In just a few months, on July 17th and 18th, I will walk into a courtroom knowing that my entire world is on the line. I am the full-time caregiver to six children who have experienced trauma, abuse, and loss, and this trial will determine whether they remain in the safe home we’ve built together—or whether they risk being sent back into the chaos and pain they fought so hard to escape.
This trial should not exist. The evidence is there. The trauma is real. The disclosures have been made. Professionals have intervened. And still, I have to go back to court and defend what should never be questioned: my right to protect my children.
How We Got Here
In 2018, I was forced to walk away from my children to save my life. Their father threatened to kill me and hide my body if I ever tried to take them. He had military training, access to weapons, and acreage to hide a body. I had no choice but to leave. I fell into addiction and homelessness. It took me two years to fight my way out, and I got clean on June 22, 2020.
In 2021, he finally filed for divorce. That was my moment to fight back. In 2022, the judge ordered immediate visitation. I began reconnecting with my children. I self-represented in court and secured 50/50 custody.
But he manipulated the situation, withheld medical information, refused to give me insurance cards, and sent the kids back and forth in unstable, unsanitary conditions. My special needs daughter wasn’t speaking. My sons were angry and withdrawn. Still, I stayed patient. I documented everything.
Seizures and Denial
In August 2023, my daughter began having seizures. Her father insisted she was daydreaming and doing it for attention. On September 29th, she had multiple seizures back-to-back while in my care. I rushed her to the hospital myself. That’s when my children said, “She’s been doing this at Dad’s all day yesterday. He got her in trouble and made her stay in the wood room all day.” She was diagnosed with absence epilepsy.
We were referred to neurology. An EEG confirmed generalized idiopathic epilepsy. Still, her father refused to believe it. He blocked treatment. Since we shared legal custody, doctors could not prescribe medication. It was agonizing.
In desperation, I began researching and found Charlotte’s Web CBD, a safe and well-known brand. I purchased it, and, began giving it to my daughter. It helped, but wasn’t enough. Because of the price of the amount I needed to give her to be completely effective, I just couldnt afford it. Then in May 2024, she had her first grand mal seizure. I overrode his objections and demanded emergency medication at the ER. It saved her.
In June, I was granted temporary sole physical and legal custody. I was finally able to get her medication, an autism evaluation, and real care.
The Truth Finally Came Out
But the trauma wasn’t limited to medical neglect. Forensic interviews revealed the truth: sexual, emotional, physical, and psychological abuse.
My son’s burned leg from a fire in 2019 was never treated; it remains scarred and damaged. A chainsaw injury was superglued shut instead of being taken to the ER. My daughter was forced to menstruate on rags in a bathroom. Another was slapped for crying when being harassed by siblings.
The most horrifying were the disclosures of incest, and also of rape. My special needs daughter detailed what was done to her. One son disclosed seeing it happen and begging for it to stop. Another said he could tell she was hurt “by the smell.”
The perpetrator—their grandfather—was under investigation. Charges were prepared. He died two days before arrest. The father has yet to face accountability. He was complicit. The kids said he saw what happened and did nothing. My daughter now shuts down when asked about him. She has seizures when trying to talk about it. Prosecutors fear trial testimony would retraumatize her beyond what she can bear.
Why Are We Still Here?
The answer is as infuriating as it is simple: Because silence is powerful. Because denial is convenient. Because the system needs the kids to bleed on command before it steps in.
But I won’t let my children bleed anymore.
We’ve built a safe home. It isn’t perfect—we still face outbursts, flashbacks, confusion. There are screams, tears, and chaos. But there is love. There is stability. There is healing. They are finally in school. They are finally seeing doctors. They are finally being heard.
When the intensity of the case picked up last April, I secured a lawyer to help me fight the civil battle and navigate the storm. I have worked my plan. I have done everything asked of me. And today, the Department of Health and Welfare has deemed that the children are safe in my care and in the home I share with my boyfriend. They have recommended case closure to the judge, stating that the father remains unsafe, uncooperative, and unfit—and that I have gone above and beyond to stabilize my children and give them a safe, healing environment.
The father has not seen the children in over a year. He was offered a visit at the beginning of the case. He was told it would be just him, not his dog or his mother—that future visits could include them, but the first needed to be focused. He walked away.
The recommendation from the state is that I be awarded full sole legal and physical custody. We are waiting now to find out if the judge will grant case closure or extend it until the one-year status hearing. Regardless, I will be back in court July 17th and 18th to continue fighting for my children.
And all of this—every step, every appointment, every hearing—is happening in the same month my partner is required to face a judge in Colorado.
I should be able to breathe. I should be preparing summer snacks, not court exhibits. I should be planning for the next school year, not another war in front of a judge.
And yet, on July 17th and 18th, I will be forced to stare across a courtroom at a man who is not just unsafe, but a predator — someone who stood by and allowed unspeakable things to happen to his children. I’ll have to sit there and listen while my truth is debated like theory. While the safety of my children is weighed against someone who gave them trauma instead of protection.
This trial shouldn’t exist. But since it does, I’ll show up like I always do: battle-worn, unshakable, and ready to fight for the ones I love.
Because that’s what mothers do.
Because that’s what my children deserve.
If my words spoke to your heart, you can help keep this space alive and help support me and my family on this journey:
Letters From the Edge 