Tragedy of Childhood

** I copied this story from an old webpage and I’ve condensed it way down for clarity/simplicity. Even still, its a bit lengthy so you might wanna grab a cup of ‘joe’**

First let me say as tragic as my childhood was w/my foster family it could have been a lot worse. Kinda hard to believe but I’m digressing….

Birth – 1yr:
I was born in the early 1970’s to the not-so-proud parents of Wanda Clem & Roy Seymoure. My mother met my father while he was in the service and after he was discharged they married. I was the 2nd sibling at the time and an unwanted/unexpected pregnancy. My mother & father were hard core drug users before, during, and after her pregnancy. I was born 2 months premature and addicted to several drugs. I spent the first 9 months of my life in a hospital surrounded my machines and strangers. By some miracle, my mother managed to get me home. I’m sure the laws then were much laxer in relation to child/drug abuse. You’d think the issue w/my hospitalization would have been a wakeup call to my parents. Nope! My parents continued their drug habits. I would be left alone in an empty closet or an open dresser drawer for hours sometimes days at a time w/nothing but a pillow and bottle. When CPS (Child Protective Services) found me, I had a diaper rash from my neck to ankles. I was returned to the hospital for 2 months for severe dehydration and related ailments along w/multiple contusions/bruises all over my body. This time I was not returned to my parents. As luck would have it, my real mothers best friend, told my foster mom/dad about me. My foster mother told me once, she took one look at me and fell in love. My adoption was just a matter of formality after that. So I went from being the unwanted son of Mr/Mrs. Drug Heads to the first and only adopted child of Mr/Mrs White Trash Family Robinson. (yes, I’m poking fun here)
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