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That Monday Morning (Guest Post)

This blog was written by a mother who recently went through something traumatizing and heart-breaking. Please keep her, her daughter and their whole family in your prayers.
Xo, Bethanie
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Walking into your daughter’s playroom to find the five year old boy you nanny molesting your one year old daughter is something you will never forget. It’s burned into your brain. It’s memory is living inside of you. It’s overtaking. It’s enough to crush everything you thought you believed in. 

I am trying to come back. It’s taking longer than I imagined. All I can think is: I should’ve known. I saw the signs. Was this the first time? Oh God, had this been happening? How could this have happened?
That Monday morning replays every single day. Sometimes every second. He asked if him and my toddler could play in the playroom and I said yes. My infant was sick and crying so I was busy trying to soothe her in the living room. About five minutes later, I got this overwhelming sensation to go check on them. I walked in and the teepee in the playroom was velcro’d shut. I opened it to find him holding her down with one arm, using the other arm to hold down her diaper, using his mouth to violate her in ways I can’t find the words to type. I can’t even say it to myself. Because it will break me. All over again.
I immediately grabbed her and I ran out to the living room. The tears started pouring from my eyes. I couldn’t believe that I lived in a world where this could happen. I called my husband and he didn’t know what to do. He told me to call his mom and she would know what to do. She told me I needed to call the cops immediately or else she would. So I called the cops. They arrived and I told them everything. From the time I caught him watching porn on his tablet, to all the sick things he has told me about his dad (including drugs and arrests), even the things his mom had told me about their marriage and about her kids. We were taken to a center for sexually abused victims and we were all questioned (he admitted the incident easily). They called CPS on his parents and the detective told me that either he was being sexually abused as well or that there was a severe lack of parenting. The detective also advised me that I should go straight to the courthouse to get a restraining order against the parents to protect my daughter and myself from possible retaliation, since this is a major thing to accuse a five year old of. I was denied the order, because of lack of proof that they would harass me.
Every single thing that occurred that day broke me. The fact that a boy could do that to my one year old daughter and get away with it. Virtually scot-free. That I couldn’t do a damn thing to protect my daughter. That there was no justice. None. The fact that two days later, his mom confronted my mother-in-law (the two were friends) and accused me of traumatizing his son, telling my MIL that she wasn’t a Christian because she called the cops on a child, saying that she should choose their friendship over her own granddaughter. The fact that she texted me saying “I don’t know what your deal is, but if these were your kids I wouldn’t ignore you.” Are you serious? If my son molested your one year old daughter, you would wanna pick up the phone and have a conversation? What is there to say? Not a single thing.
My daughter was taken to several doctors and specialists in the month prior, because she was not eating, not gaining weight, throwing irregular tantrums. The doctors didn’t know why. That Monday night, when we got home, I looked up signs of sexual abuse in toddlers that can’t speak and sure enough, those were all listed. I was sick. I think it is so important for parents to memorize these signs. Because you never know. Seriously, you NEVER know. I never could’ve imagined.
I had been watching him for 18 months. Luckily (not luckily, but what other word is there) I know that we had just moved into our house with the playroom and I had just recently trusted them to play in it alone for a few minutes at a time. So I know that it couldn’t have been occurring more than a few weeks. But I pray to God, if this HAD to happen, please let it have been the first time.
Family members and friends keep telling me “you couldn’t have known,” and that is the very last thing I want to hear. I should’ve known. I should’ve protected her. I’m her mother. She is my flesh and blood. It isn’t fair that I witnessed it and now it replays over and over and over haunting me. It isn’t fair that the detectives had to give me preschool aged pamphlets about sexual abuse because it doesn’t happen often enough to babies/toddlers for there to be a pamphlet. It isn’t fair that when my daughter goes to kiss or hug my infant, my stomach turns and I hope that she can’t remember what happened to her. It isn’t fair that I had to throw away the expensive teepee we bought my daughter for her first birthday, because when I looked at it, I felt like I was actually going to throw up. It isn’t fair that I can’t breathe or sleep or blink without wanting to cry.
My only wish is that parents will read this, know this signs and protect their children when I couldn’t. parent should have to feel what I’ve felt, to go through this, to question everything, to have the memory scarred into your very being. I wouldn’t wish it on my worse enemy. 

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