Chapter 1

It was a cold night in Detroit on December 8th of the year of 1990. My dad rushed my mother into the hospital yelling for some one to help his pregnant girlfriend. It wasn't long before the nurses came running into the emergency lobby. They rushed my mother into ER. 14 hours later I was born through C-section. My mother held me in her arms while my father stood besides holding my warm tinny hand while my cousin stood in the back looking on quietly. "What are we going to name her?" My mother whispered to my father. "I don't know." "How about the name Janai." My cousin said. My mother and father smiled with overflowing hearts of joy and happiness. I intensely wrote as my father spoke of my birth. "You were the most beautiful baby I had every seen." My father smiles at me. "You were my little girl. My father sat in the big arm chair across form me. It was warm and cozy under my blanket on the couch. My note book was almost filled with notes on my years as a baby. I watched my hand swiftly move across the page as my thoughts and my father words flowed through my mind. "Why are you writing all this down?" My father asked me with curiosity. I looked up form my notebook. "Well I have this report for school on family events and I picked 'Years of a Child.' I thought what better person to ask." "Is this for when you go back to boarding school?" "Yes." "Well then, on that note let's move on." My father smiled at me. I smiled back.

My mother and I had been home form the hospital for a week. My father wasn't home most of the time. His job at GMC (General Motors Company) was very time consuming. My mother stayed with me. But it wasn't long before my mother left one night or morning according to my father, about 2 weeks later. My father woke one morning to find that my mother had gone. She had taken all her things and left. My father called friends and family trying to find where my mother had gone to. He was late for work by the time he dropped me off at a baby sitter's. "Don't quit remember the young woman's name." my father says. By Thursday two days had passed and there was still now sign of my mother. It was most clear that my mother wasn't coming back. For me or my father. My father had no chose but to place me in foster care. He wasn't able to take care of me with his long hours on his job. Tears rolled down my fathers cheeks as he pulled into the driveway of the Social Services building. They informed him that it would take at lest a week to finalize the paper work.

Soon the day had come. My father looked into my sleeping face one last time before letting the social worker take me to the car. "When I looked in you're face for the last time I knew that a storm was burring ahead." A tear fell from my father's eye. He quickly wiped it away. My hand had stopped writing and now my focus was on my father. "Dad you ok?" "Yea I'm fine. Let's move on." My father and mother had a very rocky relationship. The cause for that was my mother's love of men and drugs. These two components changed my father's future and dreadfully mine.