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I hadinto me at the sa anything in this type of situation is not a good idea I just wanted to sit through the inevitable questions and coo home, with DCF off my back, because that’s what happened before

But this time it didn’t

It didn’t because I was already on DCF’s radar, which I know sounds suspect Even the most laid-back liberal person starts to look a little prim when they hear that DCF is involved Their eyes n

arrow and their mouths purse and they say, well, what really happened? in a tone that suggests anything you say won’t be reason enough for someone’s child to be taken away, because only monsters have that happen to them

So here it is: the first time DCF was called, it was by Dylan’s father, Marco Dylan o years old and he’d started to demonstrate symptoms—of what, we didn’t know and still don’t Back then he was too young for noses—autism, ADHD, the nebulous PDD, or pervasive develop The pediatrician, when I took Dylan at eighteen months old, told us to wait and see, and I was happy to do that, relieved to kick that particular can further down the road But Marco had had enough of the sleepless nights, the tantruood reason and sometis that led to the aforeht, in boozed-up desperation, he called DCF and said he wanted to commit “voluntary relinquishment” He’d looked it up on the internet; it’s basically where you give up your own child

Fortunately, because I certainly didn’t want to give him up, and in any case, thankfully, it doesn’t actually work like that, no one took Dylan away Still, DCF had a duty to get involved, and so we received a couple of visits Our home, a shabby little duplex in Elmwood, was inspected, and ere referred to a pediatric psychiatrist all the way in Middletown, because none of the ones near us in West Hartford who accepted HUSKY—Connecticut’s Medicaid progra lists

I went to that first appoint it Dylan didn’t do well on the bus—Marco said he had to take the car to work, even though he’d known about the appoint wait, even with all the toys and books available, strung us both out evenhis head inroom, he was about two minutes away from a meltdown

And that’s just what he did, flinging hi woman with permed hair and deep frown lines, looked on and wrote notes; the scratch of her pen —about what a terrible mother I was?

“I don’t think this is going to work,” I said, as I both tried to catch Dylan’s ar himself and sound reasonable

“This isn’t about Dylan being on his best behavior,” she told me in a teacherish voice She leaned forward, her expression intent as she spoke calmly “Dylan, I see that you’re upset and tired Maybe you’re frightened because of this new situation But you cannot kick and hurt people, even when you feel that way”

Dylan didn’t listen to a word she said, not that he would have understood, at just two and a half years old It was undoubtedly all straight out of a parenting y 101, and basically useless when it comes to the actual moment, such as it was

I didn’t go back DCF called and asked why I’d missed the next appointment, and then they visited us at hoood day, so they finally left us alone For a while

The second and last time we came onto DCF’s radar hen Dylan was five By that ti—the playgroups, the story tio to, their worlds revolving around each other and their kids—cut-up carrot sticks, picnics in the park, wine o’clock for the mommies I saw it fro in our solitary bubble, because that orked

I’d stopped with the yearly well checks at the pediatrician’s too, because they were too difficult, and Dylan hadnext to hi to hi to work, either

Marco had left us when Dylan was three,do with sporadic visits that tapered off to basically nothing within a year, and Dylan and I didn’t go out at all, except for the library and the park, the occasional necessary shopping, and basically it sometimes felt as if, to the rest of the world, we had simply ceased to exist

Which hy it was a surprise when DCF called eighteen arten Those two h of a footprint for them to check up on us, presumably since ere already written up in their notes somewhere

I was annoyed, and afraid, and frankly totally fed up Ikilled by their parents, locked in cupboards or chained to a table, covered in cigarette burns and bruises, and somehow DCF leaves theunder their breath while they smile and ask their questions

That was the first time I met Susan and her kindly smile She came to my door and she looked so couard down She made me a cup of tea while I sat at my kitchen table and sobbed I hadn’t ht, for the most part, that I was fine Dylan and I both were