My children were abused in care. The silence that followed was suffocating

The Guardian

a day ago

The moment I discovered both of my children had been sexually abused by our babysitter's partner, I was hollowed out by the greatest sorrow I'd ever known.
They were aged four and two.
A stain bloomed backwards through time, through all the moments that once felt delightful and perfect: fat little hands catching the light, unsteady feet in tiny sneakers, sleeping faces. All those times I kissed their soft cheeks goodbye.
Time collapsed in on itself. There was no before and after – just an after that swallowed everything.
As their stories unfurled, in the aftermath of reporting them, I held my children with all the strength and protective love a mother can muster. I reassured them always: We believe you. This is not your fault. I am so sorry I wasn't there. Years later, they carry no shame, and their childhood brims with joy.
I am one parent among countless parents affected by child sexual abuse. As the silent guardian of my children's stories, as their fierce advocate, I am bound to protect their privacy. Their stories belong to them. There are countless voiceless parents like me, siloed in trying to simultaneously support their children's healing while quietly reassembling their shattered selves.
For so many other kinds of traumas and sorrows we have a shared language, grief and ritual. We know secrets are corrosive, that healing deepens when we share our experience with others. Communal care is vital for our wellbeing. We know, too, especially as women, the power of refusing to stay silent. But what happens when these stories belong to our children?
I was lucky to have the love of close friends, family and professional support, but most people in my world had no idea – and still have no idea – of our family's quiet devastation. Living in a close-knit small community, I struggled to contain this seismic rupture during early motherhood. In the midst of playdates, trips to the park and music classes, the 'how are yous?' were answered with chirpy falsities – I was suffocating under an unrelenting shame and guilt, wrenched with fury and sorrow. The ongoing senseless injustice. Aching sadness. I blamed myself entirely.
Traumatic stress held me in its vice for months. The reminders were everywhere, unbidden memories surfacing. One Christmas, a man dressed as Santa visited our local gathering place. The children swarmed around him and I was overcome by an internal, shrieking anguish. Those big, big hands and all the small, trusting hands. I wept uncontrollably in the car park.
I felt haunted, and desperately lonely. I thought of all the other parents – and think of them still.
It has now been six years. The grief ebbs and flows. I now know the shame and guilt doesn't belong to me. I have learned ways to manage the inner chaos of post-traumatic stress. I delight in my wonderful children's strength, humour and curiosity.
As an advocate to end child sexual abuse, I stand in solidarity with those seeking to address a legal system that continues to fail children. 'Children do not and cannot lie about such things' is what we know and what we hear, over and over. This truth was validated for my children by the highest sexual assault recognition payout from Victims Services. Yet when children need to locate a date and time in their testimony, with no witnesses, no forensic evidence or a confession, it is nigh impossible for a perpetrator to be arrested – let alone convicted. My children's disclosures tumbled out over months and years; words upon words of irrefutable evidence.
I believe my children were able to tell me their stories because of all of our early conversations about bodily autonomy and not keeping secrets. Ongoing protective education programs are integral, and there needs to be more awareness of ill-founded, damaging stereotypes: there is no evidence to suggest that children who experience abuse will then go on to offend as adults.
It is crucial we implement early-intervention measures for those at risk of harming children. Child sexual abuse is endemic: it happens in our communities, our homes, with people we often know and trust. Their actions are monstrous, but if we continue to deem them inhuman monsters, we are failing to address the problem where it begins: in ordinary places.
These are difficult, complex, but necessary aspects of our ongoing national efforts to protect children.
The effects of sexual abuse ricochet in so many directions. More trauma support is needed for those of us standing in its shadows: both families of abused children, and the devastated families of those who abuse. All trying to quietly support their children and rebuild their lives.
In Australia, children, young adults, parents and teachers can contact the Kids Helpline on 1800 55 1800, or Bravehearts on 1800 272 831, and adult survivors can contact Blue Knot Foundation on 1300 657 380. Adults who are concerned about their own or someone else's sexual thoughts or behaviour towards children can contact Stop It Now! Australia on 1800 01 1800. In the UK, the NSPCC offers support to children on 0800 1111, and adults concerned about a child on 0808 800 5000. The National Association for People Abused in Childhood (Napac) offers support for adult survivors on 0808 801 0331. In the US, call or text the Childhelp abuse hotline on 800-422-4453. Other sources of help can be found at Child Helplines International