When my daughter, Lily, handed me her preschool graduation invitation list, my heart stopped at one name: “Daddy.”
The problem? The man she calls “Daddy” isn’t her biological father.
The Lie I’ve Lived With
For five years, I’ve let Lily believe:
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Her stepdad, James, is her “real” father
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The man whose DNA she shares is just “a friend who lives far away”
But now, with her graduation approaching, she’s drawn a picture of three stick figures—Mommy, Lily, and him.
The Truth I’ve Been Running From
Lily’s biological father, Ryan, is:
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Serving a 12-year sentence for assaulting me while I was pregnant
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The reason we moved three states away and changed our last names
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Still legally entitled to visitation if he ever finds out about her
The Impossible Choice
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Tell Her the Truth – Shatter her innocence with prison visits and restraining orders
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Keep the Lie – Risk her resenting me when she inevitably discovers the truth
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Let James Adopt Her – But Ryan would have to sign away his rights… from jail
The Decision That Broke Me
I chose option three.
Last month, James walked into a maximum-security prison with adoption papers. Ryan laughed, then signed—for $5,000 smuggled in by his cellmate.
Where We Are Now
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Lily will start kindergarten with James listed as “Father” on all forms
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The adoption certificate hangs in her room, replacing the stick-figure drawing
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Ryan gets released in 4 years. We’ll be gone before then.