The second time I had to see the therapist my nerves were calmer. I was pretty sure he was on to my husband’s plot to manipulate the court system, and I could not imagine this visit going sour. Nevertheless, I had a bad feeling.

After what felt like the millionth pep talk from my lawyer, I marched over to the therapist’s office. I walked in to the familiar small, dark office and fidgeted with my phone until he came out to get me.

“Please come in.” There was the big fake smile.

I sat on his couch and gripped the arm. My nerves were kicking in. We started off with the usual routine of greetings and pleasantries. What happened next really threw me for a loop…

“So I’ve been getting some emails from dad and his lawyer. It has to do with you seeing your daughter on days you are not supposed to, but we can discuss that later.”

What??? There was absolutely no protocol and no reason for my husband or his lawyer to be communicating with the therapist. My heart started beating fast. What was happening??

“How was your first unsupervised visit?”

“It was great! She was so excited to see me show up at her school that she could barely contain herself!”

“So there wasn’t police waiting for you when you got there or anything like that?”

What in the actual fuck.

“No, no police.”

The therapist continued. “Can you tell me your schedule with your daughter?”

I told him our court ordered days and that almost every week so far we have had to make some changes because of either his or my personal schedules. I told him that everything was agreed upon over email.

“So you’ve been able to agree and co-parent on this issue, thats great!”

“Um, yes.”

Co-parent?? What the fuck was he talking about? I would be in a better position co-parenting with a hamster!

He proceeded to walk over to his laptop and open his email. He started reading the first note.

“Dear Dr, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I am very concerned about Paulina having unsupervised visitation with her daughter….” He trailed off. “But, it doesn’t say why he’s concerned”

He continued to click his laptop mouse, looking through more emails.

“On such and such date, my client picked up his daughter from Paulina’s house and she told him that she needs to whisper a secret in his ear. The secret had to do with Paulina’s booby. We are very concerned and refraining from calling ACS for now….”

I really have no idea why I have not learned to expect this, but I was absolutely beyond belief completely fucking stunned. All I could do was look at the therapist and shake my head. Did he really have to balls to keep going with this abuse allegation?? Of course he did! My heart was beating so fast I didn’t know how I was going to continue this conversation. I felt like waving the white flag. Calling it quits. It took every ounce of control I had to not have a complete mental breakdown in front of this therapist. The only thing that kept me sane at that moment was the voice in my head saying “You have to stay strong for your daughter. You are her mother. This is your job.”

I continued to sit quietly and wait for the next question.

“So, how long did you breastfeed?”

“I breastfed her nutritively until she was 2 years old and then I tried to wean her. Although my milk dried up, my daughter’s desire to be close to me and nurse did not. Although I took a couple of months break, I started to nurse her again because it was clear to me she was really upset and not totally ready to wean. I believe in attachment parenting and I wanted to be gentle with her.”

“So you continued for another 2 years?”

“Yes.”

I was still baffled that I was having a conversation about my boobs with some old man, and that this was considered normal. On top of this, I was paying a lot of money for this line of questioning.

He seemed satisfied with my answer and went on to another subject.

“Tell me about the time of separation and when the divorce proceeding started”

I went through the timeline as best as I could. I told him that the day I got the keys to my new apartment is the day I got called into court. The videos he used to make the abuse allegation were taken just a few days before that.

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Did you know he was filming you?”

“No.”

The rest of the visit continued with a series of mundane questions. I started to calm down and was able to speak normally again. I got the same feeling again that I had in the first visit – he knew. He was on to my husband’s plot.

The visit concluded…

“I still haven’t received payment from dad, so I’m not even sure why he expects me to read these emails. The fact that he’s writing me makes me uncomfortable, and frankly it’s very inappropriate.”

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