Child Abuse- A Parent's Story

I am finding it hard to breathe as I attempt to work through the reality of what has happened in the last year. The support from people who have read my blog has been amazing but as I sit at my computer screen to begin this week’s writing I feel so utterly alone. I am learning to be ok with just me. I tell myself I am strong enough but abandonment seems to be a common thread with a comfortable seat in my life. It holds me down.

I sat beside my son on the couch. I began a tug of war with his blanket. Not a fun game like parents plays with their children at bedtime but an attempt to find my child hidden below his secrets. He was sobbing. My mind does not recall every question I asked but it went something like this:

“Are you afraid of getting in trouble?”

“No.”

“Do you feel ashamed?”

“Mmmhh”

“Honey, I love you. Do you know there is nothing you can ever tell me that would change that?”

“Mmmhh”

“Justin, can you tell me what happened?”

He groans.

“Honey talk to me so I can help you. Would it be easier if I asked you questions?”

I could barely make out his response, “Yes.”

“Does it have to do with another person?”

“Mmmhh”

“Does it have to do with your Dad?”

“No.”

“Does it have to do with Uncle Martin?

“No.”

“Does it have to do with Jerry?”

He groans, “Yes.”

My mind begins to race and yet stand still in that split second. Inside I was screaming NO but I couldn’t stop. This moment was about Justin and not about me. I didn’t have the option to stop. I couldn’t hide because I was too scared to deal with it. I was in automatic. I kept going.

“Did he touch you?”

I was startled when the blankets flew back and he sat straight up. With an utter look of terror he began to scream, “Mom I’m not gay! I’m not gay. I swear Mom I’m not gay.”

I grabbed him into my arms and wanted to pull him inside of me. I wanted to protect him with all that I had but I was too late. He fought my touch while he screamed, sobbed and gagged.

“Justin, this is not your fault. What someone else does to you does not make you gay or make you anything. Jerry was wrong and I am so sorry this happened to you. This is not your fault.”

He sobbed uncontrollably and gagged. I held him so tight. I couldn’t get him close enough. Now I was the one who wanted to hide him. I held him until I felt the fight in him go and he collapsed into my arms. It was just the two of us. It felt safe but it felt so raw. I wanted to stay there in that moment and keep both of us hidden away from the world. I kept repeating that it was not his fault, I loved him and he was going to be ok. I was brought back to the moment I held my helpless new born in my arms. It felt like it was just the two of us. Here we were the two of us again in this dark house and I held my helpless son.


He asked if he could go take a shower. We both got up and I got the shower started. I briefly excused myself to make a quick phone call. I called his dad, told him to get to the house as soon as possible and then I called my sister. I kept it brief because I needed to be with Justin. I explained it was worse than pot. I told her Jerry had touched Justin. I still don’t understand her response but she said, “Oh my God, I knew it.” I was in such a daze. I just left it. The words floated there in the unexplained. To this day I wonder was it just a moment when she recognized what we had all missed or was this just another well kept secret that she maintained for her child. I may never know the truth because what I am sure of is that the truth is of no value to her or her family. I told her I would call her tomorrow.

I walked back into the bathroom where Justin was showering and I found him sobbing. I asked if I could hold him. He couldn’t answer. I opened the shower door and stepped in with all my clothes. I scooped him up and let the water run over both of us. I held him in my arms. The water provided us a hiding place. I let myself cry. The streams running down my face were from the warm water of the shower, at least this is what I let myself believe. No mother should have to feel the tears of regret and heartbreak as she holds her abused child in her arms. Justin found strength in me as he clung to my saturated body. I told him it was going to be ok. He was ok.


I looked him square in the eyes and said, “I am so sorry. It was my job to protect you and I failed. If I had known I would have stopped it. I didn’t know.”

“I love you so much. I am so proud of you.”

The truth is I could never be more proud of anyone in my life. He broke the silence. My nine year old little boy did what some grown men and women are still not able to do. He fought to have a voice. He risked the rejection and judgments. He is amazing for what he did that night and for what he endured in the days to come.

I sat in the dimly lit room looking at my son riled by pain. It was not a physical pain but real all the same. He was attempting to shield himself from the world as he hid below the blanket. In the next few moments I shared a conversation with the one who held my son captive for the last two years. He spoke to me from his triumphant seat on top of my child’s chest as a lion with its newly captured prey, claws dug in and its teeth piecing the flesh. I was immobilized with fear.

“You thought because you gave birth to him he was yours didn’t you? What an arrogant fool! Your Martha Stewart ways are useless attempts to make you feel secure,” it hissed.

“He is mine,” I am not sure if the words left my mouth or if my lips just motioned them.

“Look at him here with me. He knows me and I know him,” its boneless body slid under my son’s arm and out again. “Let us be. Go make some cookies.”

“I can’t leave him.”

“You can’t leave him?” he mocked. “Didn’t you already leave him time and time again? He tried to tell you. He tried to talk to you. I am the only one who never left him. Go on and do what you do best, crack a joke and lighten the tension you created.”

“There is no joke. I never…” I could barely reply as I felt this monster reach across the room with one of its numerous arms, it grabbed hold of my heart and made it difficult to breathe.

“Justin. Hide, my child. Hide,” it attempted to pacify Justin within its arms.

“No! He is not your child!” The words flew out of my mouth. I felt like David just after he got the attention of Goliath on the battlefield.

“You dare to argue against me? You know you can’t win! I have already begun to twist my lies around your heart. I will control you as well.”

“I will wage war against you with all that I have.”

“But look at him, he knows me better than he even knows you anymore. Let us be.”

“I will fight you and your hold on us. I will get my son back and I will stop you from silencing him.”

I moved to the couch where my son lay. I pulled back the blankets and gently ran my hand through his hair. I felt the burden of this new companion whose claws were now dug into me as well. As I calmly hushed his fears I whispered, “Shhhhhh.”

The creature echoed me, “Shhhhhh. Hush, children. Rest here with me together.”

I knew it wanted me to be silent just as it had silenced my son. I felt so weak. I felt like a gazelle that was slowly being devoured from the backside with my eyes wide open and my mind still aware. I wanted to scream and make it all stop. I am not sure how I carried on but I did. I don’t know how anyone carries on in these moments but somehow you do.