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Well. Game over.
The battle is lost. The county just called. Based on the information they have, they do not feel it's worth it starting another investigation into my parenting skills. They don't feel I am stable enough for Pea's needs. They need to see a longer period of stability before they're willing to reconsider the matter. Which means that Pea is going into fostercare.
The fact that Pea is doing well right now is not important, apparently. They are going to uproot him completely because he might not do well in the future. Might.
Fuck it all.
They keep saying the task now will be to get him back home, but even if that happens, it probably won't be for another five years. Pea will be 9 years old, then. Jesus fuck. And how the hell am I supposed to learn how to deal with Pea's issues if I don't have him with me? "But you'll see him something like every other weekend." Oh, yeah, that'll teach me loads about how everyday life with an autistic child is. Loads. Not. Bastards.
Fucking fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
The fact that Pea is doing well right now is not important, apparently. They are going to uproot him completely because he might not do well in the future. Might.
Fuck it all.
They keep saying the task now will be to get him back home, but even if that happens, it probably won't be for another five years. Pea will be 9 years old, then. Jesus fuck. And how the hell am I supposed to learn how to deal with Pea's issues if I don't have him with me? "But you'll see him something like every other weekend." Oh, yeah, that'll teach me loads about how everyday life with an autistic child is. Loads. Not. Bastards.
Fucking fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
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