There is a silence that only exists when the state takes your child and then disappears.
No calls.
No updates.
No help.
Just me—on one side of the system—and my child on the other.
I don’t know what she ate today.
I don’t know if she cried.
I don’t know who comforts her when she wakes up scared.
I know the case number.
I know the rules.
I know what I’m not allowed to do.
But I don’t know my own child’s daily life.
That’s the disconnect no one talks about.
No Response Is Still an Answer
I’ve reached out. Over and over.
Emails. Voicemails. Requests.
Silence.
When the state doesn’t respond, they call it workload.
When I don’t respond fast enough, they call it noncompliance.
There is no accountability for their absence—only consequences for mine.
There Is No Help Coming
Let’s be honest.
The government doesn’t rescue parents.
It doesn’t comfort children.
It doesn’t fix the damage it creates.
It manages cases.
It closes files.
It waits families out.
Any “support” offered is conditional, delayed, or taken back the moment you question the process.
No One Cares Like I Do
That’s the part that hurts the most.
Not the judge.
Not the caseworker.
Not the agency.
No one wakes up at night thinking about my child the way I do.
No one carries her absence in their chest.
No one counts the days like I do.
This is my daughter.
Not a placement.
Not a file.
Not a statistic.
And the system treats my love like a liability.
This Is What Legal Limbo Looks Like
It’s being expected to stay calm while being erased.
It’s being told to trust a process that won’t speak to you.
It’s being separated from your child without being given a path back.
There is no closure.
There is no finish line.
Just waiting—while my child keeps growing without me.
I’m Still Here
Even when the state is silent.
Even when the government doesn’t help.
Even when no one cares as much as I do.
I’m still her mother.
And I’m not going quiet just because they want me to.
Author: Alexis Landrum
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