Perhaps We are all Stronger and More Resourceful under Stressful Conditions..

It has been said that a mother can move a car to save her child, I believe it. In life we often find ourselves effectively “sucker punched” when tragedy hits us-no one expects a traumatic event, domestic abuse, illness, a house fire are all unexpected events that a weakened economy only spirals the pre existing issues facing families struggling to provide for themselves and their children.

Yesterday afternoon I reviewed the first letter my niece, Stephaney Rene Mahaney has sent in 4 months while incarcerated in Cotton County Jail Watson, Oklahoma.

The last time I saw her was when she had come to my home for lunch and help to find a job locally. I dressed her in my clothing and accessories and was quite proud that this young woman I’ve often thought of as my own child had found not one, but two jobs while out with me. A few days later- she was missing.

Twins have a special bond and share many things, I know because I’m a twin. Stephaney was a difficult child who had gastrointestinal issues at birth and, was always smaller than children her own age. Although my sister and I found raising her challenging without a father, we had each other to lean on for support when even discipline seemed to have no effect on her, taking away privileges only made her more willful.

When she became pregnant with twins at the young age of 15, we were shocked, we regrouped and viewed this as a gift from God as we were the last living twins in our bloodline. We could do this I told my sister, you see we were both wary of the expense and, at our age, the energy it would take to help Stephaney with Maryssa and Makenna Mahaney. However, I knew that whatever happened, we would raise these children with love and a strong family unit. Neither my sister nor myself could have ever known that instead of “settling down” my niece went the other direction, choosing violent male companions who were often involved with drug use. We never allowed her “friends” around the twins, we were overprotective and, for good reason.

The letter she wrote me was I’m certain very difficult for her to pen. You see I had told her in a recent conversation that bad choices had put her where she is, not myself nor my sister who had struggled to hold this family together when the odds weighed heavily against us. I also told my niece that at some point these two little Texas Twins would forget they ever had a mother when she continued to spend their childhood in and out of jails for being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people.

No this wasn’t a pleasant conversation, but had to be addressed as our own mother had many years prior, lived the exact same lifestyle and, many years later, would never have the love of myself nor my sister who were abandoned with no one like ourselves to love not nurture us as Maryssa and Makenna do with my sister and I to love and care for them.

You see, tragedy is called tragedy for a reason. The reason is no one could have expected such dire circumstances. With teenage suicide rates on the rise, you step back and realize that without a strong community and support for our children, many families are forever broken and confused as to how or why their child would make such a horrific decision. Many parents who get called down to the jail also bail their kids out in the hopes they have “learned their lesson.” We did, again and again ourselves.

You see I am the Matriarch of this family, it is not a role I chose myself. Rather, this role was handed to me as a child to protect my sister when no one was there to keep us from harm nor, danger. My father was always at work and my sister and I cooked, cleaned and cared for our baby brother in his absence at the age of 6.

I learned early the importance of working and earning to save money for “emergencies” you see, having no savings when tragedy strikes teaches you to prepare for the next time should it ever come-I did and was never caught off guard from the time I was 15, working two or three jobs was more “normal” than simply working one.

Cindy, my twin often had the caregiver role while I was working and, after her daughters were school aged, went to work as well. When the twins were born, they had numerous health issues and the expense of child care prohibited her from working and earning additional income, I worked harder so help out financially but, it put the strain of full time caregiver on my sister as we lived 25 minutes away from each other. Sure there were nights when I would return home late from work and run to my sisters home to help cook, clean and remodel her home while my husband went to bed alone, again but his understanding of the unique relationship of twins taught him patience with me. You see, his best friend was an identical twin as a child.

May families eventually “give up” on children with mental illness or, an unsavory past. Believe me there were numerous times that not only my sister but also I considered turning our backs to focus on the tiny Texas Twins, but I would always decided to give Stephaney the one last chance to redeem herself in the hopes it would bring her back to the realization that her family needed her in their lives more than her unsavory associates that she called friends.

It would take me nearly three months to get her released from Watson Oklahoma into a treatment facility and, money. You see, I was the only hope of saving my niece from the prison she was headed to for being in a stolen vehicle with a male companion she didn’t even know the legal name of. Without the required “initial payment” she would have went into a system that I feared would forever taint her from being the child we had raised to know the virtues of hard work and the rewards of a living home, Stephaney is a fragile doll, a beautiful small framed and easily impressionable girl who wants everyone to like her and will give them or do just about anything to find acceptance from strangers or predators who often use this personality trait against their victims.

I knew the phone call advising her that coming home was not an option would be difficult, I also knew that it would be my place to educate my niece to the gravity of her situation.

The 9.99 initial fee every time you “put money on the phone” for an inmate makes every call home approximately 22.00 for families, it’s a very expensive toll for families with limited resources and, Cindy knew as well as I did that without the ability to call home and “connect” with our family, Stephaney would easily spiral down and lose hope. I budgeted wisely to ensure that there were always funds for phone calls and monies for commissary. Often, her cellmates would request a “three way” call at our expense to families that responded quickly ” how did you call here? We don’t want to talk to you.” Sadly, I heard these conversations as the call was being paid by myself or my sister who were on the line even if my niece couldn’t hear what was being said- we did. I told Stephaney firmly that phone calls were costing between $300-$350 a week during her incarceration and, I would no longer “three way” anyone who was cut off from family that perhaps had put themselves in the position as I could not afford to support the entire jail and neither could my sister. This was troubling to someone who had no idea what her incarceration was costing regarding the phone or commissary expenses for myself and my sister that easily ran anywhere between $800-$1200 a month.

Informed that she was pregnant while incarcerated would be another cross to bear, however I took my usual “glass is half full or half empty” approach when discussing this with my sister who was ready to pull her own hair out. Reasoning that even if she were actually pregnant, perhaps a child would ground her and keep her finally from the hands of sociopath men I told my sister that although we will be 50 in a few weeks, we still have the ability to help raise a child while informing my niece that when she did complete her required substance a use program, she most certainly would be playing the role of a mother and not one absent by sneaking off in the middle of the night to go run around and get into trouble with one of her “friends.” If she had this baby, she would be a responsible parent and learn the virtue of sacrificing freedom for the benefit of the child, something I had wished we had done when the twins were born. Is she really pregnant? We don’t know, but if she is, I need to prepare my sister for the possibility. Heaven knows the father is not a choice we would have ever made since it is the very same vagrant who got her into this mess by saying the stolen vehicle he was driving belonged to him and he would take her on a drive “for fun.”

Last night as I carefully packed my own shoes, stretch slacks, pajamas, books, Bible and made a photo book, I once again was reminded of a photo when my son and my nieces were preparing for Halloween that had me crying wondering how on earth that sweet little child had wound up in jail in Oklahoma! Carefully arranging articles in carry on luggage, I stopped to re read the letter I had received just a few hours earlier.

“Thank you for always sacrificing to look after my mom and the twins, thank you for always having money on my “books” and the phone to call home. I’m terribly sorry for all the mistakes I have made over the years, I want nothing more than to be home with you and my mom with the twins. I realize the stress I’ve put everyone under and am truly, truly sorry. I’m going to do what you said and turn this into a positive experience and change for good and forever. Thank you for breaking your back to protect and provide for my family, I would never have had an opportunity to go into this program if you hadn’t written the judge and the senator or, hadn’t had the money to pay for treatment, I’m forever grateful. I promise to earn and regain your trust, to start over even if it takes the rest of my life. This is the longest I’ve ever been separated from my family and I am so sad and lonely realizing everything that I took for granted, I don’t know what I would have done without you helping me to get into treatment. Thank you for looking after mom and the girls, and all your support even when I didn’t deserve it.”

As I drink my coffee and reflect on the places I have been (often, with my sister) the things that I have seen while again, trying to save my niece in crack houses and gang territory, I realize that I’m lucky we were never shot, kidnapped or raped while angrily attempting to do anything in our power to flip a switch and get that little girl back- God kept us from harm in the back alleys as we often looked everywhere to find her. My family gave up asking years ago “how is Stephaney doing?” They stopped caring, my sister and I never did and we also continued to tell those little twins to do well in school and make their mother proud, to draw photos so we could send them to their mother while “she was getting some help” and finally, to out them on the phone when she called home.

I never gave up, I couldn’t because I realized how easy it was for everyone else to. Was it hard on me? You bet your ass it was! Did I spend many nights wondering if she was dead? Yes and so did my sister while reading to those babies, bathing them and brushing their hair. Sometimes triumph begins when tragedy ends, tomorrow as we drive to Oklahoma, will be the first time we have seen my niece in months. We have no time to even stop for a meal as we drive 3 1/2 hours to a town where the Judge may or may not release Stephaney Rene Mahaney until after 1 to drive to the treatment center 4 1/2 hours away. You would think he would hear her case first, knowing this is our 6th trip to get the mission accomplished, knowing my twin has a broken tailbone and travel is difficult for her, knowing that Stephaney’s twin daughters have school but, lucky enough that her sister, Leigh Andrea Blais will (again) take care of the children while we are away taking care of Stephaney but, sadly, we have become accustomed to nothing in life being easy and we will be forced to drive “straight to the center in order to check in by 6 or, come back again Saturday to move her.” If I never see Watson, Oklahoma again after this rendezvous, it will give me comfort in knowing that a small town with blatant disregard for families of prisoners who endure long travels and much sacrifice to attend hearings at Cotton County to be reset or rescheduled and require “another trip” are as disappointed in a system that benefits $47.50 a day per prisoner and has no “hurry” to let them enter treatment or prison where private owned jails earn $67.00 a day to house them. You see, Watson Oklahoma is well known as the Bermuda Triangle for families and although my niece and the career criminal she had mistakenly believed to be her “friend” were arrested in Burke Burnett, TX they were transferred to Watson on the advice of the arresting officer? Ask yourself why? I am.