Jaylene Jones here.  Sorry I haven't written; I haven't felt much like writing ever since I made the heartbreaking decision to place Roderick, my son, in a residential center for severely handicapped children; but this was the only option I had.  I couldn't deal with the thought of me trying to take care of him by myself, so I put him there.

I have been helping out at the institution where my baby boy resides; I am learning to see past the horrible disabilities that these children face as the result of illness, accidents, or severe beatings/shakings that rendered them helpless.  It's not easy, but I am learning to see the beauty in these kids.

To look at my very own son and see others care for him is heartbreaking, but rewarding.  It is good to know that people genuinely care for his needs or his welfare.  They make sure that Roderick is fed, bathed, changed, medicated, kept comfortable and warm.  When he is ill, they do all they can to help him get better.

I have held my son in my arms, and most times I cry.  I think of the son I could have had:  a son who would learn to walk, talk, laugh, cry, run, play ball, tell me that he loves me.  Now he will never be the child I envisioned.  Roderick will always need someone to help him with getting dressed, fed, changed, or stimulated.  He is severely brain damaged due to my ex fiance', TaShawn, shaking him because he couldn't handle the baby's crying jags.

Now TaShawn is in jail for a while; if he will learn his lesson is anyone's guess.  I still blame myself for hooking up with him; if it were not for him, my son wouldn't be the condition he is in.  I could have had a much better life for him, and I often blame myself for not catching the warning signs sooner.

I don't know what Roderick's future is going to be, but I do know this:  it's going to be a very sad Christmas for both of us.  He deserves far better than what he has now, and I deserve to have my son with me, in my house, instead of living out his (damaged) life in an institution, where others care for him!

I don't even know if Roderick even knows it is Christmas; that's the saddest part of all.

I try to be brave for my little man; however, each time I leave, I always end up doing the same thing:  I cry. 

*to be continued.*