By: Sara McGrath
When I look at my child, I see myself. When I remember being young, I feel sad. It will be different for my child. I think this often. Before I had my daughter, I wanted a child for the things I imagined she would do for me. She would love me. She would have the childhood I wanted.Now that I have a daughter, I see that she is not an extension of me. I love her. She will have her own childhood. When I look at my daughter, I also see that she is different than I was. There's no pain in her eyes. I'm excited to help her grow, to watch her grow. She will be one of those kids with a good life. Because I'm a good mom.
When I was a child, I imagined how it was for those kids, those perfect kids. They were better than me. They're still better than me. What kind of mom am I, really? I still don't feel normal. I worry that my scars will wear onto my daughter, that somehow my pain will taint her.
I'm terrified that she will be hurt someday, despite my vow to protect her relentlessly. God help the person who hurts my child. My own mom meant to protect me from being abused. Her husband hurt me in our home. How could she not know? How could she know?
When I look at my child, I see how small and innocent she is. I see how small and innocent I was. How could I have blamed myself? I suspect people. I watch them. Even my own husband. He never would, would he? I feel guilty even thinking it, but I'll always watch. He admitted to watching me, because of my history. Me?
What will I do if someone hurts my child? How can I prevent the possibility? My mom planned to kill my abuser. Instead she got rid of her gun. She was abused as a child. How must she have felt when her own child was abused? She vowed to protect me, to be there for me, not in prison for murder. I will be as strong as my mother. I will be a good mom.
My abuser was abused as a child. How could he hurt me? Too often it goes on and on like this, generation after generation. My friend dated a pedophile. I felt betrayed by her. Pedophiles aren't worth my spit. "When he was a child, his mom's eyes didn't work," my friend said. "He was abused. It really messed him up." It didn't mess me up that way. "You'd better not bring him around me," I said. "I don't think I can be nice."
How can a person turn his or her head when abuse occurs? How can a parent, teacher, doctor, etc., look the other way? Do individuals in our society prefer not to see than to deal with the occurrence of abuse? I see now that my behavior was so obviously that of an abused child.
Another friend, years after her abuse, demanded her medical records, and found in them proof of her abuse. Her doctor had said nothing. Another friend and her two sisters confronted their father and told their mother. Both parents denied the accusation by all three of their daughters. My mom believed me. My pediatrician found proof. I never trusted him again after that exam. But, my young voice was not strong enough to counter the denial of my abuser. The judge let him go. Sometimes I feel guilty for his freedom. I should have done something. What could I have done? Is he out there hurting children as precious as my child, as precious as I was?
When I look in the mirror, I see my mom's pain. I will break the cycle. My child will never see my pain in her own face.
Please send any comments to Sara about this piece in care of Survivor Haven
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