How to Fight CPS & Win - Parents

08/21/2025

Trial Home Visits in California

08/16/2025

They said I neglected my kids. The truth? I was just poor.

I’m a single mom of three. I work full-time, but my paycheck barely covers rent, food, and bus fare.
Some weeks we eat rice and beans every day. Some nights the lights get shut off until I can catch up on the bill.

My kids are loved. They are hugged, kissed, and tucked in every night.
But CPS didn’t see that.

They saw a small apartment.
They saw worn-out shoes.
They saw kids sharing a bedroom.

They called it neglect.

One day, caseworkers came to my door. They said someone reported that my kids looked “uncared for.”
I tried to explain. I showed them my receipts, my pay stubs, the food in the fridge.
They wrote things down on a clipboard and left.

A week later, they came back,with police.
They said my children needed to go into “temporary care.”

I begged them. I told them my kids were not unsafe, just struggling. That we only needed help, not separation.
But they didn’t listen.

My kids cried as they were taken away.
I will never forget the sound of their voices screaming “Mama!”

Now I sit in courtrooms proving I am a fit mother, when the only thing I’ve ever been guilty of is being poor.

They say CPS protects children.
But too often, they punish parents who just need support.

Being poor is not a crime. Loving your kids should be enough. Families need resources, not removal.

-AW, Washington

08/08/2025

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08/02/2025

They took my daughter because I have a disability.

Not because I hurt her. Not because she was unsafe.
But because I walk with a cane. Because my hands shake when I’m nervous.
Because I don’t look like the kind of mother they expect.

She was born healthy. I memorized every cry, every feeding schedule.
I used voice-activated tools to help with diaper changes and feedings.
We had a rhythm. We had love.

Then someone reported me to CPS—an anonymous tip.
They said I “looked unstable.” That I “might drop her.”

A caseworker came to my apartment.
She smiled politely, then asked how I would carry my baby down the stairs in an emergency.

I showed her my plan. I had practiced. I had prepared.
She wrote notes on her clipboard and said, “We’ll be in touch.”

Two days later, they took my baby while I was napping between feedings.
They said it was for her safety.

I was told I had to prove I was “capable.”
That I had to undergo parenting assessments designed for people without disabilities.
I failed them. Not because I wasn’t a good mom—but because the tests weren’t made for me.

I’m still fighting. I haven’t held her in weeks.

They say this is about protection.
But I know the truth: this is about prejudice.

Disabled does not mean unfit.
Different does not mean dangerous.
And love? Love doesn’t need perfect hands—just a steady heart.

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No one should lose their child because they move or speak or function differently. We need a system that protects families, not punishes them.

07/26/2025

https://ow.ly/J9My50WvC6E

A 3-year-old boy, Ke'Torrius Starkes, Jr., died in a hot car in Birmingham, Ala., on Tuesday, July 22, while in the care of the Department of Human Resources

07/24/2025

CPS Wants to Terminate Your Rights in 90 Days. Here’s What to Do Now!

07/12/2025

I WAS 15 WHEN CPS TOOK MY LITTLE BROTHER

Not because I hurt him.
Not because we were unsafe.
But because we were alone.

Our mom had passed away from cancer six months earlier.
Our dad had already been out of the picture for years.
It was just us.

I made sure he got to school. I packed his lunch.
I worked nights at a gas station and finished high school online.
It wasn’t easy, but we were getting by. Together.

One day a teacher noticed my brother had holes in his shoes and called CPS.
No one asked if we had food. No one asked how they could help.

They just came to our apartment and said, “You’re a minor. You can’t raise him.”

I begged them. I cried.
I told them he had already lost Mom.
That I was all he had left.

They said they’d “find a placement.”
Like he was an object. Like our bond didn’t matter.

I remember him screaming my name as they pulled him away.
I still hear it.

They put him in foster care.

I tried to fight for custody. I filled out forms, begged adults to help, called lawyers I couldn’t afford.

But no one took me seriously.
I was “just a kid.”

Now I’m 18. I finally have the legal right to try and bring him home.
But he’s changed. He barely talks. He flinches when people raise their voices.

They say CPS saves kids.

But sometimes, CPS is the thing they need saving from.

Please speak up for siblings. For teens who step up. For families that just need support. Not separation.

-Zack 18, New York

07/08/2025

THEY TOLD ME FATHERS DON'T FIGHT FOR THEIR KIDS.

So I showed up to every court date. Every visit. Every meeting.

Even when they tried to make me feel invisible.

My daughter was taken from her mother’s home while I was working two jobs and trying to keep up with child support.
No one called me. No one asked if I could care for her.

They just put her in foster care.

I found out through a friend that CPS had taken her.
When I called to ask what happened, they told me I “wasn’t in the picture enough.”

I’ve always been in her life.
School concerts. Weekend visits. Birthday cupcakes.
But I wasn’t married to her mother. So I guess that made me “less than.”

They said I had to complete parenting classes, even though I’ve been parenting her since the day she was born.

They said I needed a bigger apartment, even though she had a bed, toys, and a place in my heart.

They said I had “emotional distance”, because I didn’t cry in front of them.
They didn’t see me sobbing in my car after each denied visit.
They didn’t see the extra shifts I worked just to hire a lawyer.

I kept fighting. Because she’s mine. And because the system didn’t give me a choice.

It’s been 11 months. She’s still not home.

They say they want to reunify families.
But sometimes it feels like they just want to break them apart.

I’m a father. I love my daughter. And I will never stop fighting for her.

- Earl, Nevada

07/05/2025

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06/27/2025

THEY SAID MY SON WASN'T SAFE BECAUSE I WAS POOR.

That’s what it came down to.

I worked night shifts at a diner and slept while my 9-year-old son was at school.
We lived in a tiny studio. Shared a bed. Ate ramen some nights. But we had love.
We had laughter, even on hard days.

Then one day, his school called CPS.
He had worn the same hoodie twice that week. Said something about being hungry.

Instead of calling me, they called the state.

A week later, two strangers came to my door.
They walked around my home, wrote things on a clipboard, took pictures of my empty fridge on grocery day.

Then they told me they were placing my son in temporary care.

I cried. I begged. I told them I was doing everything I could.
I even showed them my pay stubs and rent receipts.
It didn’t matter.

I watched my son reach for me as they pulled him away.
He was crying, asking what he did wrong.
I didn’t know how to answer.

They say they remove children to protect them.
But how do you protect a child from the trauma of being taken?

My son didn’t need saving.
He needed support.
We both did.

Instead, they took away the one thing keeping me going—my reason to survive.

To this day, I’m still in court. Still proving I’m “stable enough.”
Still waiting for someone to look past my poverty and see my love.

Not all broken systems look like chaos.
Some wear a badge, carry a clipboard, and call it “protocol.”

-Meldrei Vega, 37, CA

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Help us share these stories. Help us demand change. Because families shouldn’t be punished for being poor.

06/24/2025

They took my baby while she was still learning how to say “mama.”

CPS said it was for “safety.”

They showed up after I had a panic attack at the ER. I told the nurse I was overwhelmed and hadn’t slept for days.
I was a single mom, three months postpartum, doing everything alone.
I thought maybe someone would offer help.

Instead, they called CPS.

They said my mental state made me unfit.
That my baby deserved “stability.”
But how is tearing her out of my arms stability?

They didn’t ask about the postpartum depression.
They didn’t see the fridge full of bottles, the lullabies I sang, or how I never left her side.
They only saw a woman who cried too hard and looked too tired.

They placed her with a stranger.
And I was left in silence. No crying. No cooing. Just an empty crib and a case number.

Every week, I went to my visits. Brought her favorite toy. Brought a new book. Brought my heart, broken and hoping.

And when I held her again, she looked at me like she didn’t recognize me.

That was the moment I broke.

Not when they took her. Not in court.
But when my daughter—my baby—looked at me like I was a stranger.

They say this is protection.
But it felt like punishment for needing help.

I'm speaking out now because too many moms suffer in silence.
Because mental health is not neglect.
Because love is not always enough in a system that doesn’t see it.

And because every child deserves a mother who was given a chance, not just judged on her worst day.

06/17/2025

My story began when I was 10 years old. CPS came into our home with the police, accusing my mom of using drugs. I heard her say she was willing to change and beg them not to take me away.

She cried a lot that day—begging both the police and the CPS personnel—but no one listened to her. They took me with them.

I was shocked and speechless. I didn’t really understand what was happening that day. I haven’t seen my mother since.

One of the caseworkers told me she died by su***de. Another said she was in jail because of drugs. I never got a clear answer.

I was placed with a very abusive family who beat me every single day. No one came to rescue me. CPS never checked on me.

When I turned 18, I decided to live on my own, even though I had no idea where to go.
Fast forward—I worked numerous jobs just to survive. Eventually, I managed to get a very small place to live.

After a few months, I met a man. He was much older than me and had a stable job.
He said he would make my life comfortable—and he did. He helped me go back to school and start putting my life back together.

For the first time, I felt hope. What made me feel even more joyful was the greatest blessing our love gave us: a son.

I love my son deeply. Because I experienced so much pain in my childhood, I have made sure to give him all the love and care I never had.

But just as my life was finally changing for the better, a tragedy struck. My husband died in a car accident while he was on his way to our son’s 7th birthday celebration.

A few months later, CPS knocked on my door. They told me they had received a report of child neglect.
They said I was neglecting my son because of my grief.

We went to court, and I hired a private lawyer to defend me. But as the trial went on, CPS kept giving the judge more reasons to claim I was an unfit parent.
They even brought up my past.

It feels like they won’t stop trying to ruin my life. Even now, I’m still fighting for my son.

I came from the system. I know firsthand how horrible the life is for children inside it.
I’m sharing my story because people need to understand: once you’ve been part of the system, it never truly lets you go.

But I will never give up on my son. I will keep fighting for him—no matter what.

-KD, California.