Wards of the State

By Audrey Viecelli

In this book, I reflect on the persistent questioning I've faced over the years regarding our battle with The Department of Children and Family Services, and the troubling accusations of child abuse. After years of consideration and with the support of my family, I have decide to document our experiences in detail for the first time, including excerpts from medical files, in order to provide transparency and clarity about our situation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Audrey Viecelli
• Release date: Feb 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215594223

Audrey Viecelli

Audrey Viecelli is a resilient writer hailing from the heart of Texas, where she navigated the challenges of growing up in a divorced household. Despite her own battles with mental health and custody struggles, Audrey found solace in nature. As a mother of two remarkable children, Audrey's life experiences enrich her work, offering readers insight into the human experience and the strength found in overcoming life's obstacles.

Book preview

When I initially began writing this, my intention was to provide answers for my children, recognizing that life is unpredictable, I wanted them to have clarity even if I or my mother were not around to provide it. However, as I delved deeper into our experiences, I realized that our story might resonate with others facing similar challenges, leading me to turn it into a book.

I understand that some aspects of our story may be difficult for readers to digest, and there may be judgment passed upon us. Not everyone will comprehend my inner turmoil, the complexities of my relationships, or the nuances of the child welfare system. And that's okay. Everyone is entitled to their own perspective, but I do encourage readers to approach this book with an open mind.

Chapter 1

Emerging from the bathroom, clutching the positive pregnancy test, a surge of joy enveloped me. Our family was expanding, fulfilling my childhood dream of mothering multiple children. With pride, I shared the news with Colt, who was overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a father again. Taylor, too young to grasp the news, protested with adorable fits of no.

However, our excitement soon gave way to apprehension as I continued to experience hemorrhaging throughout the first two trimesters. Multiple doctors warned us that I might not carry the pregnancy to full term, citing the frequent hemorrhaging as evidence. They theorized that my body was attempting to expel the baby, suspecting the fetus was not viable. Despite lacking concrete medical evidence, their beliefs weighed heavily on us.

Yet, as I surpassed the six-month mark, ultrasound results debunked their assumptions. It turned out that the cause of the hemorrhaging was a condition called placenta previa. Apart from some extra fluid in Luke's renal cavities, he was perfectly healthy.

Two nights before Luke’s birth I laid on the bed, studying Colt and Taylor’s faces, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight streaming through our bedroom windows, a rush of emotions engulfed me. Taylor’s curly hair framed her innocent face, and the sight of her sweet, chubby toddler cheeks brought joy to my heart. Colt, lying on his side, slept peacefully, his gentle snores filling the room. Our journey had been far from perfect, but in this quiet moment, the love that bound us together, seemed to shimmer.

Reflecting on our past 10 years, memories raced through my mind like a bittersweet movie. Our early beginnings, introduced by my best friend, Amy, Colt's neighbor, at the time, stirred a flutter in my stomach. I recalled the more innocent days when Colt, perched on Amy’s bed, nervously asked me to be his girlfriend at the young age of 11. My heart quickened as the memory of our first kiss just after I turned 12 crossed my thoughts. Those early years were marked by a deep, consuming love, the kind that makes you yearn to be intertwined with one another, a love that feels like an unbreakable tether.

Sadness briefly overtook me as I continued down memory lane. After a short, yet blissful summer, circumstances tore us apart; My mother’s job relocation forced me to move away without a proper goodbye. We lost touch, our connection fading into the background. It took two long years, but fate intervened, and I moved back to Texas to live with my father. Colt was in another relationship however; he swiftly ended it upon learning of my return. Our connection reignited effortlessly, as if the passing of years had never existed.

With dreams as young and vibrant as we were, we beautifully navigated the challenges of teenage love. He aspired to follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather by joining the military, while I envisioned my future as a devoted stay at home mom. Our dreams, beaming with happiness, formed the foundation of our unwavering commitment. Our relationship deepened, as we embraced sexual intimacy at the age of 17, solidifying our plan to have a child together.

The joy of holding a baby bump under my high school graduation gown flooded my thoughts. Remembering the feeling of the anticipation of our first child. Followed by recollections of Taylor, at six months old, cheerfully watching during Colts high school graduation- each chapter filled with happiness and love.

As we embraced the challenges of parenthood and marriage, at such a young age, the comfort of my father’s house eased the transition. Parenthood seemed to come naturally to us; a well-crafted schedule kept our roles as parents in harmony. Unfortunately, amidst the demands of parenthood, a strain formed on our personal relationship. Parenthood overshadowed our commitment to one another, as well as our individual personalities. I buried myself in maternal responsibilities while Colt tirelessly worked to secure our financial stability. The stress led to frequent arguments, compounded by the suspicion of infidelity. After Taylor’s first birthday, I made the heart wrenching decision to part ways. Searching for a fresh start, I moved to Las Vegas with my mother to attend college. Colt remained in Texas for a brief period before eventually joining us in Las Vegas, just before embarking on his military training.

I reminisced about the time Colt, and I spent apart, the ache of distance, the guilt of taking Taylor so far from her father, and the gradual rebuilding of our relationship from afar. However, challenges only seemed to strengthen our relationship. Reunited, we embrace our roles as a military family, facing uncertainty and rumors of a possible deployment, with unwavering support for one another.

As memories unfolded, I grinned at the triumphs - the joyous entrance into our military home, overcoming past issues, and the announcement of our second child. The struggles and insecurities cast shadows, but the love we shared shone brighter. Tomorrow, my parents would arrive, marking the beginning of another chapter, as we eagerly anticipated the arrival of our son, Luke. Despite the imperfections our happiness overshadowed the hardships, creating a beautiful picture of love and memories that would last a lifetime. As I closed my eyes, the anticipation of Luke’s birth and countless memories yet to be made with our growing family, filled me with gratitude and warmth.

Chapter 2

Our faces adorned with the brightest smiles, we stood side-by-side, my mom, snapping a picture of our final moments as a family of three. Taylor, snug in her daddy’s arms, completed the charming photo. The anticipation of change lingered in the air as we posed for the last picture before our family underwent a transformative expansion. My belly, stretched to its utmost limit, cradled the promise of a new life, while Taylor’s petite two-year-old frame found security in her father’s embrace.

As my mom expertly framed the shot, the atmosphere oozed with pure bliss- an indescribable feeling that permitted every inch of our being. The photograph immortalized the beauty of that moment, frozen in time, with a smile that spoke of love, excitement, and the imminent arrival of our son, Luke.

In just a matter of hours, our family dynamics would shift. Another child would join our ranks, and Taylor would embrace the role of being a big sister. The day marked the beginning of a new chapter, the day Luke would make his entrance into our lives, adding a fresh layer to the history of our family story. The radiant joy captured in that photograph foreshadowed the love and warmth that would envelop us as we welcomed our newest member.

Amidst the beauty of that captured moment and the noticeable excitement, a current of nerves surged through me. The impending reality of another major surgery, a planned C-section, cast a shadow over the joyous anticipation. Before leaving for the hospital, Colt and I shared a loving goodbye with Taylor, promising her that in just a few short hours, she would meet her baby brother.

Hand-in-hand, we walked from our front door to the awaiting car. With a gentle kiss and reassuring words, Colt opened the door, encouraging me, let’s do this, mama. Time to have this baby. As I waddled into the passenger seat, the weight of the moment settled in. The click of the seatbelt served as a symbolic embrace of the journey ahead, and with those small significant actions we were on our way.

The engine hummed to life, marking the beginning of a journey that held both anticipation and a hint of apprehension. As we merged into the flow of traffic, the reality of another C-section unfurled before me. With each passing moment, the excitement of finally meeting our newest family member eclipsed any lingering nervousness that I had.

The news that Colt could not be by my side while I received my spinal tap for the c-section intensified my anxiety, a startling contrast to the support he had provided during the birth of Taylor. I braced myself, legs spread and straddling the table, I leaned forward to expose my spine. The room echoed with a stern command from a staff member demanding me to bend over further.  Before I could voice my discomfort, the nurse pressed his weight onto my shoulders, forcing my pregnant belly further between my legs. The feeling of Luke’s body being pushed into my lower region sent electrifying pain through my pelvic bone, a sharp pop, resonated from my hips as waves of pain radiated through me. Gasping, I began to cry, the intensity of the moment overwhelming me.

With an attempt to reassure me the staff member said, it’s OK to be nervous. However, my tears weren’t born from nervousness; it felt as if my child had been forced into my pelvic bone, feeling like it had caused my pelvic bone to dislocate. I desired to express my pain and frustration. However, I bit my lip and held my breath, bracing for the needle in my back.

Still in pain, I lifted my tear-stained face, and turned towards the door, where Colt stood watching through a small window. Although, barred from the room, he watched and silently mouthed words of love, providing a lifeline amid my isolation. Every move of the medical team was under his vigilant observation.

The weight of the staff member pressing his weight on me finally lifted, allowing me to relax. A voice in the room declared, all done, as another attendee assisted me in lying flat on the operating table. The ordeal was over, yet the emotional echoes lingered, a stark reminder of the challenges endured to bring our newest family member into the world.

As the door swung open, granting Colt entry, he navigated through the bustling crowd in the room with determined strides. Making his way to my side, he positioned himself to the left as a blue drape was hung over my chest, shielding me from the view of the impending operation. His large hand gently laid on top of my head, offering a reassuring touch as he whispered, you got this, babe, his eyes filled with unwavering belief. It was a small potent gesture, injected into the nerves that still lingered.

Despite my tear-streaked cheeks, I managed to smile in acknowledgment of Colts presence. Silence enveloped us as I strained to hear the sounds in the room, seeking cues about the unfolding procedure. Abruptly, a jarring, scratching noise disrupted the hush – a stool being dragged across the floor by someone. Gesturing for Colt to take a seat, they explained he needed to be seated near my head during the operation. Colt, familiar with the routine from Taylors birth, protested, insisting he would be fine, standing and observing. His pleas fell on deaf ears as they emphasize the importance of protocol and liability. Disappointed, Colt submitted, taking a seat with his hand, still tenderly rubbing my head. In the chaos of everything, his constant reassurance became a lifeline, a reminder that, even in the face of unforeseen challenges, I wasn’t alone. His unwavering support, both physical and emotional, created a bridge over the gap. Between anxiety and calm, reaffirming that, no matter the circumstances, we were a united front.

OK mama we are about to start, the doctor announced, cutting through the tension in the room. Can you feel this? He asked. I shook my head, acknowledging the