Trying to gain my independence by threatening Momma with emancipation papers felt foreign to me. However, I needed everyone to take my concerns seriously, and this felt like my only course of action. When my lawyer and I showed up to serve her, Momma stood there in a state of disbelief. We both were probably thinking the same thing: How did it come to this? We waited while Momma called the lawyers and conferred with my team. In the end, they decided to do what it took to protect me. Emancipation would put me at risk in personal and financial ways no one wanted. We trashed the emancipation papers, and I was given my independence. Our agreement granted me the freedom to manage my own affairs and make decisions for me and my baby. My parents would still be my legal guardians and have the authority to step in should I make poor decisions. I had no intention of making a mess of an already tenuous situation. I knew in my heart I was making the right choice, but gaining my independence came at a price.
The events of the day were emotionally draining, and our mutual feelings of discomfort made it impossible for me to stay in the house any longer. Momma wanted me to continue living with her, and she wanted to help me navigate the next year of my life. But I just knew that if Casper and I were going to have a chance to be together and raise our baby, I needed to move from underneath her roof. As good as Momma’s intentions may have been, I would never be able to assert myself and grow into the mother I wanted to become living there. With my head held high, I marched myself to my room and threw everything I could into large garbage bags. The shabby plastic bags stuffed into my Range Rover were a comical sight. I drove out to Liberty to stay with Casper at his family’s home.
At first, he made sincere attempts to be supportive. But we were young, and Casper was more interested in his friends and having fun. Sometimes he would say just what I needed to hear, but I’m not certain he had any real interest in taking on the responsibility of building a life with me. The truth was, regardless of my love for him, Casper’s past indiscretions undermined my faith in him. I had a niggling feeling he wasn’t good for me or the baby, but Momma wouldn’t have conceded to letting me move out if she thought I was going to be on my own. In my young heart, I honestly hoped it would be a new beginning to our relationship. Now that the most difficult decisions had been made, I felt compelled to show the world I could do this—be the “perfect” teen mom who made it work and built a steady relationship with her boyfriend. We weren’t going to be a statistic. We were going to make a family for our daughter.
I did everything to prove my devotion to him. We “played house” in his parents’ home and tried to be a family. From the onset I knew I wanted a home of my own but agreed a few weeks in his home would give us time to plan. Initially he was working in a welding job, but he quit soon after I moved in. Within weeks I found a small bag of pills while cleaning. I didn’t recognize them and without much thought, I flushed them down the toilet. I called him and casually mentioned that I’d gotten rid of some pills I found in a baggie, and he flipped out. He was spitting mad, saying they belonged to a friend of his. Genuinely concerned, I appealed to his mom, asking questions about his habits, and she basically said, “Boys will be boys.” Ribbons of doubt began to unfurl. Strike one.
Life in that home wasn’t good for me, but my pride demanded I smile for the world. Out of necessity, I developed a character I performed for everyone. “Happy Jamie Lynn” wore a cloak of well-being that shielded the anxiety and unease I experienced on a daily basis. Casper’s parents were pleasant, but their permissive ways made me uncomfortable, and we didn’t develop a closeness. How was Casper supposed to join me in nurturing a healthy family life for us if he never had to take responsibility for himself? I didn’t appreciate the paparazzi spinning salacious stories about my relationship, and I didn’t want to hear “I told you so” from my parents. It was simply easier to pretend everything was good. I grew increasingly more self-conscious in his house and felt that I really needed a place of my own. It was time to move out. After a difficult conversation in which I justified the expense of a new home to my management, I contacted a Realtor and started looking at houses.
The property I selected in Liberty was in the middle of nowhere. In retrospect, that may not have been my best move. It was a quick cash transaction, and immediately I put up a high fence to secure privacy and safety for me and my growing baby. The press continued to harass me, but at the very least I was comfortable in my own home. The pregnancy had thrown me into nesting mode. I was putting together our home from scratch: everything from paint and appliances to curtains and conveniences. This was complicated for so many reasons. Primarily, because I was a child who hadn’t amassed anything for a home.
Most days, Casper spent time doing God knows what, except when it came to outfitting our home with the best tech toys and televisions money could buy. He insisted on a room decked out in camouflage—bedding and all—where he displayed his hunting pictures. I went along with most of his ideas in an attempt to make him happy. One morning we were looking around our house and he said, “You know, Jamie Lynn, these floors aren’t going to sweep themselves. That’s something you need to do.” I couldn’t believe he said it and thought, I’m paying for all this! You sweep up the freaking floors. Realistically, what did I know about sweeping? I didn’t have any experience in how to keep a house. Previously, if I wasn’t working, I was at school or church or playing sports. He never picked up a broom or vacuum but nabbed any chance to spend money. I did the best I could to set us up with everything we needed while managing my morning sickness and taking care of my business affairs. I had job prospects that needed to be put on hold and I had to revamp my financial strategy to keep us afloat. When I was exhausted from the day, he went out late into the evening to party with friends and many nights never even came home.
Ms. Lou and I continued to build on our relationship, and she was a big help to me in these first months. I knew she was someone I could rely on. Her support was invaluable, especially at that time when my relationship with my folks was just beginning to mend. Ms. Lou’s take-charge attitude appealed to me and was, frankly, refreshing. Her bulldozing and dynamic personality served me well at a time I came to realize that most of the women in my family struggled to stand their ground and make good decisions for themselves. She visited from Nashville to see how I was managing, and she made sure I got the things I needed to improve the quality of my daily life. She set out to make a cup of coffee and realized I didn’t own a machine. When I told her the nearest place for coffee was a gas station eight miles away, she balked. Within hours, I had a French press, and she helped me make a house a home. Ms. Lou provided suggestions on decor and design, and even delivered a picture for Maddie’s nursery gifted from my parents. She took one look at Casper’s camouflage room and gasped. Without judgment she said, “Come on, Jamie Lynn. Let’s get some stuff to refine the decor here.”
With no children of her own and my unique needs at the time, Ms. Lou and I developed a rapport that went way beyond professional. I know she wanted to help in any way she could to alleviate the stress in my life. I cherished having someone in my corner whose exclusive job was to put my business concerns first and coach me on how to secure my future. But in the process, she positioned herself in such a way that made Momma uncomfortable. On one level she soothed my family’s hurts and precipitated the healing process. But I got a sense that Momma may have struggled with the closeness Ms. Lou and I shared.
No one could ever take Momma’s place in my life, but the previous months, the ones wrought with fear, disillusionment, and guilt, had put a strain on our relationship. Momma was conflicted; she wanted to do what she thought was right for me and still support me in my choices. And the truth is, not all my decisions were the right ones. Even when things were abominable, Momma was there with me. Throughout my childhood, I believed that to be a Spears is to be strong-willed, outspoken, and, above all, forgiving whenever possible. Grudges don’t serve any of us, and it’s a blessing we can disagree and still care deeply for each other. I was reared to show deference to my parents and do what I was told, at all costs. But with Froggy on the way, I started to feel a huge rift between how I viewed my family and the one I wanted to build for myself. I recognized that in myself as soon as I decided to move out of my mom’s house. At that point, I didn’t resent or blame them for the way I left home. I just knew I had to make my own way. As for Momma and Ms. Lou, they came together as guiding forces in my life and even coordinated the deal for Momma’s book Through the Storm: A Real Story of Fame and Family in a Tabloid World. Still, to this day, I have not read that book. I saw firsthand the difficulties that Momma and Britney suffered after my sister read it, and I wanted to avoid the possible outrage reading her words would evoke.
The geographical isolation of the home I shared with Casper caused a rift between me and some of my friends. I couldn’t hang out with them regularly and give the friendships the constant communication teens thrive on. I was moving in a different direction, and we had very little in common at that point. My life became a delicate balancing act between keeping my romantic relationship stable and maintaining my health. I wanted to believe that love between Casper and me would grow. We had some good times, but they weren’t many, and his infidelity became harder to ignore. Somehow, I deluded myself into thinking if I just tried harder, I could make him happy. I pushed aside my insecurities, and I was genuinely happy when he proposed to me in March 2008. I thought, Okay, now everything will be good. The ring reinforced my determination that it was going to work out. The diamond convinced everyone else we were happy. The engagement proved our legitimacy to the world. I was doing the right thing for my baby.
This entire scenario was damage control for my sinking public reputation. I was still trying to be that perfect girl people had come to adore and prove that this pregnancy wasn’t the disaster it was reported to be. In reality, my fiancé was gone more than he was home and his whereabouts remained unknown to me most of the time.
Some days I wanted to be with him. But wanting that and feeling secure in our relationship were two different things. At the time, I just knew something wasn’t right. He wasn’t acting like himself. When I asked where he’d been, he dismissed me with comments like, “Your hormones are making you crazy. I was out. Just hanging out. It was late, so I crashed at so-and-so’s house.” Despite the ring, trust was slipping through my fingers like sand. Strike two.
Time allowed for the strain between Momma and me to subside, and our relationship improved. After everything we’d been through, Momma was so excited to coordinate a large baby shower for me at her home. I loathed being the center of attention, but I couldn’t deny her. There were false reports that I had some “redneck, half-assed” baby shower. With everything that had happened in the past seven months, with all the media coverage and negative press, it was important to me that people see the beautiful celebration honoring my pregnancy. In another attempt to control the narrative and what the public saw, I had a family friend serve as the photographer and shoot the day’s events. The pictures, which were not the best quality, were sold to OK! magazine for an article. Reporters still swarmed that day and even flew helicopters over the yard. Everything they did was intrusive, and I felt violated during a very private time. I plastered that “Happy Jamie Lynn” smile on my face, but I started to feel a crack in my veneer. A couple of weeks later, Diane hosted a smaller shower, attended by a few close friends, where I could relax and enjoy the excitement of impending motherhood.
The countdown to my due date had begun. I felt ginormous, and my skin had stretched beyond belief. I was naive to the hormonal fluctuations that occur during pregnancy. I foolishly believed all my exhaustion and emotional issues would disappear right after the first trimester. I probably suffered from prenatal depression but didn’t even know it was a thing at the time. I felt overwhelmed and did all I could to manage my anxiety. I kept busy around the house and tried to distract myself from what was about to happen. I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for a natural labor to commence. An action plan was developed for the baby’s birth in the hopes of controlling the day’s events. An elaborate ruse was implemented to allow for privacy and security for the delivery.
On June 19, 2008, I woke up like any other day, except this morning, I was going to meet my baby. I showered and washed my hair. Youthful vanity had me straightening my hair and curling my bangs just the way I liked them. Casper and I drove to the hospital, and the 5:00 a.m. appointment time kept the media and onlookers unaware. After we arrived, I went through the typical admitting procedures I found difficult to focus on because I was about to become a first-time mom. I changed into the provided gown to start the induction process. My entire family was scheduled to fly in on private planes, which tipped off the paparazzi. This being my first baby, doctors informed Momma that it would be hours before I delivered, so the family could take their time getting to the hospital. At first, things were moving at an easy pace, and I felt as comfortable as I could. Still, the morning was teeming with drama and things moved a lot quicker than anyone expected. I was walking around to ease some of the discomfort. Suddenly the moment hit me. Holy smokes! I’m going to have a baby. Cupping my swollen belly, I walked into the birthing room and took in my surroundings. In an instant I was sweating and then threw up. Fetal monitors were placed on my stomach, and unbeknownst to me, I was having contractions. Maddie decided not to make us wait too long for her arrival. By the time the Pitocin took effect, my baby was already making her way into the world. Casper stood alongside me, but the birthing experience was a very personal moment for me. After a period of straining and pushing, Maddie Briann was born at 9:33 a.m. Her presence comforted me, and a message passed between us when I held her. We got this! At that moment the fear dissipated, and everything was right in my world.
While I was bonding with Maddie, I couldn’t ignore the elements of the bizarre all around us. There were state troopers stationed outside my door and placed near the elevators. The amount of press outside was staggering. At separate times, nurses and doctors tried to come in, and I soon learned that they were reporters dressed up to gain access. Maddie was not allowed to be removed from the room. All her initial tests and checks were done bedside. Through it all I felt like it was Maddie and I facing our new world. Each time I held her I felt complete, like all my parts snapped into place. Maddie was adept at latching on for feedings and made the breastfeeding process easy. Casper was happy but used my postdelivery euphoria to ask for a new truck. “You know, Jamie Lynn, so I can drive the baby in a safer vehicle.” I had already bought him a truck, and his request hurt like a physical blow. He had abandoned all sense of decency. I thought, What a shit! But I did buy him another truck, and by the time he put on large rims and raised the cab twenty inches, I couldn’t even get Maddie in her car seat. This was another Casper con, leading to our downward spiral. Fortunately, Maddie’s arrival served as a balm to my own family, and everyone, including Momma, Daddy, Bryan, and Britney, delighted in her arrival. All of us together in that room, cooing at the newest addition, brought peace to my heart—at least for a little while. I was so happy that my sister had recovered from her earlier breakdown and could share in the experience.
The parking lot was filled with press, and we knew getting Maddie home was going to be a tactical nightmare. The second part of Mission Maddie was a diversionary plan to get the press to go one way and Maddie to go the other. The problem was that for the plan to work I was going to have to let her out of my sight. Just the thought of allowing someone to hold her, let alone entrusting her to someone else, was terrifying. But I would do anything to keep her safe. Against my wishes, I agreed to the ruse. It was late in the evening. Once I was dressed and ready, I sat in a wheelchair and baby Maddie was placed in my hands. We began the slow trek downstairs to the car. The four-person team of troopers accompanied me, and before we made it to the lobby, I handed Maddie to one of the troopers and an identical baby bundle was placed in my lap. I was rolled out and a makeshift tunnel was created to protect us and ward off the cameras. I kept my head down, and gently went into the car. The door closed and I placed the fake baby bundle in the car seat. I took a deep breath and prayed that Maddie and the troopers were safely en route home. Words fail to describe my sense of relief once Maddie was back in my arms.
A few days after Maddie and I had returned home, my family went back to living their own lives, and my fiancé was back partying and disappearing for hours. Although I was annoyed by his behavior, the precious time with my baby made everything better. His absence gave Maddie and me a chance to solidify our bond, and I developed an affinity for breastfeeding. Before she arrived, I’d learned about the benefits of breastfeeding, but never imagined how reciprocal it would be. There is nothing like that physical connection between mother and child. It’s so much more than nutrition. I relished the dynamic of her needing just me; that I was the only one who could care for her in this way. The sense of security knowing that Maddie returned to the safety of my arms every few hours brought me added peace. We soothed each other and shared a sense of tranquility. I spent months breastfeeding and cherishing that once-in-a-lifetime joy with my daughter.
But new motherhood was also an immense challenge. The overwhelming fatigue and mood swings faded quickly, but still, it took time for me to mentally organize all the changes that came immediately after Maddie arrived. As with so many new moms, the lack of sleep, bouts of crying, sometimes by both of us, and the first few nights all on my own made my early days of mothering challenging. I decluttered my mind and focused on our needs. I became hypervigilant in Maddie’s care and established a schedule. I ate, slept, and bathed when she did. We were like one entity. It was one of the ways I maintained a sense of control.
Casper’s disappearances posed new concerns about our future. The paparazzi continued their relentless pursuit of my story, and state troopers remained on our property at all hours. State Trooper Mr. Scott, whose own daughters were my schoolmates, was so concerned that his wife actually made me food. I am indebted to him for his fatherly attention during that time.
About nine days after Maddie was born, I fulfilled my second obligation to OK! magazine and sat for a photo shoot showcasing me and Maddie. The agreement, which was made months before, ensured I maintained some control over what was released publicly. My motivation was to keep Maddie as safe as possible with this exclusive deal. For the most part the plan worked to minimize the hysteria of the “first photos.” I couldn’t wait to get it over with and looked forward to getting on with my life. The shoot was as enjoyable as it could be for a new mom. Maddie was an angel, and we took several sweet pictures that appeared in the magazine. Once the shoot was completed, I was grateful for the money the pictures brought in. I had spent years earning a steady income. Now, I had no idea what was on the horizon professionally. The money would be used to support us and was placed in a trust for the future. Although cameras and media personnel continued to try and snag photos from a distance for a few months, the frenzy eventually died down.
Throughout the summer, Casper’s behavior continued to decline. When we first brought Maddie home, he fussed about the curfew the troopers recommended to keep us safe. When I asked him where he was going or where he’d been, he’d simply reply, “Out.” For months our relationship had been unraveling and I suspected he was doing things he shouldn’t. He was moody, and I swear his whole personality seemed to change. Before Maddie’s birth, he’d been gaslighting me, being evasive and playing things off as if I was the crazy one. I doubted my own sanity at times. “Jamie Lynn, I think the pregnancy is making you a little crazy.” Granted, I know a lot more now about how my body changes during pregnancy than I did then. Even if I was moody, I wasn’t an idiot. Casper belittled me and dared me not to believe him. He was defiant and would become indignant when I would call him out on his “overindulging.” But now, he was just blatant in his actions, not even trying to deceive me or keep his activities hidden.
I realized that I was a new mom, and I had changed too. But his disinterest, lack of fatherly attention, and disregard for our needs was evident in most of his decisions. The small amount of trust I had, the hope that he would make me and Maddie a priority in his life, faded by the time fall faded into winter. Rumors began to circulate about him and other women. I was so busy being a mom, half the time I didn’t pay any attention to the whispers. But deep down, I knew Casper was disrespecting me and neglecting Maddie with his behavior. And still he would feed me lines about loving me. From time to time, he would threaten to leave us if I didn’t give in to his petty demands for one thing or another. He knew how to manipulate me, and I was desperate to keep up appearances.
He appealed to me to invest in his future by paying for his education. My adviser challenged this, but I insisted I do it. Two substantial installments were put into an account for him to use, and sadly, the money was gone within weeks. He dropped out of school. And despite all of this, he insisted that he loved me. The simple truth—Casper reveled in being with me for the money and everything that came with it. I couldn’t see that at the time, and we continued to live in a dysfunctional relationship. I was naive and didn’t know any different. With so much turmoil it was impossible to see the reality of the situation.
Ms. Lou came for a visit specifically to sit me down and present me with some painful truths. She didn’t like the way things were going with Casper and felt like she needed to get me thinking about my future. “So, Jamie Lynn. What are you going to do to pay the bills—and what kind of legacy do you want to build for Maddie?” I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Ms. Lou didn’t mess around. She was direct and her delivery was intimidating. And truth was, she had skin in the game. If I worked, she got paid. But still, she wasn’t wrong. When she left, I sat in my living room, stared into space, and tried to get a hold on my panic. I never had to actually consider this issue before. Before Maddie, money was readily available. I’d thought I would continue to perform on television and then delve into movies. But now, I had basically destroyed my career and lost the steady income that came with it. She gave me a lot to think about. The seeds were planted, but I needed time for them to take root.
I pulled my proverbial protective cloak tightly around Maddie. Being her mom and watching her grow filled me with such profound pleasure that at times, it became easy to ignore Casper’s behavior. Unfortunately, as the months progressed, it became apparent that most of the rumors of girls and substance abuse were likely true. Aside from taking care of Maddie, my life became an intense game of whack a mole, putting out one media fire after another. There were days where intense anxiety would cripple me and the dread of what was coming would bring me to the brink of tears. To protect myself, I went on birth control, and I struggled with the adjustment. Casper once again accused me of being hormonally crazy and unstable. Looking back, I wonder if he was saying that as a way to blame me for his rumored infidelities.
The gossip about Casper’s indiscretions turned factual when my team learned that his paramour was selling her story to the tabloids. A front-page article would appear within days, reinforcing my mortification and repugnance. I was disgusted with him, but just as much with myself. My team, the same people who tried to protect me from him, were obligated to disclose the explicit details of the article to me. To this day, hearing the truth of Casper’s infidelity in that way remains one of the most humiliating experiences in my life. I allowed him to sponge off my hard-earned money, manipulate my feelings, and tear down my confidence. I was left with a profound sense of shame. And at that point, I still couldn’t acknowledge to anyone how bad things really were. I spoke with my sister regularly and falsely assured my family that everything was fine. I was doing what I always did: made everyone believe life was good. My inner musings weren’t strong enough to push my fear of public perception aside. I craved approval, and leaving would brand me a failure. But for the first time, I felt like I was outside of myself, looking down at the life I was living. I wondered if there could be something else for Maddie and me.
Maddie’s angelic presence and sweet nature were the impetus to carry on the farce. But Maddie and I began spending most of our time with my entire family. We traveled together to Los Angeles to celebrate a joint birthday party for my nephews and had an amazing time. We went on tour with Britney, and the time away gave me a protracted perspective. I understood that I was more than unhappy, I was living in an emotionally abusive home and my vivacity was slowly draining away.
When we returned home from traveling, I began to make changes. I released my team, including my manager, who was my brother’s fiancée. With my future business plans on hold, I continued to dedicate myself to Maddie’s care. My friends, the ones who I had previously neglected, came back into my life, and hanging out with them was refreshing. Having good people in my life made a huge impact on me and soon my insecure feelings subsided.
In a final effort to get Casper help, I appealed to his family. They continued to refute my claims and brushed me off. I wasn’t going to play a part in enabling his behavior anymore. New stories of infidelity and alleged drug use circulated. His interest in Maddie decreased over the months and my fear for her safety became crippling. I couldn’t determine his state of mind, and the idea that his actions could harm her became a constant concern. I would not put my daughter at risk. Strike three.
I chose family and faith. I dug deep into my reservoir of resiliency. I finally acknowledged that I needed to do better, to choose better for me and Maddie. I made plans to move back to my momma’s house while I got my shit together. We were starting a new life, or so I thought.
The call came late one night in April. After years of worrying that the police would knock on my door, or worse, his sister called to tell me that Casper had been involved in a car wreck while attending a bachelor party for his cousin. In the short time between my epic decision and the time I planned to tell him, my fiancé had flipped his truck and suffered substantial injuries. In that moment, unsure of how to manage my conflicting emotions—fear, irritation, and disbelief—I followed my instincts. And for a multitude of reasons, I was forced to stay beside him. He was Maddie’s father, and even though I didn’t see a future for us as a family, I believed in simple human decency. I would put my anger aside and find the strength to support him during his recovery. And to be completely honest, I also had concerns on how the media would report on this new development if I left: “Jamie Lynn, Heartless Teen Star, Abandons Fiancé After Car Crash” or “Insensitive Spears Leaves Her Baby’s Daddy in Crisis.” I hadn’t endured years of anguish and sacrificed my self-respect to protect my public image just to destroy it now. As painful as it was, I would hold off on leaving until Casper was back on his feet.
That decision, though made immediately, was problematic. I was already checked out of the relationship and moving on. It was difficult for me to care for him because I was full of rage and frustration. His months of betrayal and neglect left me resentful of the care I had to provide. He knew I wouldn’t leave him during such a difficult time and as his condition improved, he took advantage of my kindness. The stronger he became, the more powerful my bitterness and annoyance grew.
The accident gave Casper the excuse he needed to use pain medication far more than necessary. As far as I could tell, he was a very lucky man to still be alive, and he could use this time to get on the right track. But he didn’t. Maddie and I stayed for months while his strength returned, but soon the old habits of deception and daylong disappearances reemerged. When the situation became intolerable, Maddie and I spent time with my friends. When we needed to get away, my sister’s tour gave us the excuse to leave town. The more time we spent apart from Casper, the better our lives became. As Maddie blossomed, so did my inner strength. We deserved better than an absentee father.
Sometimes when being in Liberty was overwhelming, Maddie and I would spend a few days at Momma’s house. She always welcomed us, and the reprieve from the insanity helped me gain further perspective. I loved being with my good friends Brandi and Diane and being around my extended family too. I was happier, and Maddie loved being surrounded by people who adored her. We were both getting exposed to new people and opportunities for joy.
The Mitchells were hosting a baby shower for my cousin Laura Lynn. (The Mitchells were the parents of Brandi’s boyfriend, Dane.) Toward the end of the afternoon, Dane and Brandi stopped by to say hi. They pulled up in a black Escalade, and I stepped up to peer inside. They were drinking snowballs, a kind of shaved ice confection. I stood there in my gray turtleneck dress with Maddie on my hip. Brandi said, “Jamie Lynn, this is Jamie Watson.” I knew Jamie was Dane’s best friend, but not much else. He said hi. That was the first time I laid eyes on him and didn’t think much of the encounter. I was aware of who Jamie was through conversations with Brandi. After that introduction she started to mention him more. Jamie had started his own IT business that had grown rapidly, and he was a big deal around town for being a successful self-starter. His work took him all over the country, and I could relate to his transient, independent lifestyle. I appreciated that Jamie was an adult who had his shit together at a time when my fiancé was focused on getting his next fix. Brandi kept on dropping hints that he was someone I should consider getting to know, but my mind wasn’t there. Every time I went to hang out with Brandi, Jamie would show up more and more. But still, I didn’t think much about it.
A few weeks later, Brandi sent me a text to stop by Dane’s on my way home. I pulled up with Momma and Maddie in tow. Jamie and Dane were putting themselves on display as they worked out. I swear Jamie was trying to impress me—but he’ll deny it! We said hi to each other and smiled. The whole exchange was less than five minutes, and I drove off thinking about all the difficulty I was experiencing with Casper.
Once again, I realized I needed a few days away from Casper and the isolation of being in Liberty. Maddie and I went back to Momma’s. I began to spend even more time with Brandi and her friends. It was refreshing to be with interesting people from all walks of life who had professions and ambitions. They were older than me, but the age difference didn’t separate us as a result of my own experiences. The more time I spent with Brandi, Dane, and their group of friends, the greater the disconnect I felt with the life I had in Liberty. But within a few days, I went back.
In early October, I suffered a bout of debilitating congestion and bruised eardrums after taking a flight. An invasive sinus surgery followed as a result of these complications. Momma took charge of Maddie, and Casper was responsible for getting me and my medication home after the procedure. He managed to set me up in bed and then immediately helped himself to some of my pain meds and took off to party with friends. I was so out of it that his behavior didn’t faze me. Momma was furious.
After the surgery, I was extremely nauseated and suffered a lot of pain resulting from an irritating drip that ran down my throat. I thought about how Casper basically abandoned me and felt more resentment after everything I had done for him. I spent a few additional days recovering and started to feel more like myself. Brandi and I were going to a wedding for a friend, and she asked if I would be willing to come along with her to New Orleans for a work event for Dane and Jamie. “Please, Jamie Lynn, I don’t want to be the only girl. And you know Jamie really likes you.” I tried not to think too much about her last comment and decided a night out was just what I needed. Jamie picked us up in his Porsche, which I think he did to impress me. Sports cars weren’t my thing. They still aren’t. I much prefer a big, spacious truck. The four of us spent the drive casually talking. Jamie and I had a great time at the party goofing around and daring each other to do silly things. I think both Jamie and I really saw each other for the first time. Not the childhood actress and successful businessman but our authentic selves. It was the first night I had ever gone out for a night of pure fun, and as platonic as it seemed, I kept wondering if I was doing anything wrong. Casper and I weren’t together—but we weren’t officially over either.
For the Thanksgiving holiday, Momma, Maddie, Casper, and I flew to New York to celebrate with my brother and his family. I was still experiencing residual effects from the sinus surgery and Maddie caught a cold. Casper was simply miserable. He no longer enjoyed spending time with us, and it was obvious he just didn’t want to be here. He was complaining and asked if we could cut the trip short. I texted Brandi: I’ve got to get out of this. It’s awful. He’s miserable and so am I. I just can’t be around it anymore. After returning to Louisiana, I knew our relationship wasn’t working. But even though we had separated, I mailed out the family Christmas cards I’d ordered back in October—trying in vain to keep up appearances.
Just weeks into my sinus recovery, I found out I needed to have my wisdom teeth extracted. Momma insisted Maddie and I spend the month of December at her house so she could help me recover and we could enjoy the holidays. The procedure went well, and I spent a few days recovering. Outdoors, Mother Nature had surprised us with a preholiday snowfall. Snow in Louisiana is rare, and Brandi called and said they were driving around enjoying the spectacle and wanted to stop by to see me. By now I knew “they” included Dane and Jamie. If you’ve ever had your wisdom teeth pulled, then you’ve experienced the nasty taste inside your mouth and the overall icky feeling as you heal. But I didn’t think about how I looked.
The three of them came into the living room and found me sitting on the ledge of the fireplace. Dane and Brandi sat in the two-seater sofa, which left three other places for Jamie to sit. But instead, he lay down on the floor at my feet. It was so peculiar, but he seemed so at ease there. We all just smiled and laughed. After a while, they left to enjoy the day.
Once again, the Mitchells were hosting a party. The holiday festivities were a tradition, and Momma was happy to stay home with Maddie so I could go and have some fun. She didn’t have to offer twice. I walked into the party and saw Jamie before he saw me. I got that butterfly feeling in my belly and thought, He kinda likes me and I just might like him too. He was in the kitchen making a drink for another girl. As I made my way to my friends, I called out, “Hey, Jamie. Come over here and bring us a drink.” And he did. We spent the rest of the night hanging out and flirting in a fun way. I remember thinking how nice it was to be out, enjoying the attentions of this successful, well-intentioned man who was solely focused on me. Jamie was fun and nice in the best way possible. We talked and laughed, and I couldn’t help but consider the vast differences between Jamie and Casper. I had me a bit of a crush.
There were lots of parties throughout the holidays giving Jamie and me opportunities to spend time together in groups of people. We exchanged telephone numbers and started texting. We still hadn’t been on a date yet, and the no-pressure time we shared worked for me. Maddie was my number-one priority and Jamie respected me for it.
Brandi invited a bunch of us to come over to Dane’s and hang out. I came with Maddie and, of course, Jamie was there. We all sat around on a big couch and Maddie played at my feet. The scene was casual, and Jamie sat opposite me. Maddie, who was typically clingy, took to Jamie right away, and he adored her in kind. There was something so easy in his nature that called to me and, more importantly, her. He had a goofy confidence that made us comfortable around him. Jamie was amiable and just an all-around nice guy.
We continued spending a lot of time with our group of friends, but neither of us was ready to officially date. Our romantic feelings, the ones we worked to keep contained, came second to the relationship Jamie, Maddie, and I shared. He was incredibly patient, which only made his appeal stronger. The slow burn of our relationship gave me time to get comfortable with the idea of us. I found the more time I spent with my friends, those crazy insecure feelings instilled in me began to subside. I wasn’t crazy or paranoid, I realized.
By the end of 2009, I felt confident my obligation to support Casper’s recovery was over. Maddie and I officially moved out of the Liberty home. Casper spent months in a downward spiral that had nothing to do with the accident and everything to do with the substances he had become dependent on. All of my attempts to help him were ignored and the volatility in our lives became intolerable. I grappled with what to do to keep my daughter safe. Denying him visitation seemed drastic, but the instability of it all wasn’t good for Maddie. Living at Momma’s gave me the space to figure out what would be best for both of us. I was feeling better—moving life for me and Maddie in the right direction. I started to let go of long-held resentments and hoped Casper could discover a healthier path for himself. When I got word he was seeking professional help for his issues, I wanted to support him in a way that wouldn’t entangle me in his daily struggles. The best way was by allowing him to remain in the Liberty house. Once he was in a better frame of mind and moving on, I sold the Liberty home.