th grade breakfast

saying how proud they are of me.

saying “the doctors said you’d never write, run, ice skate…”
“look how wrong they were!” they say, pleased.

I think, “Do you know how hard that was for me?”

“Do you know how hard I worked at that?”

I am simultaneously proud and alienated.

Santa, the Tooth Fairy and now this?

How do you follow that up, Ma?  

How do you follow that up, Dad?

I am Aisling Violet

I am 16 years old.

I have just left Special Ed.

I am Wiccan, a poet, an artist,

a debater, a fencer…

I stand strong on my own two feet

I turn my heel when things are not right

I fix what I can, I accept what I can’t.

I am very much alive but dead inside.

I am Dani

I am 18 years old

I play tag at midnight with my friends

I go to the movies

I play laser tag,

anything to keep me away

from home

with the constant litany of poor me

the constant chatter, the constant arguing which leaves me hiding in my room sobbing

and writing

I have retreated to my own world.

and now I am leaving for points unknown.

I am leaving for the Sault.

I will not return.

I am Danielle Dunne

I am 19 years old

I am in the hospital

watching the clock on the wall between feedings of my baby girl

I am still a child

and I have a child.

I have become everything my husband to be wants me to be

I have no individual identity

I do not stand on my own two feet

I stand on his and allow him to lead.

I am Danielle Renee Brown

I am 22 years old

I am a battered woman

I am finding my strength

I have no vehicle of my own

I spend my time with my daughter at home

Trying to educate her as best I can

and show her this behavior from a man is not acceptable

that she’ll be stronger than me

I survive on one meal a week, that my daughter can eat the rest of them

I binge when food is available, then do not eat for a week.

I have started yoga, I have started classes even though

I am told I will never be allowed to have more than an associate’s

I am not happy, but I am coping

I see no other way.

I am Danielle Renee Dunne

I am 24 years old

I have moved in with my college boyfriend

we have a dog and 8 pet rats

we are both majoring in Journalism

we work at the student paper

we both have our identities,

and when I cannot stand on my own feet he offers me a cane

he saved me

he drove in the middle of the night and saved me

all the way to Toledo.

We are so very happy.

he is my soulmate

we remember our past lives together

have relations at least twice a day

I am Danielle Renee Domanski

I am 25 years old

I was married in March, our son was born in April

my life is so happy and full

I cannot believe this is real.

This is my dream come real

My daughter is a bit needy, but my children are perfect

the neighbors downstairs scare me

I hear echoes of my former life from below

and I want to reach out but…

my life is so full and so beautiful.

I cannot bear to look away, it may change and…

I may wake up and realize this was all a dream.

I am Danielle Renee Domanski

I am 32 years old

I have four children.

I can’t believe I have four children.

Seriously, when the hell did I get four kids?

Who said this was ok?

Where is my husband?

Where am I?

Who is this man sleeping next to me?

Where did my knight in shining armor go?

is he really a retard in tin foil?

How will I drive these children around?

And my husband, how will I transport him?

On the roof of the car?

He can’t drive or anything, barely knows his name half the time

and what’s this now that he’s been molesting my daughter?

Who’s life is this anyway?

I WANT OUT.

But he’s in there somewhere.  My knight, my handsome keeper

He’s in there somewhere.

Where are you, Paul?  Where did you go?

My name is Danielle Renee

I am 34 years old

He’s in jail

I put him there

and there he must stay

my bed is empty, and I am so lonely and sad

looking and the memories of lives long past and wishing

for one more kiss

and one more dance,

and I cry all of the time

my sons are gone

my daughter I only see when I drive

to the other side of the state

I have taken in some college girls to ease my pain

but nothing helps.

I am Dani

I am a fuck bunny

use my body

for I am worthless

there is nothing to me anymore

my soulmate might as well be dead

and here I am, still alive, still out, still breathing

I had to do this, to protect my daughter.

forget I mentioned my daughter

just make my worthless body worth something

fuck me

allow me to pleasure you

for that is all I am worth.

I am Danielle Renee

I just am.

I remember back to when I was happy

and alone

in my bedroom

when the only world I had to understand

was my own

and I remember

and I understand

and I live there.

I am moving away from this hell hole

that was my dream

turned perfect nightmare

I am Danielle Renee

and I really really really don’t want to fall for you

so I am going to pretend to pay half attention to your words…

but then I realized you write in a way that I enjoy reading

you write how my heart feels

and so I tentatively look into your eyes and

FUCK.

I am Danielle Renee Dunne, Again.

and this is my continuing story.

I have restarted my life so many times now

that it seems strange to continue from last save.

but here I am

continuing.

Save points corrupted, but happy for the first time in 10 years

still lost

still finding my way.

with my new love beside me

my new husband sleeping soundly

as I attempt to sleep

and find myself restlessly dreaming again

of the adventures we’ll have tomorrow.

I am completely and wholly myself, with all the former lives mixed in, for better

or worse.

I am.

I'm pretty sure I'm drowning, but I have to.

A lot of folks try to save me from drowning,  and not too many of them realize that I must in order to grieve.   It doesn't make me happy,  either.   It is what has to happen though. I have many things in my life that fulfill me and make me happy,  but there is an emptiness to all of this,  a sort of post apocalyptic settling of dust that comes up around me.
Sometimes though,  I just need to feel empty.   It's not about drama or sadness,  it's about processing what has happened and continuing the journey forward though the depths.
This doesn't mean I do not have my down days,  I do,  like anyone else.   There are days when I miss him still,  which conflicts me greatly because I am still somewhat angry about what happened.

There are gifts in the depths though.   My daughter is a strong young woman and she'll just keep getting stronger with time and experience. This doesn't make her experience any less terrible or traumatic, it just lends credence to the continuing lessons of the world.  I hate that my daughter has gone though but I love the strength she's gained...  Small blessings.
When you find yourself in these impossible situations you look for the helpers like Mr. Rogers always said. This is the way we process.

I have worked some insane hours at work this week,  had a terrible couple of days,  featuring 14-18 hour days of me bringing work home.
And all I could think of, as I used to in the times before is how much my family was depending on me. This time though it was my daughter and step kids that I thought about. Everytime I thought of walking out the door,  I thought of them.
Also I've started planning my new tattoo.  It is the equation for entropy. It symbolizes my son,  Evan. For Dan,  I want to get a traditional heart with a banner,  but instead of saying mom,  I want it to say Mum,  because that's what he called me and always changed my mii name to on our wii.  For Tom,  I simply want to get the name "Tom",  but looking like it was drawn on in green crayon. He loves to put letters together and make words,  Tabbers loved to write his name over and over again and his favorite color was green. It still is I'm told.
It's odd to talk about them in past tense.
I wish I could just make sense of this.

It's ok

The hardest things are not the things you'd realize right away.
I talk a lot in public about how my daughter is coping and about how various family members are dealing with our loss.  This is my place.

Sure, I think every parent at some time or another thinks, "I should get away from here." Some fantasize about just an hour, or a week away from their kids, some longer.  My fantasy was a day or two in the woods completely by myself hiking.  Only the skill of my wit and outdoors training.
Spoiler alert on how that would have ended: I have no outdoors training to speak of.  I am a pack a day smoker, do not remember to hydrate myself or feed myself on a regular basis, until I get sick or pass out.

I think one of the hardest things about this whole scenario is that there are not training manuals written for it.  There are no self help books for it.  You are alone, out to sea, grieving.  When people talk about their kids, (which most parents do, and most folks in the work force now a days ARE parents,) you are stuck deciding if you want to tell them that you have kids, or not.  And they'll ask the kids ages, and you stumble on it because you haven't seen them in so long.

Over time, their names and birthdates become marks on a page.  There are no pictures, and the best you get are pictures from your facebook from 3 years ago or more.

And sometimes you'll break down and tell these co workers all you have experienced, and they stare at you, mouth agape, not sure what to say.

After a while, you try to help them and say "no one knows quite what to say about all of it, but really I'm ok.  I'm coping."  You comfort back.  You've been living this for so long now that you are numb to it.

When in truth, on the inside you feel like running back to your office and crying.  You gulp down that slight moment of unexplained asthma; that feeling you get just before you break down into a hysterical fit where you can't breathe.  And you choke, cough, and move on with your day.  You hope no one notices your mis-step.

No one wants to see you sad.  No one wants to see you cry, but that's all you can think to do in that moment.  However, you are at work, in a cube farm where every conversation is overheard.  You play the fun girl, you play the party girl, you get involved in all sorts of work place politicking because you aren't afraid to make an ass of yourself.
ANYTHING to distract you from that asthma.  Anything to stop the pain momentarily.
You tell your boss you have comp time, (because you do) and you leave inexplicably in the middle of very average, very normal days, because you just can't today.

And your psychologist tells you it's just a "situational depression" But, the situation is still going on in the periphery of your life.  It hangs over you like a cloud.  But you are an ADULT damn it, so you are going to adult so hard that no one has ever seen such an adult.

But then, the sadness sneaks in again, and you try to find another distraction.

Just save it until you can deal with it, or until the situation clears up.  But it never clears up.  It is in a lot of ways worse than the death of a child.  At least then, you know there is no possibility of running into them with their new parents on the other side of town.  You don't worry about why the adoptive parents need a police escort and wonder silently if someone has been threatening them or your children-- sorry, their children.
If someone is dead, they can simultaneously be the safest they'll ever be, and also the most unsafe.
They are not alive anymore.  There is no possibility of reunification.  I could get a call tomorrow that the adoptive parents have had a radical change of heart, and my hiatus is over.
I could get the call next week, next month, next year.... or I could never get it.  Limbo, and not the fun kind where you dress in Hawaiian Luau gear and lean under a stick.

I mean yes, as far as I know my kids are healthy and safe, but like any mother I worry when I'm not around.  I don't see them, there are no pictures up on facebook anymore, I'm blocked from any of their other social media, (they shouldn't have any at their age, but they do, but again, I'm not their parent anymore.) 
I have literally NO contact, no way to know if they are ok.  The best I get is when I write to the accused and he tells me how they are doing... because he gets to talk to them on the telephone.
Yes, that's right, the pedophile ex gets to talk to his kids on the phone, but I don't.  

I don't dare alienate him if I ever want to hear about ANYTHING going on in my kid's lives.

If I want my daughter to be happy and healthy, I am not supposed to speak to him, even her superficial knowledge that I have contacted him makes her very upset, she often acts out after finding out about it, (whether or not I tell her, she knows.)  

I have not yet contacted him since the case is over.  I don't want to start it up again for my daughter.  I feel worse for her than I do for myself at this point, those were her brothers, and she loved them more than anything.  Sure, they got on her nerves, but she really truly felt they hung the moon.

Before you shout how unfair it is... because no doubt, it isn't fair, remember something important.  Shouting that it isn't fair doesn't suddenly make the fair police come out and make things equal and correct.  Being fair doesn't mean justice gets served.  Being fair is a judgement.  What you judge fair I may not judge fair.  Justice, like all of the best things in the world, is subjective.

No vote, no world leader, no higher ranking officer can make this right.

I could write to the President of the US and he couldn't do anything to help.  It just is.  And, believe it or not, that's ok.

I miss my sons.  I cry for them every day at least for 5 minutes.  I know however that this has happened for some reason that I won't understand until several years in the future.

I just have to be patient and wait...Any day now...Any day now.

The things that take you by surprise... A song you used to listen to with the kids in the car comes on unexpectedly, sometimes it triggers a pain in your chest and a deep crying fit, sometimes you smile and think of the past, a time when all you needed to do was turn around to see the smiling little boy in his car seat.

It's ok, this happened for some reason.  I must be selfless.  My kids need stability more than they need me.  It becomes a mantra.

It's ok.  It's ok.  And believe it or not, over time, it is ok.  We are playing our roles in fate.  And for those who do not believe in fate, what has happened cannot unhappen.  I can't just wish this away.  So we come to the same mantra.

It is ok.

Why I can't/won't attempt to get my sons back

I get asked a lot of questions about this situation, but one of the most difficult and heartbreaking for me is when I am asked as to why I do not/did not fight for my sons, and why I won't go to court to get them back.

It's a complex issue, as with every single aspect of this particular challenge that has been thrown at me, but in no particular order, here is my reasoning. 

1. My rights were Terminated, having rights reinstated, although possible, is not likely in this particular case.
2. Constant changes are not good for children, even more so when at least one of those children is Autistic.
3. I am not the best decision for my children: my children have a better chance elsewhere.

First, and the most difficult to understand for most folks is why my rights were terminated.

It comes down to this, during the CPS case, it was discovered that I found my daughter shirtless in my living room with the accused.  He stammered a few excuses but finally landed on "I was inspecting a rash." which my daughter did have at the time.  It was assumed that I "knew or should have known" at that point that the accused was victimizing my daughter.  There were a few reasons I didn't.  Number 1 that was my husband, number 2 my daughter went along with his excuse, and number 3 my social queues are not what they ought to be, and I'll take any action/word/hyperbole to be literal, this is because as I mentioned before I am autistic, and I don't do the social thing very well.  

My lawyer decided when the autism came up on the psychological evaluation, there was not anything we could do to fight the case.  My choices were 2 simple ones: Give my children willingly to the adoptive parents, whom I knew loved my children as their own, or secondly to allow my children to end up in the DHS system, in foster care where I could not guarantee they would not themselves be victimized.

I made the best decision I could with the shit options I was offered.  This isn't my lawyer's fault, this isn't my fault, this isn't ANYONE's *FAULT*, this is just what happens.  Blaming the lawyer, or the adoptive parents, or me or anyone isn't going to solve the fact that this happened.  It just IS.  This is the way the law is designed to work.  In 2009, I was warned that this COULD be occurring.  I was not given the literature that I would have needed to determine there was a problem, but I also didn't seek it out.  If people want to blame someone, they can blame me, or CPS, or the man on the moon.  It won't change the fact that the law IS the law.  In this case, some folks feel that it didn't serve those it was meant to protect.  I don't feel like this was fair, but I feel like the world isn't evolved enough to see the grey in a black and white issue.  I don't feel like the law can be changed at this time.  I eagerly await a revision or 2.  It won't help me, but other women in the future.

For my second point, my oldest son is also Autistic.  Autistic folks do not do well in an atmosphere of constant change.  They NEED pattern, they crave it, they do not function well without it.  By changing up where the kids were living, that would be changing up something they have been living with and adapting to for 2 or more years now.  The Adoptive parents were chosen because outside of me and the accused, my children were taken care of over there the MOST.  My ex in laws know the best ways to take care of these kids.  They know their quirks and habits, they know what discipline works on them, they know the drill, they were quite simply the best choice for the boys.  They may have promised to let me see them and haven't yet followed through with that, but the fact of the matter is, they are being fooled and deceived by a sociopath.  If your son tells you something, if you WANT to believe it, you will... no one wants to believe their son is a criminal. So please, lay off them, too.  This isn't THEIR fault, either.  It just happened.  If folks disagree, let's get together and work toward changing the laws in regards to CPS.  They are victims too.  They had to give up their retirement in order to take care of my kids.  I'm sure there are ways they would have rather spent their time and money, but my boys are the world to them.  I know they are.  The reason they are keeping me away is that they feel myself and my new husband are a threat.  But they won't meet with him or me to talk to us.  The dialog is closed, and unless a third party somewhere has got a diplomatic tongue and can reopen it, it's gonna stay closed.

Third point, I am not the best choice for my children.  This is a bit harder for folks to grasp.  "But don't you love your kids?  Don't you miss them?"

This isn't about who loves the kids more.  This is about who is better equipped to handle the needs of three growing boys; a family with 3 adults, 2 of which work from home and the third who works overnights and therefore can be available when the children get home from school, or 2 adults who barely know if they are coming or going half of the time.  Bonus, the second adult in my household is someone my children have NEVER MET BEFORE.

It's regrettably just not the best fit.  Of course I love them, of course I miss them.  Of course I wish they could meet their step siblings!  None of that matters though.  It is no longer my decision to make.  The best I can hope for is a visitation agreement, and I am not even entitled to that.  

I prayed before his sentencing went through that the accused with take his fate with some grace.  I have accepted mine.  I can cry, I can call sour grapes all I'd like, but the truth of the matter is, the only thing that will heal this situation is time and patience.  If the adoptive parents never speak to me again, I can only hope that my kids come find me, and I know they will.  I have reason to believe they already are trying.  

It is painful to keep talking about it, because I've made my decision and people keep trying to get me jazzed up; fired up, DO something, TAKE A STAND!

All that "doing something"?  All that "taking a stand"?  All that is going to do is hurt my sons.  And if I keep telling my daughter I'm doing something to try to see the boys, and it falls through again, all that does is hurts HER.  The ball is in the Adoptive parent's court now.  They were so scared yesterday they had a police escort take them out to their car, and I know I haven't been threatening.  So, if you haven't been, please just LEAVE THEM BE.  Remember, they are victims in this, too.  They just don't know it yet.

NOTHING is black and white.  All situations, no matter how plain, have a touch of grey.  This whole thing is a big grey smear, and people like to focus a lot on the black or white in that grey smear.  It is, for lack of a better term, a pencil mark.  This case is not a case of winners.  We all lost big time.  We are talking broken shards here, though.  We are talking Mosaics.

We take our strength, we stand up on it, we say what we feel.  We tell the truth.  We don't point fingers, we just state facts.

My daughter, about a year or so ago had a speech in one of her classes talking about her experiences.  She told the prosecutor about it, and he mentioned it during sentencing yesterday.  He mentioned that her scars that are on her arms from cutting reminded her to be strong.  What she didn't mention to him, is what all the kids in class called her.

She wrote the slurs on her arms.  She was called a whore and about 20 other unbelievable, unspeakable things.  In the midst of this, she ended up leaving that school district entirely.

There IS a stigma.  If you want to be idealistic and REALLY help my kids, you should fight for that. Remove the stigma.