Ten years ago I made a mistake. I slept with my husband’s younger brother, Dan. It ballooned from there. One night taken in by a younger guy with cute smile, became a months long affair. It ended when my husband found out. He didn’t hesitate to divorce me and disown Dan. I let myself get taken in and ended up marrying Dan.

Dan convinced me to give up my parental rights to my two perfect children. My daughter, Stacy, was four when the divorce happened. She was a ballerina. She danced all over the house every day. She leapt and twirled. I haven’t seen her in ten years.

My son was nine. I’d named him Hank after a childhood crush. He was a bit nerdy, a love of video games and collectible card games. He wrote me a letter when he was 14 telling me how much it hurt that I’d given up my rights, that I didn’t want to see him, that I didn’t love him. I’d written him back explaining how wrong all that was and received the letter back stamped Return to Sender.

I’d given up my rights cause Dan said we should focus on OUR children. They never came. I’d gone through fertility tests and drugs. I tried In Vitro. A month ago I’d suggested trying a surrogate and the truth came out. Dan had a vasectomy when he was 20 ... a year before our affair began. I’d given up my children under the auspice of more and that had been a lie.