Last friday, Daniel tells me he’s taking “the family” to Disneyland. Turns out he meant his mom and the boys.

Then Lucy comes into the kitchen, all excited, and asks if she can come too. and he goes, “no, it’s FAMILY-ONLY.” Lucy went quiet.

I asked him what that was and he said, “She’s not mine. I’m not spending a fortune dragging someone else’s kid around.” later Lucy came into my room and sat on the bed and asked me, “am I not part of this family?” her voice cracked and she looked so small when she said it.

I was livid but didn’t want her to spend the weekend crying. So, I told her to grab her shoes because we were going on our own adventure. I had a couple hundred dollars saved from my side job as a dog walker, so I packed Lucy into my old Subaru, and we drove to the state fair that was just a few hours away.

She didn’t smile at first. She kept staring out the window, her hands folded in her lap. I wanted to cry just seeing her like that. I kept telling her jokes, pointing out funny signs on the road, singing songs we used to love. Finally, halfway there, she giggled when I messed up the words to “Brown Eyed Girl.”

When we got to the fair, it was like the world opened up for her. Bright lights, sweet smells of funnel cakes, music in the air. I bought her a huge cotton candy, and she asked if we could ride the Ferris wheel. I said yes before she even finished the sentence.

Up at the top of the wheel, she leaned her head on my shoulder and whispered, “I love you, Mom.” I realized right then that no matter what Daniel said or did, she was mine, and I would fight for her until my last breath.

Back at home, Daniel called to check in. He sounded cheerful, telling me how John and Mark were having the time of their lives. Then he asked where we were, and I told him we went to the fair. His voice went cold. He said I was being dramatic, that I was teaching Lucy to be entitled. I hung up on him mid-sentence.

The next day, we went to a petting zoo. Lucy was laughing, running between goats and baby pigs. A woman with a kind smile approached me, complimented Lucy’s dress, and asked if she was my only child. I hesitated. I told her I had two boys too, but Lucy was my oldest. The woman looked surprised I was out alone with just Lucy, and it made me wonder what people thought of our family.

When we got back Sunday night, Daniel was waiting in the living room. The boys were asleep upstairs, and his mom had gone home. He barely looked at Lucy when she walked in. He just stared at me with this tired disgust on his face.

“You can’t just take her and go. We’re a family. You’re dividing us.”

“No, Daniel,” I said, my voice shaking. “You did that when you told my daughter she wasn’t part of this family.”

He started raising his voice, but I told Lucy to go to her room. Then I told him calmly but firmly that if he couldn’t accept Lucy, he wouldn’t get to keep me either.

That week was tense. We barely spoke. He’d take the boys to school but barely said a word to me. I cooked dinner, he’d eat with the boys and leave the kitchen before Lucy and I came in. The air in the house felt heavy, like something was rotting between us.

One night, after putting Lucy to bed, I walked into the living room and found Daniel sitting alone, staring at our wedding photo on the mantel. He looked like he’d aged ten years in a week. He asked if we could talk.Read More Below