It was a Friday afternoon and my husband and I were sitting on the couch discussing what plans we wanted to make for the weekend. There was a knock at the door, but we weren't expecting anybody.

Figuring it must just be a solicitor, my husband went to answer the door and I went to the kitchen to tidy up. ​I could hear a man's voice, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. My husband went outside, shut the front door behind him and continued to talk with whomever our surprise visitor was. 

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, which I found odd. Why was my husband knocking on the door? It wasn't locked. He could've just come in. 

I went to answer and was surprised to find a police officer. 

​

He explained that they were arresting my husband, told me what the charges were and began to ask me a number of questions. 

​

This was the first time I became a single parent overnight. I was 21 years old. Our daughter was 2. 

 

I held her in my arms as we watched from the window of our single-wide trailer as her daddy get handcuffed and put in the back of the patrol car. 

I was in shock. Total disbelief. My little one was sobbing, hand outstretched crying "Daddy!!! Where did daddy go?" 

 

My heart completely shattered. It was excruciating to see her pain and comfort her while I was also trying to comfort myself and wrap my head around what had happened.

When most people at 21 years of age are graduating from college, partying and just barely getting their life started, I was navigating the complexities of divorce and suddenly being thrown into life as a solo mom of a toddler. 

This was the first of many times that the proverbial rug of life was ruthlessly yanked out from under me, and what would become the first of many chapters of my "trauma to triumph" story.