Archive for October, 2009

with the magoo being a year and a half old (i cannot believe i just wrote that), i find him constantly bumping into things, running into things, and banging into things.

he’s climbing, jumping, stomping, throwing… but not always in the “right” direction, though well intended.

as a result he gets the occasional toddler injury. a scrape. a bump on the noggin. a bruise on the knee. a bee sting.

ouch.

burn.

tender.

my mother-in-law said something to me recently about jackson that has resonated with me. she has noticed this new independent streak in jackson now that he has hit 18 months.

she told me how she watches him on the playground and he no longer needs her to guide him, protect him, watch his every move with an anxious eye. she told me that jackson will go play and then come and check in with her… then go play again.

and i witnessed this yesterday while i watched the magoo climb up the ladder to a slide by himself with my mother-in-law’s words in the back of my mind.

jackson never once whined for me to come assist him. he just did it, as though he has been doing it all along. i didn’t have to remind him to sit on his bum before sliding down. and he didn’t ask me to “puch mom.”

when he got to the bottom of the slide and hit the ground 1/2 on his diapered rear and 1/2 on his side, he looked up at me with his big brown eyes awaiting my reaction. i looked down at him and said “what hun?” then the magoo laughed and laughed and laughed himself into a frenzy.

the palms of his hands were a little scraped from the gravel. and today there is a small peanut-sized bruise on the side of his right thigh where he hit the ground.

but he’s climbing the ladder again.

sliding down again.

bump.

thump.

giggle.

Many thanks to Facefile.com for the warm welcome as one of their guest bloggers! You can read about my car seat conundrum over here.

Car seat comments are welcome!

he’s growing up… *cue tears* and yes, the hair is continuing to grow as well.

all material possessions aside, here’s what i own… i own my thoughts, some sane, others not-so-much. i own my words. i own my actions. i stand by my words and my actions. i stand by my thoughts, some of which (very rarely) go unsaid.

i own my outspoken nature, the stubborn bull that is my taurus… unrelenting, and willing to fight to the death for a cause. fight for a friend. fight to be unsilenced, to continue possessing my voice. a brash voice. an emotionally-driven voice. a typically strong voice that occasionally becomes a whisper.

even when quiet, when hushed, i find myself pausing to reflect on what i will next speak of. the voice in my head. the constant writer. the unrelenting creator whose mind is never quite turned OFF.

and i love that. i own that.

this last week has been one that began with venomous hatred, pointed fingers, and judgments mostly under the name “anonymous.” true or false, those were your possessions… that is what you own. you own your hatred of me. you own your mistrust. you own your confusion. disgust. rage. apathy. whatever it may be that you have experienced and felt as a result of my words and my actions.

here’s the thing though… this is not about you. my experience is mine and mine alone. yes, my story is one that was shared with you all; however, it’s not about you. none of this has anything to do with you personally. none of you were with me in the atlanta airport, though you may think you were because you got a 9-angle glimpse from a video immediately released on the TSA’s blog.

the blog that said i had been contacted multiple times by the TSA (which i’m still waiting for). the blog that said i had gone into hiding during the 6 hours i was in the air, traveling to the west coast. had that blog spent the slightest of minutes taking time to actually read a few of my posts, look back a bit to where i mention a much-anticipated trip to the west coast, perhaps then they would own the fact that they were incorrect in saying i “went into hiding.” this is the same blog that led other blogs, like eyeonannapolis.net to refer to my story as a “kidnapping” and my husband as a “fighter pilot” (hahaha, i’m sorry. both paul and i laugh at that one, because even he was unaware that he was a fighter pilot).

the 8 hours that i was traveling last week kept me from giving so many people the instant gratification we all find on blogs, on twitter, on facebook and other means of social media. so you made it up. some of you concocted stories of your own about me “going into hiding” and about my son being “kidnapped” in the hopes of convincing people that my story was concocted and therefore false, and here are the 9 camera angles to “prove” it.

regardless of the “she said” vs “the video,” regardless of the implications, accusations, hateful words, loss of sponsorships (which again, if you went into my archives, if you even read my “about” page, you would know that i don’t do this for the money and that the money i make is peons… enough to buy this cup of coffee i drink as i write this post right now)… all of that aside, ownership is the lesson in all of this. and not just mine. but your’s as well. own your hateful words that continue to collect in my inbox, anonymous.

it’s so easy for us to hide on the internet, behind our keyboards and computer screens, isn’t it? what does that say about us as a society?

a lot has been lost over the last week or so… friendships, trust, dependence, and reliance on people… on me. and yes, it hurts. i own that hurt. some of you own it as well. many of you have made it abundantly clear already either in direct emails to me or in your own blog posts that you have zero intention of keeping in contact with me, continuing to read my blog, etc. and yeah, that hurts, but that’s your choice. you have taken it upon yourself to make that decision, own that decision, and there’s nothing i can do to change that.

i have no further insight to give you in terms of what took place in the airport. i’ve shared my experience. i own that. for some of you, i simply do not have answers to the questions you currently possess.

my truth was told, shared, tweeted out in the hopes of changing something for the better. i own that. it’s up to you whether or not you choose to believe it.

in terms of the tweets that have been photo-scanned (or whatever it’s called) and shared, the ones where i say “PAY ME FOR MY INSANITY… MWAHAHAHAHAHA….” c’mon. it’s twitter for christ’s sake. those of you who “know” me via blogging, via twitter, i believe and trust that you know those were in jest. and those of you who have written your own blog posts regarding those tweets alone obviously do not know me and have taken pieces of my story in order to create your own drama.

feel free to own that. just know that this is not about you. it never was.

this is about me owning my thoughts, words, and actions. owning my experiences. writing about my experiences and sharing those with whomever chooses to read this blog of mine.

and if you don’t like what you read. don’t come back.

one last thing… to those of you who have reached out and contacted me to let me know you’re thinking of me and that you care, thank you. to those women i have spoken on the phone with over the last 2 days, since i’ve turned my phone back on, thank you. to my VERY few but VERY stong male supporters, thank you for reminding me what is good and true in men.

as far as social media is concerned, they call it social media for a reason. it’s social. it’s not news. it’s sometimes fact and sometimes fiction and sometimes a variance in between.

close the laptop, even if only for 30 minutes. take a break from twitter, even if only for 10 minutes. step outside. remember your own truths. your own stories. own your good and your bad, your strengths and weaknesses because each one of us has them all.

this week has ended with sweet words and sweet friends, and yes, i have moved on from this experience. i have stepped away from my website, been able to focus my energies elsewhere, and it has been good. and yes, i have taken a xanax here and there because i have severe anxiety.

my sincere apologies to all of you who have been concerned, wanting answers and looking for an immediate response from me regarding my experience with TSA in the atlanta airport on thursday.

to get right to it, yes, that is me and my son in the video posted on the TSA blog. i will address that in more detail in a moment.

to answer some direct questions though…

no, i did not leave to catch a flight with only 45 minutes before departure. in fact, i had originally flown out of jacksonville, florida thursday morning to pick up my son from my mother in the atlanta airport. (those of you who read my blog, know that i left for a few days to help a friend).

my 8 am flight out of jacksonville to atlanta arrived on time; however, i sat on the ramp for nearly an hour and due to poor weather, flights were delayed. the plane i was on had therefore not been assigned to a gate. this caused anxiety not only for me trying to make my connection through atlanta hartsfield-jackson but for other passengers who were on my same flight.

to set the record straight, i’m originally from atlanta… i have been through that airport a ridiculous amount of times, so i’m privy to the knowledge that i need to give myself ample time for things like baggage check and security, especially when traveling with a child.

in terms of me being unreachable, i simply have not had time to adequately respond and for that i do apologize. apparently a lot of people out there want answers (as do i); however, i needed to take a step back, take a break from my blog, give myself some space and time… as well as take care of my family.

as far as my site being “blacked out” or me “going into hiding” as some people have referenced, in my opinion, i have done neither. a trusted friend who is abundantly more tech savvy than i am temporarily shut down my site because i was concerned about the amount of traffic. given that my blog chronicles my life with my family and my son, the last thing i wanted was for it to crash. so thank you dear friend.

to address the video… yes, i agree with many of you, my story differs from the one shown on tape. what is not shown is me unloading all of my baggage and initially walking through the metal detector only to be told that i needed to turn around and walk back through because the metal detector had gone off. at that point, as i said in my original story i knew immediately that it was my son’s metal pacifier clip. i asked the man who later placed my son and i in the plastic containment box if i could put the clip on the conveyor belt. i was told “no” and to walk back through. none of that is shown on tape. however, once i was near the end of my experience and had been searched by the female TSA agent, they were pleased to have me remove the ace bandage around my knee and run that back through the conveyor belt.

in the video, it looks as though my son is playing happily in his stroller while i am being searched with a wand. obviously this is the big discrepancy with my story, since he was not in my sight at that time, and one that i too am thoroughly looking into. neither of the two phone calls i placed while seated in security are in the video either. what is shown in the video is incomplete as it leaves out when the security agent took my son to a separate area and out of my sight. this matter is one that is being handled between my family and the TSA.

i have no further accusations of the TSA, and ultimately who to believe is left up to you. there is nothing more i can do with regards to that.

in terms of the TSA attempting to contact me and me not answering. that is false. i have received phone calls from reporters in annapolis and atlanta, as well as a representative from the TSA blog but not from anyone who works directly for the TSA. and as you can imagine, yes, i am screening my calls.

i believe it was an anonymous commenter from the TSA blog who brought attention to the fact that no one was safeguarding or paying attention to my son and i being contained in a plastic box… and yes, that was a humiliating experience and i appreciate you mentioning that fact that was very easily overlooked.

bottom line: my son and i were mistreated and using my blog and my freedom of speech, i made that known to the public. for those of you who know me or “know” me in terms of frequenting my site, i trust that you know i am a strong advocate for parents which is why i posted in the first place, and made that known at the bottom of my original post that no child should be separated from their parent.

am i a dramatic writer? most definitely.

did my son and i suffer a traumatic experience? absolutely.

was my post written when i was extremely emotional? yes.

with that being said, i just ask that you maybe take a step back… in my opinion Elliott.org had a fantastic take on this entire incident that gave me perspective as well.

his suggestions for both myself and the TSA were honest and true. as far as i’m concerned, yes, i will bring my site back up as soon as possible. i’m pretty sure i explained in detail above why i didn’t until now. we intend to pursue this with TSA (though they have not called me as you stated). in terms of the f-bombs… yes, certainly something that i need to work on, unfortunately when placed in a traumatic situation they tend to drop with me. but i agree, that did not help my situation.

lastly, it was suggested that i move on.

i already have. i would like for everyone else to do the same.

sad as it is, i have received so many emails of stories more horrific than mine with regards to the TSA and their treatment of travelers, especially those who are not originally from the US, those with children and those of children with special needs. my heart has broken for the families who have endured such traumas.

i truly thank all of you who have been so supportive and concerned for me over the last couple of days. this is the first (and most likely not the last) time i have dealt with an exorbitant amount of hate mail. that has been difficult, i won’t lie. so your support has most definitely been something i have leaned on and will continue to until this passes.

As I sit and write this post, 24 hours after this event took place, my hands still shake… with rage and with terror.

I woke up this morning to my husband’s alarm clock, sat straight up in bed and thought “Where’s Jackson?” with fear paralyzing me.

My worst nightmare took place yesterday. Worse than events that have taken place and that I have survived in my short 28 years of living. Worse than my wildest of dreams could conjure.

My son was taken from me.

Taken.

My son was taken from me by the TSA agents at Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson airport yesterday.

He was taken away from me and OUT OF MY SIGHT because his pacifier clip went off when I carried him through the metal detector.

According to the Transportation Security Administration website, “We will not ask you to do anything that will separate you from your child or children.”

Bullshit TSA.

You took my son. MY SON.

Here’s what took place… minute by terrifying minute…

I had Jackson in his stroller, his diaper bag, and a duffle bag which contained my mac book as I entered security. I placed all of these items on the conveyor belt to go through the metal detector. Jackson was in my arms, and in the midst of getting all of our gear on the conveyor belt, my mistake was neglecting to take off my son’s pacifier clip that hangs from his shirt, which is metal.

The instant I walked through the metal detector with Jackson in my arms, we beeped. I knew exactly why.

I told the TSA agent, who asked me to back up and walk through again, “It’s my son’s pacifier clip, can I put it on the conveyor belt?”

“Ma’am turn around and come back please,” I was told.

Of course Jackson’s clip went off again. Both Jackson and I were then escorted to a 6 ft tall plastic holding box because I was forced to wait for a female TSA agent to search me.

At this point in time, all of my belongings were sitting at the opposite end of the conveyor belt, thereby backing up every other passengers belongings because I was not there to gather mine.

A woman out of the kindness of her heart (and if you are out there somewhere reading this, THANK YOU) saw me just standing and waiting in my 6 ft plastic box and gathered my belongings for me. She waited with my stroller, my diaper bag, my duffle bag and my mac book. This woman motioned to me that everything (including my flip flops) was all together and then she left.

She must be a mother.

She understood.

I was so grateful.

4 female TSA agents stood at the end of 2 conveyor belts, gloves on their hands, none of them searching anyone, none of them doing anything but watching luggage pass through the conveyor belts.

It was at this point in time that I realized my flight was leaving in less than 45 minutes. I had not even been searched yet. I began to panic.

Through the 6 holes in the plastic box that contained Jackson and I, I began asking for help. I waved to all 4 female TSA agents, each of them looked at me and then looked away. Then I started speaking through the 6 holes, and said, “Can someone please search me? My flight leaves in less than 45 minutes.”

Each of the 4 women answered me using the same exact phrase…

“Ma’am you need to wait. I don’t care about your departure time.”

Eventually one of the four female TSA agents opened the door and let Jackson and I out of our plastic containment box. We were escorted to a chair that was opposite from where my belongings were. I asked if I could bring my belongings over or take a seat closer to where they were. I was told no and to take my seat.

At this point in time, my heart began to race, thinking we would miss our flight and I would be stuck in the Atlanta airport with Jackson for who knows how long until there was another flight to Baltimore.

The female TSA agent stood in front of me while I sat with Jackson and she continued to watch luggage come through the conveyor belt.

“Ma’am, can someone please just search me so we can be on our way? We are going to miss our flight,” I said.

The female agent then called an older gentleman, also a TSA agent over. The male TSA agent stood in front of me and said “I’m going to have to pat down your son.”

With Jackson still sitting in my lap (he was being so good despite all of this chaos) I said ok and continued to hold on to my son, expecting the male TSA agent to start touching Jackson.

He then told me, “I’m going to have to pick him up to inspect him.”

I rolled my eyes and sternly told him “It’s his pacifier clip that went off, can’t you just run that back through the belt and let us go. We are going to miss our flight.”

The female TSA agent, who had been standing there the entire time said to me, “You need to adjust your attitude and do as you are told.”

The male TSA agent repeated, “I’m going to have to pick him up to inspect him.”

I handed him my son.

I handed him my son and he walked away with my child.

My eyes welled up with tears, I stood up from my chair and I asked the female TSA agent, “Where is he going? Where is he taking my child? Why is he leaving?”

Jackson, while being whisked away looked at the male TSA agent awkwardly and repeated “no no no no.”

I started crying.

The female TSA agent did not answer me.

Panic set in. My hands began to shake. My body was sweating. My breath was short and my heart was racing.

They had taken my child and not told me.

Jackson was out of my eye sight.

I could not see my son.

Now sobbing, I repeated my questions to the female TSA agent.

She told me “Ma’am, we’re trying to be nice to you. We don’t know which one of you went off in the metal detector. Stay here so I can search you.”

“But my son… where is my son?” I asked over and over again.

The female TSA agent called a second female TSA agent over as she began to search me. Apparently the second female TSA agent could hear me protesting and asking for my son.

“Ma’am you need to calm down or I’m going to have to involve the authorities,” she told me.

Now I was pissed.

Horrified. Terrified. Enraged.

“You fucking get the authorities,” I told the female TSA agent while the other continued to wand me and forced me to unbutton my jeans because the button beeped when she went over my abdomen with her wand.

“You get the goddamn authorities right the fuck now and tell them to GIVE ME MY SON,” I said.

I began to black out. I knew I was having a full on panic attack. I feared passing out.

I was told to take my seat again, after being searched, but I was not allowed to collect my belongings.

My cell phone was within reach and I grabbed it without being seen by the TSA agents.

I called my husband. I do not remember what I told him on the phone in terms of Jackson and what took place.

I do recall asking him to calm me down because I could not breathe. As a father, he couldn’t. I imagine any father would do the same. Paul had questions, tons of questions. Questions that I was not capable of answering because I literally was losing my breath and on the verge of blacking out.

I hung up and called my mother.

“Jackson’s gone,” I remember telling her. I do not remember what she said in return, but she instantly could tell I was having a panic attack. She began breathing with me on the phone in an attempt to calm me down.

She told me, “Nic, you’re going to have to stop crying. You need to be strong for Jackson. He’s going to be that much more scared if he sees mommy so upset. In through your nose… out through your mouth…” I think she may have counted, or had me count, I don’t know.

Jackson was still gone.

My guess is that all of this took place within a period of 10 minutes or less.

It felt like hours… days even.

My son was gone.

Sobbing and seated, I watched both female TSA agents walk away from me and go back to monitoring luggage come through the conveyor belt.

Finally the male TSA agent who took Jackson brought him back.

Jackson was in my sight and immediately started yelling, “Mommy!”

I was hysterical.

Running to my son and grabbing him from the male TSA agent’s arms, I sobbed and yelled obscenities at every single TSA agent who stood guard at the end of the conveyor belts.

One of them asked me if I wanted to speak to a supervisor.

Through tears I told him (or her, I don’t remember) that I had a flight I was about to miss.

With Jackson in my arms, I gathered our belongings, through him in the stroller and ran to the elevator that took us down to the tram to take us to our concourse where our plane waited.

B-25.

Sobbing as we traveled down the elevator, then during the tram ride, and up the next elevator to our concourse, I began running to our gate. I approached two female Delta agents at the desk of gate B-25.

“How much time do I have before this flight leaves?” I asked, knowing I needed to get to a bathroom due to my panic attack.

Looking at me concerned, I was told I had 5 minutes.

I ran to the bathroom. I placed Jackson on the diaper changing station with his juice and then I hit the floor. I could not see. I had no peripheral vision.

Channeling my mother, thinking of my phone call with her, I began to calm down.

I had an emergency Xanax in my jeans pocket. I always carry an emergency Xanax in my pocket. The result of severe anxiety.

I took the pill, but it did very little. I was so traumatized that it would’ve taken probably 4 Xanax to get my blood pressure back down to a normal level.

Splashing my face with cold water, then grabbing Jackson, I ran back to gate B-25.

Both female Delta agents looked at me and asked how they could help. I told them that my ticket had me at an aisle seat and if I could switch to a window (Jackson LOVES the window).

They told me that if I didn’t mind sitting at the back of the plane, they could give me an entire row to myself.

I started crying again. I told them a shortened version of what had just taken place and how grateful I was for their kindness.

One of the female Delta agents walked me down the jetway, helping me with the stroller and getting it a gate-claim ticket.

I hugged her. I thanked her. I got on the plane.

I had my son and we were on the plane.

I called my mother again, telling her briefly that I was on and to please call Paul. I didn’t remember that I had spoken to Paul earlier, and thought he did not know any of what had taken place.

Mom said she would call Paul and tell him everything. She reminded me that I had my son and we were on our way home.

Both Jackson and I slept during the flight. I held him so close that when he woke up, his head was drenched in sweat.

Our nightmare ended once the plane landed in Baltimore. Jackson and I exited, walked out of the concourse and Jackson demanded to get out of the stroller.

He ran to his daddy.

We were home.

**********

I’m unsure how to end this post. I do not know what my story will lead to (if anything) but I needed to do more than file a complaint or write a letter. My hope is that this post of mine will be read by mothers and fathers, passed along to parents traveling with their children… most of all, my hope is that NO PARENT HAS THEIR CHILD TAKEN FROM THEM.

TSA TOOK MY SON IN ATLANTA HARTSFIELD-JACKSON AIRPORT.

THIS SHOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO ANY PARENT. EVER.