Since I was served divorce papers in Texas, I had to appear in court a week after I'd made the move to Birmingham. I had booked a flight before Dad and I left the Smith's, so it was just a matter of making sure the children were taken care of and taken care of they were.
The week before I flew out of Birmingham I managed to get replacement birth certificates, social security cards, blue forms, and the kids enrolled into Mountain Brook Elementary. During the collecting of my things, I neglected to take the filing cabinet with all of our documents in it. The cabinet was destroyed so I had to start from scratch. The stars were aligned and new files were created.
With the support of Jo and Gary and my good friend Beth, I was able to work some to help establish (to the court) the fact that I was already "dug in". I was not returning to Harlingen even though it was requested by the "other side". My new home was in Birmingham.
The court date was set on a Friday so I made it down to Pat's on Thursday night. This hearing was to prevent me from moving myself and the children to Birmingham. If ruled in his favor, it would only put off the inevitable - I was going to live in Birmingham! Besides that, I was already there! I arrived at the courtroom in Harlingen bright and early in my borrowed dress and shoes. I was nervous and felt my emotions rising up in my throat. This was it. I turned the corner and saw my husband's "team" of supporters, and I sunk. I had no one with me. I hurried to the bathroom, went into the stall and broke down. I was mostly hurt to see our counselor, the preacher man aka Woody, there on his side. As hurtful as it was to see him there, it explained my instincts about the counseling to begin with. He didn't offer counseling to support me too. He was there to try and fix me. Aren't counselors suppose to be neutral?
In less than ten minutes I dried my tears, gave myself a good pep talk, pulled up my big girl panties again and marched right out of that bathroom with my head held high. I stood within eyeshot of the other side and occasionally glanced at his whispering team of supporters. I finally went into the courtroom and listened to the other cases to pass the time. When the case of "Owen vs. Owen" came up, the two attorneys represented each of us and within a matter of thirty minutes, the judge ruled that I did not have to move back to Harlingen. Child support was established *whoopie cushion noise* and I was free to go.
On my way back to Pat's I stopped by Houston Elementary and talked to Sean's first teacher, Sylvia. I was thankful for being able to look her in the eye one last time and let her know what she meant to all of us.
By the time I made it to Pat's house the tension in my shoulders lessened, and my thoughts about the morning were farther apart. It was hard to believe that a month earlier I was planning a more peaceful, agreeable end to my marriage.
Turned out that the court date was scheduled on the same day as Jack's birthday party so even though I was not in the best of moods, it was a wonderful distraction.
I flew home the next day to face a harder truth. Sean still had autism.
