At our divorce hearing, my husband sat there acting calm, his lawyer painted me as the unstable mother, and I could feel the room starting to lean his way. Until my 7-year-old daughter stood up in her little blue dress, clutched her purple tablet with shaking hands, asked the judge if he would please watch something I knew nothing about

My name is Audrey Miller and I am thirty four years old while living in a quiet neighborhood located just outside of Greenfield in the state of Indiana. If you had asked me a year ago what my life looked like I would have told you that it was perfectly ordinary and perhaps even blessed.

I had a seven year old daughter named Macy who was like sunshine in human form with her messy curls and a laugh that made any bad day better. I also had a husband named Patrick whom I believed loved me with all of his heart through all the years we spent together.

The day I received the legal papers Macy was busy coloring a picture of a garden at our kitchen table while I was drinking my afternoon coffee. Patrick did not even wait until she had gone to her room because he simply placed the thick envelope in front of me with a cold and rehearsed expression.

“Audrey, this is not working for me anymore and I have already filed for a divorce,” he said in a voice that sounded like it had been practiced many times. The words did not make sense at first and they felt as if they were being spoken to me while I was trapped deep underwater.