A Letter from Mom

A terrible, no good, rotten thing has happened. It has happened to me too.

It feels big and yucky. It is confusing and messy. It feels like the end of the world.

It is not.

Dearest daughter, know this: you are not broken nor defined by another’s actions.

You are fierce. You are strong. You are resilient.

Most of all, you are loved.

The telling was nearly as difficult as the terrible thing, wasn’t it? How long had the words sat unspoken behind your lips?

Seven years my words weighed heavy in my chest.

When I finally let them out, my hands were sweaty. My heart raced. My breath caught in my chest. It felt like death.

Will they believe me? Will I make sense? Did I imagine it? What if I say it wrong?

Darling Daughter, I believe you. I understand you.

You did nothing wrong and by speaking the truth you release the grip of a secret you were never meant to hold.

“Promise to not be mad if I tell you?” you asked nervously with your ice cream in your hand.

I promised and held my breath. I knew but hoped it was in my head.

You courageously told me the confusing and scary thing that happened, and my heart sank with the weight of aching for my sweet baby.

Tears welled in my eyes. I held them back so you wouldn’t think you upset Mommy.

My breath caught. My body went numb. My heart broke knowing the difficulties to follow and wished I could make them all my own.

I prayed. I begged for words and strength to meet your needs, and God answered.

Driving home I felt as if I were outside my body, but God gave me the words and strength to keep talking.

You innocently described the hideous acts of a selfish monster in details far beyond your sweet age.

Vomit rose in my throat.

In that moment, the only thing that mattered was you. Not my fears. Not my disgust. Not my guilt or shame.

At home you innocently told your daddy all you had told me. I could see the weight you’d been carrying move to his shoulders.

No more secrets.

You had no idea, but while you excitedly stayed up after bedtime watching T.V. mom and dad talked in the backyard.

My legs went weak.

An anguished cry of despair escaped my lips as tears streamed down my face. I could not protect you like I’d wished someone had for me, and I broke.

For you, however, I wiped my tears, took a breath, went inside and tucked you in.

Beautiful girl, a part of your childhood was stolen, but I will fight for you.

This will not define you.

What he did was not okay. No grown up should ask you to do those things. You did nothing wrong.

You were brave when you had to tell the “helpers.”

They kept you from the shame of other’s opinions. They kept you from the fear of the police officers listening in another room. They kept you safe in that hard moment.

You did your part well and spoke the truth, as best as you could.

Your strength grew right in front of my eyes. I am confident healing started the very moment you first spoke up.

I am amazed by your bravery.

I remember how nervous you were to go to therapy. I was too.

Your therapist was not shocked. She was calm and had tools to help you.

You played with the dollhouse. You colored and crafted. You built a relationship and came to feel safe.

She helped me help you too. She offered research, podcasts, and advice to be a trauma informed parent and the way I cared for you shifted in a deep and intentional way.

That kind, safe woman saw my own broken bits too and made room.

I also sat in that room.

Not as a child, but as a grown woman who had been swimming through mud her whole life.

I sat there for you. I needed to be better for you.

You and I hesitantly tried rapid eye movement therapy. We worked to process the past. We won’t forget, but it will no longer steer the ship.

We learned tapping meditations to ground ourselves, and honestly, I felt silly tapping my armpit and affirming my emotions, but it helps.

I surprised myself and nearly turned into a hippie, but I’ll never go back. I love this gentle and empathetic path we’re forging.

Just look at our home, sweetheart.

There are no monsters in the closets, under the beds, or hiding in plain sight.

We have a home filled with peace where love is freely given and never taken back.

Mistakes are made in our home and we learn from them and grow.

Just look.

I am whole. I dream. I succeed. I thrive and I live boldly as the complete person God designed me to be. I am not crippled by the demented nature of a pedophile.

You won’t be either.

I know that it is not simple. It is not easy. It is not quick.

The terrible, no-good, rotten thing, however, is not everything.

There is so much more.

Hold this close to your heart, my darling, the hard things do not make us less because, “… we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us,” (Life Application Study Bible: NIV, Romans 5:3b-5).

There is so much life to be lived.

As I pen these words, I realize they are as much for me as they are for you.

I couldn’t always see that I was more, but I have never doubted that you are.

I couldn’t imagine I was ever enough, but I’ve always known you are.

Being able to stand tall and pursue life unencumbered by the nightmares of reality seemed impossible, but I know it won’t be for you.

In you, my sweet girl, I see hope, strength, and resilience.

For you, I will stand tall even when it feels too heavy to do for myself.

I will be a fierce women to show you how to be one yourself.

I will teach you that your pain can propel you forward and not hold you back, just like my own.

You are not defined by the actions of a monster. I am not defined by them either. None of us are.

Those of us who have survived the unthinkable persevere in character and despite it all, have hope.

We do not have to whisper more polite versions behind closed doors.

The story is mine. The story is yours. The story is each of ours, and it deserves to be told with out shame because, again, we did nothing wrong.

Each of us are fierce; Each of us are strong; Each of us are resilient.

Most of all, every single one of us are worthy of unconditional love.

Comments: AnnaMarie.Ward@southeastiowaunion.com