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 am a mom whose son was molested by his older cousin. I sometimes feel so totally alone in my pain and inquiry. Statistics tell me there are a lot of parents out there like me and I thought I would start this blog in an attempt to reach them. At this moment it feels a little like my words are floating out into a dark hole and there is no way that anyone can ever hear them, yet here I am giving it a shot. This blog is to share my story, share support and realize I am not alone in this pain. My goal is to write weekly about the different stages I have gone through from the moment I found out. This is not a whine session but a step-by-step account of how I put one foot in front of the other when I wanted to forfeit this game we call life.


I will begin with a little history. I grew up in a Catholic home with four brothers and one sister. We are all very close. I was raised to be a good wife and take care of the kids. I always wanted ten children but happily ended up with two: Jack, 12, and Justin, 9. Two is perfect; I have two arms, one for each son. I am Christian with a strong faith but I dislike religion. I am not really sure how I ended up sitting here at this computer writing about my son’s abuse because I thought it could never happen to me. I had the talks. We spoke of sex. I didn’t let my boys stay the night at anyone’s homes. I was very careful. I guess all of that doesn’t matter. It happened. Am I to blame? Did I miss the signs? To know me you would never guess this secret I hold. You would never guess it happened to him and because it happened to him this is happening to me.

I have been married for twenty years to a man who was never capable of love. He is so hidden inside himself that it is a miracle that we had any children at all. I finally kicked him out in February 2009. It was wonderful! He had been disconnected emotionally from the three of us for all these years. I was on a path of repair. I sought counseling, started back to school and my life was moving up. Six months later it happened…