“I was usually good at hiding the bruises, but one day I slipped up. ‘How did this happen?’ my teacher asked. I told her it was from carrying firewood. Minutes after I got home, a man in a tan suit knocked on the door — CPS. That was the start of my journey through 40 foster homes. I consider myself lucky to have beaten the odds — not for me, but for my sons. I’d relive my childhood a thousand times if it meant they’d never have to.”
