From Case Plans to Comeback

There was a time when I thought CPS stood for “Can’t Possibly Succeed.” I was a new mom at that time, and I was struggling with addiction and barely holding it together.

What I didn’t know then was that sometimes—rock bottom is the solid ground you need to rebuild everything.

My journey through child protective services (CPS!) wasn’t for the faint of heart. There were more court dates than I can remember, and they used language that I didn’t understand. There were social workers I didn’t want to talk to, and too many days in which I’d cried myself to sleep thinking about my baby. I was so terrified of losing the only thing that mattered to me, my son, Nova-Caius. 

I remember when I was in my hotel room in Fresno and my son was in the NICU. I was waiting for his feeding when I received a call from the CPS investigator that changed my life. The investigator told me that after all the information he had gathered, I would not be able to take my son home from the hospital, and that he would be placed “in the system.” The pain I felt is indescribable. It brought me to my knees, and I surrendered my life back to the Lord that day, and I have never looked back.

A fire was ignited inside of me to get my life back on track. Every time I had a visit with my baby, I knew I had to keep on fighting and praying, not just for my son but for me. I know my son didn’t need a perfect mom. He needed me to be healthy, present, recovering and healing. 

Recovery is no joke. There are moments when you feel despair, shame and guilt. The numerous group meetings you had to attend was wild, and living with 20-25 other recovering women—well, I’ll just leave it at that. Slowly, and with my faith growing, the people who believed in me, and a whole of inner work, things started to change. I learned that my story wasn’t over. I could rewrite it chapter by chapter, hug by hug, court date by court date.

One of the most powerful things that happened in my journey was getting my son back and becoming a parent partner. Although I didn’t have someone like that when I was in the thick of it, I know how much it would have helped. I became that person. Supporting parents who are walking similar paths that I know all too well—feeling scared, overwhelmed and just trying to put one foot in front of the other—I get to be living proof that it is possible to come out stronger on the other side.

We need more parent partners in this field, not just in the background, but at the table in decision-making spaces, and standing beside families as real, relatable supports. Because who is better to walk you through the fire than someone who made it out with the soles of their shoes still smoking?

Don’t get me wrong, I still mess up. I burn toast, I miss alarms, and sometimes I cry in the Target parking lot. But now I do it as a mom in recovery, a professional, a woman who is no longer bound by her past and what she’s been through.

I have transitioned into a new program called CARE Court, located in Sacramento, where I still serve as a peer support. I will never forget my time alongside parents and families who were fighting addiction and navigating the child welfare system.