I remember the first week my daughter didn’t come home.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I remember not sleeping.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I remember sitting up until four or five in the morning, surrounded by paperwork, putting together binders of evidence and trying to understand how my life had changed so quickly.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I remember the confusion.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The anger.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The fear.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But more than anything, I remember the silence.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Not because my house was actually silent. I played music constantly. I think part of me was trying to drown out what was happening inside my head.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
It was a different kind of silence.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
It was the silence of a house where somebody you loved was supposed to be, but wasn’t.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And if you’re a parent sitting alone with court papers tonight, wondering how your life became something you barely recognize, I want to talk to you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Not as an attorney.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Not as somebody with all the answers.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Just as a father who has sat where you’re sitting.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Because there are some things people will never fully understand until they’ve lived through them.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And there are some things I wish somebody had told me before I had to learn them myself.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
That morning started like an ordinary day.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
My daughter’s mother had dropped her off with me, just as she had so many times before.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I took care of her, helped get her ready for school, and expected her to come back afterward.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
That was our routine.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Nothing about that morning prepared me for what was coming.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Later that day, I received a text message from her mother.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
It was confusing. I didn’t understand what she was trying to tell me or why she was saying it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
About five minutes later, a sheriff showed up with paperwork.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
At first, I didn’t even connect the two.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I thought the sheriff was there about something else.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Then I saw the names on the documents.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I started reading.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And I realized my daughter wasn’t coming home.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I don’t know how to explain what that feels like to somebody who has never experienced it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I’ve made mistakes in my life.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I’ve done things I shouldn’t have done, especially when I was younger.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And I’ve faced consequences for those things.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But this was different.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I was reading allegations I believed were untrue, trying to understand what was happening, while facing the possibility of losing time with my child.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
There was no opportunity in that moment to sit everybody down and explain.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
No way to make the confusion disappear.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
No way to turn back the clock five minutes and have an ordinary afternoon again.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
There was just paperwork.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And a sheriff.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And the realization that my daughter wasn’t getting off the bus.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I had spent years trying to become the kind of father my children could depend on.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I loved being a dad.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I loved the routines, the responsibilities, even the parts other people might have considered inconvenient.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And suddenly, something I had built my life around was no longer within my control.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
That feeling broke something in me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
When people think about a parent being separated from a child, they probably think about birthdays.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Christmas.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Holidays.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Big family events.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And those things hurt.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Of course they do.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But I think some of the deepest pain comes from losing the moments nobody else would think to remember.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Every morning, I used to spend time with my daughter before she got on the school bus.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Sometimes it was only ten or fifteen minutes.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
We would talk.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Get things ready.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Sometimes we’d be finishing a school project that had somehow waited until the last minute.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I remember making crowns with her on our back porch.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
We had a golden orb spider that lived near the house.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
We gave her a name.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And in the mornings, we’d talk to that spider before my daughter got on the bus.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
That was part of our life.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Just a father and his little girl saying good morning to a spider before school.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
After school, I’d wait for the bus.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
She had her own little routine.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
She’d get off, run toward the house, check the mailbox, and bring in whatever was there.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
We’d make sure her homework was done.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
We’d spend time together.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Sometimes she’d only be with me for an hour or two before going somewhere else.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But those hours mattered to me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I was there.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I knew what she was learning.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I knew what was happening in her day.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I knew when she was excited about something or when something was bothering her.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I knew my daughter.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Then one afternoon, she didn’t get off the bus.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And those little moments were gone.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
There was no running toward the house.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
No checking the mail.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
No homework spread across the table.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
No stopping to talk to our spider.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I still got up in the mornings.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I still saw my son off to school.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I still watched the bus come down the road.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But now, when it came back in the afternoon, only my son got off.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
That is the kind of thing that stays with you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Not just the court dates.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Not just what the paperwork says.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The ordinary moments you never imagined you’d have to live without.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Sometimes I would go into my daughter’s bedroom and just sit there.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I’d sit in her computer chair and look around.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Her things were still there.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Her room was still her room.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And somehow, sitting in that chair made me feel a little closer to her.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I don’t know if that makes sense to somebody who hasn’t experienced something like this.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But when you’re missing your child that much, even being surrounded by their things can feel like having a small piece of them with you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
It wasn’t just me who felt the loss.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
My wife loved my daughter like her own.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
My son had grown up with her since they were little. They played together constantly. They were best friends.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Our family had routines that included all of us.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And when one person was suddenly missing, everything felt different.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I remember sitting around the dinner table.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Somebody would say something funny.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
We’d laugh.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And almost instinctively, we’d look toward the chair where my daughter should have been.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Waiting for her to jump in with something.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Waiting for her opinion.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Waiting for her laugh.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But nobody was there.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
There are moments when the absence of somebody can become the biggest presence in a room.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
That is what it felt like.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Our house was still standing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Life was still happening.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
We still had responsibilities.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But there was this enormous empty space in the middle of everything.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And everybody could feel it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
If you’ve never been through family court, it’s easy to imagine it works the way it does on television.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Something happens.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Both sides present their evidence.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Somebody listens.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The truth comes out.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
A decision gets made.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And everybody moves forward.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I wish my experience had felt that straightforward.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Instead, I found myself trying to understand a complicated process while dealing with the worst emotional pain I had ever experienced.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I had been through custody court before.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Because of what happened during that earlier experience, I’d spent years saving records and documenting things I believed might one day matter.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
So when this happened, I thought I was prepared.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I had evidence.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I had records.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I had documents.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I believed I could answer the allegations being made.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I thought that meant things would be resolved quickly.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But having information and getting that information heard and understood are two very different things.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I spent nights putting together binders.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Organizing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Labeling.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Going over timelines.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Trying to figure out what else I needed.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I barely ate.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I barely slept.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And even when I wasn’t working on the paperwork, I was thinking about it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
What did I miss?<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
What else can I find?<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
What do I need to explain?<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
How do I make somebody understand?<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I felt like every hour I wasn’t doing something was another hour I was failing my daughter.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And that feeling can consume you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Because this isn’t just a legal case to the parent living through it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
It’s your child.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
It’s the person whose shoes you tie.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Whose homework you help with.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Whose favorite foods you know.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Whose laugh you recognize from another room.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Your family is not a stack of documents.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Your love for your child is not a hearing date.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And the pain of missing them doesn’t wait politely while a legal process moves forward.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Something I wish I had understood earlier is that being prepared doesn’t guarantee the outcome you expect.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I went into parts of my situation believing that if I had enough documentation, everything would become clear.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I thought there were things that could be explained quickly if somebody would simply look.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And when that didn’t happen the way I expected, it was devastating.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I had spent so much time preparing for the possibility of being challenged.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I hadn’t prepared myself emotionally for the possibility that the process might still go differently than I believed it should.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
That was another kind of shock.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
It wasn’t just the original separation.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
It was realizing that the things I believed would help resolve the situation might not resolve it when or how I hoped.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I remember being only days away from a hearing and realizing that my attorney hadn’t fully understood important details about the family and home my daughter had grown up in.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I remember how frightening that was.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Because when you are trusting someone to help with something this important, you want to believe they understand your life.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
You want to believe they understand your child.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And when you begin to doubt that, the fear becomes even heavier.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I don’t say any of this to tell you that every lawyer is bad or every court gets things wrong.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
They aren’t, and they don’t.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
There are people working in these systems who genuinely care about children and families.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
But I do want you to understand something.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
You can do your best to prepare and still face uncertainty.<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/p>\n You can believe deeply in your case and still have to navigate setbacks.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And if that happens, it does not mean you should have known everything in advance.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n It means you’re dealing with something difficult.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Something that may require patience, support, and a willingness to adjust your approach.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I wish I had given myself more room to understand that.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n People talk about how expensive family court can be.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And it can be.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We borrowed money to pay legal expenses.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We spent more than twenty thousand dollars on an attorney.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There were court dates.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Missed work.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Bills.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n More things to pay for when we were already trying to build our future.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But money wasn’t the only thing we lost.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Before everything happened, my wife and I were finally getting to a place we’d worked incredibly hard to reach.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We had bought our house.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We had worked long hours to make that happen, and we’d put years of effort into building our life together.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I was working on getting my website business established.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Then COVID happened.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Starting a business during a pandemic was hard enough.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I couldn’t do much of the normal in-person networking that helps a young business grow.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And with schools closed, I was helping the kids with their education from home.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n My daughter was with me for school almost every day during that time, even on days she otherwise might not have been.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I don’t regret those days.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not one bit.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If anything, looking back, I wish I’d spent even more time enjoying them.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Eventually, things started improving.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n My business was gaining some traction.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We were planning our next steps.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We were talking about another house.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n My wife was making plans to start her own business.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And we were expecting our first child together.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n It was supposed to be a happy time.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We had worked hard to get there.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Then everything changed.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The money we’d hoped to invest in our future went toward trying to manage the crisis.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Work became difficult.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Concentrating became difficult.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Building relationships became difficult.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And some days, simply getting through the day felt like an accomplishment.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Years later, I’m still working to rebuild parts of my life that were affected.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n That is something people don’t always understand about trauma.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n It doesn’t necessarily end when the immediate crisis passes.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes you spend years trying to recover the life you were building before it happened.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Through some of the hardest periods, I had two people who truly helped keep me going.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n One was a friend.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The other was my wife.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And I cannot overstate how much my wife’s support meant to me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We were friends before we were together.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n She knew me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n She had witnessed so much of our life firsthand.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I didn’t have to convince her of who I was.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n She had watched me grow.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n She had watched me try.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n She had watched how I cared for my children.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n When I was struggling to understand what was happening, she reminded me of who I was.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n When I felt like I couldn’t get through another day, she encouraged me to keep going.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n When I was hurting, she didn’t simply walk away.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And she was hurting too.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I don’t think I fully understood at the time how much the situation was affecting her.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n She had helped raise and love my daughter.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n She missed her too.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n She was carrying her own grief while trying to help me through mine.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I think about that a lot now.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes what helps somebody survive isn’t a perfect explanation or an answer to their problems.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes it’s simply knowing there is somebody sitting beside them.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Somebody who hasn’t left.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Somebody who doesn’t need them to explain why they’re hurting.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Somebody who says, “I’m still here.”<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If you’re reading this and somebody has been that person for you, please don’t underestimate what they’ve done.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And if you’re the person sitting beside somebody who is going through this, don’t underestimate what your presence can mean.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You may not be able to fix their circumstances.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You may not know what to say.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But being there matters more than you probably realize.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n This is something I learned much later than I should have.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n When everything first happened, I stopped taking care of myself.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I barely slept.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I wasn’t eating properly.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I spent hours and hours trying to put together evidence and understand what I needed to do.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Every minute felt urgent.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If I wasn’t working on the situation, I felt guilty.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If I laughed at something, I felt guilty.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If I tried to relax, I felt guilty.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If I enjoyed a moment with my family, part of my mind was still somewhere else.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Thinking about my daughter.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Wondering what she was doing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Wondering when I’d see her again.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Wondering whether there was something I should be doing instead.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And that guilt can convince you that taking care of yourself is somehow abandoning your child.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I understand that feeling now.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But I also understand how much it hurt me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I became so consumed by trying to fix what was happening that I started losing parts of myself.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There were days when I wasn’t fully present with the people right in front of me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There were things I used to love doing that I didn’t want to do anymore.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And even when I tried, I wasn’t always the same person.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I was sad.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Exhausted.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Distracted.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I tried to keep things normal for my children, but I know I didn’t always succeed.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I wish I’d handled some of those moments better.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I wish I’d given myself permission to rest.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n To eat.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n To sleep.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n To enjoy a good moment without feeling like it meant I cared any less about the painful ones.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Because I’ve learned something important.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Taking care of yourself is not taking time away from loving your child. It is part of making sure you can keep loving them the way they deserve.<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/p>\n You cannot spend every day running on nothing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You cannot expect yourself to make good decisions when you haven’t slept.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And you cannot rebuild a life if you never allow yourself to live any part of it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I know that’s easier to say than to do.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Believe me, I know.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But I wish somebody had kept reminding me of it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n While all of this was happening, my wife and I were expecting our daughter.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I have thought a lot about how strange that period of my life was.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We were supposed to be celebrating.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We were bringing another child into the world.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And at the same time, I was grieving the time I was losing with my oldest daughter.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There was happiness and heartbreak happening together.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And I struggled with that.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But having another little girl coming into our lives gave me something I desperately needed.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Something to look forward to.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Another reason to keep getting up.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Another little person who would need me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I had felt something similar when my first daughter was born.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n She helped me recognize that I wanted to build a different kind of life.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And years later, my next daughter helped remind me that there was still a life in front of me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I still had a family.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I still had children who needed their dad.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I still had a wife who loved me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I still had things I wanted to build.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I couldn’t change everything that had happened.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But I could still decide what to do with the day in front of me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n That didn’t make the pain disappear.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n It didn’t make missing my oldest daughter any easier.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But it slowly helped me begin finding myself again.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And sometimes that is how healing starts.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not with some enormous realization.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not with everything suddenly being fixed.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But with one small reason to get out of bed.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And then another.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And then another.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Until one day you realize you’re living again.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If you are reading this because you haven’t seen your child in weeks, months, or even years, I want you to understand something.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The time you spent loving and raising them still happened.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Those memories are real.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The birthdays.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The bedtime stories.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The school projects.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The silly jokes.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The times you held their hand.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The things you taught them.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The things they taught you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Nobody can make those moments stop having happened.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Your relationship may look different today.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There may be legal restrictions, difficult circumstances, or questions you still don’t have answers to.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You may not be able to show up in the ways you want right now.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But you can still choose the kind of parent you want to be.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You can keep growing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You can keep building.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You can keep making decisions your child could one day be proud of.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And where contact is permitted, you can look for healthy ways to maintain that connection.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I know of parents who write letters to their children even when they cannot send them.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Some keep journals.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Some create email accounts and save messages they hope to share when their children are older.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not as a way to pressure their children or demand a particular response.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Simply as a record of love.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n A way of saying, “I thought about you today.”<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe one day those messages will be read.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe the future will look different from what any of us expect.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n We cannot know.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But the love behind those efforts is still meaningful.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And perhaps the most important thing you can do is keep becoming somebody who will be ready to love and support your child if the opportunity comes.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n This might be the hardest lesson I’ve had to learn.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n For a long time, I thought fighting for my child meant constantly doing something.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Another conversation.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Another explanation.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Another document.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Another attempt to make somebody understand.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I believed that if I stopped pushing, even for a moment, I was giving up.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But I don’t see it that way anymore.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes not giving up means being quiet.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes it means getting proper advice and following a plan.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes it means waiting instead of reacting.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes it means choosing not to spend your energy on a conflict that won’t help your child.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes it means going to work.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Building your business.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Taking your other children to the park.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Spending time with your family.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Getting a good night’s sleep.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And waking up ready to handle what actually needs to be handled.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You can exhaust yourself fighting every single battle that comes your way.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And if you do that, you may have nothing left for the ones that matter most.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I’ve learned that the hard way.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There were times when I thought the answer was to tell the whole world what had happened to me.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n To speak louder.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n To keep explaining.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n To keep fighting until somebody listened.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Looking back, I wish I’d taken a more patient and deliberate approach.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I wish I’d asked better questions.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Had calmer conversations.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Focused more on the things that could actually change something.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I cannot go back and do that now.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But I can learn from it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And maybe somebody reading this can learn from it before making some of the same mistakes.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You do not have to fight every moment to prove that you haven’t given up.<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes the most important work happens quietly.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I wish somebody had told me this sooner too.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You do not have to wait until every painful part of your life is resolved before you’re allowed to be happy again.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I know that sounds simple.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But when you’re in the middle of something like this, happiness can feel wrong.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n How can you laugh when you’re missing your child?<\/p>\n<\/p>\n How can you enjoy a vacation when there’s another hearing coming?<\/p>\n<\/p>\n How can you celebrate something good when part of your family is still hurting?<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I struggled with those questions.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes I still do.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But I’ve learned that happiness and pain can exist in the same life.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You can miss somebody terribly and still enjoy a beautiful morning.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You can be worried about tomorrow and still laugh with your children tonight.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You can have an unresolved situation hanging over your head and still be proud of something you’ve accomplished.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Those good moments don’t erase the bad ones.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n They don’t mean you’ve forgotten.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n They don’t mean you’ve stopped caring.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n They mean you’re still alive.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Still capable of loving.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Still capable of experiencing something good.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And you deserve that.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Your family deserves that too.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I have been through painful periods in my life when I genuinely thought I’d never feel like myself again.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And somehow, slowly, I’ve found happiness again.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not all at once.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not every day.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not without setbacks.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But enough to know it’s possible.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I am still healing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There are things that still hurt.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There are memories that can still pull me backward.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But there are also mornings when I wake up excited about something I’m building.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There are moments when I laugh with my children.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There are evenings when my wife and I talk about the future and everything we still want to accomplish.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And those moments matter.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n They are part of my life too.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You don’t have to stop missing somebody to start living again.<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/p>\n I want to come back to you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n The person I was thinking about when I started writing this.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe it’s two in the morning.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe the kitchen table is covered in paperwork.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe you’ve read the same page ten times and still don’t know what you’re supposed to do next.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe you’re wondering how you’re going to afford another attorney.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe you’re afraid of what the next hearing will bring.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe you’re looking at an empty bedroom.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe you’re staring at your phone, hoping for a message that hasn’t come.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And maybe you’re sitting there thinking something I remember thinking myself.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I don’t know how much more of this I can take.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I understand that feeling.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I remember the nights when every breath seemed to hurt.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n When the sadness wasn’t just something in my head.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n It felt like it was everywhere.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n In my chest.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n In my stomach.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n In the silence of the house.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n In every little thing that reminded me of the child I was missing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There were times when I thought I couldn’t do it anymore.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And then another morning came.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And somehow, I got up.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I don’t tell you that because I think I’m stronger than you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I’m not.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I don’t tell you that because I think I handled everything correctly.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I didn’t.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I made mistakes.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I struggled.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I lost myself for a while.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And I am still working through parts of what happened.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But I’m here.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I’m still a father.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I’m still building.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I’m still learning how to find peace.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And I’m still trying to become a better man than I was yesterday.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n So if I could pull out a chair and sit across from you tonight, I think the first thing I’d tell you is that you don’t have to figure out your entire future before morning.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You don’t have to answer every question tonight.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You don’t have to read every document again.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You don’t have to solve something that may take months or years to work through.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If you need help, ask for it.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If you have somebody you trust, call them.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n If the weight of everything has become too much to carry safely on your own, tell somebody that too. There is no weakness in needing support.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And if you can, put those papers down for a little while.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Eat something.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Drink some water.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Try to get some sleep.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Your child does not benefit from you destroying yourself trying to prove how much you love them.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Take care of yourself.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Tomorrow, figure out the next right thing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not every possible thing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Just the next one.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe it’s making a phone call.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe it’s finding better advice.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe it’s organizing a few documents instead of a thousand.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe it’s making a plan.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe it’s doing something good for the family you have around you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe it’s going to work and building something that will help you keep moving forward.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Whatever it is, do it the best way you can.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And when you’re done, find the next right thing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I can’t promise you how your situation will end.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I can’t promise that everybody will listen.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I can’t promise that every decision will be fair or that every person involved will do what you believe is right.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I wish I could.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But I can tell you that your life still matters.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Your health matters.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Your future matters.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And the person you become while getting through this matters.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Your child may need you in ways you cannot even imagine yet.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe soon.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Maybe years from now.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Whatever the future holds, give yourself the best chance to meet it as somebody who has kept learning, kept growing, and kept loving.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Don’t let the pain convince you that the rest of your life is over.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Don’t let one terrible chapter become the only chapter you ever write.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And please, don’t mistake taking care of yourself for giving up on your child.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes getting up and making breakfast is a victory.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes going to work is a victory.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes laughing with your other children is a victory.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Sometimes making it through another night is a victory.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I know those victories don’t feel big enough when you’re missing somebody you love.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But they matter.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Because little by little, they are how you begin finding your way back.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And I hope you do.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I hope you find people who will sit beside you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I hope you find moments of peace.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I hope you keep enough of yourself intact to enjoy the good things that are still waiting for you.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And I hope that whatever tomorrow brings, you never lose sight of the parent you are trying to be.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I’ve walked part of this road.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n I know how dark it can get.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And I know how lonely it can feel.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But if you’re sitting at that table tonight, I want you to know something.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n You are not the only parent who has sat there.<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/p>\n There are other people who understand.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n There are people who can help you carry some of what you’re carrying.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And there is still a life in front of you worth building.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n So take care of yourself.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Love your children in the ways you can.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Make the next right decision.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And when tomorrow comes, get up and keep going.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not because it’s easy.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n Not because everything is okay.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n But because your story isn’t finished.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n And neither are you.<\/strong><\/p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I remember the first week my daughter didn’t come home. I remember not sleeping. I remember sitting up until four or five in the morning, surrounded by paperwork,\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":67,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"iawp_total_views":3,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-68","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fatherhood-family"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/68","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=68"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/68\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":69,"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/68\/revisions\/69"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/67"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=68"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=68"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/joshuazaleski.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=68"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}The cost goes far beyond money<\/h2>\n<\/p>\n
The people who stay<\/h2>\n<\/p>\n
I wish I had taken better care of myself<\/h2>\n<\/p>\n
The child who helped me find my way back<\/h2>\n<\/p>\n
You are still their parent<\/h2>\n<\/p>\n
Not giving up doesn’t always look like fighting<\/h2>\n<\/p>\n
You can find happiness before everything is fixed<\/h2>\n<\/p>\n
For the parent sitting there tonight<\/h2>\n<\/p>\n