"Justice"

I just finished singing my babies to sleep. This is a fairly common thing for us, but tonight there was a big, huge difference. Tonight, I sang them to sleep over facetime, because they are at their dad's. They are with him and I couldn't stop it, I couldn't fix it, and I couldn't protect them from the situation, or from him. A judge ordered that they be with him tonight and tomorrow and the next night. A judge.

What is my life?

I got the permanent protective order. I "won" after EIGHT HOURS at court. The longest, most tedious, most terrible day of my life thus far, but I got the protective order. It's such a sterile place, court. No emotion or humanity plays a part there. In court, I do not feel like a human being, but a subject to be studied, to be placed next to the lines in a big fat book of laws and decided about whether or not I fit the criteria for one deserving of protection based on the section and subsection and number of whichever law. It doesn't matter how inappropriate or vulgar or insulting he is, only whether his behavior matches the article of law 38 dash 42 dot What Constitutes a Jackass 2.0.

I don't believe the judge was a horrible or even unsympathetic person. He was just doing his job and making sure things align with the judicial system the way it's laid out. "There," the judge seemed to say, "I matched him with the right line and number, so you get your protective order. By the way, even though he's obviously a psychopath, he gets the kids, because there isn't a line or number that matches with him not getting the kids."

But I won my hollow victory. I am now safe from him, in a manner of speaking. I am now protected from his harassment, his obsessiveness, his insults and threats. And then, right on the heels of my "protection" the kids are thrown straight at him with an order that he gets them for half of their Easter break because the order was only for me and not for them. So at 2:00 today, he picked them up, and they had to go with him. The last time they saw him they were being yanked against their will out of the church building by him, and now they are with him, without my protection. I asked his family to be there as a buffer, to try to provide other people there so the kids would feel a little safer. But they did not. They are all as exhausted from him as I am, but are not as invested in the well-being of my kids. So as usual, I stand alone in trying to protect them. Yes, I am feeling a little angry. Yes, I already see the lessons we will all learn from all of this, and yes, I already see the value in the struggle and the pain of it. I'll post about all that later, because right now, I am also irritated and upset.
(Addendum: I need to repent of my comments about his family, because I later discovered that they had, in fact, tried to be there much more often than they were. One got sick, and the other had communication issues with him, but still showed up and met them in town to get the kids some lunch and give them some respite from their dad.)

I prepared them, though. I knew this was coming and we went over our safety plans. They know what numbers to call and what neighbors to run to if needed. They know what constitutes unsafe versus just annoying. They know they have angels surrounding them at all times and that they only need pray to feel peace. I was very positive with them about the whole thing. I told them not to be afraid of their dad, that he loves them, that he would never hurt them, that he has been getting treatment and is doing better, now. I lie to them and to myself, because I cannot fix it, and I cannot protect them.

All I can do is trust God. They must learn to protect themselves and trust God as well. I prepare them the very best I can and give them tools and knowledge,

and then I let them go with their dad,

and then I curl up and cry and pray and cry and pray and pray.