Today, November 25, 2018 marks 165 days since my daughter was legally kidnapped by my husband. Today is also the day that I have gained enough strength to start documenting the journey of bringing her home, although I really wish I would have documented it from the beginning. I tried several times, but the tears running down my face wouldn’t allow me to see the screen.

I want to share my story in an effort to bring awareness. I am 38 years old, live in New York City, and consider myself equipped to protect myself from danger. In fact, I’m kind of a scaredy-cat. I don’t walk around by myself in the dark, I don’t take the subway by myself in the night, and I don’t stay in relationships when something seems “off”. This, however, I was not prepared for. My wish is that after reading my story that other parents will be aware, and less children will have to suffer being separated from their perfectly competent parents.

I love my daughter fiercely. Since the day I found out I was pregnant I was determined to make sure that she has the best life possible and was never willing to settle for status quo. I ate all the right foods during pregnancy, made sure I exercised, and delivered her naturally. I wanted to make sure she was strong when she took her first breath. I protected her as much as I could by using methods I learned through thorough research – extended breastfeeding to protect her fragile immune system, homemade food, and all organic products.

I’m not trying to knock anyone’s way of parenting. That is the last thing I want to do. I may be right in my approach, I may not. But the point is I did the best I could in the best way I knew how. I believe that this is every mother’s single responsibility, no matter the approach.

As you can probably tell, I am what they call a “tree hugger” mom. I don’t own a microwave, I’ve never eaten fast food in my adult life, and I brew my own kombucha. I also believe in attachment parenting. I believe that holding my baby close to me for as long as I can will make her a stronger and more confident adult.

There was one danger that I did not realize I had to protect her from – her father. My husband and I had a very stereotypical parenting relationship. He was the main breadwinner, mostly worked, and came home to play with my daughter for a bit every night. He did put her to bed once in a while and came to doctors appointments. That was about it, and I was generally fine with it. I loved spending all my time with her. I woke up with her in the morning, made her lunch, took her to school, gave her a bath at night, and took her to various activities on the weekends. I never took her for granted. She was literally my best friend.

When our relationship went sour, my husband did threaten me several times that my daughter was not going anywhere with me. I just brushed it off and took it as venting. I felt guilty since I was the one that had made the decision to separate, and wanted to allow him to be angry. Although it didn’t look like we were going to make it, I saw my husband as a wonderful and kind-hearted man who always put his kids first.

On June 14, 2018, several days after I got served with divorce papers, I got called into an emergency hearing to the New York Supreme Court. I was being accused of sexually abusing my child and a temporary restraining order was being filed against me. This was the beginning of my nightmare.

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