This is my story.

My mother was 21 when I was conceived. Unmarried and still in college. When she was a few months pregnant she found her boyfriend (my father) in bed with another woman. She never forgave him.

She then fell in love with another man and married him when I was just a year old. We lived with him in his parents basement for about two months. They divorced and my mother and I moved back in with her parents.

When I was two she met and married another man. This one was a newly divorced soon to be father. They were married for six years. I never knew he wasn't my real father until I was told they were getting a divorce. I was too shocked to say anything when the courts decided that I would stay with my mother while my brother would stay with his father. (Being eight and finding out my world wasn't what I thought, I didn't try to help my brother through any of this. We lost touch over the years.)

My step-father and brother moved and I hardly talked to them. Even though I missed them, my mother couldn't put her feelings aside to help me keep in touch. She never wanted to hear about my step-father and not to long after that she didn't want to hear my brother's name anymore.

She had met someone before the divorce. They moved out of state with me in tow. Within a year I hated it with them. I asked to move home. My grandparents decided the best thing for me was to move in with them. They convinced my mother. I didn't care much about living with them, but I liked being in a place that felt safe. A couple of months later I visited my mother with my uncle. I asked if I could stay for longer then the few days we had planned. (I had just turned ten.) My step-father yelled at my mother when she thought about it. He told her to be strong in their decision. She looked me in the eyes and told me I couldn't stay. Even more then that after I left the room and was heading up stairs crying I heard my step-father say that he didn't want me. Not that he didn't want me to visit but that he didn't want kids. And my mother being the push-over that she is agreed with him.

That was the last time I wanted to visit them. My grandparents planned trips and we saw them a couple more times overs the next few years. But I never wanted to be there. I stopped calling my mother on the phone, and never emailed. They have since moved to Vegas, got married, (no one in my family was invited) and had a baby. The baby is now six and I have never met her. I doubt she knows much about me. And I'm sure she knows nothing of our brother.

When I was sixteen I decided that against my grandparents wishes I would meet my father. I was never told much about him, and had never seen a picture of him. Most of my family was against me talking to him. They were right. When I met him I realized how much of a con-man he was. Needless to say I don't keep in touch with him. I talked to him long enough to find out that I have a half-sister six years younger and a brand new baby-half-sister, both from different mothers. I haven't met either of them.

After I graduated high school I moved in with my boyfriend. Just two years ago we got married and had a baby. (My mother wasn't invited to the wedding, but my brother and step-father came.)

That is my story. A lot of people say that I've been through a lot. I don't think my life is that different from most people these days. Too many people get divorced and kids lives get crazy.

Don't feel sorry for me. There are far too many people much worse off then I am. Feeling sorry doesn't help anyone. The simplest way to help is to be there for a kid whose parents are getting or are divorced. Not push them to talk about it, but hang out with them. I was kept so busy through the hard times that I never stopped to think this wasn't right.