Returning to life at home was not easy. Beautiful Anne was coming apart at the seams so to speak. Her emotional state, her cravings, and withdrawal were not really subsiding. She called her boyfriend the baby’s father every day, and he called her every day as well, but it seemed to make Anne terribly anxious. The more he talked about life at the university in Missoula, the more panicked she became that he would move on without her and the sweet baby girl. She did take care of the baby as best she could, and I supported her the best I could. We continued the Gatorade, Ibuprofen, and anti-diarrhea medicine, but it was not effective enough. Anne had started to drink alcohol again and connected with the girls she was with when she had taken the Fentanyl. I didn’t know where to turn. I still didn’t realize what we were dealing with (the point of impact was OxyContin prescribed to beautiful Anne after the baby was born. A medication used for severe chronic pain as a last resort, not for a young teen who had a child with an uneventful vaginal birth. I didn’t realize that drugs and alcohol would take over your thoughts to such an extent that you would put yourself in harm’s way intentionally to try to get it and to take it.
Christmas was coming up, and Anne and the baby’s father came up with a plan to have beautiful Anne go to Missoula for Christmas break without the sweet baby girl. He would help beautiful Anne and get her away from the girls and others she had started to associate with at home again. I had no idea at this time that the girls and group she was associating with were helping Anne get not only alcohol, but benzodiazepines (benzos) such as Xanax.
Beautiful Anne, the sweet baby’s father, and I planned for her trip to Missoula for Christmas break. Beautiful Anne was so happy about this idea. She said, “Mom, I will just take one suitcase like I did when I went to Europe, and I will carry it on”. “Mom, can I get a few new things?” I responded, “Sounds like a plan to me!” We planned on going to the mall for some new clothes. I was so excited because it felt normal, like a dream, again I believed all would be Ok. During the next weeks, we planned to go to the mall a couple of different times, but due to Anne’s emotional state, drinking and taking various drugs (I didn’t know about), it was a bit chaotic. Day to day, Anne’s mood swung between happiness and agitation, then she would sleep for hours and be hard to wake up. I was struggling to maintain a home for beautiful Anne, my son, and the sweet baby girl. I was also working full-time as a university professor. Finally, beautiful Anne and I made it to the mall just a couple of days before she was to leave for Missoula, Montana.
We got dressed, and I loaded up the stroller in the car, and Anne grabbed the sweet baby girl and the diaper bag. Beautiful Anne had a pretty Vera Bradley bag for her diaper bag. I still have it. I remember us going to Victoria’s Secret to shop for pajamas. She saw some cute ones that were made like a pretty snow sweater. The bottom and top matched and were red and cream colored in a knitted snow sweater pattern. She loved them. I can see her in them now, smiling and lovely, so innocent, so fragile. I wish I still had them. We had the best time, we went to get Starbucks coffee and a sandwich after shopping, which we loved to do. She liked a caramel frappe, and I liked a non-fat mocha. We finished our drinks and sandwiches and headed home. Beautiful Anne was struggling after the day. She was tired, anxious, agitated, and she said she had body pain. I am assuming from the incessant cravings from the Fentanyl incident.
When we returned home, it was time to pick up her brother from school. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving beautiful Anne and the sweet baby girl at home alone to go pick up her brother, so I took them with me. Anne fell asleep in the car on the way to her brother’s school. Thankfully, the baby was content. Anne’s brother got in the car. He was always sweet to the baby girl. He would talk to her and always got in the back seat to be close to her. He wasn’t happy with his sister. He said, “Mom, why is she asleep?” with an angry, disappointed tone. Not that I understood all the complexities of what was going on with beautiful Anne either, but because he was younger and all he knew at this time was that things weren’t quite right. It made him nervous and somewhat angry with his sister. He had helped me the night his sister had taken the Fentanyl, but had no real concept of what that meant, and it was traumatic, so I am sure he was scared.
My job as a mom was to keep him safe, his sister safe, and the precious sweet baby girl safe. He didn’t feel safe. He knew his sister wasn’t herself, and she was very dysregulated every day, and it was increasing not subsiding. He didn’t understand why I didn’t take her to the doctor so they could make her better, or why I seemed to accept the way she was behaving. He had no idea I was afraid to take her to a doctor because of the Fentanyl incident. I was afraid a doctor might report it to the authorities, and how would the law handle the incident, and how might it impact the sweet baby girl ( would she be taken away or go to foster care? ), but the bigger issue was that beautiful Anne would not go because she was afraid of the same things and had tremendous shame! I could not make her go, and she was considered an adult at 17 years, emancipated, because of the birth of the baby.
The day came to take beautiful Anne to the airport to go to the University of Montana in Missoula. She was going alone. She was excited but unsettled. She and the baby girl’s father believed going to Montana would be best. I wasn’t certain, but with everything becoming increasingly more difficult. Managing work, the children, and Anne. I hoped this move might help make things better. In my mind, I knew beautiful Anne would come home, feel better, and be herself again.
I remember taking beautiful Anne to the airport. Her sweet baby girl and brother were with us, and the conversation was cheerful and hopeful. We arrived at the airport and decided to park the car and walk in together. Beautiful Anne started to cry. She was crying about leaving us. We walked into the airport, and Anne checked in. We went up the escalator to the boarding and security. We couldn’t help but talk about the funny story of how we had left the diaper bag behind when we went to Missoula, Montana, to visit the sweet baby’s father for Thanksgiving. We were extra vigilant not to make a mistake with any of beautiful Anne’s things. As I am talking about her going to Montana, I am tearing up. I see her beautiful, fragile, sweet face and the excitement she had because she also thought this trip to be with the sweet baby girls’ father was going to make everything better.
Beautiful Anne had her Gatorade, gum, diarrhea medicine, and ibuprofen with her in her carry-on bag to help fight off the Fentanyl cravings and withdrawal pain. My hope for positive change for beautiful Anne, by her going on her trip to Montana, was greater than my fear of it failing. I did trust the sweet baby’s father, and beautiful Anne believed in him, or was trying to.
She was headed to Missoula, Montana. A few hours later, beautiful Anne called from Colorado during her layover. She sounded both excited and nervous as she made her way through the terminal to her gate. She told me she had everything under control and had a good plan. Anne was so good at planning, and she was very quick-thinking. Anne had started reading at the age of 4 years old and went to a school for the gifted. She also had a lot of travel experience behind her. She had been overseas to Europe on a trip with a group called People to People (an educational travel program for exchange students) when she was in 6th grade. She went for 19 days. She had been nominated to go by her teachers. In addition to that, beautiful Anne had been to Europe and the Middle East (Jordan and Dubai) for business trips slash vacation time with me, her brother, and father. She was in her element, navigating the airport and feeling very good and proud of herself. Both she and I were relieved and felt like everything was going to get back to some kind of normal for sure! I was deeply grateful she called me.
Beautiful Anne arrived in Missoula, Montana, and the sweet baby’s father picked her up from the airport. He had to borrow a friend’s car to get her because he did not have his own car. Beautiful Anne called home every night to check on the sweet baby girl. She was having a good time and didn’t really talk about anything that worried her about being there with the sweet baby girl’s father. She didn’t talk about withdrawal or keeping up with her Gatorade, ibuprofen, and anti-diarrhea medicine. She met his new friends in Montana, and she seemed Ok with them. The sweet baby girl’s father didn’t call me or let me know anything was going wrong with the visit. No concerns about withdrawal, cravings, drinking, or any other drug use. I thought all was on the mend. I believed they would get married and beautiful Anne would move to Missoula, Montana, with the sweet baby girl and start a new chapter in her life. I was hopeful.
Part 6 – coming soon
