Shattered

By Jenell M. Jones M.Ed.

With the trajectory of today’s society, we can all agree that parenting is difficult. Choosing to foster and adopt proves to not be an easy feat. Parents are in constant competition with societal influences and sometimes feel it’s an uphill battle. These same parents are often told they will be supported in the rearing of their children and that adequate resources would be made available. But what happens when you discover the system that promised to help you, would betray you? What happens when you decide to enter into another realm of difficulty – fostering and adopting children who come with mental and physical baggage? Meet Jenell Jones, an adoptive mother who is still trying to find the answers to these questions. In these pages, you will see through a mother’s eyes as she shares her deepest pain for her daughter, “Mercy.” In the end, justice is necessary and peace is questionable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823000321

Jenell M. Jones M.Ed.

Jenell Jones is an early education entrepreneur, currently operating multiple early learning centers, which specialize in providing high quality learning experiences to children who experience trauma in low-income areas. Her education background includes earning a bachelor’s degree in Business Management and a Master’s in Curriculum and Instruction with an emphasis on autism spectrum disorders from Arizona State University. A native of Phoenix, Mrs. Jones has provided her expertise to families for the last decade and currently hosts private discussions with other foster and adoptive parents on current issues affecting the nontraditional home. Through her life experiences, passion is the source by which she governs herself to make a difference. The goal is not to be perfect but to assist others in rising through difficulties. Mrs. Jones’s blueprint of success can be summed up in a few statements: Be tenacious, be kind, be loving, but most of all…be forgiving.

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© 2023 Jenell M. Jones M.Ed All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/20/2023

ISBN: 979-8-8230-0031-4 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-0033-8 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-0032-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023901854

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

DEDICATION

To my wonderful children, Cedrick & Mercy

I dedicate this book to you. I have loved you more than you could

ever know, I want the best for you. I am so incredibly proud of each

of you. All unique, all beautiful and brilliant. You are my heartbeats!

I know you wonder why I do what I do, why I stay—why, why, why!

This book hopefully will give you answers.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Preface

Introduction

Meeting Little Nikki

The Visits

Michael’s Mom

Breakfast

The Shelter

Mercy’s New Parents

The Examples

Mercy’s New Big Sister

Another Kid Just like Mercy

Mercy’s New Eldest Siblings

The Eyes on Mercy

Is This Normal?

The Little Thief

The Ultimate Chase

Cannot have Perfect

Prior Hospitalizations

Compassion and Astonishment for Mercy’s Past

Exhausted Mama

Back to Mommy Life

COVID Side Effects

The Not So Perfect Easter

Am I Overreacting?

The Meltdown

Commands

From Bad to Worse

Isolation

Mercy’s Biological Mother

Denials

Back to Arizona

Escape

Jacob’s Law

The Unimaginable

Broken

Arizona Crisis

Facing Mercy

Elope

Against All Odds

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Rolanda, you may never know how those talks ground me and push me forward! You have always looked me in the eyes and made me see. The honesty in this book was birthed from the honesty you made me have with myself. Thank you for not allowing me to be a victim. Thank you for making me fight when I wanted to give up. Thank you for making me take care of myself! Thank you for being my travel friend! God bless you, cousin!

Delisha, Rhonda, Sarissa, Alyssa, and Michelle, because of you I can do this. My gratitude cannot be expressed!

Pastor Robert! God gets all the glory, but thank you for being the vessel that has been my example thank you for taking the time to put me back together again.

First Lady Pat, thank you, my dear friend. I love you so much!

Mom, I am who I am because of you and your sacrifices! I love you!

Dhara, without you this would not be! I cannot express my appreciation enough! Thank you for the encouragement and push!

Eboni. Girl! The transformation! God bless you, the intercessory on my behalf. I appreciate you. Thank you for letting God use you. Thank you for being a safe place.

PREFACE

I acknowledge that my story may not be unique, but the journey is one that must be shared with the masses. I know there is an audience of mothers, fathers, and children who have experienced situations that mirror mine, and I am choosing to express my story because a change must come. The laws and political views that affect parentless children are outrageous. Who are their advocates? Around this country, hundreds of adoptive parents are petitioning for the rights of all unwanted children in the world. Who is going to care for them in a manner to make them healthy productive citizens?

These children will be released into society without real treatment and real care. The abuse and neglect that come from systems meant for protection must be held accountable for their actions.

As I sat down to complete this book, I held on to the knowledge that my adopted daughter was placed in a confinement cell in an out-of-state facility due to her behavior.

I, like many adoptive parents, wish that unconditional love, safety and security, and hugs and kisses would be enough to save our child. I, like many adoptive parents, thought that pretty dresses, fun toys, and fancy bows would make my daughter whole. I, like many adoptive parents, wish that every child who is taken into our homes and given a belly full of food, is changed for the better. But years of neglect, abuse, and facing an unjust system prior to the entrance into a new world, a new family, will erupt in the fabric of a child’s DNA, causing them to change before your very eyes.

My life was changed, my family was changed. Our entire structure as a family unit would be compromised. Those who would benefit from our pain would come from the highest levels of child welfare institutions. They would proclaim to be looking into the interests of our child, but all the while would be collecting these young bodies as numbers.

This is our story.

INTRODUCTION

A home is a place where a person feels wanted, needed, and cared for, something I had longed for my entire life. It has always been the ideal safe place, filled with love and support for freedom of expression. The idea of home is what I have dedicated my life to building. Could it have been because I had not had a homelike experience while growing up? Could it have been that I had lacked the support and love I needed to grow into my own? The immediate answers were not easily found, but I vowed to create an environment that was different than my previous experiences.

My childhood was not an ideal one, but it was not always that way. Early on, I saw stellar examples of traditional male and female roles within a household. My father worked, my mother was available, and we children were happy. Soon the roles would reverse, and I would question the identity of a family due to various incidents. My father would no longer be able to provide for my siblings and me like he should have because of his need to fill his addiction. My mother would work eighty-hour weeks to make ends meet and supply our basic needs. There would now be an imbalance.

As an adult, I wanted to create a home structure of my imagination for others because I knew that there was more to a house than the construction. There were elements that could not be nailed and painted. It was more than the concrete that was poured between pillars. And if I could be transparent, I can admit that I am still building the residence of my dreams daily. My home changes as more people are added and subtracted from my life. Today my home consists of my husband Kyle, my three biological children, my two adoptive children, my stepdaughter, and my nephew.

I am Jenell Jones, the creator of my strong, inclusive, African American, and Christian home. I have a huge family, and everyone in my family—whether I birthed them physically or not—is wanted, needed, and cared for. I am willing to sacrifice anything for my family, and I strongly believe that raising children is what God has empowered me to do.

While my children were younger, I stayed with them and ran an in-house childcare center. I watched and cared for other children for Valley of the Sun (greater Phoenix area) working parents. It would not be until Cheri, my youngest biological daughter, went to kindergarten that I would purchase my first day care facility. Over the years, I have owned and operated five day cares and a school, giving me more experience with dealing with children than the average human being.

Our property, a 4,300-square-foot house with four bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms, a huge driveway and a giant backyard, is in Arizona, and our driveway is filled with cars at any given time. These vehicles can belong to family members, nannies, house cleaners, caretakers, landscapers, therapists, tutors, etc., all who visit our home for distinct reasons.

During weekends our extended family, friends, and coworkers make this space lively and fun. My children are known for bringing friends over just to hang out. And who would not want to come? Our pantries are always full, there is someone to talk to at any time, plenty of toys and games to play, and lots of books and entertainment.

The patriarch of our family, my husband Kyle, is a military veteran who also comes from a big family himself. We both work hard to provide and to accommodate the lifestyle we have acquired and assist family to overcome challenging times. We are always there for our extended family and the church family, and it is our goal that our children grow with values instilled of love, gratitude, and respect, and that they become independent, strong, and hardworking individuals. But sometimes we do not reach our goals. Sometimes we sacrifice and plan, not knowing that eruptions are impeding in the near-distant future. You cannot plan for it, but you must bear down and take it.

This story is about my journey as an adoptive parent to Mercy, my second adoptive child, and how she became an intricate part of our family dynamics. This story is about the changes and challenges her presence and, most recently, her absence have brought to our home. This story is about the dysfunction within the adoption system and how laws and health care have changed our lives forever. It is a story that is raw and filled with emotional, disturbing, and traumatic experiences. It is a true story, written from a firsthand account and experience. The identities of my children are protected, but the realness remains. I hope that as you read the content, you will see the truth, you will hear the cry, and you will join in our quest for justice.

This is the story of Mercy.

Meeting Little Nikki

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O n a typical Sunday morning, my family and I headed to church for morning worship, which is our norm and custom. It was exceptionally hot that day because summers are brutal in the Southwest. The dry heat and the blistering sun made a five-minute walk from the car feel like an hour long hike. We were late, and I was moving very quickly.

I passed the sanctuary, clattering my heels along the pavement, and headed to the church lobby. I looked through the windows of another room as I passed through the hallway to see who was teaching Sunday school. It was then that I entered the church through the double doors, hoping not to direct any attention to myself. I tiptoed my way to the back row and sat down, acting as if I had been always sitting there.

And then I saw her. Immediately to my left, I saw a beautiful skinny, little girl with a shiny forehead. Someone had taken the liberty to douse this small one in a whole container of baby oil that made her shine. I almost had a little chuckle in my heart. We, as African Americans, love to look shiny, but it was obvious someone took that to the extreme. She was wearing pigtails and had a lighter skin tone for an African American child. Her eyes moved from one side of the room to the other. She had long eyelashes and was dressed in a perfect outfit. She sparkled from head to toe, and as I like to call it, she was church-ready.

As I listened to the service, I thought about her and how she was going to be a beautiful woman one day. I tried to see if I knew her parents or recognized anyone in the congregation who was kin to her. My initial glances did not bring any resemblance, but as I looked around her, I noticed that she came to the church with the Johnson family. The Johnsons often fostered many children. It was later that I found out that the little girl was one of their foster children who came along for the service. She was so beautiful and angelic, so I kept looking at her and smiling. She noticed me and smiled back every time. I would then wink at her, and she would winked back.

My husband Kyle noticed the interaction between the two of us: There you go winking again!

I smiled and chuckled at his response. At the end of the service, we briefly met her and came to know that her name was Little Nikki.

Several days later, Pam, my pastor’s wife, called me about Little Nikki needing a permanent home. Pam has known my family and me for many years and is a trusted voice for my family’s spiritual and emotional growth. Pam shared with us in-depth details about the Johnsons, who were an older couple in their sixties that only provided foster care to children. They provided foster care out of love for kids, knowing that, eventually, all kids leave their homes to be placed in permanent situations through adoption.

Pam described how Little Nikki was difficult to adopt because she was older (eight years old) and she was an African American child. Typically, parents prefer to adopt younger children because they can grow up in their homes and get used to their way of life. Older children are harder to train if they have never had a stable home. Her racial identity added another layer to the cake. If there was a noted checklist, Little Nikki was not a prime candidate for selection by a two-parent household looking to adopt. Because of this, she was constantly moving from one foster family to the other. Pam stated that she needed a permanent home and that my husband and I should consider bringing Little Nikki into our family.

The church was aware that I had recently adopted and was experienced with the adoption process. My professional background in childcare positioned me as an ideal candidate for Little Nikki. Even though I had not thought about adopting another child since we already had so many kids living in our home, I entertained the idea.

Our home was not a conventional one and was always full of extra kids, which we didn’t mind. At this time, our nephews had moved out. I would not describe this as extra space that was available, but it did make us think about accepting Little Nikki as our child. Our adopted child, James, was nine years old, and he needed someone his age since our other children were older. Since Little Nikki was a year younger, James and she would practically grow up together. I also knew that my husband adored our daughters Cheri and April. They grew up as daddy’s girls with him wrapped around their fingers.

Considering Little Nikki’s situation and being compatible in ideal housing situations, adopting her did not seem like a bad idea. Pam convinced me to further discuss this option with my husband with consideration of the connection Little Nikki made with us at the church.

Pam then informed the Johnsons about my impending decision, and I received a phone call later to discuss Little Nikki in greater detail. They described her as a good child, strong-willed, stubborn, and sometimes not very tidy, noting that she had improved many behaviors since she had been in their home. At the end of the conversation, we planned an official meeting.

With any adoption process, it is always wise to gain as much information as possible about the child you will invite into your home. This would also include getting information about the birth family. Little Nikki’s situation was extremely unusual in that there was little information shared with us from the beginning. My husband and I were simply given a binder filled with minimal records. This would be the beginning of years of investigation of who our daughter was and where she really came from.

The Visits

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D uring our initial visitation, we approached Little Nikki as friends so we would have the opportunity to get to know her. She was a little rough with her behaviors, but we knew this was typical of many foster children who have moved from one home to another within the system.

During my walk around the home later, I noticed the Johnsons had a chart on the refrigerator. It was a reward system that calculated points for Little Nikki and her behavior. I saw that Little Nikki had begun earning some points, and this allowed me to see the possibilities of growth in the future. It was clear that she was working towards self-improvement in small increments daily. The Johnsons did not stray away from discussing her behavior challenges, especially their struggles with maintaining discipline, but that did not deter me. My line of work had me face a variety of behavioral challenges, so I was accustomed to some outlandish behaviors. I felt secure in being able to provide and manage a positive relationship despite those issues, as I have done with other children in the past.

In subsequent days following our visit, we were invited to a roundtable discussion with Vanessa, Little Nikki’s caseworker. What we thought was going to be a meeting with just Kyle and I ended up being a meeting with her adoption team. This was completely unexpected and uncomfortable because the room was filled with unfamiliar faces. The Johnsons were in attendance, but we were also introduced to Little Nikki’s caseworker; her therapist, Jeanne; and the rest of her trauma team.

The room was a closed-in space that housed a conference-sized round table. You could only imagine the feeling of having all eyes on us. It was apparent that they cared because of the peculiars of her case. By the time she reached the Johnson’s home, Little Nikki had already been in over