Jonah was only supposed to be gone for the weekend. By Sunday, he hadn’t answered calls or texts. Panicked, I called the police—and learned my ex had taken him out of state, claiming I was dead.
Tracking them down, I found Jonah terrified and crying. His birth certificate had my name scratched out, replaced with “Mother Deceased.” His cousin had been lied to too. That night, I held Jonah, vowing to get him home.
The court granted me full temporary custody, but my ex retaliated with a parental alienation lawsuit. It was exhausting and soul-draining—until Marie, the cousin, came forward with proof of his lies. The judge ruled in our favor: full, permanent custody, and no contact.
We moved, started therapy, and slowly healed. Eight months later, a check arrived from the bake sale his ex had tricked neighbors into holding. Strangers who believed a lie now gave us hope. I used it for Jonah’s art classes—and a year later, one of his drawings was selected for a children’s exhibit.
Through it all, I realized the truth: kids feel love. Lies can’t erase it. Jonah now thrives, surrounded by trust, safety, and people who choose to do the right thing.
You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to show up. Love does the rest—and it never fades.
