It was Easter Monday 2001, my first four months away from my marriage. I travelled up to Toowoomba to visit my parents and, like many other families that day, we went to Queens Park to enjoy the wonderful Autumn weather and give David some time on the playground. I was with my parents and a friend from Brisbane, just sitting on a park bench and chatting. I had my back to the playground and my parents were opposite me, watching David over my shoulder.

Then I heard that voice - the one that still makes my blood run cold. "Give me back my fucking son!" he yelled. My parents jumped up and I turned around in time to see Wayne grab David off the playground and start running across the park with him in his arms. To this day I don't know how she did it, but my Mother caught up with them and grabbed one of David's arms. They were pulling him in two directions. Wayne then punched my Mother in the shoulder. My Dad, to his credit, knew that Wayne would cause huge dramas if he hit him back and somehow restrained himself whilst observing his wife being assaulted. Dad put himself between Wayne and Mum and joined in the tussle of trying to get David back.

Most other parents understandably grabbed their own children and took off in every direction. I was screaming. I was not allowed to approach Wayne because of the domestic violence order which I had against him - it also prevented me from approaching him as that would be considered trying to get him to breach it. I had my Mother's mobile phone in my hand but could not dial the numbers. I kept doubling over in physical pain. This woman came over to me, took the phone from my hand, gave it to her teenage daughter and then just knelt down with me as I collapsed. She rubbed my back and just kept telling me it would be okay.

When the police arrived they asked both parties (via my parents) who had custody. My Dad had been telling me for ages to get custody and I had avoided it for two reasons. Firstly, I always assumed that Wayne would realise that David was better off with me and would never consider taking him. Secondly, I just wanted to maintain the status quo, as bad as it was. I believe he was undiagnosed, untreated bipolar and the only way I knew to deal with him was to always let him think he was in control. Slapping him with an 'unprovoked' custody battle would have unfathomable consequences. As it turns out they happened anyway.

So neither of us had custody which meant that the Police were powerless. Because it was school holidays they suggested that Wayne be allowed to take David until the day before school resumed the following Monday and made a verbal agreement with Wayne to return David to a specified Police Station on the Sunday. I knew he wouldn't; my parents knew he wouldn't but I was powerless.

So the following Sunday comes and goes and surprise he doesn't turn up. I realised then that David was officially kidnapped and thus began my five week battle to get him back. I had to lodge a Recovery Order with the Family Court, in triplicate, every page signed by a Justice of the Peace. I had to also lodge my interim orders and pay some stupid fee of around $200. I had to list all possible contacts for Wayne to help find him. He was gone, and had picked up his other two kids along the way. Every minute of every day I waited for the phone call to say that he had been found, gassed in the car with the kids. Considering his final suicidal demise this was very possible.

I don't know how I coped. I remember going to work every day, catching the bus home and just crawling into bed and sleeping until the next morning. The only thing I remember was listening to the song "Yellow" by Cold Play. Everytime I hear that song it reminds me of that time.

Three court cases later I was finally granted full custody and gave him access with strict conditions. I found out that he was living in the car, with the three boys, on a river bank. They had no food, no toilet, no running water. They slept outside or in the car. David was so hungry that he actually gave Wayne my PIN number saying "Mum always has money in her account". Obviously he didn't realise that Wayne needed my card as well, but the mere fact that he would reveal it shows just how desperate he was.

When I got David back five weeks later he had no shoes, his clothes were too small for him. He was filthy and had burrs in his hair. He had been completely brainwashed by his Father to the point that he didn't speak to me for three days, believing that I was evil and detrimental to him. Considering that 6 months later he was diagnosed with autism just makes the whole thing more horrific - an autistic child was ripped out of his environment with no warning, no routine, no anything.

I hate Wayne for that. I have never felt so much loss and helplessness and complete shattering weakness. It felt as though all my bones had been stripped from my body and I had nothing to hold me up. I was living in the women's refuge at the time so I thank God that I had those people around - counsellors, court advisors, food made for me, no bills to pay. I could not function other than go to work which was necessary if I was to prove to the court that I was the only fit parent. My parents wrote affidavits, attended court cases both in Brisbane and 4 hours drive away. They were incredible.

I think this experience is why I'm so fearless now. I'm not scared to walk outside at night. I leave my doors unlocked when I'm sitting here working/blogging at 4am. I throw caution to the wind because my hell has already happened and I survived. If you are a single parent I urge you to GET YOUR FAMILY ORDERS SORTED OUT. Without them the other parent can just come and take your child. Legally.

t.