Why I Do What I Do

The Happiest Day Of My Life

I never thought this was going to be my life. Who ever thinks THIS is going to be their life? You carry a child for 9 months, nurse that child, nurture that child, stay up all night with that child, and all of a sudden you have to fight to have access to that child? To bargain, plead, and beg to spend time with that child? The child you were willing to sacrifice your life and your health for? It is a living nightmare every single day.

I was an amazing mother from the start. My children were planned and wanted. I went through 2 high risk pregnancies, and each issue was detected because I was in that OB/GYN’s office by 6 weeks. I was responsible. I diligently went to doctors appointments every 2 weeks, and followed the doctor's instructions to a T. When my babies were born, I diligently took them to every Pediatrician appointment. The Pediatrician made fun of me for being too neurotic because I asked a million and one questions. I watched their development like a hawk. I fought and won for a diagnosis for my son at just 10 months old. I was called crazy for doing it. At 11 months old he got a full spectrum of services from the board of ed, which is practically unheard of. I did that single handedly. I had 2 babies under the age of 2, and one with a diagnosis. I was exhausted, but worked hard to be perfect. My efforts were fruitless in the eyes of my implacable audience. I could do no right. I became dispirited. I doubled down on my efforts. The undertaking was futile. I cracked under the pressure.

The court saw none of this. They saw a broken woman. A desperate woman. An emotional woman. A confused woman. A woman who had been pushed over the edge. A bewildered, wide eyed mess of a woman. A weak woman who was being manipulated by everyone around her. A woman that did not yet know her own power.

By the grace of God, I was spared a much worse fate. I can only describe it as an act of God because it seemed as if He was delaying the proceedings so that I could get my bearings back. I saw miracles throughout the nearly 3 years of horror that I went through. I don't know how, and again I can only credit it as a miracle, but by the last few months of the process I suddenly found a renewed strength that I never knew I had. I felt like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. I will never forget the puzzled look on the Judge's face as she remarked that the person she saw in front of her was not the person she was expecting to see. That is because I was not the same person. The divorce and custody battle broke me, but I rebuilt stronger, smarter, and better than I'd ever been. We were headed to trial. However, I realized that I had almost 3 years stacked against me. I was unwilling to allow my family to be ripped to shreds for another 3 years. So I stood up and personally addressed the Judge pleading for reasonable mercy. She was tough, but fair. At the very last pre-trial hearing, in a sequence of pre-trial hearings, we settled.

That is how I got into this life. I did not ask for it, nor did I ever expect it. The only explanation I have for those 3 years, is the will of God. I am a person normally driven by logic and reasoning and spent my entire life making utilitarian decisions, but I cannot find logic or reason in any of the events that occurred during those 3 years, especially in my own actions. I believe that God gave me the challenge because He knew that I would be able to overcome it, and be able to use my experience to help others. I cannot fathom any other explanation for the turn of events that transpired during those 3 years. I made every mistake in the book and yet I came out relatively unscathed. It was nothing short of a miracle.

When it was all over, I remember leaving the courtroom and sitting outside in the park in utter shock. I was now a non-custodial mother. Although I would spend 43% of the month with my children and 50% of the holidays, I was still labelled as a non-custodial mother. I felt like Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter. I knew that children were taken away from mothers who were drug addicts, mentally ill, or mothers who were simply uninterested in being mothers. I was painted as all of those things, and at some point I started believing that I was all of those things, but the renewed spirit inside me realized I was none of those things.

I had started the divorce and custody process completely ignorant to the fact that once you enter a courtroom, there would only be one winner and one loser, regardless of the competency of both parties. The system operated on who was able to make the other look worse, and the winner was the one who was able to withstand the pressure without cracking. It was a Prisoner's Dilemma, except the stakes were a thousand times higher. It wasn’t justice, it was a death match. Nobody prepared me for any of this. Nobody told me the rules. Even those who were paid hefty sums to protect and defend me seemed to be accessories in this sadistic game. I felt gypped, and I felt angry, but most of all I felt ashamed. I was now Hester Prynne. I was a Non-Custodial Mother. I wore the letters NCM for all to see.

We live in a unique time in history where mothers are no longer awarded custody automatically. The pendulum has swung from Mother to "Father’s Rights" and most women entering the custody battle are completely ignorant of the anti-maternal sentiment in courtrooms today. I was no exception. I thought that I didn’t need to worry because “mothers always get custody”. I learned the hard way. Not one to stay down for long, I decided to view my trials and tribulations as an education. Through overcoming my adversity, I decided that I would empower and educate others to do the same. Who better to serve as a mentor and guide than one who has not only survived failure but thrived in spite of it? With a renewed strength, everything became clear. I understood my mission.

Since becoming an NCM, I blossomed as an individual and as a mother. I educated myself. I delved into the study of law. I learned how to think objectively. I learned how to reign in my emotions and impulses, recognizing that emotional outcries were viewed as weakness. I became fluent in legalese. I learned that words were not just words but my sword and my shield, and through effective communication I could protect and defend myself. I learned how to be assertive, firm, yet polite. I refined my appearance, speech, and mannerisms. I humbled myself. I learned how to live with intention. I developed a servant heart. I learned how to parent successfully within the parameters of my circumstances. I gained inner peace. I forgave myself. Most of all, I learned how to love myself. Make no mistake, I still have a long way to go but as Nietzsche once said “My humanity is a constant self-overcoming”.

As with all taboo subject matter, shame and stigma perpetuate ignorance, bias, and misinformation. There is a lot of shame and stigma associated with being a non-custodial mother. We are a marginalized group of individuals who hide in the shadows fearing judgement. This is made especially worse because nobody talks about being a non-custodial mother. If they do, it’s usually in the context of victimhood and helplessness. Nobody talks about succeeding or thriving despite their circumstances. Non-custodial mothers are ashamed and we hate ourselves. In the past, this self hatred caused our foremothers to become background players in their children's lives until they were no more than an afterthought. Mothers who lost custody were expected to walk away, and a lot of them did.

I want to usher in a new era for NCM’s. Ones like me who lost or gave up custody due to various circumstances but still wish to be involved in their children's lives while refusing to live with shame, stigma, and self hatred. I believe that the only way this can be done is through a ripple effect. By bettering myself and acting as a role model and inspiration for others, I hope that my actions encourage others to do the same, and so on and so forth. I refuse to be ashamed of who I am. I hold my head up high and do not want to be defined by my circumstances. I have an excellent relationship with my children. I am involved in the school and in my community. I act with dignity and respect because I have dignity and self respect. I do not perpetuate the stereotype associated with being a non-custodial mother. An outside observer would never know my situation if I did not choose to shout it from the rooftops. I wear my scarlet letters proudly in hopes that it will inspire other women to feel empowered as well. I am who I am, we are who we are, it is what is, and that’s OK. We will not let it stop us. We are amazing mothers who happen to not have custody. We will not be defined by a piece of paper.