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From Abuse and Survival to Love and Adoption: How a Brave Mom and Her Three Children Found Healing, Hope, and a Real Dad

From Abuse and Survival to Love and Adoption: How a Brave Mom and Her Three Children Found Healing, Hope, and a Real Dad

After years of storms, they didn’t just find shelter; they built a home where love is the loudest thing in the room. For nearly two decades, she lived on eggshells. First, a 19-year marriage that slid from mind games into bruises and fear, then a two-year engagement that looked safe from the outside but felt like another cage. She told herself she’d finish raising her “trifecta” three kids, alone. It would take a real-life superhero to change her mind. She didn’t know the universe had one jogging toward them. 

Courtesy of Alicia Gregg

Six years earlier, the home had been a war zone. What began as put-downs and control turned into fists, broken things, and threats. She believed the lies that she was a bad mom, unlovable, and stuck. In April 2016, it exploded: her husband spiraled, hurt himself, and their oldest son called 911. That call cracked the door open. With him out of the house, she started building a new life, one tiny choice at a time: how to wear her hair, what color to paint her nails, and small freedoms that felt like oxygen. Therapy helped the kids unlearn what they thought was “normal.” “We had a bully, not a dad,” her teenager told a counselor. The truth stung, but also set them free.

Courtesy of Alicia Gregg

When she later reconnected with a childhood friend, she wanted to believe good love could exist. Red flags popped up; she pushed them down. They got engaged, moved states, and the mask dropped. Cameras in the house. Rules for blinds and mail. Her daughter kept away. Nights of yelling. She called off the wedding and tried counseling, but the answer was no. She was ashamed she’d led her kids into another unsafe place, and she started over again, a new state, a thin support system, back to therapy for everyone. She decided this time would be different. Maybe it would be just her and the trifecta. That didn’t feel lonely anymore; it felt strong.

Courtesy of Alicia Gregg

Then came a surprise in running shoes. A mutual acquaintance, Matty, was in the middle of a cross-country run, 5,425 miles to raise money for firefighters with cancer and to talk to people across America. She messaged encouragement, pulled back, then chose herself: I can be friends with anyone. They traded video messages while he ran. The kids popped in to say hi. He showed interest; she said, “I need a friend,” and he honored it. A near-miss on the road shook them both.

The friendship deepened into something steadier than either expected. Her worry lingered. Could she let anyone near her kids again? The answer came walking through Kelly Ingram Park in Alabama. Her youngest was full of questions about civil rights and cruelty. Matty stepped beside her, gentle and precise, explaining history and hope. The little girl, who never left her mother’s side, strolled on without looking back, trusting him. It was the quietest, loudest sign.

Courtesy of Alicia Gregg

By spring 2020, Matty proposed. They married in the New Hampshire house he’d loved since childhood, now their home. The kids were healing; life felt accurate and straightforward. No one had planned on adoption, but one by one, each child asked if he would be their dad, not just their stepdad. They didn’t compare notes; they just knew what they wanted. In January 2021, the court made official what their hearts already knew. Their story isn’t just about surviving; it’s about thriving. The walls don’t echo with fear anymore. Shared meals, marathon stories, school runs, and comfortable silence exist. There is room to breathe, to laugh, to disagree safely.

Courtesy of Alicia Gregg

She has no perfect words for her gratitude, only the daily proof of how they live. And pride, too: in three kids who chose courage and a man who ran into their lives and stayed. She used to wait for rescue. Rescue looked like a 911 call, a therapist’s office, a thousand small decisions, and a runner who showed up with kindness and consistency. She learned that starting over is not failing, it’s choosing life again. The trifecta learned that “family” can be rebuilt, stronger at the broken places.