Print

My children’s innocence was stolen before they even started school.  They were five and six when we went on a three week trip to Romania.  It was a wonderful time, seeing that beautiful country and getting to know my husband's family.  But one day, in the hotel room, my daughter was dancing on top of the bed and singing this little ditty, "I put my mouth on my brother's penis and sucked it . . ."

Our world came screeching to a halt.  My daughter, Jenn for the purposes of this article, clearly had no idea what she was saying.  It wasn't something "bad", there was no moral filter attached. Her grandparents stood there , their mouths hanging open, aghast.  They were very Old World, quick to pass judgment, so we quickly removed the children from the room.  Alex, my husband, took my son, Jake, for a walk; I did the same with Jenn. We tried to carefully probe for information and understanding but Jenn and Jake had little to offer.  As we didn't want to put false memories into their young minds, we let the matter lie until we got home.  But it didn't stop the endless questions and beginnings of guilt and remorse we would carry for many years.

When we returned home, we called the police.  A Department of Social Services case worker and the Youth Officer for our town came.  First they went to the schools, to question Jenn and Jake without our influence.  While we knew they had to do their job, we were upset that such a private, devastating matter had suddenly been made public.  After speaking with us and with the kids they verified it was clear the kids had been molested but that the kids weren't revealing who.  They might not even remember who had done this heinous deed that would impact their lives in profound ways.  The authorities said it was clear they had been molested but not by who or for how long or to what extent.

 We found therapists for the children right away.  Jenn had no desire to go but go she did.  Jake was better about the process, he liked the one-on-one attention of another adult.  But as the months wore on, it was clear we would not be getting answers any time in the near future.

 Meanwhile, Alex and I were saddled with guilt.  We felt such remorse that we could not lean on each other.  We each crawled off into our own little corners, nursing our private wounds, and the void between us grew.  We obsessively read every book we could find on sexual abuse. It was absolute hell not knowing who the molester was.  Both Alex and I went to therapy, individual and marital. When I asked our marriage counselor if she thought Alex could have been the molester she said she had her suspicions. We had always had a tumultuous relationship - this was the nails on the coffin.  We stayed together for two more years but I know in my heart of hearts I let go of him then. But I also let go of me - I believed I was a bad parent.  I lost confidence and plenty of self-esteem.

 For the next year and a half we struggled to keep our heads above water.  Every motion each child made was examined and categorized.  If they wrestled with each other, we would jump in to stop as it could be sexually based.  We wouldn't let them spend much time alone together in their rooms.  On two separate occasions, they were with friends and "you show me yours, I'll show you mine" incidents occurred.  We didn't want Jenn and Jake to become more sexualized, nor did we want their friends to so we were hyper vigilant when the children where with us.

 One night we asked Brian, the younger brother of a babysitter (David) we had had when the kids were younger, to sit for us. When we came home, the kids were upset and they finally started talking.  It turned out that David had been the molester.  He taught the kids how to French Kiss.  Jenn recalled he had put his hands down their pants. Jake talked about watching David and