When I was a baby, I thought I had a family that loved me. I had a brother and sister that would fight over who could play with me first, a pretty mommy that would stay up and rock me to bed, and a strong father that would kiss my skinned knees when I fell and chase after me just to tickle me until I erupted in giggles. I couldn't have imagined a life so opposite of the one I was born with.

Now, I know I was born a mistake, a child born from a dirty lie that should have never happened. I was conceived through an affair, a time of weakness and regret. I was an outcast, known as the ruin of a perfect family. My own flawless family blamed me for existing, for breathing.

My mother was once a doctor. She was an esteemed physician, loved by all of her patients and greatly appreciated by all of her peers. Before the affair, my mother had everything. She had a loving husband, two perfect children, and a wonderful life. The day she met my real father, things changed for her. He came to her office for a checkup as a new patient she had never seen before. I'd imagine he was quite charming and good looking because I was conceived in that same room two weeks later.

When my mother found out she was pregnant, she wasn't sure who the father was. For weeks she had been beating herself up over the mistakes she had made and cut ties from the man in her office. She'd made up her mind she was going to do everything she could to keep the affair away from her perfect life and her perfect family.

My mother decided I had to be her husband, Adam's, child. As if it had never happened, she ignored ever meeting my biological father. Her twin children, Gabriel and Gabriella, were four and they would adore a new sibling. It wouldn't seem out of the ordinary to have a new baby, so she was sure she could keep it a secret.

When I was born, it seemed I was the perfect addition to the family. My, then, five-year-old brother and sister loved me. My parents were happy and sweet. The love that Adam had been so pressed to give my mother had returned. They named me Eden Joy. Adam liked it because it was biblical, like the Garden of Eden, and he was sure I could bring our family nothing but joy.

At the time, I wouldn't have believed anyone that told me Adam was anything but the best man to ever walk on Earth. A good father, he was loving and went out of his way to teach and care for me. He was my best friend, my daddy, the one who bathed me, cuddled me, and read me stories every night. When he would come home from his job at the fire station, us kids and my momma were the first things on his mind. I can remember him walking in the door with two redheads attached to each leg and hobbling over to where momma sat reading to me. He'd scoop me into his arms and give my mother a sweet kiss on the forehead. Yes, I thought my tiny world was perfect.

That was before things got bad.

As I got older and my features became prominent, it was obvious I was not my daddy's child. Everything about my appearance seemed to clash with Adam's. The twins were spitting images of Adam- the mix of light strawberry-blonde hair, dark brown eyes and round noses made tiny replicas of the man I was supposed to look like.

I was only three years old, but it seemed nothing about me could have come from him. My round, blue-green eyes competed with his almost black, squinty orbs. My small button nose didn't resemble his which was large and round; and my brown, curly mop couldn't be mistaken for his pin-straight, red hair.

Of course, Adam had always been suspicious, but my mother's breakdown brought the truth to the surface and secured my fate. My mother had always known in the back of her mind I wasn't Adam's. The way Adam treated me, like a child of his own, made the guilt grow and fester inside her until she couldn't hold it anymore.

The day my daddy found out I wasn't his is a day that will haunt me forever. I was three years old.

My mother came into the kitchen that morning as Adam placed a plate of cut up waffles in front of me and a bowl of cereal in front of the twins. Her hair was half done and her shirt was half buttoned. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks a trail of dried tears. Hating to see my strong mother so sad, I ran to her and begged to be held in her arms, doing my best to comfort her.

She had picked me up, but at the time I had paid no mind to the tight, almost bruising grip she had on my arms as she pulled me to her hip. My mother claimed she had a confession to make. Daddy quickly walked to her, ready to comfort her and question what was making her so sad.

Looking back, I don't think he was ready to admit the fact that I wasn't his blood. My mother was about to shatter the illusion we had made. When mother told him, he leaned against the kitchen counter, shocked into silence. He held his hand to his mouth, his eyes became shiny and dark.

When his silence was broken, the words he spoke echoed throughout the kitchen, his yell vanishing the quiet in the room. He screamed at my mother and punched the counter. I'm leaving you, Shanie. You did this to yourself.

Daddy left that day. He left his wife, his children, and me, a kid that shouldn't have ever been his responsibility.

He left his family that loved him.

I'd like to think he didn't know what my fate would be. I'd like to believe that he wouldn't learn of the terrible things my mother would do to me.

Because I was the one they blamed.

My mother blamed me for ruining her perfect family and forcing her to turn to alcohol for comfort. Gabe and Gabby blamed me for taking away their perfect daddy, their sweet and loving mom, and the life they should have had.