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“You ain’t even my child!” Her words pierced me like a sharpened sword heated over the hottest coals. My mother wobbled up the cold block in the early hours of the night. The only things awake were the streetlights, casting small circles of light on the dark street every few meters. Her drunken aura frustrated my already restless mind. We weren’t even arguing or disagreeing when she blurted out those forsaken words—a few months after my 21st birthday. “You ain’t even my child!” The phrase kept repeating in my head as I tried, tirelessly, to get my drunk mother safely into the house. It had all started about an hour earlier. I was in my room at my grandparents’ house when I heard a commotion. My grandfather stormed out. My grandmother explained to me that my mother was having one of her “fits” over her younger ex-boyfriend. I shook my head in frustration. Many people had no idea my mother was a drunk—including her. I expected a big blowout when my grandfather and mother returned, but he came back alone. He explained what had happened to my grandmother, who was growing more and more frustrated with their grown child by the minute. My mother had gotten out of the car and refused his help. My grandmother asked me to go get her, and I hopped to it. I hurried down the dark street and found my mother a few blocks away, across the main avenue that stayed relatively lit. I walked her home, listening to her cry and try her best to explain her hurt. “You don’t know what they put me through. Nobody knows what they’ve done to me,” she sobbed. Growing more empathetic—and scared—I did my best to usher her up the street toward home. She kept stopping in the middle of the road, snapping, getting louder. I just wanted to get her home safely. I was fully prepared to stay up all night with her, just to listen. I began begging her to keep walking as she grew more hysterical. I had a bad feeling about being outside so late. If trouble didn’t find us, the cops would—and there was no telling what she might say or do in front of them. “Mom, please come home. We can stay up all night and talk. I hear you, I do,” I pleaded, desperate to keep her moving toward safety. She kept ranting—obviously drunk, but also clearly hurting—and I empathized with her. So I pulled out my best card: the mommy card. “Mommy, please come home. For me,” I said in the sweetest voice I could muster. She took a step back, looked me up and down, and with a curled, aggressive sneer said, “You ain’t even my child!” I froze. The way she looked at me alone triggered a self-defense mechanism. But this was my mother—I wouldn’t dare hurt her or leave her alone like that. “Mom, come on!” I demanded. In my heart, I’ll never believe she didn’t know exactly what she said the moment it left her lips—especially when she saw the hurt smash across my face. My chest hurt so badly. After everything I had been through with this woman, hearing— in that moment —that she wasn’t my mother could have destroyed me. I finally got her home and into bed, doing my best to help her avoid any further altercations with my grandparents. I remember a few days later, I asked my grandmother why my mom would say something like that. My grandmother grew angry—not the kind of angry that protects, but the kind of angry a liar gets when their truth is exposed. She and my mother argued about it, and the issue quickly disappeared. I worked hard to forget about it. I wasn’t in a mental space where I could carry that truth, even if it was the truth. Maybe I brought it up privately from time to time, but I never mentioned it to my mother again—until almost eight years later. God revealed a woman to me who I looked way more like than anyone in the family that raised me. Not only did we resemble each other—we liked the same things, did the same things, and shared very specific health conditions. The kind of health conditions that are passed down genetically—usually maternally. When I connected with—and was later denied by—that woman, I reached back out to the mother I knew. I spoke to her woman-to-woman about the feelings I had surrounding this new, painful belief that she wasn’t my biological mother. She didn’t fight for me the way I had hoped. Maybe she thinks she did—but to me, she sounded more conniving than convincing . I finally asked her directly why she said she wasn’t my mother when I was 21. She had the nerve to say she never said it. It was heartbreaking to watch the family I knew fall back on the same old gaslighting and manipulation tactics they used to raise me. “I did not say that,” she insisted. “Please don’t lie to me. I’ve worked too hard to forgive you for saying it in the first place,” I said, holding my heart in my hands—cutting my fingers on its broken pieces. I called once more after that to wish the family a Merry Christmas and express my love. In obedience to God, I haven't spoken to them since.

What/Who Is a Late Discovery Adoptee? A Late Discovery Adoptee (LDA) is a person who discovers they are adopted or raised by someone other than their biological parents later in life. Doctors and psychologists suggest a child should be made aware of their adoption truth as soon as possible, starting as early as the ages of three to five. It’s understandable that children may become ready to receive this truth at different ages, but it is highly recommended to tell a child well before the age of 12 for psychological and ethical purposes. A Late Discovery Adoptee is usually an adult when they discover their truth, but some teenagers may resonate with the LDA community as well. ⸻ How Does One Discover They Are an LDA? The majority of the time, an LDA may come to hear their adoption truth by accident, in an argument, through discovering health or medical conditions, or even through DNA results. There is a misconception that adoptees should feel nothing but gratitude for being adopted. It is ridiculous to tell someone how they should feel, especially under these circumstances. Their grief over being lied to is not meant to overpower their gratitude for being raised. “It is a human and God-given right to know your birth origins, no matter the situation.” Even if the mother was sexually assaulted, too young, unwed, or in any other scenario, the child always deserves to know the truth of who their parents are, no matter how it may make the parents look or feel. This doesn’t mean the parents shouldn’t be offered grace and compassion. Yes, mistakes happen, but don’t cover up a mistake like this by denying someone their truth—especially about something as important as their birth. This may be hard to hear, but it is cruel to allow a person to live every day believing a lie. ⸻ The Age of DNA Testing The age of Ancestry.com, 23andMe, and other ancestry DNA testing sites has exposed generations of lies and family secrets intended for the grave—meaning that these families were never intending to tell their supposed loved one the truth. It’s noteworthy and essential not to overlook the many success stories of adoption, where adoptees are blessed with wonderful parents and families who truly love them and share their truth from the beginning. There are also families who were great to adoptees who are LDAs. It’s a shame to have a great family who lied out of fear of losing you or to protect the reputation of the family. ⸻ How Can This Affect the LDA and Their Families? So many beautiful families are at risk of being destroyed over a secret that could do serious damage to the LDA. For some LDAs, the road to healing after discovering a huge portion of their life is a lie is extremely tedious and challenging. Many LDAs experience mental health issues that can result in outcomes as serious as suicide. Grief, anger, disconnection, shame, embarrassment, and a host of other emotions are expected when unpacking such a dark secret. Even though an LDA may know exactly who they are as an individual, not knowing where they came from can ignite an identity crisis. Keeping a secret about someone’s birth and lying to them about their origin is the equivalent of rewriting someone’s truth without their consent. These adoption secrets were successfully kept for so long usually because not many people knew the truth, or because those who did know kept a pact to maintain the secret. They normally try to convince the LDA and the mother that the decision was for their own good. They may have truly believed they were doing what was best—but it’s not. Keeping a truth like this is no simple thing. And even though some relatives may die before the truth comes out, that doesn’t mean the secret is never exposed. These truths can resurface at funerals and other family gatherings. Sometimes, when people begin to pass away or get very old, the truth slips out. There are even instances where an LDA’s child or grandchildren have exposed these truths long after biological and adoptive grandparents have died. ⸻ Why Didn’t the Adoptive Parents/Families Tell the Truth? Many family members take these secrets to the grave for completely selfish reasons such as: • They don’t want to deal with the truth coming out. • They feel the adoptee doesn’t deserve to know. • They don’t want to expose their secret. • They’ve become adapted to the lie and don’t want their life to change. It’s hard to pinpoint exact reasons for every individual because humans are different, but when dealing with these specific categories of people, the excuses and actions usually follow a similar line. ⸻ How to Confirm One Is an LDA? Some LDAs discover that their adoptions were not legal, so there may not be a paper trail to confirm any suspicions they had before the discovery. And yes, in many cases, there were suspicions that something wasn’t right. Why? Because you can’t fake a genetic connection. The soul is not as easily deceived as the flesh. In many cases, the child who would eventually identify as an LDA was passed on to be raised by distant relatives. In some cases, LDAs may have been raised among their biological parents but led to believe they held a different role—such as siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbors, etc. Even though there may not be a paper trail—such as an original birth certificate or adoption papers—there are still clues that have led LDAs to discover and/or confirm the cover-up. Delayed birth certificates are one of the biggest clues when exposing such a secret. In America, for approximately the last 60–70 years, all birth certificates are to be filed within 10 days of birth. A later date could mean corrections were made, such as spellings or other errors, but when combined with other clues—like no birth pictures or proof that your “mother” carried you—it’s a telltale sign of adoption, legal or not. Also, in the instance of being passed to other relatives, the parents who raised you could be legally listed on your birth certificate even if they aren’t your biological parents. This could explain a gap between the filing date and your birthday—because the families had to get their story straight. There are many possible reasons for a gap on your birth certificate. This wave of LDA discoveries is unique and delicate, and experts are still uncovering how things were done. Other ways to confirm one is an LDA include: • DNA testing • Applying for an original birth certificate (not all cases are within families) • Asking around • Doing your own investigation • Following your heart DNA testing can be the most efficient, but relatives can hide their DNA matches, which makes it harder to decipher family trees. With DNA results, you can build family trees and reach out to matches if the truth is not as obvious as hoped. Some of these situations may be easy to confirm, while others may take more effort. ⸻ How to Cope With Discovering Such a Truth Different people will have different experiences that lead them to feel a wide range of emotions, which can weigh heavily on their mental and physical health. Trust issues, anxiety, depression, attachment issues, relationship struggles, and more are all part of the long-term effects of finding out late in life that your parents aren’t your biological parents. Therapy, LDA support groups, and piecing together the truth are some ways to help LDAs deal with the shock and sting of their situation. A huge warning to LDAs: this revelation may not always be met with warmth. Adoption reunions, especially those involving LDAs, don’t always go as hoped. Some parents do not wish to reconnect with the LDA and may feel offended or cornered when approached. It’s vital to be mindful of your emotions and boundaries. As much as an LDA may feel they deserve the truth, it’s important to consider what others may have experienced on their end of the secret. Some LDAs cope by cutting contact with the family that raised them, whether permanently or temporarily. Some families with a healthy, safe dynamic may work through it one day at a time by apologizing, sharing the truth, and even going to family therapy. Some families with less healthy dynamics may not handle things as smoothly, especially if they are reluctant to tell the truth even after the LDA has discovered it. Never allow anyone to make you feel small for uncovering something so serious. Never let anyone downplay your emotions—period! You deserve to know the truth, and you deserve the support needed to maintain your physical and mental health. This is not easy to deal with, so be kind to yourself, to those who have found out the secret, and to those who kept the secret. ⸻ How to Forgive in a Situation Like This “Forgiveness comes easier when the heart is not as heavy.” There are layers to forgiveness. You may want to move forward but still need your pain acknowledged. You may want to show compassion but also receive it. You may not want to forgive at all—and that’s okay too. Remember: forgiveness is not tolerance.You can forgive and still choose not to maintain a relationship. Forgiveness means: • Recognizing the harm done • Choosing not to let it define or consume you • Not allowing hate or resentment to take root in your heart The Bible speaks to this in several places: • Colossians 3:13 (NIV): “Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” • Matthew 6:14–15 (NIV): “For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” • Ephesians 4:32 (NIV): “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” We forgive, not because others deserve it, but because we need freedom from what they did. Forgiveness often needs to be revisited, especially when pain resurfaces. In those moments, remind yourself that forgiveness doesn’t erase the past—but it helps loosen the grip it has on your future. To forgive your family: • Try to understand how fear and shame may have driven their decisions. • Accept that you may not have made the same choice—but they were human, too. • Forgive them for your healing, not for their comfort. Whether you maintain contact or not, make peace with yourself. That’s the real freedom. Article Written by Amelia Renee’ Illustration Art by Helen Hill.

Have you ever heard the phrase, “You made your bed, now lie (or lay) in it?” This phrase tells someone to take accountability for their actions or to follow through with a commitment. My mind began assembling this piece while making my children’s bed and tucking them in for the night. My trauma can sometimes peak when the sun is going down and right before bedtime, when everything slows down. As I tucked the sheets into the corners of my babies’ beds, I tried to escape the reality that my “mother” rarely, if ever, tucked me in, and she never made my bed. There was a bed she did make, though. My perception will sound like ungratefulness to the unimpacted, but I will proceed regardless. Referring to the phrase, “you made your bed, now lie in it,” I realized the woman and the family that raised me did precisely that. The bed I slept in was never made for me as a small child, nor was I ever tucked in, but a bed was made, a choice was made, and they “lied” in it. Decisions were made, secrets tucked into the corners, cover-ups and deception placed over the truth, and tucked away with intentions of taking the truth to the great beyond. What hurts me the most about potentially finding out my mother isn't my birth mother is, somewhere buried deep in my chest, I always knew. There were moments in my life when I would stare at my mother, asking myself, “Who is she?” My heart had whiplash from constantly looking left and right for the mother I never stopped hoping would appear. When I finally began to admit that I had a mother but didn't feel like I had a mother, I was called ungrateful. I was commanded to be grateful for what I had, so I settled. On my 27th birthday, my husband and I drove deep into the mountains and stayed in a beautiful suite for a few days. The night before my birthday, we saw the latest Thor movie, “Love and Thunder.” I was a big Thor fan, but I disliked this series installment. There is a scene where Thor stands amongst other false gods who expect to control him. When Thor wasn't a puppet, they stripped him of his clothing, exposing his body to hundreds of people. My stomach knotted, and I instantly became nauseous. After the movie, we didn't get out of the parking lot before I was hanging out of the car door, upchucking in pain. That's how I started my 27th birthday, releasing trauma on the side of the road. It reminded me of a feeling I had many times as a young girl. I would be standing amidst the family that raised me, feeling so naked and exposed. I specifically felt naked and exposed amongst the women who raised me. It was a feeling like no other. I would look down at my clothes, rubbing my hands against the fabrics to ensure I was still clothed. I would sweat and say “huh” a lot. I eventually realized I said “huh” so much because I was constantly being interrupted from daydreams and thoughts of a place I truly belonged. I sincerely love the family that raised me. Do I appreciate everything they've done to me? Heaven's no. Do I appreciate the good they've done for me? God knows I do. But I spent so many nights lying in an unmade bed that rarely ever felt like home, daydreaming of a mother I thought I had to die to meet. And I've spent almost three decades tucked away in a bed of lies, fitting into a frame orchestrated to keep me in bondage. Like a fitted sheet tucked into a bed frame, I was the sheet, covering up generations of trauma. I was framed and lied on just in case I ever awakened. Not only did they make poor decisions, but they continued to lie with no intention of ever telling the truth. I’ll never be perfect, but I’ve always been good, and I never mean any harm. I make mistakes like every other human, but I deserve better. For decades, I dreamt of mothers laying my head on their lap, rubbing my head, and singing “I will always love you.” When I settled with the cards I was dealt, with the only family I knew, I did it gracefully, agreeing to always love them for who they were, even if I didn’t truly feel loved. I know other people may have had it worse, and many people will stick with their ideations of how things in my family looked on the outside. That's why incorrect opinions of my reality don’t matter to me anymore because they hold no weight and can never change the trauma I’ve survived by the grace of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I ended my 27th year completely different than how it began. I finally graduated from college after an 11-year battle to finish. I saw Janet Jackson live in concert. And I was also diagnosed with a T.I.A mini stroke. Doctors and Neurologists who saw me in the E.R. were convinced it was a mini stroke, a Neurologist I saw a little after my hospital stay was convinced it was complex (severe and chronic migraines). The doctors examined me and asked, “What happened before these stroke symptoms?” I admitted that I may not know who my birth parents are. The nurses tucked me in and told me to rest. To be continued.

(A short story of a mother’s heart and a sister’s bond) (For three decades, she carried the silence like a second skin. No one knew about the child she bore, the life she thought had ended before it began. But secrets never stay buried—not forever. This is the story of a mother’s hidden grief, and the miracle she never dared to pray for. Two young cousins loved each other as sisters. They lived over 500 miles away, but spent as much time together each year as possible. Dana was a year older than her sister-cousin Jenna. Dana lived down south, and Jenna lived up north. Dana and Jenna had many incredible adventures together. They would take turns visiting each other during summer vacations and holidays. As they grew older, they grew closer. They made great memories that would last a lifetime. One summer, while visiting Jenna up north, Dana met Andrew. Andrew was much older than Dana and Jenna, but Dana lied about her age, making him think she was much older than she was. Andrew and Dana spent much time together alone when Jenna was in dance class. When Jenna returned, Dana told her about Andrew and how much she liked him. Jenna was genuinely happy for Dana and Andrew even though she never met him. Jenna and Dana continued to enjoy their time together. When Dana returned during the Thanksgiving holiday, she met up with Andrew, and they were intimate. Dana didn't tell anyone, including Jenna, because her parents were strict and she knew she shouldn't have done it yet. After the Thanksgiving holiday, Dana returned home and then to school. A few weeks passed, and she began to throw up and feel unwell. Her strict parents started to question her illness. Her mother took her to her pediatrician for answers. After testing, the doctor returned and asked to speak to Dana alone. Her mother refused, asking the doctor why her 14-year-old daughter needed to talk to the doctor alone. The doctor asked Dana if he could discuss anything with her mother, and she agreed. The doctor then asked Dana if she was sexually active. Dana said no. Then the doctor looked confused, and then asked Dana if she could have been touched without her consent. She said no. Her mother then asked what was going on. Then the doctor looked at Dana and said, “You're pregnant.” “She’s 14 for Christ’s sake! How can she be pregnant?” Her mother shouted. “Please, ma’am, lower your voice.” The doctor pleaded. “Did anyone touch you without your consent?” The doctor asked Dana again. She looked over at her mother, who was fuming. “I’m sure.” She said, lowering her head in shame. The doctor discussed the next steps with Dana and her mother and sent them home after planning her next appointment. When Dana got in the car, her mother freaked out. “How could you do this to me, Dana? Your father and I are trying to give you a good life, and this is how you repay us?” She yelled at Dana. “I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t know.” Dana cried “You didn’t know what? That sex can lead to pregnancy? Or you didn’t know you would get caught? Wait until your father hears this!” Her mother shouted. “Please don’t tell Daddy,” Dana begged, afraid to no longer be Daddy’s little princess. When she got home, Dana was sent to her room. Her mother told her father, and he was furious with Dana. Everything changed for Dana. Her parents didn’t trust her anymore; she couldn’t go anywhere alone and could no longer do the fun things she loved, including spending time with Jenna. Dana was devastated. She didn’t know what to do. Abortion was not an option because her family was against it, and she was too far along anyway. She was homeschooled the rest of the school year, so no one knew she was pregnant. Her parents kept her away from the rest of the family, so no one knew she was pregnant at 14. Her parents kept pressuring her to put the baby up for an adoption, a closed adoption where she would probably never see her child again. Dana refused to give her child away. She didn’t even get to tell Andrew she was pregnant; she never got to see him again. Eventually, in July, Dana gave birth to a baby girl. She held her briefly, and then the nurses took her away. Dana kept asking for her baby. “Where’s my baby? She cried. Eventually, her mother returned to the room and told Dana the baby didn’t make it. “What do you mean the baby didn’t make it? The baby was just fine!” Dana cried. “I know, honey,” her mother said, hugging her. Her father just stared at her, unsure and uneasy. Dana’s life was never the same. She always struggled in July, feeling alone, grieving her child. She wondered if it was her fault that the child didn’t make it. A part of her didn’t believe her baby didn’t make it, but she never spoke about it. She hushed it up and convinced herself this was her punishment for having sex so young and unwed. Dana never spoke about her baby. She was forced to move on as if it had never happened. Her parents never brought it back up, and the traumatic event became part of a memory that she buried deep, so deep that she began to forget as she got older. Dana returned up north to visit Jenna the summer after she had her baby. They hadn’t seen each other in about a year. They resumed their adventures as older teenagers and made new memories. Jenna told Dana about a guy who flirted with her, but she never got his name. A few years passed, and Jenna and Dana were still close. Dana went to college down South but felt a strong pull up north. She figured it was because of Jenna and never considered it. Eventually, she surrendered to the pull and moved north when she was of age. Dana lived her life trying to make a difference. She loved children but didn’t have any of her own. She missed home, but enjoyed being up north. Dana and Jenna became young women, exploring life and adulthood together. As time went on, Dana and Jenna both found themselves struggling with health conditions that left them both without children. Then, one day, Jenna told Dana she wanted her to meet the guy she was dating. She agreed, and Jenna left the room to fetch her new love. When Jenna returned, she looked at Dana and said, “Dana, this is Drew, Drew, this is Dana.” Dana looked up, and to her surprise, it was Andrew, the father of her “deceased” child. “Andrew?” Dana said. “Hey, wassup, Dana? How you been?” Andrew replied with a big smile on his face. Dana and Andrew hadn’t seen each other since she returned home after Thanksgiving break over 10 years ago. She made it her mission to avoid him and has never spoken of him until now. “Y'all know each other?” Jenna asked, confused. Before anyone could answer, Dana asked Jenna if they could talk privately. Once in private, Dana said to Jenna, “That’s Andrew!” Unsure of what she was referring to, “Yes, it’s Andrew.” Jenna obliviously responded. “No, that’s Andrew, the guy I told you I liked years ago when we were younger,” Dana explained “Oh no! That’s Andrew. Omg I forgot all about him. I’m sorry, Dana, I must break it off with him.” Jenna cried. “But you really like him; I’m okay with it if you are,” Dana said, hugging Jenna. “I do like him, but I can’t let this break us, I can’t.” Jenna cried “It was so long ago, there are no feelings between us.” Dana tried reassuring Jenna. “You liked him, Dana, you did. Did y'all ever kiss or anything?” Jenna asked. “Well.” Dana hesitated. Jenna stood waiting for an answer. “We had sex that year, and I never saw him again,” Dana explained. Growing angry, “he ghosted you?” Jenna asked Feeling all the emotions and shame rushing back, Dana took a breath. “I ghosted him.” She answered. “Why? Did he hurt you?” Jenna asked, growing concerned now. “No, no. He was cool. One, I didn’t tell him my true age, and two, because I got pregnant by him and our baby died shortly after I had her. That’s why I took a break from coming out here to see you, because my parents hid the pregnancy.” Dana shamefully explained. Jenna gasped and hugged Dana immediately after she finished talking. They hugged for a minute until Andrew asked from the other room was everything okay. “Yeah, we’ll be out in a minute,” Jenna yelled to Andrew in the other room, wiping her eyes. “I have to break it off, Dana.” Jenna continued whispering to Dana. “Please don’t. He doesn’t even know about the baby.” Dana quietly added. Jenna gasped, not sure of what to do. “You gotta tell him,” Jenna said sincerely. “Can you?” Dana asked. “I can't say it. I can't even think about it.” Dana added, tears filling her eyes. “You sure?” Jenna asked. “Please!” Dana pleaded. She left to let them talk it out. She couldn't deal with reliving that moment. Later that night, Jenna called Dana, but she didn't answer. She secluded herself from everyone, feeling the weight of a pain she once buried. She took a few days for herself. Eventually, she answered Jenna’s call and agreed to come to her house. Andrew was there when she arrived; Jenna and Andrew both hugged Dana. Andrew apologized for not being there and admitted he didn't know she was so young and they were cousins. Andrew and Jenna discussed ending their relationship out of respect for Dana, but she declined. She appreciated that they respected her feelings, but didn't want to get in the way of their love. She watched them and saw how much they loved each other. They didn't know each other and had no idea they knew Dana, so she didn't feel betrayed. She did like him in her youth, but she moved on long ago and told herself she would be okay with it. Years went by, and eventually, Jenna and Andrew got married. Dana was even in the wedding. Things were great for the newlyweds, and Jenna even got to keep a bond with her sister. Things got rough when Jenna struggled to have children with her now-husband, Andrew. Andrew vowed to stay by her side. It sometimes hurt Andrew that he didn’t have children of his own to celebrate Father’s Day with, but he never blamed his wife. After a while, Jenna and Andrew adopted their first child, a baby girl. Then they adopted another child and named her after Dana and Andrew’s baby girl, who didn’t make it. Soon after, Dana had a baby through IVF, and Jenna allowed Andrew to help fertilize the egg. Jenna refused to overlook or forget the baby that passed away over 20 years ago. “I can’t let her die.” Jenna constantly thought to herself, feeling the guilt of Dana losing a baby, and she wasn’t there to help her. She also felt the weight of her own infertility journey. That's why she agreed to name her second daughter after the baby girl who passed away, and allowed her husband to fertilize her sister's egg. It is unclear how the decision for Andrew to help Dana have a baby through IVF came to be, but it was very much shunned by the few relatives who knew. The conception of Dana’s new baby was kept a secret amongst the few who knew. Disclosing who fathered her babies was not something Dana felt comfortable with. Only Dana’s parents, Jenna and Andrew, knew Dana was pregnant at 14, or so she thought. Dana had a son 21 years after secretly having a baby at 14. He was precious to her, and she loved him dearly. To protect their secret, he knew his father, Andrew, as his uncle, who married his aunt Jenna, his mother’s sister-cousin. Jenna and Andrew’s daughters know Dana’s son as their brother-cousin, not because they know their father is also his, but because of Dana and Jenna's bond. Things were good for Dana, while Jenna secretly struggled with the reality that Dana gave her husband the biological child that she wanted to give him. However, her heart wouldn't let her look at the child funny; she loved him. This secret struggle put a strain on Jenna and Dana’s relationship. Jenna knew how hard it was as a woman struggling to have children; she could only imagine how hard it was to be a mother who lost a child. So she found peace in her decision to help her sister have a baby. Dana had yet to find her husband, and she was getting older than the childbearing age when Jenna and Andrew helped her have the baby. Jenna struggled knowing that Dana gave Andrew the biological child she couldn't, and Dana struggled that Jenna gave Andrew the complete family that she couldn't. Dana doesn't romantically want Andrew, but it hurts her that she cannot give her son a mother and a father. His father was always there, but he knew him as his uncle. Time went on, Jenna and Dana stayed close to each other, their children grew closer, and Andrew was there to see it all. Their family makeup was working for them. Then something hit them all very hard. An almost 30-year-old woman called Dana and asked, “Are you my mother?” Dana immediately denied the young woman; there was no way she could be this woman’s mother if her baby had passed almost 30 years ago. The woman claimed to look like Dana and said God sent her to Dana, so Dana asked her to show her. The young woman sent a picture to Dana, and Dana froze. This young woman looked very much like Dana. “I see the resemblance,” Dana said to the young woman. But I can't be your mother, honey.” Dana continued. Confused as to how they looked alike, the young woman offered a follow-up question. “Can we be cousins?” she desperately asked. “No ma'am, I'm the oldest.” Dana was the oldest of her generation, so she figured no way anyone else could have parented an almost 30-year-old; it wasn't possible. She politely finished her conversation with the distraught and confused young woman and blocked her. A few moments later, a blocked number called. Dana instinctively answered it; the young woman suggested that Dana had not been honest with her. Dana grew offended and threatened to have the FBI look into this young woman. They argued a little, and Dana told her to leave her alone. After hanging up on her this time, Dana called her mother furious. She told her mother about the call and expressed her frustration about the young girl insinuating she was a liar. Dana’s mother was speechless.” I don't know what to say, Dana,” her mother said. Her mother’s reaction made Dana uneasy. She quickly ended the conversation with her mother and sat in silence. Looking at her phone, she stared at the young woman’s number, lost in thought. Then suddenly she felt that pull she felt almost 30 years ago. It couldn't be. No way. A few weeks passed. Andrew and Jenna were at an event inside a school, and this young lady came in and caught their attention. After their event, they speak to this young lady. Andrew asked her about herself, and she told them she was on a journey to find her parents. Andrew began asking her more questions about her age, where she was from, and how she ended up far from her home. She told him she had been led to this place, was almost 30, and was from Andrew's hometown. Andrew felt this young woman favored him and wondered if he could have unknowingly fathered a child in his youth. He was unaware she had already contacted Dana, claiming to be her daughter. “I could be your dad,” he blurted out. She wasn’t expecting him to say that and didn’t know how to receive it, so she made him aware that she wasn’t insinuating that he was her dad and that she thought God had sent her to him only to get help. Over time, Jenna and Andrew began to get to know this young woman. There was a bit of confusion when Jenna and Dana finally discussed it. They all saw the similarities, but who is this young woman, and how could she be Dana’s daughter if Dana’s daughter passed away? They wondered if she was there to mess with them, scam them, or cause chaos, so they all dismissed her. One day, Dana was talking to her mother about it, and her mother told her she needed to tell her something. “Dana, when you were 14 and you gave birth to that baby, she didn’t die; we secretly sent her up north to live with some distant relatives. We thought it would be easier for you to move on with your life; we thought it would be best for you. There’s a chance that she’s her,” her mother explained. Dana dropped to the floor, praying to God, “Jesus, I can't take this. God, please don't let me die.”

Hey, Kings & Queens of the Most High, this is the Soul-See-Ologist, Amelia Renee, coming to you with another blog post of G.I.O (Get It Out) the Blog Forum. I think it's time to formally re-introduce myself because I'm constantly evolving and being molded into the woman of God that I am destined, commanded, and ordained to be. I am Amelia Renee’, many people knew me as Ashh Kweente, Ashley, Kweente, or mostly just Ashh, with two h’s. This is no identity crisis, I repeat this is no identity crisis, this is evolution. My evolution may look sudden to people who haven't been consistent, relevant, or even invited to witness what God has been doing to me, through me, and for me. A lot of people like to think they know me, but like my first song “Know me” says, “Why do these [people] think they really know me?” So allow me to fill you in on who I am. I am Amelia Renee, a woman of God, a wife, a mother, and somebody's daughter. I am a Sociologist, hints the name “Soul-See-Ologist” because God has trusted and chosen me to see the things humans overlook. I am a Master’s student at my dream school, Clemson University, studying Youth Development Leadership, which will allow me to make my dreams come true by making a difference in the lives of others, especially those in their formative years. I began dancing at the age of 5. I danced on and off for years while exploring other sports like basketball, tennis, volleyball, and eventually football. Then, I returned to my first love as a teenager and completed my teenage years as a full-time praise dancer. I paused dancing for a few years around 18-21, then began my dance teaching career at 22. Overall, it's been 25 years since I started dancing. I love praise dance the most, but I am also skilled in hip-hop, classical, and jazz. I am working on getting to pointe to fulfill my ballerina dreams. I've taught a dance camp through my company, Rea7m (Realm 7), and began making merchandise and building the brand while being known as Ashh Kweente. A “Jane of all trades,” I've been a writer since around 8. Writing has opened the door for many unique opportunities; my favorite was being accepted into the Princeton Summer Journalism program in 2012. I was the only person selected from Pennsylvania that year and one of the few from the entire East Coast. I've edited and posted in the Princeton Summer Journal, a Princeton University and Princeton, New Jersey newspaper. I was also an editor for Philly Word Magazine, which covered many prominent artists and producers, like DJ Diamond Kutz and Jamie Foxx. In grade school, I wrote for and won oratorical contests. I've constantly been reminded to appreciate and utilize my gift of writing; one of my quotes is, “Success is Written.” I’m a proud nerd. I am really into art and fashion, and can draw a little when my patience allows. I played on two semi-pro women's full tackle football teams of the WFA, paid my dues, showed up consistently, but it took me two teams to realize God did not want me to take that route. Now I understand why he never let me play in an actual game. I started as a linebacker at 19 and was a starter until a concussion took me out, and a scuffle got me kicked off the team. Then, at 26, when my second-born child was 10 months, I started playing again. I was told I was a starter and captain, but eventually God halted me in my tracks again before I could play an actual game. I've picked up another original love of mine, tennis. Tennis and I have a quiet passion for one another that no one knew how to nurture when I was young. God blessed me with an internship in tenth grade at the Arthur Ashe Youth Tennis Center in Manayunk, PA. That company's name has changed several times, so I'm not sure what it's called now, but I believe it's still there. This is where I learned technique and skill, and I better understood tennis and why I love it so much. The last thing I'm willing to share is that I love music. I can sing, write songs, and play a few instruments. I don't practice the guitar and piano much anymore, but I have them. I've always had a guitar, a snare, and a piano. I'm pretty dope at the drums, I love percussion, but drum sets intimidate me sometimes. I played the tuba in middle school. I grew up in a drum corps playing the snare and the tom. And I have a love for marching and stepping; I grew up on a drill team as well. I have a music note on my right calf because it's taken me places. I grew up in choirs in my church, and I had the honor and privilege of being part of the Joy Unlimited Youth Mass Choir in my early teens. We traveled around the Tri-state area and performed and ministered in several churches and significant events. I met many well-known people, like former Governor Ed Randell, Bianca Ryan, Jill Scott, and others. I've done a lot and refuse to be too bashful to appreciate it any longer. Just like pain is in the past, so are our accomplishments, but these experiences built the foundation of my dreams, purpose, and goals. As a sociologist, I study how social categories co-exist and what each social category needs to thrive in such a crowded and small world. How are society's norms, traditions, and expectations interfering with the growth and development of the individual, not just from a physical or natural perspective but also from a spiritual one? I have chosen to further my career as a sociologist in the direction of youth and young people. Still, I won't limit myself to a specific age group, social class, religious sectors, cultures, and other institutions that make up our society. My passion is God, and God drives my purpose and existence, so I focus a lot of my studies on the eternal layer of our being, the Soul. My soul journey has picked up over the past decade, and I am dedicated to reminding others how important it is to learn about our souls and how the world impacts them. So, I live a reserved and private life. In another blog, I will address common Google searches, such as “What happened to Ashh Kweente?. I live a reserved and private life because my calling sometimes requires seclusion. I can surrender more easily to God’s will and His way without so much noise. People can easily become distractions, and I can no longer cater to or entertain egos and low-vibration humans. Low vibration humans focus solely on the needs of the flesh. Every person with a low vibration or “vibe” is not bad, but eventually they will pull you down or suck up your energy and drain you. God called me to leave the life and people I knew behind me, and it's finally starting to feel good—no family secrets, drama, gossip, chaos, just the peace that passes all understanding. People don't understand how I can go no contact with those I used to think I couldn't live without, but that was included in my “Yes” to God. So I walk with God, my husband, and my children. Anyone else God intends to be a part of my life, let’s just say we haven't kicked it off yet. My calling will attract a lot of good and bad vibes and spirits. I'll explain more about that in another blog post. But this is what God has called me to do, so I’m doing it. So, yeah, this is just a tiny portion of who I am. Those whom God intends to know my depths will. Those who knew me know an outdated version of me. And any lies ever spoken about me will fall to the depths beneath our feet in Jesus' Name. I'm not perfect by far. I've made mistakes and bad decisions and hurt others with my actions and ignorance at one time or another. I was never a bad person, but another quote of mine is, “I’m not always without fault,” meaning I aim to be blameless in the eyes of God, and I am willing to be accountable for my actions if they ever hurt or offend others. God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness, and baby, thy flesh can sometimes be weak. But we must continue to grow, learn who God is, and what He requires of us. Let God introduce you to your soul, the depths of you that live forever. I'm Amelia Renee, by the grace of God, here’s another blog! I pray it was nice to know a little about my journey, and if God sees it fit, I pray I positively impact every life I'm ordained to. Keep your wits about you! God bless your people, God’s people be blessed! In Jesus' Name! Lord bless my efforts! ~ Amelia Renee’

By the grace of God, I have been on this earth for 30 years—30 whole years! The picture included in this post is from my first birthday. So much has happened in my life, but the greatest thing I've ever done is follow God with all my heart and soul. That's what makes these 30 years so whole, so full. The greatest thing that ever happened to me after following, loving, and honoring God is being blessed with the opportunity to be my husband’s wife and my children's mother. God heard my prayers, and my sweet little family is perfect. My husband is a rare gem who sees me for who I truly am and loves me more than any other human knows how. His patience and diligence for me are beyond compare. When I was a little girl, I would say my husband would be named Eric. When I first fell in love with my man, I didn't even know his name was Eric. He’s the lesson to speak things as thou they were, the reminder of how God kept a promise almost 20 years later to a little girl who had no idea she was prophesying over her own life. I praise God for 8 years with my handsome husband today; we went on our first date on July 9, 2017. I invited him to my birthday dinner first, but he was already going to ask me on a date for my birthday. We joined a church together a few weeks later. After I asked him to wait for me, he did; the rest is our history, our legacy. Then we got married and had our beautiful children. Each pregnancy, I fell deeper in love. Every day with my husband is a holiday. Every day is a reason to fall in love again and consciously walk further into eternity with someone you love beyond description. He’s my soulmate, best friend, confidante, roadie, and “my handsome man.” Watching each other raise our beautiful, sweet babies is the honor of my life. My children are the greatest! They are bright, beautiful, loving, sweet, kind, and courageous. Mommy can go on and on about my precious, sweet babies. My husband showed me how to be loved, and my children show me how to love. I never knew exactly how strong I was until I pushed those babies out. They are the driving force behind my healing and my fight to live, finish, and try. They have offered a new aspect of life, love, understanding, responsibility, and commitment that comes with birthing a soul. I am so grateful to be in my right mind to know how to love them. I pray constantly to understand how to cherish them. I pray I never traumatize them. I pray that we can parent them in ways that prepare them to conquer the world and still want to visit home sometimes. God has been so good to me! I can never thank my God enough for how good he has been to me. Life before my husband and children may not have always been the best, but I praise God it has not been the worst. I have lived a good life, although life has not always been good to me. I thank God that it has always been good for me! I share many pleasant memories, adventures, accomplishments, and truths. These 30 years, these 30 gracious years, these 10,958 days have made me a woman. But, not just any woman, a fierce woman of God, a loving and faithful wife, a caring and strong mother, and a human being I can be proud to be. Isaiah 43:1 says, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are mine.” Thank you, Jesus, the past is gone! No more crying about whose I am; I am God’s! I am God’s daughter, God is my Father, God is my Mother, God is my friend, I am a friend of God’s. I walk into 30 years of life, forgiving what has passed and expecting more of God’s promises to come to fruition. I remain repentant, accountable, aware of my mistakes, yet willing to correct and be corrected. I'm not perfect, but I will stay honest and trustworthy. I am ready for God to do more of what he needs in me and through me. I am grateful for my health; I fought with my health, but God is winning! I’m ready to see more dreams come into fruition, but my most essential desires are to please God through serving and obeying Him, and to ensure the family God is creating through me and my husband live prosperous lives that please God! I tried to look back. God said Access denied because you can't possibly serve God by serving the things that no longer serve you. Ashley is my past; I may go by that name for legal and medical purposes at the moment, but God has done a new thing in me, to me, and for me. “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” ‭‭(Isaiah‬ ‭43‬:‭18‬-‭19‬ ‭NIV‬‬) Ashley is who I used to be, Amelia is who I am. God’s is whose I’ll forever be. Happy Birthday, Amelia, Love, You.

Sometimes, God will require things of us that we may not respect or agree with, but how will you react? What if your obedience to God would save your entire family line? What if your surrender redeemed multiple generations? What if you were required to do something for God that didn't directly benefit your loved ones? Would you say yes? What if you had to leave behind the very thing that pushed you forward? What if the thing you have been praying to God for existed on the other side of your surrender? What if you let go of everything you knew to become everything you're meant to be? Would you let go? What if I told you some of the first secrets of removing the sting of pain, trauma, and past hurts was to remove yourself? This doesn't always have to mean moving away from your hometown or getting a new job, but what if it meant moving out of the house where you were abused or removing yourself from those who cause drama in your family and even at work? I know a thousand excuses come to mind when you hear moving, shifting, or transitioning. What if your surrender to God required it; would you trust him? God called me out of my family over 5 years ago. I was told it was time to distance myself from certain people, which led to removing everyone I knew outside of my household. Sometimes, separation is necessary. I used to say my most outstanding flex was moving on from those I thought I couldn't live without. It's the truth; I felt I couldn't live without the family that raised me; it's not just that I thought I couldn't; I was manipulated and convinced that I shouldn't. How I was raised, it felt like a sin to desire a life that pleased me without focusing on how it benefitted someone else first. So, I told God, "No." I told the King of Kings and Lord of Lords that I couldn't be obedient because I could not leave my family. I feared they would hate me, I feared they would need me, I feared someone would die in my absence, and I could not disobey my beloved "grandmother." I chose to disobey God to please my "grandmother" and "family." I couldn't repent enough, especially when God showed me his command was protection, not just isolation. I struggle to share the entirety of this testimony, one because of my irritation with the lies and defamation I experience, but also because I want to tell my truth without shunning my loved ones and exposing my "family." I repented for many reasons, one being that I was serving my "family" over my God. They were so focused on themselves that they were exalting themselves over God. If God told someone to leave their surroundings to take up their cross and follow Him, who are you to make them feel bad for their obedience? Family and friends can quickly remind you what they desire of you or were able to expect from you, but not many people can identify and respect our obedience to the One, True, and Only God. Yes, you may be our mothers, fathers, or the people who raised us; yes, you may be our siblings and friends, but Jesus Christ is Our God, and how dare you expect us to deny him to appease you? Anyone who thinks otherwise is not my cup of tea. God commands us to serve no other gods before Him; we should serve no other gods but him; there is no other God but Him. If you don't believe that, it is not my job to argue with anyone about their personal beliefs. Free will is genuine, so respect mine while you demand your respect. And that can be a serious problem with loved ones; why can't you "Respect my Surrender?" God asked something of us, and eventually, we obeyed; why shun us for choosing to surrender to the will of our creator? The opposition is borderline demonic... For many reasons, some of you reading this may have to separate from where you were raised. Some of you may need encouragement to do so. Please do not think I am out here convincing people to leave their families; that minimizes my purpose. I am trying to lead you to God. Duh! Some of us have been raped, lied to, abused, defamed, manipulated, abducted from our truth, hurt, and so much more by people we refuse to separate from. It doesn't have to just be about family; some of us must separate from friends, exes, habits, hometowns, ideologies, expectations, and traumas. The man I thought was my father asked me something that changed my approach to everything. I complained about the people who raised me, and he asked, "Why do you keep dealing with people you claim have hurt you so badly?" I stopped and thought briefly; that was the last time I talked to him. Why do we do it? It's like cigarettes; you know it's killing you, so why keep smoking? It's because you identify some form of comfort even in the harm. This is deep, isn't it? How can we find comfort in pain? Reoccurring pain becomes a part of our normal, whether we realize it or not. So, because it's familiar, you stay around things and people that cause you pain. Forgiveness is also real, but do you know that you may still need to distance yourself from those you forgive? Hopefully, you forgive them, but it's still okay to take space when it's warranted, especially when it's commanded by God. Shoot, you can distance yourself from those you don't have any form of beef with. There are so many people I have no problem with that I distanced myself from, but in this moment, my surrender was my removal from a spotlight built around me. My surrender was my obedience to God's commands, no matter how hard or weak I felt. My surrender was a yes to God's will and way, even if I wanted to say no. It can be difficult to ask someone to respect a decision that goes against their desires. Sometimes, God will require things of us that we may not respect or agree with, but how will you react? What if your obedience to God would save your entire family line? What if your surrender redeemed multiple generations? What if you were required to do something for God that didn't directly benefit your loved ones? What if your surrender was the next step to the reception of God's promise? What if your most cherished loved ones didn't respect your surrender? Would you still surrender? What if it isolates you? What if you get dogged out for not doing what they prefer or agree with? Do you respect your surrender? It's easier to submit to the things we respect. Submitting to a parent, spouse, or anyone we don't respect is harder. Do you respect God? Do those you may leave behind respect you? Do you trust God? Do you and the people around you honor God? Surrendering to God's will may look different to everyone. We are individuals; everything about us is unique, including our personal relationships with God. One person's surrender may involve cigarettes, while another person's surrender may involve porn. One person may need to separate from things that hold them back, while some need to separate from the things that hold them up to teach them to depend on God! Your surrender could produce submission, while someone else's surrender could produce discipline. Merriam-Webster says surrender is "to yield to the power, control, or possession of another upon compulsion or demand." In a spiritual sense, we surrender our egos and expectations, our control, and demand to trust God with the outcome. We surrender our fears; we yield to God the power, control, and possession that fear, ego, anxiety, expectations, demands, agendas, other people, and ourselves have over us. We don't throw in the towel; we take a knee. We take a breather from whatever it is we can't control, maintain, manipulate, handle, or fix, and we give God the driver's seat, knowing this is the absolute best option. We surrender our will, meaning God's plans trump ours. Maybe you planned to live in a particular place for longer or forever; your surrender would look like you allowing God to move you where he wants to move you when he wants to do it. Maybe you had your occupation planned; surrender would look like you submitting to the purpose God aligned for you, even if it was never on your radar. For me, surrendering meant no contact with everyone I knew just because God said so. When I first surrendered, I thought I knew why God wanted me to do it; boy, was I wrong. The bombshell on me made sense as to why my loved ones wanted to keep me within arm's reach. If I hadn't surrendered to God, I would have been stuck in a place I genuinely didn't want to be but was manipulated to stay. I surrendered to God and watched the defamation of my character from a place of peace. I understood the things I could not explain. I found peace in the deepest parts of my being that I thought the light couldn't touch. God revived the dead dreams and wishes I buried beneath my trauma. My surrender will look different than yours, my outcome will look different than yours. But my testimony can empower you regardless of what part you resonate with. Whether you need to leave some things and people behind or whether you need to leave your plans on the drawing board, be empowered to surrender to God and respect your choice even if others do not. I respect my surrender; do you respect yours? -Amelia Renee' "Soul-See-Ologist"

Hello and welcome to my website! I pray these blog posts meet you where you need to be met! I pray you are informed, enlightened, encouraged, and excited to keep pressing towards prosperity and purpose! Feel free to create an account and comment on blog posts and articles that you would like to read. Respect is not optional here, and any comments or posts that offend, disrespect, and discourage others will be recorded and removed! More info coming soon as I revamp my blog presence! God Bless You! ~Amelia Renee'