What to Do When You’re Ready to Sign Over Your Kids
Let’s stop pretending.
This isn’t a “bad day.”
This is the edge.
This is, “I’m one more emergency away from leaving my kids at a fire station because I don’t know how to keep us alive.”
If you’re thinking about signing your kids over to the state, not because you don’t love them, but because you’re overwhelmed, unsupported, and out of options… this post is for you.
It’s not going to be fluffy. It’s not going to judge you. But it is going to walk you through the reality, the emotions, the resources, and the next steps, one broken-down, breath-by-breath moment at a time.
THE RAW TRUTH
✦ The Struggle They Don’t Talk About
- You can’t afford child care.
- You can’t take a job without child care.
- You can’t afford rent without the job.
- You can’t qualify for assistance because you’re working.
- You can’t work without assistance.
That’s the trap. The system is a circle of catch-22s, and you are the one getting crushed in the center.
You’re not lazy.
You’re not a bad mom.
You’re not crazy.
You’re unsupported.
And that’s not your fault.
WHY “GIVING UP” ISN’T ACTUALLY GIVING UP
You’re not trying to abandon your kids.
You’re trying to make sure they survive, even if it means breaking your own heart.
This thought doesn’t come from lack of love.
It comes from the deepest form of it.
If you’ve Googled:
- “How to sign over custody to the state”
- “How to give my child a better life without me”
- “Emergency help for moms who can’t parent anymore”
You’re not alone. You’re just invisible; because this isn’t the story society wants to hear.
WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU’RE AT THE END
1. Pause and Breathe ~ Literally
You are in a state of survival. That means your brain is firing in fight, flight, or freeze.
Try this:
- Put one hand on your chest.
- One hand on your belly.
- Say: “I am not a failure. I’m unsupported.”
Let that truth sink in before you try to “fix” anything.
2. Write This Down Right Now
“This is not permanent. This is a system failing me. Not a reflection of my worth.”
You need an anchor. This is it.
3. Call for Backup ~ The Real Kind
Not the kind that says “let me know if you need anything.” The kind that shows up or shuts up.
Resources:
- 2-1-1: Call or text for free help finding housing, food, childcare, or crisis support.
- Postpartum Support International (even if your kids aren’t babies): 1-800-944-4773
- Childcare Assistance: Ask about “temporary respite care” or “crisis nursery” in your area.
💡 Even if your income is zero, many places have emergency placements to help you keep your children during crisis, without signing them away.
4. Say This at the DHS Office or Shelter
“I am not trying to give up my kids. I am trying to get support so I don’t lose them.”
There is a massive difference.
Most parents don’t want to give up rights.
They want support, and don’t know how to phrase it.
IF YOU’RE ALREADY MAKING THE CALL
If you’re genuinely moments away from calling CPS to ask them to take your kids:
- Ask about voluntary placement. This is different from termination of parental rights.
- Ask if there’s a “parental crisis plan.” Some states allow a temporary safety plan so you can stabilize.
- Ask for a caseworker who deals with kinship care or emergency sheltering.
⚠️ Signing over your children is permanent in many cases. Once your rights are terminated, you may not be able to get them back.
Don’t go in without asking:
- “What happens after I sign this?”
- “Will I be able to contact my child?”
- “Is there a path back to reunification?”
MICRO WINS WHEN YOU’RE MAXED OUT
Here’s what you can do today:
| Impact | |
| Write a crisis care letter to your kids | Gives you peace of mind if you end up needing emergency help |
| Apply for TANF, WIC, food stamps online | May unlock child care subsidy or housing priority |
| Call ONE friend or group and say: I need help, not judgment | Builds a lifeline |
| Shower or wipe down with a washcloth | Brings you back into your body |
| Feed the kids cereal for dinner | You just bought yourself 30 minutes of grace |
HOW I KNOW THIS IS REAL
I’ve worked with moms who:
- Slept in cars so their kids could eat.
- Begged strangers for diapers.
- Hid CPS letters in the closet out of shame.
- Went without meds or showers or food to make it one more day.
And guess what? Every one of them thought they were failing.
Every one of them thought no one would understand.
But they held on, or they got help. Or both.
This isn’t a “fix it with affirmations” moment.
This is a “fight like hell for yourself because the system won’t” moment.
YOU ARE STILL A GOOD MOM
Even if:
- You cry every night.
- You haven’t cooked in a week.
- You’re on the edge of the unthinkable.
You. Are. Still. A. Good. Mom.
Because you’re still here.
If you made it to the end of this post, take this as your sign:
You don’t have to disappear to protect your kids.
You just need a damn support system. And if no one else will be it, let’s build one from scratch.
THE EMOTIONAL TOLL OF ALMOST GIVING YOUR KIDS AWAY
This isn’t just stress. This is systemic soul erosion; a nonstop inner war where you’re both the soldier and the battlefield.
The Guilt Hits First
It’s a guilt that doesn’t clock out.
- Guilt for thinking the unthinkable.
- Guilt for needing a break you can’t afford.
- Guilt for resenting tiny humans who didn’t ask for this.
- Guilt for not smiling at them when they ask for juice.
- Guilt for crying in the bathroom while Cocomelon plays on repeat.
You feel like you’re the villain and the victim.
And no one even knows you’re bleeding.
Shame That Grows Like Mold
This is the part you don’t say out loud:
“If I say I can’t do this anymore, they’ll take them from me.”
“If I keep pretending I’m fine, I might die inside.”
So you wear a mask. You nod. You say, “We’re okay.”
But inside, you’re screaming:
“I can’t do this. Why can’t anyone see that I can’t do this?”
Shame isolates you until you’re surrounded by people but completely alone.
The Rage That Has Nowhere to Go
You’re not angry at your kids.
You’re angry that you have no choices.
You’re angry at:
- A society that romanticizes motherhood but refuses to support mothers.
- Deadbeat co-parents.
- Abusive exes.
- Babysitters who ghost you.
- Jobs that demand your soul and give you $13/hr.
But since you can’t scream at the system, you end up yelling into pillows.
Or worse, swallowing that rage until it turns into numbness.
Numbness That Scares You
It creeps in slowly:
- The dishes pile up.
- You forget to eat.
- You stop answering texts.
- You look at your child and feel… nothing.
And that’s when you panic.
Because love isn’t supposed to feel this empty.
Motherhood isn’t supposed to feel like suffocation.
And yet… here you are. Existing. Faking. Floating.
The Grief of Being “Too Much” and “Not Enough” At the Same Time
You grieve the mother you thought you’d be.
You grieve the childhood your kids should have had.
You grieve the parts of you that no one saved when you needed saving.
It’s not just pressure. It’s persistent, unprocessed grief.
The Invisible Mental Load That’s Eating You Alive
While everyone says:
- “Just ask for help.”
- “You need to practice self-care.”
You’re carrying 1,000 tabs open in your mind:
- “Did I lock the door?”
- “How much is in the account?”
- “What if CPS shows up?”
- “Is there enough for dinner?”
- “Why did I bring kids into this world if I can’t give them what they deserve?”
And then you’re expected to show up to work or a parent-teacher conference like you’re not mentally on fire.
The Terror of Saying It Out Loud
Because the second you do, people will judge.
“You should’ve kept your legs closed.”
“That’s what happens when you have kids too young.”
“Why don’t you get a real job?”
“You chose this life.”
And yet…
Nobody talks about how hard it is to “choose” when there’s no support, no safety net, and no sleep.
🔥 SO WHAT NOW?
You name the pain.
You feel it.
You say out loud, “This isn’t sustainable.”
And then, you do one thing. Just one.
Because the emotional toll isn’t just a byproduct.
It’s the damn proof that your body and soul are calling out for something better.
Not because you’re weak, but because you’ve carried too much for too long.
💬 Drop this in your journal or your notes app:
- What am I grieving right now?
- What am I angry at that I’m not allowed to express?
- What kind of support do I wish existed?
- What would I say to a friend who felt this way?
And then ask:
🖤 What would happen if I treated myself with even half that compassion?
TIPS FOR WHEN YOU’RE AT YOUR BREAKING POINT
Survival Over Perfection ~ Every. Single. Time.
If they’re fed, relatively clean, and breathing?
You did your job today.
🩶 Let them eat cereal for dinner.
🩶 Let them watch screens.
🩶 Let the mess sit for the night.
You are allowed to function at 20% capacity and still be a damn good mom.
Call It What It Is: Crisis Parenting
This isn’t regular parenting.
This is “I’m in crisis and the world doesn’t care” parenting.
So treat it like a crisis:
- Create a bare-minimum survival routine.
- Cut out anything that’s not required to live.
- Text someone: “I’m not okay. Please check in tomorrow.”
📌 You don’t need a 10-step plan. You need oxygen.
Break the Day Into 3 Parts
Instead of trying to survive the whole day, try:
- Morning block: Focus on feeding the kids and yourself. One task only.
- Midday block: Quiet time, screen time, or nap. You do NOT clean during this.
- Evening block: Eat, snuggle, cry if needed. The goal is calm, not cute.
🔁 Repeat every day until you stabilize. Structure helps when your brain is burning out.
Don’t Call It “Giving Up.” Call It “Asking for a Net.”
Before you sign anything, ask:
“Do you have short-term placement, respite care, or kinship care programs?”
In many states, you can ask for voluntary temporary care without terminating your parental rights.
Let someone hold the weight with you, not instead of you.
Script Your Ask for Help (Because It’s Hard AF)
When you’re barely functioning, it’s hard to explain what you need. Use this script:
“I’m not okay. I need practical help, food, child care, or someone to talk to. I’m not asking for advice. Just support.”
Then hit send.
To a friend. A crisis line. A group. Someone.
Find a Local Facebook Group or Mom Support Network TODAY
Search:
- “[Your city] moms in crisis”
- “Single mom support + [state]”
- “Childcare swap group + [county]”
There are strangers ready to help. They’re just not advertised.
Ask for emergency meal kits. Ask for rides. Ask for respite. You are not alone.
Use the 2-Minute Rule
Can it be done in 2 minutes? Do it.
Can’t do it in 2? Leave it.
✅ Take meds.
✅ Pour juice.
✅ Text “I’m safe, barely.”
That’s enough.
Rewire the Self-Talk Loop
Instead of: “I’m failing.”
Try: “I’m doing impossible work without a net.”
Instead of: “I hate being a mom.”
Try: “I hate mothering alone and under pressure.”
Replace the shame. Call out the system.
You are not the problem. You are surviving a problem.
Build a 911 List ~ BEFORE the Next Breakdown
Write this down:
- One friend you can be honest with
- One food resource or local pantry
- One crisis line or support text service
- One song that keeps you grounded
- One reason you’re still here
📍Post it where you’ll see it. Use it when the spiral hits.
Plan for the “What If I Do Need to Let Go?” Conversation
If you have to consider temporary placement:
- Know your rights.
- Document everything.
- Stay involved.
- Ask for a case plan, not a termination.
Your motherhood is not erased because you reached a limit.
Real love sometimes looks like choosing help before collapse.
When All Else Fails, Tell Yourself This:
“I am not weak. I am exhausted. And those are not the same.”
You’re not failing.
You’re breaking under unmet needs, and that’s valid.
THE MENTAL TOLL OF BEING A MOM WITH NO WAY OUT
⚠️ CONSTANT FIGHT-OR-FLIGHT MODE
Your brain stays on edge 24/7.
- A crying toddler feels like a fire alarm.
- Unexpected bills feel like actual physical danger.
- You flinch when your phone rings.
🧠 You’re not “dramatic.” You’re in survival mode so deep, your nervous system can’t tell the difference between a missed payment and a lion attack.
What it causes:
- Panic attacks
- Hypervigilance
- Insomnia
- Overreacting to small things because your baseline is already maxed out
💣 BURNOUT THAT DOESN’T GO AWAY WITH SLEEP
This isn’t “take a nap and feel better.”
This is “wake up more tired than when you laid down.”
Why? Because you’re not physically tired. You’re emotionally and mentally depleted.
- Your brain is carrying the entire household.
- Your mind is running through worst-case scenarios 24/7.
- You’re doing 100 things a day that no one sees or thanks you for.
This is chronic, invisible labor, and it slowly breaks you down.
😔 FEELING EMOTIONALLY FLATLINED
You’re not even sad anymore.
You’re numb.
- You look at your kids and feel nothing but dread.
- You hear them say “mom” and want to cry from overstimulation.
- You laugh at shows you used to love but it doesn’t reach your gut.
This is your brain pulling the emergency brake to protect you from more pain.
😵💫 OVERTHINKING EVERYTHING
You’re mentally spinning 24/7, even in your sleep.
“What if they take my kids?”
“Did I ruin them already?”
“Will I ever feel peace again?”
You can’t concentrate. You can’t retain info. You forget what you were doing mid-task.
Your brain is fried, not because you’re lazy, because it’s been overloaded for too long.
🫥 IDENTITY DESTRUCTION
You used to be creative. Funny. Sharp.
Now? You’re just… mom. Or worse, a failing mom, in your mind.
“What happened to me?”
“I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”
Motherhood without support erases you from the equation. And that mental identity loss? It’s a grief nobody warns you about.
💭 INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS THAT FEEL TERRIFYING
Yes, even the scary ones.
“What if I just disappeared?”
“What if I drove away and never came back?”
“What if I’m the reason they’re better off without me?”
These thoughts don’t mean you’re a bad mom.
They mean your brain is screaming for relief.
Let’s be clear:
Intrusive thoughts ≠ intentions.
They’re mental symptoms of emotional suffocation.
🕳️ HOPE DRAIN
The scariest part? When you stop believing it’ll ever get better.
“This is just my life now.”
“No one’s coming.”
“I’m too broken to fix this.”
And that loss of hope? That’s the final layer of mental damage this system causes.
It convinces you that suffering is your fault — so you’ll stop asking for help.
✊ YOU’RE NOT CRAZY. YOU’RE STRIPPED.
You’re not mentally ill.
You’re mentally under siege.
And you deserve:
- A break
- A regulated nervous system
- To be seen, heard, and supported
- To exist as more than a need-meeting machine
🔁 If No One Told You Today:
- You are not lazy.
- You are not failing.
- You are not the only one having those thoughts.
- You are allowed to fall apart.
- You are still a good mom, even if your mind is unraveling.
NAME THE MENTAL LOAD YOU’RE CARRYING
✅ Check off what’s currently eating your brain so you can SEE it, and stop blaming yourself for “not handling it better.”
- ☐ Feeding schedules
- ☐ Appointments (doctor, dentist, therapy)
- ☐ School schedules + pick-ups
- ☐ Meal planning + groceries
- ☐ Laundry (and the pile you pretend isn’t there)
- ☐ Remembering meds (yours + theirs)
- ☐ Bills, budgeting, overdue notices
- ☐ Emotional regulation for the entire family
- ☐ Crisis prevention (tantrums, blowups, triggers)
- ☐ Relationship maintenance (or survival)
- ☐ Childcare arrangement puzzle
- ☐ Safety planning (for violence, poverty, etc.)
- ☐ Your own trauma responses you have to mask daily
🖤 That’s not “normal exhaustion.” That’s psychological weightlifting with no spotter.
🔋 RECOVERY STARTERS
(Pick 1–3 a day. That’s it. This isn’t about “fixing,” it’s about recharging.)
💭 BRAIN DECOMPRESSORS:
- ☐ Write down every task bouncing around in your head, burn the list after
- ☐ Say out loud: “This is not all mine to carry”
- ☐ Use the 2-minute rule: If it takes less than 2 minutes, do it. If not, ditch it for now.
🧘♀️ NERVOUS SYSTEM SOOTHERS:
- ☐ Breathe in for 4, hold for 4, exhale for 8
- ☐ Press your feet into the ground. Name 5 things you see. 4 you feel. 3 you hear.
- ☐ Wrap up in a blanket and hold your own hand
🫶 SELF-CONNECTION:
- ☐ “I am not a bad mom. I am an overwhelmed human.” Say it 3x.
- ☐ Write yourself a love note: “I forgive you for…”
- ☐ Touch your heart and say: “I matter, even when I’m messy.”
🛑 STOP DOING THIS SH¡T (IMMEDIATELY)
✅ Say “hell no” to these mental traps:
- ☐ Thinking you have to “earn” rest
- ☐ Comparing yourself to other moms on social media
- ☐ Believing asking for help makes you weak
- ☐ Beating yourself up for not “doing more”
- ☐ Believing your worth is tied to productivity
- ☐ Believing your kids would be better off without you — that’s not you talking, that’s burnout lying to you.
🩹 RECOVERY PLAN
If today feels impossible, do just ONE of these:
- ☐ Text someone: “I’m not okay. Can you check in later?”
- ☐ Feed the kids anything. That counts.
- ☐ Cry in the shower, closet, car, let it out.
- ☐ Sit in the sun for 5 minutes.
- ☐ Say “no” to one damn thing.
🎯 Your goal isn’t to “bounce back.”
Your goal is to feel safe in your own mind again.
🛐 DAILY MENTAL HEALTH MANTRA
✨ Pick one. Whisper it like a prayer.
- “My brain is tired, not broken.”
- “I’m allowed to be a mess and still be loved.”
- “I am not the bad guy for needing help.”
- “I am a damn good mom, even when I need to fall apart.”
- “This is not permanent. I am not stuck. I am allowed to rebuild.”
🌱 Track It Gently
Use checkboxes, scribbles, or stickers. Not for perfection, but to see yourself trying. Surviving. Showing up.
That counts for everything.
MENTAL RECOVERY TIPS FOR MOMS ON THE EDGE
Say This Out Loud: “I am carrying too much.”
Because naming it helps release it.
You’re not “overreacting.” You’re overloaded.
And that’s a completely different diagnosis.
Cancel Something Right Now
A call. A plan. A “should.”
Anything you’re about to force yourself to do out of guilt, let it go.
You’re in mental survival mode. That means permission > pressure.
Create a “Not Today” List
Write down 3 things you refuse to give mental space to today. Example:
- Other people’s opinions
- School newsletter drama
- Comparing yourself to that one perfect mom influencer with 5 clean kids and a beige kitchen
Free your brain. Literally. Write it. Trash it.
Give Yourself a One-Task Win
Forget the 37 tabs open in your brain.
Pick ONE task. Complete it. Celebrate it. That’s a mental reset.
Examples:
- Change one trash bag
- Text one person
- Drink one glass of water
- Fold three socks. Not a basket. Just socks.
That’s a win when your mental load is at capacity.
5. Create a “Tap Out” Phrase With the Kids
When you’re mentally slipping, you don’t always have the words.
Try something like:
“Mama’s brain needs quiet.”
“I need a 3-minute reset.”
“We’re on quiet mode now.”
Teach your kids that emotional safety includes yours, too.
6. Switch the Background Noise
When your brain is overstimulated, silence can feel too loud.
But chaos makes it worse.
Try:
- Rain sounds
- Ocean waves
- Low-fi beats
- Brown noise (less sharp than white noise)
Even a 5-minute switch can lower cortisol.
7. Check Yourself for Mental Starvation
Sometimes your brain isn’t broken. It’s just:
- dehydrated
- under-fueled
- overstimulated
- or touch-deprived
Go through this:
✅ Did I drink water?
✅ Did I eat something with protein?
✅ Have I breathed deeply in the last 3 hours?
✅ Did anyone hug me this week?
Start there. Not with productivity.
8. Give the Rage Somewhere to Go
Yell into a towel.
Slam your hands on your bed.
Write “I’m so f*cking tired” 100 times.
You’re not dangerous. You’re bottled-up. Rage is info. Let it MOVE.
9. Reparent Yourself Mid-Crisis
Sit somewhere alone.
Put one hand on your chest.
Say to yourself:
“You are doing so much with so little. I am so sorry no one is helping you right now.”
This rewires shame back into compassion.
10. Steal Back 10 Minutes Just for You
Set a timer.
Put the kids in a safe space.
Walk into another room and:
- cry
- sit
- scream into a pillow
- stare at the wall
It’s not selfish. It’s survival.
You need to matter to you.
💥 Real Quick:
You’re not behind.
You’re not broken.
You’re not meant to hold all of this alone.
This is a system failure; not a you failure.
JOURNALING PROMPTS
For the mom who feels like she’s failing, fading, or about to walk away
🕳️ GRIEF + INVISIBLE LOSS
- “What have I lost that no one else sees?”
- “What version of me disappeared in order to survive?”
- “What was I told I had to be, that never felt true?”
- “Where does my grief live in my body right now?”
🩶 RAGE + RESENTMENT
- “If I could scream without consequence, what would I say?”
- “Who was supposed to help me, and didn’t?”
- “What am I holding in that’s making me sick?”
- “What does my rage want me to protect?”
🫠 NUMBNESS + SHUTDOWN
- “What’s too heavy to feel right now?”
- “When did I start checking out, and why?”
- “If I could feel one thing safely, what would I choose?”
- “What emotion am I afraid will destroy me if I let it out?”
😞 SHAME + FAILURE
- “What lie do I tell myself when I’m overwhelmed?”
- “What part of me thinks I’ve ruined everything?”
- “Where did I learn that needing help makes me weak?”
- “If I believed I was still worthy, how would I treat myself today?”
🧍 IDENTITY + INVISIBILITY
- “Who was I before I was just ‘Mom’?”
- “What parts of me still exist underneath the exhaustion?”
- “Where have I disappeared, and how can I come back?”
- “What do I miss most about myself?”
💔 MOTHERHOOD + THE DARK THOUGHTS
- “What don’t I say out loud because I’m afraid of judgment?”
- “What does motherhood look like without pressure or perfection?”
- “What would I say to my child if I could be completely honest?”
- “What would I want them to know if I disappeared?”
🫂 COMPASSION + RETURNING TO SELF
- “If I treated myself like someone I loved, what would I do today?”
- “What would safety feel like in my body?”
- “What’s the gentlest way I can survive the next hour?”
- “What if I don’t need to fix myself — only hold myself?”
YOU ARE STILL A GOOD MOM
Even if:
- You cry every night.
- You haven’t cooked in a week.
- You’re on the edge of the unthinkable.
You. Are. Still. A. Good. Mom.
Because you’re still here.
If you made it to the end of this post, take this as your sign:
You don’t have to disappear to protect your kids.
You just need a damn support system. And if no one else will be it; let’s build one from scratch.
💬 Let’s Chat!:
🖤 Drop a 🖤 if you’ve ever felt this close to quitting but stayed for one more day.
Let’s make this a space where survival isn’t shameful.