Our daughter was born. I had been there every step of the way. I had read every parenting book, shopped for baby clothes, supported her and begged her to go to parenting classes with me. Our relationship was rough. I realize now I was in an abusive relationship. My heart was torn and my pride suffered every day but the center of my world was my daughter Julia and I had the strongest father-daughter bond possible. I loved coming home and just sitting with her, watching her, talking with her and performing all the basics from changing to feeding — although even then I needed permission from her mother to do any of those things or she would scold me. She would often yell at me and tell me I had to do chores and I'm a deadbeat father. The abuse was clear but no one said a thing. I begged for help and feared the worst and it came. While I was at dinner with my parents, she took my daughter and tried to empty my house out, her actions obviously planned.