Part 1 of 3 - Heather's Story: The Beginning of the End of the Beginning

The words came at me rather abruptly at 5:00 a.m on Sunday, January 16, 2011.  “Anna!  Anna! Are you awake?  ….  Anna. Heather is dead!”  Just like that.  No other information.

All I could think to say was “My Heather?  How do you know?”  There was something about a car accident in Texas.  A horrible crash.  A broken neck.  Dead on impact.  Rain.  Phone calls.  No one was with her.  Thoughts raced through my head.  But no tears.  Yet.  

The next few minutes were a blur. I was in Tennessee with one of my college-age daughters.  I called my husband who was at home with all of our other kids. My friends helped me load up my car and then I had to wake up my 20-year-old daughter and tell her.  I told her just as matter-of-factly.  Her sister was dead.  Gone.  There was no hospital to rush to.  No last goodbyes.  No tears.    Just the news that the child we had adopted and poured into for 12 years… in fact 12 years to the day – was gone.  Forever.

        

I can’t say the news of Heather’s death was a total shock.   The truth is that I had always been afraid that she would take her own life.

Heather’s story was somewhat tragic. It was no more or less tragic than many children born into this broken world today.  But the fact that she is one of many does nothing to lesson the impact on her life.

Born to parents who were physically and mentally unable to care for her, she was moved from home to home a total of seven times.  When we finally adopted her, she was six-years-old and had been diagnosed with Attachment Disorder – which is basically the inability to trust other humans.  She felt abandoned and unloved and it impacted her every day of her life.  

Many nights, even when she was young, I went to bed praying that none of my children would have to find Heather if she finally lost all hope and decided to end her life.  Of course, I did everything reasonable to prevent her from killing herself – including sleeping on a mattress outside her door. But the older I got and the more experience I had with troubled kids, the more I knew that I couldn’t really stop her if she was determined.  I couldn’t be with her 24 hours a day.  I couldn’t control every thought and emotion that might drive her to such a drastic action. 

That’s a pretty tough thing for a mom to accept, but I had. Or at least I thought I had.  I will never know. 

Nonetheless, acceptance didn’t stop me from trying to draw a line in the sand with God. I didn’t share my fears about Heather with anyone other than my husband, but I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone other than me finding her body. I prayed for Heather.  But I also prayed for everyone else. 

And when her sisters were overcome with sadness because they couldn’t make her understand how much she was loved.  How many people cared.  How much God loved her.  Why her choices were so bad for her.  All I could do was try to get her sisters and friends to see what had taken me years to figure out – we can’t control others.  And we can’t take the blame or guilt for their thoughts and actions.  We can only do what God is telling us to do and let Him work out the rest.

After her death, I learned that – for the most part - Heather had given up thoughts of suicide by age 14– but only because she thought of that as a cop out.  Another failure.  Another disappointment.  And she didn’t want that.  She wasn’t willing to fail God in that way. But I didn’t know that until after.

So, learning that Heather had died instantly of a broken neck in a horrific car wreck was almost a relief.  I can’t believe I’m saying that, but compared to the images I had of finding her dead at her own hand, it was better.

Moreover, it was no surprise that Heather was driving to Texas in the middle of the night.   By herself.  With few plans.  To see the boyfriend that had been cheating on her --because she felt absolutely compelled to find out if he really loved her.  We knew this would happen eventually.  My husband and I would say to each other – “It’s not a matter of if she will try to sneak off to Texas to see him – but when.”  We knew.  Because we knew Heather.

The truth is neither her dad nor I ever liked this boy -- not because he had a troubled past and present – but because they both did – and that made them horrible for each other.  She had told us enough stories – usually when she was mad at him – for us to know that she had chosen love poorly.  So, when she asked our opinion, or asked for our help to further the relationship -- our advice made it clear that we were opposed to their relationship because neither person was better because of it.

As she did often, she accused me of only wanting to be around perfect people.  The irony of that statement just makes me laugh hysterically.  I’m an attorney, a teacher, a mediator, a coach of a successful competitive debate team, a mom, an educated person.  I am qualified to do many other things. 

But what I have chosen to do for most of my adult life is voluntarily foster and adopt and mentor kids, many of whom come from dreadful backgrounds and whose conduct is less than stellar on any given day.  Did I mention that I do this voluntarily?  Or that I never get off duty?  Or that I have no respite or reprieve – even in the middle of the night or when I leave home?  That’s why I laugh.    Practicing law seemed challenging – until I took on this job.  Mothering anyone - but particularly kids in these situations - is far more difficult than any paying job I’ve ever held.

So, for Heather to accuse me of wanting perfection was laughable.  I knew that.  And so did she.  But that didn’t stop her from saying that to push my buttons.  She used to say the same thing about being adopted – accusing us of loving our biological kids more than her.  It wasn’t true.  At least not in our minds.  But she said it often.  Usually when she was mad.

Right before Christmas this past year, a bunch of my older kids and adult children were in the kitchen and we were laughing about the dumb choices some of them have made.  Like the time my 21-year-old got mad at her boyfriend and drove all the way from Alabama to California  – with little money and a box of pop tarts – without telling anyone at all until she arrived.  The kind of stuff that makes a mother’s heart shake. 

But she was an adult.  Living independently.  Able to make her own decisions.  And as much as I don’t like them – they’re her mistakes to make.  Fortunately, nothing happened to her on the way to California, when no one knew that she was traveling.

But on the way home, when her father had her trip mapped out and he was in constant contact with her -- her car broke down in Arizona and my husband had to find a mechanic, have the car towed, and loan her money.  He also found her hotels and stopping points along the way.  All the stuff a good father would have done if he had known his 21-year-old daughter was traveling 2,000 miles by herself across country in a rickety old 1994 Jeep Cherokee with little money and a box of pop tarts!

A mother has her limits.

We were all in a jovial mood laughing about this and I say, “Okay guys.  There are some things a mom just doesn’t want to know.  If you are old enough to make your own choices and accept your own consequences and you want to do something crazy or risky – and nothing I say will stop you – then please don’t give me the benefit of knowing!”  

I explained myself,  “In other words, if I can’t stop you – don’t tell me.  Because I’m a mother and no matter what you say -- I will worry and be scared and not sleep.  So do me a favor and leave me out of the loop.  Make sure someone else knows in case you disappear unexpectedly -  but don’t tell me!  My heart can’t take it.”

And I wasn’t kidding.  I’ve learned that I prefer not to know what I can’t do anything about.  Call it self-preservation. 

Anyway, when I said this Heather’s face popped up from her cereal bowl and I saw a huge grin and I knew exactly what she’s thinking!  I immediately responded,  “No Heather, you cannot drive to Texas to see your boyfriend without my permission! Remember the part about being an adult?  You are only a senior in high school and I still have the right to stop you.  When you’re independent and self-sufficient – then you can make those decisions.” 

Everyone else laughed.  My tone was still jovial.  But Heather’s tone changed immediately.  She asked if I would drive to Texas with her.  I made a knee-jerk response, “Heather, you know I don’t like this relationship.  What makes you think I’d be willing to drive all the way to Texas for you to pursue this guy?  I’ve told you that if he’s worth having, he will come to you.  Just wait on him.”

Her tone turned bitter, “You don’t even know him.  You’re just listening to what everyone else says about him. How can you not like him? You just want everyone to be perfect.  I’m not perfect, so why would I expect him to be?”

Immediately, her sister Kat piped in to my defense, “Heather, she doesn’t know him because you hid him from mom and dad the entire time he lived here. You knew that he wasn’t a good guy for you and that your friends didn’t think it was a good relationship either.  So don’t blame them for that.”

Heather got even angrier.  Her sister was also her best friend.  She had known this boy as long as Heather had known him.  Her sister knew his history and his present and she never liked them together -- which made it really hard for Heather.  It’s one thing if your parents don’t like your boyfriend, but it’s a real pain when your sister and friends agree. It kind of takes some of the joy away.  But with good reason.

I looked at Heather and laughed, but I was no longer jovial.  She had pushed my buttons -- again.  My tone was now serious, “Heather.  She’s right.  You hid him from us because you know the truth.  And I’m not going to spend my valuable time driving all the way to Texas and back for a relationship that I already know is bad for you.  By the way, everything I know about this boy that I don’t like is what you told me.  He hit you.  He hurt you.  He cheated on you.  He is a player.  He and his parents have a bad relationship.  He was arrested for hurting someone else.  What more do I need to know to know that this is not the right boy for you at this time in your life?”

I continued with my lawyer logic – which never goes over well with my kids or my husband.  “Heather, if this boy was my child, I would pour into him as much as I’m doing for you.  I would tell him the same things I’m telling you.  I would love him as much as I love you.  But he isn’t my child.  You are.  And I can’t do for him what I can do for you. Ya’ll are bad for each other because you don’t make each other better.” 

She stomped off mad – like she typically did when she wasn’t going to convince me to change my mind. 

So, while we did not ban her from the relationship – as if we could at her age –  her father and I did nothing to encourage it.  When he moved 800 miles away from her it felt like a blessing.   Being out of each other’s physical presence was helpful and I felt like the relationship would end naturally due to the distance.  But Heather held on to whatever shreds of love she thought she could manage – even when they didn’t speak to each other for long periods. 

I tried to convince her that if he really loved her – he would find a way to come to see her.  That she would regret pursuing him because she would never know if he really cared enough to sacrifice for her.  Ironically, her friends said exactly the same thing.  But Heather couldn’t wait. 

She told me she couldn’t wait on him because he might not come.  And she couldn’t bear knowing that he didn’t love her enough to keep his promises to her.  In other words, if she drove to him - she could pretend like he cared as much as her and she would never have to find out the truth.  A truth she was afraid to hear because it if he didn’t come – she would feel abandoned once again.

And that belief - that he might not come -  led her to choose to drive to him and ultimately, to her death.

Parts 2 and 3 will follow simultaneously.