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A mother's worst nightmare came true for me when I caught my daughter masturbating when she was only 11 years old. I heard her doing it as she lay in the bath.I tried to reassure myself that this was just some growing up thing that kids went through, but managed to make enough noise to get her to stop before feigning an excuse to enter the bathroom.
Later that night as we sat watching the television I decided to take the bull by the horns as it were and challenged my daughter about what I had caught her doing in the bath. To my complete astonishment she was remarkably open her actions. I asked how she how learned about it and she told me that it was through a friend at school, although she wouldn't say who. We had a long mother to daughter chat about what is and isn't acceptable behaviour and told her that I would leave it at that, but this had to stop.
I sincerely believed that she had just picked up masturbation as a bad school playground activity, like so many things that kid's pick up at school. My daughter promised to behave herself in future and not to repeat it. I had hoped that this was the end of it and that from there on in our lives would continue as I always believed they had been. Granted I am a single mother, and raising a daughter without help from another person can be hard. My mother is dead and my father does all he can to help, but it is still a struggle.
Nothing however could prepare me for what my daughter did to me the following month. We were sat watching the television when she brought up the subject of her being caught masturbating earlier. She went onto tell me of the most horrific abuse that had been perpetrated on her by an adult male she had been introduced to through a friend at school. The same friend who taught her to masturbate. This had been going on for 18 months since just after her 10th birthday.
My daughter was able to accurately describe any sexual activity that usually only grown adults do, even down to an accurate description of a sexually aroused male.
I wanted to scream at her for allowing herself to become involved in these things, but something made me stop. I didn't want her to see what she would only class as an angry mother and have her feel that she had done something wrong. She is not at fault, but if I screamed at her she would see it that way. I didn't immediately phone the police either, I had to get her to feel comfortable about talking to me about it, so over a period of a month I gently broke down any barriers she may have had about talking to me and got her to reveal as much as she was happy with telling.
I know most mothers secretly crave the desire that their daughters would remain virgins until their wedding day, but even I was realistic enough to know that in this day and age that doesn't happen. I was horrified to learn from my daughter she was raped of her virginity by her rapist as a birthday gift for his 35th birthday. She was only 11.
It took another 2 weeks for me to get all the information from my daughter detailing 18 months of sexual abuse. My biggest stumbling block was trying firstly to convince her that she needed to tell every thing she had told me to the police, and that secondly she wouldn't be publicly identified. There were times when I just wanted to scream at her for being so stupid as to allow this abuse to happen, but she needed my support and love, not my anger. And whom should I be angry with apart from myself anyway? I blamed myself for being stubborn enough to try and raise a child alone
Eventually on 8th February 2002 we went together to a pre-arranged appointment at a specialist child crime unit in one of London's police stations. At first my daughter was scared about what the process was going to be like. However the informal "Big sister" approach set her completely at ease and she was able to tell her whole story to the female officers who just sat and listened, letting her tell it at her own pace. They were completely understanding of the fact she couldn't give exact dates and times, but they skilfully managed to get the bits of information they needed to make an arrest from her without any distress to her.
I cried. From the seat next to my daughter I cried my heart out. Not visible tears that could be seen, but silent tears internally that only a grieving mother could cry as she looses a loved one. My daughter had been stripped of her identity as a child and was reduced to being a toy for this monster that abused her at his leisure.
The monster was arrested the following day as he waited believing he was going to meet my daughter again. She had asked him to buy her an S-Club 7 CD, which he had on him at the time of his arrest. Currently he is awaiting trial on remand, despite the evidence against him from my daughter (and another girl located by the police) he continues to protest his innocence and has constantly asked for bail at each court hearing. Thankfully this has been declined every time, but my daughter now fears for her safety, believing he will come to look for her after his release from prison.
His sentence (when he is finally sentenced) will eventually be over, but my daughter will be imprisoned in fear forever. As her mother I sometimes wonder how can I ever trust a man again? I am even scared to let her stay overnight at her grandfather's house. I tell her constantly that she is not to blame and that she is the normal person here.
I have finally managed to cry real tears for my daughter. Private tears for her that will someday help us both get over this.
My story begins on a weekend that was hectic, and ended in my daughters
confessing to me that my live in boyfriend of six and a half years had
been molesting them. I was shocked, horrified, hurt, numb from head to
toe. I couldn't understand how I could not have known anything was going
on, but I didn't. I went through so many emotions, but mostly I remember
thinking how can I help my daughters when I don't know how to help myself?
It's all a blur in my memory as I look back, going to the police station
and sitting there while my daughters wrote out their experiences for the
police. We were all three sent to counselling and I know that making them
feel safe was my number one priority. I changed all the locks on the doors
and all but ceased sleeping. I went to the library in search of books
to help me and I went into a deeply depressed state the likes of which
I have never known before. I contemplated suicide and when I cried and
told my councillor that, I was scared, really scared.
My daughters began to change in front of me. The older and much more timid
daughter began to come out of her shell and my younger more brazen daughter
was obviously out of control. I couldn't deal with her no matter what
I tried. I had to work two jobs to keep on top of the bills and it wasn't
long before she was in trouble because her and some friends stole a car.
Here I was working harder and she was so lost I didn't know what to do.
My mother is bedridden and came to live with us and that's when things
truly fell apart. Neither one of my teen-age daughters wanted to commit
the time it takes to care for a grandmother who was bedridden. I came
down with an illness that was devastating. About that time my youngest
daughter and I had it out and I gave her the choice of going to live with
her father.
Her father hadn't been part of her life since she was three years old
and had moved out of state to avoid paying child support. I wasn't even
sure he'd be at the airport to pick her up but I bought her ticket and
let her go. It was a difficult choice but I still think it was the right
one.
My sickness prevented me from caring for my mother so my brother had to
put her into a nursing home. After only three months of my daughter living
with her father she became pregnant from her stepbrother. I cried and
cried when I found out she was pregnant at seventeen and living in a household
where things seemed out of control. She was smoking and drinking and doing
drugs with her step brother and angry enough with me that she didn't want
me there for the birth of her son. I cried more and my heart feels like
it'll never be healed again.
My oldest daughter still lives with me, but due to the molesting she prefers
the company of women. She says that's not why she's gay but I don't believe
it. My daughters were my world and I'm hoping someday to repair the damage
to my youngest daughter's and my relationship. All I can do is tell her
that I love her and I miss her and she'll always be welcome in my home.
I neglected to mention, the molester was sentenced to 12 years in prison
of which he only served two and is back out on the streets. Molesters
have a minimum of ten victims, that statistic is sad. This won't end until
the justice system changes it's outlook on the pain and suffering of the
children.
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