Perseverance

If I were to chart my moods on a graph every day the end result would look like a roller coaster. Depression often makes me feel as if I am bipolar (no offense to anyone who is actually bipolar. Since I am not, I am only using it as a loose comparison).

Yesterday was definitely a roller coaster day. I had the stress of wondering if Eric was alive. Turns out he was camping in a location where he didn't have cell service. Which could have been just about anywhere on the mountain, but he was exactly where he said he would be, therefore easy for me to find him when he failed to come home at the expected time.  Over twenty-four hours had gone by without so much as a text. We never go that long without communicating with each other. I was worried. My ride up the mountain gave me plenty of time to think of all the ways he could be injured or dead. By the time I saw him, safe and intact, I had convinced myself that I would find him trapped under a fallen tree. These thoughts come as a side effect of having a beer loving husband alone on a mountain with a chainsaw. He walked up to me as I approached on the four-wheeler and what did I do? I punched him as hard as I could, called him a sonofabitch, and burst into tears. He was completely baffled, but quickly made me laugh by admitting that, even though he didn't know what he did, he probably deserved it.
Since Eric's safety had been established I was free to ride back down the mountain. I did so leisurely, stopping to watch a red-tailed hawk in flight, smell the flowers and take pictures. All was right in my little world again.
When evening rolled around, and my mood turned dark again, I really wasn't surprised. I went to bed hoping tomorrow would bring a fresh start.
I woke this morning to discover that depression had dug its greedy claws into me. Once again an invisible force was keeping me in bed, and keeping me from doing the very things that I know will help pull me out of my funk.
My chest felt heavy. I felt like I was drowning.
By the time I could breath again I had missed out on the fun I had planned for the day. Immediately came the regret, then remorse, for not following through on commitments I had made. Well, what's done is done (in this case, not done), and there's no sense in dwelling in regret. As for guilt, I was born with that piece missing.
With some help from Eric, I put on my big girl pants, and forced myself back up on the mountain for a hike. For those of you who have never suffered through depression you should know this is an incredible feat. The very act of movement hurts; my feet feel like they have been filled with lead. Every step is an act of defiance against myself.
For four hours I said "Fuck You Depression", enjoying the clean air and the sounds of nature. Tonight I am winning the battle, or I'm just too tired.
My calf muscles are giving me the middle finger.
Mentally, I feel pretty darn good. #givingdepressionthefinger

Canine Midwife

This morning I had the amazing opportunity to help bring life into this world.

My little Yorkshire Terrier, Rue, gave birth to three healthy puppies with the assistance of her midwife: me. 

She began waking me up around 3am. She's been too fat to jump up on my bed for several weeks now. Instead she sits by my side of the bed and whines until I wake up, pick her up, and allow her to do her “circle four times, stomp on the blankets, then lay down” routine before I can go back to sleep. This morning was a little different. She couldn’t get comfortable, so I lay there in a half asleep haze rubbing her belly. It was about 5am when I first felt a contraction. I quickly got out of bed and Rue led me straight for the puppy nursery, aka the sunroom, where I had set up her whelping area. This is her fourth litter of puppies, she knows what to do and where, she just doesn't want to do it without me. 

The first puppy, a girl, was delivered less than ten minutes later, and this is when we came across our first problem. Although the puppy was out, cleaned up and breathing, she was still attached by umbilical cord inside Rue. The placenta had not been delivered. I didn't worry too much. I figured the next contraction would deliver the placenta. Instead I saw another sac containing the next puppy, and I saw paws instead of a nose. Over the next twenty minutes Rue had several hard contractions and tried pushing but couldn’t get any more of the second puppy, or the placenta from the first puppy, to come out. They were trying to exit at the same time and there just wasn’t enough room. The second puppy was stuck. I grabbed the KY Jelly and lubed up a finger. I had never assisted this way before and was a little nervous about screwing it up. Each time I managed to get my finger inside her vagina Rue had a contraction, but I couldn’t get a grip on the cord to the placenta or get the second puppy to budge. I was also aware that if I forced any of this it could cause bleeding to Rue and I could lose her and the pup. It was nerve racking and took more patience than I thought I had. I would have appreciated a second set of hands but everyone else in my home was still asleep and I wasn’t about to leave Rue to go wake someone up. Finally I was able to move the puppy aside just enough that with the next contraction she and I were able to extract the placenta. Which she promptly ate, chewing off the umbilical cord instinctively. We still had the problem of the next pup coming rear paws first. Rue was pushing but the pup still did not want to come out. The four years of experience I have with dog breeding seems very insignificant when facing a problem I’ve never encountered before. Watching Rue push, watching as more of the pup was exposed as it made its way through the birth canal, then when the contraction subsided the pup looked as though it were being sucked back into that tiny opening. It looked painful and unnatural. Again I lubed up a finger. I gently reached up far enough to what I believed was the puppy’s shoulder and with the next contraction I lightly pulled. All but his head made it out, and with the next contraction Rue pushed out the head, and the second placenta.

I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t realize just how stressed I was until it was over and took a moment to congratulate myself for staying cool under pressure.

I honestly thought there were only two puppies so I began cleaning up. I grabbed a second cup of coffee, I had managed to drink the first cup while up to my knuckles in placenta. I checked on all the other dogs in the house and started a load of laundry.

I went back to check on Rue and her new pups to discover that there was indeed a third puppy on its way.

This little one was coming butt first. Seriously? The butt first presentation is what is considered breech, and the most dangerous of all presentations, for both puppy and mother. I was beginning to doubt the success of this litter. But Rue was having better luck with this one than she did with the second pup. A few pushes later and she had him half way out. With his legs tucked up next to his chest he looked like he was way too big to be exiting such a small space. The female body, regardless of species, is amazingly resilient and elastic. With the next push I gently pulled on the puppy and out he popped. I felt as exhausted as Rue looked, though I know that was far from the truth.

Hours later mom and all three puppies are sleeping in the “cave”, which is a playpen turned on its side with blankets draped over it. Being partially enclosed makes Rue feel safe. The sunroom door is cracked open and held in place by a gigantic cow bone (a remnant from our deceased Labrador and too big for my girls to eat, although they try). Rue has been out a time or two for a bathroom break and actually looks relieved to not be pregnant any more. In the past she’s been an amazing mother and I expect she will be this time as well.

I am overjoyed that all three puppies are alive and appear to be very healthy. I’ve had a few pups die. That’s just the way it is sometimes. Nature is harsh and humans make mistakes. It’s all part of the experience. This go around though, I could do without any heartache. So far so good.

Dogs in general, mine in particular, give me enormous joy. Their unconditional love and simplistic desire to please is all I need some days to make my whole world feel complete. In breeding I have had the ability to share the joy with other families. It’s a beautiful thing. 

#givingdepressionthefinger

Inspiration comes in many forms. Mine came when I discovered that a friend was enduring the same pain as I was, at the same time, a hundred miles away. She began to talk about her depression on Facebook. She didn't know it, but I was glued to her every word. When she took up hiking as a tool to battle her depression she created a hashtag to go along with it: #givingdepressionthefinger. It's now my mantra. I also began using hiking as a tool. Really, I was already hiking, but for some reason this small motivation gave more depth to my action. Hiking is currently a priority that I see to as diligently as showering.

She and I have not discussed this. I have only openly discussed my struggle with Eric, and casually mentioned it with a few friends I consider close. I'm a very private person (this is why blogging terrifies me--step out of your comfort zone Amy!). Depression can be easy to hide with enough effort. There is also that thing. The stigmatization of depression as if it's some sort of shameful mental disorder. Which is lame when you consider how many of us have/are/will suffer from it at some point in our lives.

Depression has unfortunately become my best friend. It's with me everywhere I go. Sometimes it brings along its friends, Anxiety and Introversion. They taunt and torment me like a couple of playground bullies. I am fighting back and I'm winning. This is not my first ride on the depression merry-go-round. It's been part of my life since puberty. This is the first time in over a decade it's brought me down so low. Depression becomes a downward spiral. I know what I need to do to help myself, but doing those things with consistency becomes overwhelming. My thoughts become shattered and nothing seems important any more. Days go by. I wallow in my own darkness. Then a focused thought (or hashtag) emerges and I grasp at it like a life line and I lift myself back up.
On the bright side, I've learned something about myself through all of this. Last summer I was riding a high. I was unstably euphoric; feeling and acting in ways that were out of character and downright dangerous. I now recognize that for what it really was: the first stage of a serious hormonal/chemical imbalance. When winter came I crashed, and have since been trying to claw my way back out. Obviously I'm making some headway or I would not be talking about it (because we never want to talk about it when we are deep in the center).
For now I will continue the hiking and remember to take my vitamins every day. As the seasons change, so will my outdoor activities. My wish for myself is to continue to be optimistic.

Namaste.

My Opinion on Dog Companionship

We've all seen the guy in the grocery store parking lot with a sign for free puppies. More often than not I can't resist the temptation. I must cuddle. I kiss their little heads and croon "I loooooove you" shamelessly for anyone nearby to overhear. Then I politely smile at the human while I place the puppy back in it's box or crate and walk away. Puppies should not be an impulse purchase.
How many of you have done this?
Now, how many of you have done the same thing to an adult dog?
I'm raising my hand. Yes, I do this with adult dogs too. The ones that will let me.
If you did not say yes to the second question, please please PLEASE don't ever get a dog.
I live in the country where the average home sits on an acre of land and fenced yards are few and far between. Dogs here come in three flavors: The beloved house dog, the working ranch dog, and the we-got-it-for-the-kids-when-it-was-cute-dog. The latter is typically chained to something in the yard and is often seen running back and forth on his chain through mud he has created by tipping over his own water bucket. He wags his tail and barks every time someone walks past because, dammit, he just wants someone to give him affection.
This breaks my heart.
If you can not honestly say that you think adult dogs are as lovable as puppies, don't get a dog! When you're children beg you for a pet, don't cave in. Moms and dads always shoulder the full responsibility of a family pet. Depending on the breed, dogs can live anywhere from 8 to 18 years. Eighteen! The commitment of a puppy can be the equivalent of having a child.
Dogs are lovable and kind. They are people pleasers and attention whores. If you can't give them what they deserve. DON'T GET A DOG!

My Interview with Author Terra Luft

About five years ago I was invited by a friend to join her book club. I stepped out of my introverted comfort zone and went. All my fears just melted away in a room surrounded by a bunch of women I didn't know, yet I seemed to fit right in. It ended up being on my list of the best decisions I've ever made. Immediately I recognized a "kindred spirit" (and fellow heathen) in Terra Luft. We have been strengthening the bonds of our friendship ever since through common interests like books, coffee, yoga, motorcycles and more books. Now one of my favorite people is officially a published author! From the sideline I've watched her take her hobby and turn it into a career. She's inspiring, and always encouraging. I couldn’t be more proud of her! 

Reflections is Terra’s contribution to the Secrets & Doors Anthology. I was given an Advanced Reader Copy and the opportunity to interview Terra on my blog. I thoroughly enjoyed the book and I recommend it to everyone. If you like fiction of any kind you will want to read this book. Also, all proceeds go to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, so you'll be effortlessly donating to a good cause too. Check it out.....

Open the door and unlock the secrets in eleven short stories from The Secret Door Society, an organization of fantasy and science fiction authors dedicated to charitable work. All proceeds from this anthology benefit the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation in their quest to cure Type One Diabetes (T1D).

In these pages you’ll discover a modern woman trapped in an old fashioned dreamscape, a futuristic temp worker who fights against her programming, a beautiful vampire’s secret mission disrupted by betrayal, a sorcerer’s epic battle against a water dragon, the source of magical mirrors—and more. There are tales for every science fiction and fantasy taste, including new works from award-winning authors Johnny Worthen, Lehua Parker, Christine Haggerty, and Adrienne Monson.

Join us in the fight against T1D as you peek into a world of magical and mysterious doorways—if you dare.

Not only is this my first interview with an author, it is also Terra's first interview AS an author. I'm honored to be part of her journey. So here we go, introducing Terra Luft.....

Is Reflection your first published work? Tell me how the opportunity to have your story put in “Secrets and Doors” came to be.

Yes, this is my first published work. Bottom line, it was a combination of taking my writing seriously instead of just a hobby, and deciding I needed to find a professional organization of writers for support, if one existed. About a year ago, I met several of the authors who founded The Secret Door Society with the vision to create an anthology that gave back in some way to the community. Then our publisher, Crimson Edge Publishing, picked it up and we got an editor. It was up to the editor to say when (or if) each story was worthy of inclusion. My story went through eleven drafts before arriving at what readers will see. Eleven. There were a lot of tears followed by digging in and doing what felt like insanely hard things – like cutting the word count from eight thousand to five without losing details – or changing from third person to first person. In the end, the editor is always right, no matter how much she made you cry. I finally reached a point when she had nothing else she wanted me to change. It was that moment, standing alone in my kitchen, that I went from being a writer to being an author, like earning my wings. The by-line and seeing my name listed as an author on a book someone can buy is just the icing on the cake.

How did you come up with the idea of mirrors being a gateway? What made you decide to make the other side dark and scary rather than something wonderful?

Most of my ideas begin with tiny pieces of everyday life and my imagination taking it into fantastical places. I believe this one specifically started while I listened to bestselling authors talking about the best ways to build magical systems rooted in reality. Someone mentioned  a mirror, and next thing I know my fingers were frantically typing the question ‘What if there were no mirrors’ in my idea file. It took about three months of brewing in the back of my mind asking questions about why mirrors would have been banished and how people would see themselves, how they would feel about it, etc. before characters and their stories started to emerge. I made the other side dark and scary because that’s where my mind usually takes me. I blame Stephen King.

Your main character, Jadayell is very skeptical of what she considers folk lore, or superstition. Did you pull that skepticism from your own personal experiences?

Most of the skepticism came from exploring how society without mirrors would work and build stories and characters from there. In my own life I’ve always been a rebel. Tell me I can’t do something and suddenly it is the only thing I want to do. I put myself in Jadayell’s shoes trying to live in a world where you were forbidden the basic ability to know what your face looks like. It wasn’t hard to guess how a rebellious girl would react. In Jadayell’s world, it has been more years than anyone alive can remember that they’ve been living under this oppression. I think the further you get from the cause of a rule, the less likely the youngest generation of thinkers will follow blindly without questions.

There’s very little physical detail about your characters. One would assume they are human and look like us, but I couldn’t help letting my own imagination take over and picture them the way I wanted them to look (I pictured elfish characteristics, pointed ears, long thin limbs, graceful). Did you purposely leave details out so the reader could explore that on their own?

I think that’s the beauty in all fiction. You as the reader get to decide what everything looks like as the story unfolds in your imagination. As an author, I have my idea but it is only the seed I give the reader so they can fill in all the details. How often is a movie made from a book you loved and the person they cast as your favorite character looks nothing like you imagined? There are clues in Jadayell’s story that tell readers specifically that they are from Earth originally but from there you get to decide.

I would love to read more about Jadayell, Zophah and the world they live in. Do you plan on expanding this story into a novella or novel?

In the beginning, this was just a short story I wrote for some instant gratification. I’ve been working on novels for years and I wanted the satisfaction of finishing something in a much shorter time frame – months rather than years. Lucky for you, I’m a novel writer at heart. I’ve been brewing the rest of their story and it’s on deck for drafting as soon as my current project is finished with revisions. The story and where it ended up are pretty special so I’m glad I took a break from novels to write it. All the proceeds from Secrets & Doors are being donated to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. Eradicating this horrid disease is a cause close to my heart having recently lost my Mom to complications arising from diabetes. It will be a personally satisfying reward to help with such a worthy cause.

As your friend I know what a potty mouth you have, and yet there was only one swear word in the entire short story. I know you have other projects in the works. Will they also be of a similar genre? Fantasy/horror?

It’s true… I swear like a sailor thanks to my Dad who is the son of one himself. I’m not against using profanity in my writing but Jadayell just didn’t like it as much as I do. There were also submission guidelines which dictated reining any potential profanity in as well. Apparently I’ve found the one set of rules I’m unwilling to break.

As for other projects, I have written novels from urban fantasy to contemporary fiction to paranormal. Most of the ideas I have sitting on the back burner waiting their turn are in the science fiction, fantasy and horror categories. Which is why my business cards say ‘Speculative Fiction Author’. Attempts to label me any narrower is likely futile. To steal a line from one of my fellow authors: I write books I’d like to read.

As you know from our conversation at book club, the term “speculative” was new to me. I could be wrong, but I’m willing to bet that other readers are not familiar with that term either. It seems unfair to place an author in one box, such as Stephen King being labeled horror. I like that speculative covers multiple genres. “Secrets and Doors” has eleven short stories and just as many authors. Would you say they all fall into the speculative category?

The term ‘speculative fiction’ is a broad literary genre encompassing any fiction with supernatural, fantastical, or futuristic elements (according to Wikipedia.org). That most certainly would include all of the stories in Secrets & Doors. The truth of genre labeling is that the labels only exist so book stores know which books to shelve together. I know most writers could classify their work in multiple genres – the same book sometimes fitting into more than one depending on which element of the story you focused on. I think more people should label themselves as speculative fiction authors and writers because it doesn’t put you in a very small box. My first novel was a fantasy and I set it aside to write other books in genres I felt I would be most successful in because I didn’t want my fan base (if I get one of course!) to expect only fantasy novels from me in the future. It is a shame people aren’t more familiar with the classification.

As a woman who is passionate about reading and would love to write something of my own, I find the entire process daunting. How long have you been writing? Do you find that it takes a lot of self-discipline to get the story on the page or does it come naturally to you?

I’ve been writing since 2008. It took me no less than five years just to learn the basics of the craft and get one entire rough draft completed. The learning curve is steep. Like most things in life if you’re willing to do the hard work it isn’t impossible. For me, the first draft comes pretty naturally now. That’s only true now because I spent years doing it harder and hating it because I was doing it the way other people told me worked for them. It wasn’t until I figured out exactly what my own process was that it was easier. The hardest part for me is making time in my life for consistent writing. Saying that “someday” I want to write a book doesn’t get any words on the page. That book or that story won’t write itself.

One shock I had to get over was when I finally clawed and dragged myself across the finish line of “The End” just to realize that was only the beginning. The truth is the first draft is the easy part. It is revisions and editing that reduces even a bad ass like me to tears. Writing is hard and takes a lot of hard work. People who want to write should know that going into it. Trust me when I say it is worth it, though.

One final question. Readers are going to want more. How do they find and connect with you? With the Secret Door Society as well? 

I'm a social media junkie. So there are lots of ways to connect with me. As for wanting more, I'm working hard on the next book that hopefully will find a home shortly. I don't mean to be a tease, that's just the way publishing works.

www.terraluft.com
facebook.com/TerraLuftAuthor
terraluftwrites@gmail.com
https://twitter.com/earthandair
www.onceuponakeyboard.com

You can find the Secret Door Society on Facebook as well by searching "The Secret Door Society".
Thanks for having me, Amy, it's been a blast!


There you have it. The one and only Terra Luft giving us a little insight on the art of writing and how much work goes into getting a story from a writer's imagination into your hands (doesn't that make you appreciate it a little bit more?). If you are feeling inspired to write something of your own then jump on over here, www.onceuponakeyboard.com, and get some knowledge from Terra and her cohorts. 

Terra Luft is a speculative fiction writer and prolific blogger. An overachiever by nature, she tackles every project with coffee and sarcasm, and believes all rules exist to be broken. She works full time by day and writes by night; always searching for that ever-elusive work life balance people tell her exists. She lives in Utah with her husband and two daughters, their naughty dog and a cat who stole her heart.

An Anniversary

Once upon a time I was the mother of three children. Now I am the mother of two.

No, I have not lost a child to death. It felt worse than that. I carry the grief of losing a loved one with a large helping of hatred stacked on top. I have not lost a child to death, so if you have, and you read this, do not take offense. This is my story and I'm allowed to feel and think and see the way I choose. I do not want to compare my grief to anyone else's. 

Tristan entered my world in 1995. Terek joined Tristan and I in 1998. In 2001 Chelsey, age 4, became my third child, and my only daughter. She fit right between my boys in age, and they quickly became buddies. It didn't take long for them to start acting like siblings. I fostered the love that grew between them. When they were little all three were inseparable, roaming the neighborhood playing games and laughing. Occasionally fighting.

For over ten years it was this way, with some changing and growing. Then on January 11th, 2012 she left and never came back.

Blending a family can be very delicate and I took the challenge of step-parent head on. My goal right from the beginning was to treat Chelsey as if she were my own, which included scolding, an occasional spanking, and chores along with hugs and kisses and bedtime stories (the last being a favorite for all of us). 

The past three years has been a progression of emotions. Anger (at myself, Eric, Chelsey and Jill), hatred, then sadness, remorse, and back to anger, then indifference. The indifference was a relief, but it didn't really end there either.

Fifteen is such a volatile age. The day Chelsey left she did it big, with a lot of crying and screaming, dragging many family members into the drama. It ended with her mother, Jill, pushing me out their front door and slamming the door in my face.

I don't think children shouldn't lie to their parents, but they do. When they get caught they should not get away with it. Especially when it's a whopper of a lie. Unfortunately Jill and I do not parent in the same style. 

In the first few months after she left, Chelsey played the victim card. Email and text messaging was the only way she would communicate with her dad. She repeatedly said things like "Amy's boys are treated better than me" and "I don't think (insert complaint here) is fair". Isn't that how every teenager feels? And she tried to emotionally manipulate Eric by playing the "if you loved me you would (insert some sort of monetary purchase here)". Eric is not the kind of dad who takes his daughter shopping. If that is how she feels, that love is purchased rather than given, then she's got something wrong with her thinking. 

This is not the girl that Eric and I had been raising with Jill for the previous decade. I found myself wondering what she was going through and how I could help. I continued to text her, just a simple hello, how are you, just to keep that communication open.

After a few months Chelsey cut off all communication with Eric and I. She would not return text messages or answer her phone. We still saw her in passing. She would stare at me if she happened to be picked up or dropped off from school at the same time I was getting Terek. We would pass them on the road while out running errands. These glimpses were like a dagger in my heart. I shed a lot of tears. Eric comforted me, but turned off his own emotions. 

Terek would see her in the halls at school and she would just glare at him. Her friends started bullying Terek. He started taking different hallways to his classes so he wouldn't bump into her. This was especially hard on him. He was two years old when she became his sister. He loved her. Her treatment broke his heart. This is when I began to hate her. 

I was trying to understand why she was so hateful towards Eric and I, but the attitude towards Terek was unacceptable. Who was this girl who could just sever ties as if those family members never meant anything to her?

June came and Eric received a Father's Day card in the mail, signed Chelsey AND Jill. Ouch.

July came and Eric got served. Jill sued for full custody, back child support, and a handful of other ridiculous things that she didn't get. It was obvious what was important to them: money and possessions. 

Friends, when/if you ever get divorced and a judge says something like "I hope I never see you two in here again. If you have disagreements try to work them out among yourselves". Don't listen. Even with documentation, emails, WRITTEN agreement, between Eric and Jill stating that neither party owed child support to the other due to joint custody, Eric still got nailed for that back child support. Chelsey's teenage temper tantrum cost us over $10k. 

Almost two years after the day she left I text her and got a response. She agreed to see me and we met at a little coffee shop. We talked for over an hour, then she went back to the house with me. She appeared to be surprised when she saw the entire house was packed up and nearly empty. I told her we were  moving. We sat on the kitchen floor and played with puppies and talked for another hour before she said she needed to leave. She hugged me, told me it was good to see me, and that she'd keep in touch. After she left I felt such a relief, as if everything was going to be okay.

I felt this was the turnaround point where our family could start to heal again.

The next day she blocked my phone number.

That day in November of 2013, just before Thanksgiving, was the last time either Eric or I have heard from her. 

The third anniversary of her departure from our family came and went. I spent a little time that day thinking about the last three years and how much we have changed. I'm still angry at her but it doesn't hurt as much, and it doesn't consume me the way it once did.

I know Chelsey has changed. That's a given, but I don't put too much thought into it. I just don't care anymore.

I wonder if she's ever thought about what SHE did to US. Did she ever consider what her absence did to Eric, to me, or to the boys? How our family dynamics changed? The daily routine that suddenly felt wrong because she was missing?

Children, teenagers, should know that their actions have consequences beyond themselves. They should learn that they don't get to hurt other people to get what they want. They especially need to learn coping skills when life gets hard. I believe Jill did Chelsey a disservice by letting her make all these decisions on her own. Eric and I did a lot of communicating with Jill during the first four months and it all came back to the same thing "what Chelsey wants is what she gets". Jill allowed Chelsey to run away from the problems at our home. Her lack of cooperation with Eric undermined his ability to parent.

Frequently, family or friends ask Eric or I if we have heard from Chelsey. They ask us how she is doing. When we tell them we don't know we get a variation of the same response. Something along the lines of "when she's older she'll want her dad in her life again" or "when she's more mature she'll come back around".

If you, yes YOU, have ever spoken those words to us, you are forgiven. Just know, we don't want to hear it anymore. Our lives have moved on.

I look around our home, our new home that Chelsey has never set foot in. There are family photos on the walls and she is in many of them. I look at them with a mixture of sadness and happiness. The fun stories they tell are what is important. Two of those children are a daily presence in my life still. They have become kind and independent men. I am proud of them.

As for Chelsey, I no longer have regrets. I did all I could do.