My three-year-old son was lying in a hospital bed recovering from being hit by a car — and that's when I found out his father had gone behind my back and taken emergency custody of him. Not because he wanted to raise him. Because I had moved on, and this was the punishment.

This is Chapter 6. The kitchen where my dad said "I'm going to start making phone calls." The welcome home party where nobody spoke to me for two days. The hospital bathroom, where a powerless 21-year-old found the only weapon she had access to — and used it. The phone call from my lawyer that changed everything. The five o'clock countdown. And a car caravan following me home, then standing on my lawn until my mother — the peacemaker, the one who never raises her voice — told them all to get off her property.

They thought they could write down whatever they wanted about a 21-year-old girl and take her child. They fucked with the wrong people.

New episodes every Monday.

Grab your daddy tissues. Till next time, my queens. 🖤

📖 New here? Daddy Tissues is a true story, told in order — start at I'm F*cking Doing This. Every episode, in order 👇🏻

⚠️ Contains strong language and discussion of custody conflict and child injury.

📚 THE WHOLE STORY, IN ORDER

I'm Fucking Doing This → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/im-fcking-doing-this

The Roots → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/the-roots

The Boiling Frog → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/the-boiling-frog

Let's Get High → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/lets-get-high

White Trash → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/white-trash

Chapter 1: Who is Vicky? → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/chapter-1-who-is-vicky

Chapter 2: Get Out of Jail Free Card → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/chapter-2-get-out-of-jail-free-card

Chapter 3: Fan Mail → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/chapter-3-fan-mail

Chapter 4: The Battleground → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/chapter-4-the-battleground

The Wrong Bitch → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/the-wrong-bitch

Chapter 5: Car Insurance → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/chapter-5-car-insurance

Chapter 6: Don't Forget to Brush → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/chapter-6-dont-forget-to-brush

Chapter 7: He'll Get Over It → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/chapter-7-hell-get-over-it

Chapter 8: The Box → https://daddy-tissues.captivate.fm/episode/chapter-8-the-box

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Disclaimer: Daddy Tissues is a personal storytelling podcast for entertainment, reflection, and connection. It is not therapy, legal advice, medical advice, financial advice, or a replacement for professional support. Names and identifying details may be changed or omitted to protect privacy.

Episode 13 Don't Forget to Brush

Gina: There's something that happens to your body when somebody takes your child Not takes them like they wander away and target. Not takes them like they're late bringing them back. Takes them legally with paperwork and a judge's signature Using accusations written down on a piece of paper that suddenly have the power to change your entire life Your body does something that I don't really even have the words to explain Your hands get cold.

Your chest feels hollow.

I didn't know I had that part of me, but I found out that week

Welcome back, my friends. I'm your host, Gina Sullivan, and this is Daddy Tissues

This wasn't something that happened out of nowhere. This was a pattern. This is what he did when I broke up with him. This is what he did when I made him jealous. This is what he did when I did anything that made him unhappy.

Let's be serious. Whenever it was his time with our son, his mother was usually the one taking care of him. This wasn't about him wanting to stay home and raise his child. This was about punishment. I had a boyfriend. I had moved on, and this was the way he was going to hurt me because at that point, my son was the only thing he knew he could take from me that would completely destroy me, and that's exactly what he did [00:04:00] When I found out, I lost it.

I was crying, I was panicking. I kept saying, "Oh my God, what do we do? What do we do?" And my mom looked at me and said, "Gina, we have to go home and tell your father." And I said, "Mom, I can't leave," because I couldn't. My son was still in that hospital. I had been beside him every second. And my mom said, "Gina, you have been by his side since this happened.

He's with his dad. He's in a hospital. He's going to be okay for a couple of hours, but we have to figure out what we're gonna do." And she was right. We didn't have a choice . I told his father I was leaving for a little bit and that I will be back.

I felt like I was losing my mind I was completely in fight or flight. When we got home, it was nighttime, and my dad was standing in the kitchen I could close my eyes right now and see it My mom starts telling him what happened while I'm sitting there sobbing And my dad was devastated. He couldn't understand it either.

Because there's a certain kind of thing that happens where you cannot believe a human being would do this. It's so far outside of what you think people are capable of that you never in your life picture yourself standing in a kitchen having this conversation How are people this evil? How does somebody make up lies like this about me?

Somebody who said they loved me. Somebody I have a child with.

He's a baby. He needs me

I don't remember much after that. I think maybe I grabbed clothes, maybe I grabbed some things I needed, and my mom got in the car with me, and we went back to the hospital

I know word spread quickly through my family and my friends. I'm sure people knew what was happening, but I don't actually remember having those conversations. Trauma's weird like that. I can remember the color of a rug from 20 years ago.

I had so much anger inside of me that I thought I was going to come out of my skin. I wanted to attack him. I'm not going to pretend I didn't. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel physical pain. I have never felt that about another human being before in my life.

So in this really fucked up way, I was still under his control If I wanted to sit next to my kid, I had to keep my mouth shut

I went back to that hospital and sat there looking at him thinking, "You motherfucker

All of this rage inside of me and nowhere for it to go And listen, I was 21 years old, so I got creative

I walked slowly over and when he wasn't looking, picked it up and said, "I'm going to the bathroom real quick."

My house has never been that clean. I was going at it, scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing, because I had all of this rage inside of me, and I didn't know what the fuck to do with it. So the toothbrush got it Then I looked down and there was all this black cruddy shit on the bristles. But even in the middle of committing a toothbrush crime, I was thinking ahead.

I watched that man pick up his toothbrush, put toothpaste on it And I watched that fucker brush those fucking teeth And I'm not gonna lie, it did give me some pleasure, some satisfaction. I felt maybe 0.7% better. Did it solve anything? No. Was it mature? Absolutely not. Am I proud of it? No, I'm not proud of it.

Eventually, it was time for my son to be discharged. And I remember packing up his things, his clothes, his belongings, my bag, and I remember this overwhelming feeling of disbelief Because I was leaving the hospital with my son, but I wasn't going home. I was taking my three-year-old child, who had just been hit by a car and almost died, to his father's house.

Food, drinks, people walking around. Everybody was happy. Everybody was celebrating. And I remember standing there thinking, "What the hell is happening?" Because this was not my son's home. My son did not live here. This was not where he belonged. But everybody was acting like this was some big beautiful homecoming.

I just focused on him. And I remember that room so clearly. The dark green walls, this old mauve couch, the woodwork everywhere. It was one of those old Philadelphia houses. And there was this green oriental style rug . I just sat on the rug with my baby and played And what is so crazy to me is that there were all these people around me, but I felt completely alone Nobody said a word to me.

Now, I wanna stop here for a second because when I first started telling this story, I mixed two days together because trauma does that. It does not organize your memories into nice little folders with labels. It just throws random memories at you and says, "Good luck figuring this shit out."

My mom is coming to get me. I'll be back in the morning before my son gets up." And that was it, because there was no part of me that was sleeping in that house, not after everything that happened, not after everything I had just been through. So my mom came and got me. The next morning, I woke up early. She drove me right back there, and I made sure I was there before my son opened his eyes.

I didn't know how this was going to end. I just knew I needed to stay calm. Then around noon, my phone rings And it was my lawyer And the second I answered, there was something different about his voice. He sounded surprised, almost shocked. And he said, "Gina, I don't know what happened. I don't know who your father called.

I don't know who he knows. I don't know what happened behind the scenes, but I have an order in my hand signed by a judge

And I remember just sitting there thinking, "Wait, what?" Because the day before, I was being told I couldn't take my son home, and now my lawyer was telling me at 5:00, I was taking him home. My son was coming back with me. I had custody and there was this rush of adrenaline, this feeling of, "Oh, my God.

So now I know at 5:00 PM I was taking my son home. And you would think that would be the moment where I could finally relax, but I couldn't Because I had just learned that anything could happen. The last few days had completely changed the way I saw these people. These were people who had made accusations about me that I knew were not true.

People who had taken my child while he was still recovering from almost dying

And now I was sitting in their house waiting for the moment I would stand up and leave with him

It wasn't asking if I was okay. It wasn't acknowledging what had just happened. The first person to speak to me was get out of jail free card sister who was sitting on the couch

so G, when he goes to your house, when do you think we can come visit him?

You called my mother cursing me out, screaming at her while we were driving to the hospital not even knowing if my son was alive. You watched everything, and now you're asking when can you come visit him? But here's the thing 21-year-old Gina did not say any of that. 21-year-old Gina was still a people pleaser.

Keep everyone happy, avoid conflict, don't make anybody angry. Maybe if I was nice enough, maybe if I was reasonable enough, people would eventually meet me here

They were acting like everyone was leaving together, like this was still their decision, like nothing had happened. The neighbor was upstairs packing a bag, and I'm watching this happen thinking, [00:25:00] "Wait, what?" I guess he assumed he was coming with me. He never asked. He just decided. And I'm sitting there watching all of this thinking, "What the fuck is happening right now?"

Because somehow, even after everything, even after the judge reversed the order, even after I was told my son was coming home with me, they were still acting like they had a say in what happened next. And that was the moment where I realized this wasn't over yet. Five o'clock finally came, and I remember my heart pounding.

My baby was coming home with me. But before I could even fully feel that relief, I looked behind me and the entire family was getting into their car They started following us What the fuck? I remember looking behind me thinking, "Why are they following us? Where are they going? What is happening?" Because at this point, I'm pretty sure my nervous system was just hanging on by a thread.

Were they coming to my house? Were they gonna wanna try to beat me up?

Were they going to create another scene in front of my son? I had no idea. At this point, I was exhausted. I was relieved, I was terrified, and honestly, I was thinking, "Can one thing in this situation just please be normal?" So I called my lawyer and I said, "The entire family is behind us. They're following us to my house."

But he explained to me his father could come for his visitation if I allowed it. He could stay until that visit was over, but I did not have to let the entire family into my home. And now I'm sitting in the car thinking, "Okay, so now what? What fresh chaos is waiting for me when I pull into my driveway?"

So I started calling my friends, I explained to them what was happening, and they're like, "Oh, my God, we're coming over." Because apparently at this point, getting my child home from the hospital required an entire support team. And honestly, I was grateful because I didn't know what was going to happen. I had spent days watching things happen that I never thought were possible.

We pulled up to my house, I get my son out of the car, and I bring him inside. Because through all of this, my number one priority was him. I did not want him knowing anything was wrong. He was three years old. He had just been hit by a car. He didn't need to see adults screaming and fighting.

How is this my life right now? How did getting my son home turn into this?" And this part I will never forget because my mother, she's a lot like me. I'm a lot like her, I should say. She's a peacemaker. She avoids confrontation. She is usually the person trying to calm everyone down, trying to make everybody get along, trying to smooth everything over.

I hear the neighbor's mother arguing with my mom, and she's saying something along the lines of, "Well, Mr. So-and-So didn't get to see him all day," meaning my son's grandfather. Apparently, because everybody else had seen him, he needed his turn, too, and she was demanding that he be allowed into my house. And then I hear my mother say, "I think you guys have done enough.

I really don't. But the officer read them, and what those papers said was actually pretty clear. His father could have visitation according to the order, but nobody else had the right to just show up and enter my home. This was not a family gathering. This was not their house. This was my home. This was my son, and the officer made that very clear.

I never will." Because from where I was standing, my three-year-old son had almost died, his mother had been by his side, and instead of helping us heal, they created more chaos. They took a child who had just gone through trauma and created more trauma. And somehow, they saw themselves as the victims.

That day, my dad was a hero Not because he magically fixed everything, not because he had some secret power, But because when his daughter walked into his kitchen completely broken, he showed up. He listened. He believed me. And he said, "I'm gonna start making phone calls."

Whatever happened after that changed everything

But they made one mistake They underestimated the people standing behind me. They underestimated my family They underestimated me They fucked with the wrong people

Thank you for being here, my friends. Thank you for listening. If this episode hit you somewhere, share it with somebody who needs to hear it. And if you have not already, leave a review. It helps more than you know I'm Dina Sullivan. Grab some more daddy tissues, and I will see you next Monday, my queens