The trial

So the possession and access trial was Thursday. Surprisingly it ran over and continued Friday (good thing I'd already asked to take Friday off from work). Two days. And it's not like it was a murder trial. But it was equally important to me, actually even more so -- it was concerning my own son.

We will receive the judge's ruling no later than next Friday. It was an emotionally draining two days (two months, rather, to be honest ... perhaps year?), a "judicial colonoscopy," as one of my best friends (who emotionally supported me, physically accompanied me, and witnessed the entire ordeal) stated. I could not express it more accurately, in spite of my own confidence with words.

The idea of taking the stand and testifying terrified me, but I did it. And I did well. I never lost my temper when cross examined (if you know me, you know that required a great deal of self-control). I awoke yesterday morning with a resolve to absorb any and all punches the OC might throw, for the sake of my son, for whom I would take a bullet. Punches? No problem. And yes, I would be honest. It's not in my nature to be any other way.

I am so thankful for the support I received from my family and real, true friends, who have stood by me through this entire process.

I feel 1,000 pounds lighter already, even without a ruling yet. I gave it my all, and I will abide by whatever the judge rules. The pressure is off, in some ways ... the issue is in the court's hands and, has always been, in the hands of God.

I've never claimed to be perfect. I have many, many faults, and no, I don't attend church very often. But I believe in a power greater than all of us, and I believe things will work out for the best. It's just unfortunate that it had to come to this; though it is true, there was no way to avoid it. All of this I did to ensure the safety of my child.