On a radiant, warm New York morning in early fall, I found myself in my Chelsea apartment, frantically searching through Google for the best divorce lawyers in NYC who could handle cases of missing children. My two little daughters, aged 3 and 8, had been taken from me without my knowledge just a few days earlier by their mother. I was still in a state of disbelief and shock.
The first Danish lawyer I spoke to that morning, out of sheer desperation, only heightened my anxiety and despair. He coldly informed me that such cases are extremely difficult to resolve. In a panic, I rushed to my therapist, Richard, in Stuyvesant Village, begging for an emergency session. I vividly remember him leaping from his chair, exclaiming, “It’s an abduction!”
That bright, clear morning in Chelsea quickly blurred into a series of grim meetings at the NYC Family Court. The lawyer I eventually hired tried to help me come to terms with the harsh reality of what had happened. He and his wife, who worked together, promised their support but at a steep price—$10k per week. It was a small comfort amidst the turmoil.
Since my daughters had been taken to Denmark, we filed an international child abduction case under the Hague Convention. The U.S. Department of State contacted me the following week, offering some measure of reassurance and support.
Both of my daughters attended PS3 in the West Village of New York, not far from where we lived. The stark contrast between our daily routines—taking them to school with a stroller in the mornings—and the gut-wrenching realization that they were gone, brought me to tears every time I passed by their school. I whispered words of hope and courage to myself, even as the world seemed to be crumbling around me.
When the U.S. Department of State instructed me to file a police report at my local precinct in Chelsea, the emotions overwhelmed me. Sitting in front of the police officer, describing the physical features of my two missing daughters, was sheer torture. As we say in NYC, things often get worse before they get better.
As the days grew shorter and the nights longer, NYC prepared for Christmas. But I moved through my days with a heavy heart, struggling to find acceptance and grappling with a profound sense of injustice. Determined to make the best of a heartbreaking situation, I crafted a special Christmas box filled with Lindt chocolates, candies, and stuffed animals, and sent it to Denmark. This act of giving, even in their absence, filled my Christmas with a glimmer of hope and a light I hadn’t seen before.
My NYC lawyer eventually found me a highly skilled Danish lawyer who specialized in abduction cases. Suddenly, I felt a surge of optimism. Without the need for a court case under the Hague Convention, the mother voluntarily returned the girls the following month, ending the four darkest months of my life. This opened a new chapter, one where I learned how to rebuild a relationship with my children after an abduction.
While every breakup, divorce, and broken family case is unique, the emotions and feelings are often shared. Navigating through these dark times is a matter of love, not revenge; of giving, not closing up.
