“My mother was pregnant with her seventh child… and when I refused to continue raising her children, she called the police to have me arrested as if I were a criminal.”

The officer decided that I would stay with my aunt Helena while the situation was fully assessed by child protective services. I burst into tears of pure relief as my aunt hugged me, and I sobbed against her shoulder until my lungs felt empty.

My mother kept screaming that I was destroying the family and that my brothers would grow up to hate me for what I had done. But her words couldn’t reach me anymore because there were finally witnesses to the truth that had been hidden behind our front door.

I slept for twelve hours straight that night in a bed with clean sheets that smelled like lavender and peace. When I woke up, there were no babies crying for bottles and no piles of laundry waiting for my tired hands to wash them.

The following weeks were a blur of social workers and interviews where my teachers confirmed that I had been struggling to stay awake for months. Even the lady at the local grocery store admitted that she always saw me buying the diapers and milk instead of my mother.