It’s hard to explain to anyone the guilt that I feel. It tears me down. Its like  adding a new puncture to  my heart with a knife every time I think about it. Sometimes I am overcome with panic to try to fix it, to try to justify it. But how. How do you justify something like this?

You don’t. Because it was wrong. He is a grown man and he made these choices. Now he has to live with them.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I just want to be able to turn my head. To walk away. To let him deal with HIS life. It is his life. Not mine. I have a life of my own. A very busy one at that. But no matter how much I try to walk away, I can’t.

I have this overwhelming sense of guilt. It is gut wrenching and painful. I feel that I am responsible for taking someones life away. It’s so hard to describe for other people. And I am overrun with it. Some days it is impossible for me to deal with. This guilt is constantly in the back of my mind, secretly infecting all of my emotions.

I recently moved and it was tough for me. I packed all of my things and went through pictures of Wes and his dad. I went through letters and clothes. The memories flooded my mind. All of the good and all of the bad. This short life that we had built together. The one he  tore down brick by brick with his bare hands.

There were painful reminders of fights that happened. Holes in the wall, dents imprinted by his fists. And there were beautiful reminders. Westley’s first picture. The bed he put together for Wes just a few days before he was arrested. Smiles, laughs, love. I found things that made me bust out laughing  from the goofy memories of him. I found things that made me sob and feel hate for him because he ruined me. I found things that would make me smile and cry happy tears. It was all such a train-wreck of emotions.

Shortly after he was arrested the second time, I was driving to pick up Wes from his grandmas house. It was pouring down rain and I was crying so hard that I could hardly see between my tears and the rain. I remember thinking that all I needed to do was let go of my steering wheal and it would all be over. No one needs me. Wes has all that he needs and he has people who love him so much. I can’t do this. I can’t be a good mom and deal with all of this. It’s not fair. All of a sudden I felt a presence in my car with me. I cant even begin to describe it. I felt it and I began to scream out loud. I yelled and cried hard tears. How could you. Why is this happening to me. What do you want me to do?!




I cried and yelled and screamed until I felt a sudden sense of peace. I wiped away my tears and I felt like I was meant to do something. Something was going to happen.

I picked up Wes with no evidence of my tears and I brought him home.

A few weeks after this I met Rob. My life has been different ever since.

This is why. I can just hear this presence that was in my car with me that day say to me, this is why.

Because Rob loves me. He loves Wes. And he loves our little boy who has yet to come into this world.

I still spend a lot of my time morning Westleys dad. I feel like I lost someone who was so very important and special to me. I lost someone I sincerely loved as a dear friend. I am mourning the father of my little boy. And it hurts so very much. I feel this guilt and pain and there is nothing I can do with it. I don’t know where to put it. It is hurting my relationship with Rob.

Today I was in a panic and was crying because no one has been able to go and see him for two weeks now. I felt responsible and I can just hear him telling me that he feels abandoned. And like we don’t care.

He abandoned his son by making the choices he did. And that is painful. He made horrible choices and they affect us. That is painful.

My mom called and she cried with me. She begged me to put the guilt down. She begged me to focus on myself, Wes, and this life that is growing inside me. She begged me to focus on my relationship with the man who loves and cares for us all.

“You cant carry the weight of the world Amanda, put it down.”-Mom



Yep. I got a B+ on that English paper. I just sat there with a grin on my face and thought to myself, in that small moment away from everything going on, “seriously”. I couldn’t believe it. I just shook my head, and put the paper into my bag and went home.

He had been in jail only a few days. And I continued on with my life during the day, but at night, I melted into my bed. I would cry for hours and hours. I would sleep for two, sometimes three hours a night.

He would constantly call my phone. He called me with his one free call and he was sobbing on the other end. Like a child. He was weeping and looking to me for stability, for understanding, for forgiveness. We got cut off. And my heart ached to help him. It was a constant battle literally between my head and my heart. I knew that he was in the wrong. My head was telling me to run as fast as I could. To never look back. To disconnect myself from him. But my heart was broken.

Going from loving someone so much that it is indescribable. To knowing that you should hate them for what they did.

My heart is still conflicted. And at times, my mind is too. I often wonder what our child, Westley’s life will be like because of this. Because of the pain that I go through. I don’t always show it, but I know that he can feel it.

One day we came home from a long day of school and daycare. I put his TV on for him and I walked into the living room. All of a sudden it just hit me like a ton of bricks. I dropped to my knees and fell back. I began to sob as quietly as I could. I heard Wes say, “mommy?” and I sat up, crossing my legs. He walked over to me and curled into a ball on my lap. He laid his head on my chest, I wrapped my arms around him and I began to sob. Loud, deep sobs. He put his little hands onto mine and didn’t make a sound. He cuddled me. He held me. And when he felt that I was okay, he got up and walked into his room.

I realized right then that everything was going to be okay. That what I did was the right decision. That it was okay to feel the pain and grief that I was feeling over the loss of someone I thought I knew. And that it was not okay to hate. My heart was correct in the want and need to love him. I do not hate. And neither does Westley.

It would be great if I could leave this as the end of the story, wouldn’t it? But I would be lying to you. This is hard. I do see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it sure is a long tunnel. I refuse to let my child take on my emotions. That was the one time that I allowed myself to do that. I know that he feels what I feel no matter if he sees it or not. But I try so hard everyday to be happy for him, and to show him unconditional love for everyone and everything. But it is fucking hard.

So, this is where I am at. I am fighting through depression. But that’s the thing, I am a fighter. I will win. I will continue to try my hardest to see the good in every person and in every day. Will I be perfect? No. But that’s okay too. We…I will get through this.

I am now engaged and expecting my second child with a man who loves me. And who I trust. Life is good. Life is amazing. And I will strive to experience it in all of its glory.

This is my sweet, kind, beautiful little boy.



More to come soon….


A Heavy Heart

There has been so much going on in my life that it is hard for me to explain over and over again to people who simply care about me. It is not something that I like to discuss a whole lot and that is why I avoid spreading the news. Truth is, I am embarrassed. I am hurt. I am sad.

I have always been so concerned with what other people think of myself and my family. Often times sacrificing so much of my emotion, and true feelings. I have a fear of being judged.

I know that this post is going to stir up a frenzy of questions or people feeling the need to say things like, “I am so sorry”. Honestly, that is not what I am looking for by doing this. I am doing this because I am tired of pushing my friends and family away. I am tired of people not knowing. This is my life. This is what is happening to us.

In February of 2012 I broke up with my child’s father. We had been together in a rough, rocky, not so good relationship for about 4 years on and off. I felt like a new person and like things were looking up for us. I was happy. He was not. He would come to me on his knees, sobbing and begging for me to take him back. I have never seen him so vulnerable. One day he was sobbing and out of sheer panic proposed to me in between tears. It took everything I had to tell him no. To tell him to stop, and that he was not healthy. It was hard to see him like that.

Things slowly began to get easier, and he realized that he needed to care for himself and do some searching for himself. I really thought that that was what was going on.

I was wrong.

In May I borrowed his lap top computer to write a paper for school. I clicked open the internet browser to check my email. His Facebook messages were open and right in front of my face I read something that horrified me. I began to shake, even as I write this I can feel my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach. My knees begin to shake. It’s almost as if my fingertips are becoming numb.

The messages were between him (25) and a 13-year-old girl. I began to sob. I threw the computer onto the couch and could hardly keep my self together enough to dial my moms phone number. She picked up and before I got a word out I began to sob and shake and scream and cry uncontrollably. By this point she was in utter panic and was yelling at me to tell her what was wrong. I got the words out. “I found messages” she screamed at me that she didn’t understand. I explained the best I could and she asked me to read her some of what I saw. I don’t know how she understood any of what I was saying, but she did. She came to my apartment (Wes was at daycare) and sat with me and cried. We both knew what the right thing was to do. But I didn’t know how to. This was not him. He couldn’t of done it. But it was right there, staring us in the face. I have never been hit with such a harsh reality in my life. It is still unbelievable to me to this day.

We, I called the police. The deputy was on his way to my apartment. Between the time that I called the police and the deputy getting here, he came over. I confronted him about it. He sank to the floor, leaning on my couch in grease filled clothes from working on a car. He began to sob. And I felt myself breaking into a thousand pieces. He said to me, I am sorry, it is not what you think, I know it was wrong, I don’t know why I did it. I believed him. But I knew, he knew that it was wrong. He knew that I am a survivor of sexual abuse as a child. He knew. He told me to call the police. And at that moment there was a loud knock at my door. He looked at me, his eyes were as wide as I have ever seen them, and said, you called them already? My heart sank deeper into the pit of my stomach. I opened the door and they came in. The officer immediately arrested him and took the computer. Then, they left.

I was sobbing without control. Deep, painful sobs.

He was charged with communicating with a minor for immoral purposes. He was in jail for a few days and then was released. We talked and cried. I wanted to help him. I wanted him to know I was angry, and I was embarrassed. And most importantly, I was sad for our child.

There was an investigation and a polygraph test to see if anything actually happened between the two of them. He passed the polygraph test and she denied that anything had ever happened. Several times she denied it. And throughout this whole thing all I could tell my self was that I was not going to be the one to discredit her if she said something did happen. Because I was in her shoes once. I was a victim and I didn’t want her to go through the pain that I did. I was confident in this information that we received and I began to build our friendship back up for the sake of our sweet little guy.

About a week later, he was here tucking Wes into bed when there was the loudest knock Pounding at my door. My heart dropped. I went over to the door and opened it to find a detective and a police officer. They asked for him and he came to the door. They made him go outside and they shut the door. I went into our sons room and finished tucking him in. I held him for a long few minutes and then kissed him good night. I closed his door just as there was a knock at the front door again. I opened the door. The detective had him in cuffs. And he was sobbing again. Telling me he didn’t do what they were arresting him for. Asking me to Help him. I stood there absolutely in shock. As the police officer began handing me his things. And telling me, through my shock that he was being arrested on three counts of the rape of a child. I remember just looking at the officer as he made eye contact with me. He looked down at my floor where Westley’s shoes were and told me, quietly, how sorry he was. Then the door shut. And I stood there. Just like that, alone. Still holding his belongings. After about 5 minutes or so I set everything down. I walked over to Westley’s room and checked on him. He was sound asleep. I walked into my living room. And I slid down the wall and began to sob and scream all over again. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. I cried and sobbed painful tears.

Then it hit me. I had an English paper due at 9am the next day.

I had a little boy that I needed to protect physically, and emotionally.

I picked myself up off the floor, sat on my couch and wrote a 6 page paper at 3am. I couldn’t even tell you what it said.

I picked myself up, not because I wanted to. And not because it was easy to do. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. In the midst of the worst pain I have ever felt in my life, I stood up and sucked it up. Because I had to.

To be continued…