My heart shattered into pieces when my nine year old son, Eli, carefully placed one hundred and forty six dollars from his birthday savings on our kitchen table and gently asked if he could remain in our home for just one more month. I was utterly exhausted and still recovering from an emergency surgical delivery of my newborn twins, Nora and Ben, but I immediately noticed the color drain from my husband Grant’s face. My mother in law, Marilyn, suddenly froze in place beside the coffee maker. I had never once discussed sending my oldest
child anywhere, yet the other adults in my kitchen were acting completely guilty. Eli tearfully explained that he wanted to help pay our family expenses and promised to be extremely useful around the house so he would not be sent away. A deeply sickening realization washed over me as I discovered that Grant and Marilyn had secretly arranged to send Eli to live with Marilyn’s sister, Ruth, in Toledo. They had already packed his belongings in cardboard boxes and planned to remove him from our house that coming Saturday, entirely without my knowledge or consent
