Lately I haven't shown up for child support court. Fifteen thousand dollars is significant, especially when you are a person whose "economic" is very much at odds with her "socio."

Still, I just can't right now. It's a cost-benefit ratio kind of thing. When I put in an appearance, I lose. Over and over again, I lose.

I lose sleep when I lie awake nights gathering my thoughts and making notes for the hearing. I lose space in my room -- the deceptively bright lime-green milk crate that holds all the related files takes up coveted floor space. I certainly lose privacy; the Department of Health and Human Services is one more entity with whom I now share my bank account info. I lose space in my already-full-to-capacity brain because I have to track court dates, requests for time away from work, and yet another personal identification number. If I avail myself of the thoughtfully provided debit card, can some division at DHHS then track how I spend my money?

Speaking of which, I lose that, too. My car requires gas to transport me back and forth to Hillsborough. I watch my cash flow toward fees for the above-mentioned debit card. I incur an additional charge if I choose a paper check and now, "pursuant to the Federal Deficit Reduction Act of 2005 and NCGS 10-130.1," a $25 annual fee is to be deducted from the next child support payment after $500 has been disbursed to me. That is not a typo. It is taken from the children who need it, instead of separately and directly from the noncustodial parent.

Whose handiwork is that? I don't know the intent, but I can tell you the reality. Once again the children and the custodial parent lose.

It is not an abstraction. On particularly slim weeks, $25, finessed just so and combined with the right coupons, equals dinner groceries for a week at my house. This mom and her family lose.

I lose precious tears. I cry for myself, for my children and for others in the courtroom. I feel the weariness that drapes the bodies and hovers around the faces of some. I see myself in the eyes of still others who come hopeful for resolution. I struggle with conflicting feelings. The justice system is flawed: it cannot read hearts or legislate morality. Who would it really help if yet another father goes to jail? Can I bear seeing yet another black male in the prison system? Yet, what if that's exactly what it will take? And if I don't pursue this, what message am I sending to my son and daughter and to myself?

I already worry about my children. Kids often blame themselves when their parents divorce. Call me crazy, but grappling with issues surrounding the efficacy of penal institutions, because oh, wait, one of your parents is a resident, is not on my personal list of things every teenager should know. There are other sadnesses on which I'd rather spend my tears.

Lastly, I feel small pieces of my dignity flake and drop away each time I walk into that courtroom and bare details of my life in the company of strangers. I leave feeling diminished and a little shamed, as if I did something wrong. I have even more empathy for parents who decide that seeking well-deserved child support is not a wise investment. A friend suggests that many feel as I do and have not the wherewithal to give voice to the feelings. I wonder if they just don't have time for the pain.

To date the one thing I want never happens. It is not to see my children's father in jail. I want regular support payments. I'm not ready to give up, but I have to take a break. My children and I are painfully in need of that money. We deserve and have lost unquantifiably more. I simply don't have the resources to be present in court every time. It's expensive.

So, like many things I want these days, I'll save up for it. Then, when I can afford to, I'll go.