Let's Have a Chastity Chat

Thanks to a few recent conversations with some of the ladies of Cathsorority, I have been thinking about chastity talks and how they relate to sex education as well as self-worth. 

I have mentioned in a previous post what my own abstinence education class was like (you can read it here) but, to be honest, the chastity talks I had as a teen were never really that memorable. I had mountains of personal testimony that were far more convincing than any analogy that was thrown my way.

I am not sure when I was told, but I don’t remember a time where I was unaware that my mom and dad conceived me before they were married. (I wrote about it more in depth for the GSP here.) They were always very open and honest with me about how it was the right decision, that they loved me very much, but that even the right choices can come with some consequences. I loved school. I loved reading and drawing and learning: I wanted to go to college. I wanted to wait to have sex until I was married. I was awkward and would rather break up with a boy than be intimate when I was a teen.  I had my mom’s personal testimony to the hardships of being a mother young, as well as all the wonderful things that came with parenthood. I had more information about contraception, abortion and abstinence than I knew what to do with, and I had hormones and ways to distract me from those hormones. I had dozens of chastity talks. I read Real Love and hit the chastity speaker circuit.

There seems to be a giant conspiracy in this country that has opted to make every aspect of one’s teenage years focused on sex. Not only are you thinking about sex because of hormone changes, but they have you reading about it in English class, and talking about it in youth group. I heard every analogy under the sun: Your virtue is like a stick of gum/duct tape/a crisp dollar bill/a spit cup/a piece of fruit. If you give it away or whatever fits best with the analogy of the moment, there is something not quite right about what is left.  Your gift belongs to your spouse, ladies! You must be modest so that you do not let others see what belongs to your future husband! I read plenty of books on the subject also, because I was naïve.* It seemed that our speakers and youth group leaders were always dancing around what they wanted to say, and I just did not get it. What things could you be doing sexually that were not even okay to do when you were married?!

I had no intentions of giving away my flower/gift/virtue. I was a virgin, and I often crushed from afar or dated boys from out of town, so these talks went in one ear and out the other. The sort of talks that stuck with me, were the talks such as The Snowball Effect** that focused on the sex act continuum and how it applied to our lives. It was not until after I spent some time as an advocate that I realized how harmful some of the chastity talks I had heard as a teen could be to a young woman’s psyche.

While I do not contend that it is important for teens to have these conversations and a safe place to ask questions, I do take issue with the talks that imply young women are owned by their future spouses. As a human being, I am owned by no other human being. I chose my spouse of my own free will. Had I had my virginity taken from me without my consent, I would not somehow be worth less than an individual that had sex willingly or an individual that still had their virginity. The fruit, tape, gum and money analogies leave the impression that after the abuse or the sex act, a person is ultimately worth less.

I believe there are better ways to talk to our young ones about chastity, sex and self-worth.

Admittedly, I have not studied Theology of the Body. I do understand the concepts well, however, and I can recognize the genius behind it. This week, I came across this article that talks about expanding our understanding and teaching of TOB to include NOT just the sexuality of our bodies, but all our bodies are capable of being. The article encouraged me to put the original addresses on my reading list as I find the subject to be THAT important and relative to the relationship Catholicism has with true feminism.

Raising our children to know that they are valuable is a priority as far as this discussion is concerned. They are valuable precisely because of who they are, male and female alike. Our value as human beings does not decrease or increase depending on how sinful we are, gender, size, age, sexual orientation or ability. This respect for life breeds self-worth in a way that a chastity talk or a list of do’s and don’ts cannot match. Yes, teens are thirsting for information concerning sex, but I don’t think it has to be isolated in the way that it has become. Our self-worth, respect for all life, sex/TOB/contraception/abstinence/abortion talks and healthy relationships (AKA bullying, rape culture, intimate partner violence) are all interconnected and we as parents can begin the conversation and shape it in a way that reminds our children of their inherent worth without inserting shame.

What are your thoughts on the issue?

* As another example of this, at the age of thirteen, I overheard a friend's father talking about how his son and I probably spent all our time smoking pot in the second story of the garage. I had no idea what he was talking about. I was imagining cookware with smoke billowing out of it, and was thoroughly confused.

** The Snowball Effect may have been coined by a friend of mine, I am not sure. We took turns in CCD class with the chastity talk so we could avoid hearing it from our friends' parents. In retrospect, it is a much preferable method to me precisely because it talks about how sexual acts can start out small but "snowball" out of control, and how we all have different limitations, turn ons etc. that we must be aware of in order to be responsible. It is much easier to insert conversations about what rape is, was abuse is, etc. into The Snowball Effect rather than an analogy that compares an object's decreasing value to a human being.

Birth Stories are My Writing Kryptonite.

In the midst of all the craziness a home with three children under four can bring, I seriously cannot find the words to tell you how happy I am to not be pregnant. No, really. I have sat down at least five times to write this post and every time it results in a sentence or two, and then I delete it. My brain is broken.

It is not as bad as it sounds. The baby is doing fabulous, the older babies ADORE their new brother, we are proud parents, and I healed up quite well. The one advantage the pregnancy had over having Frankie boy here in my arms, napping as I type, is that I would be napping right now if I was still carrying him. While I do miss sleep, I’m just going to say it: This last pregnancy was bat sh*t crazy.

I have given out the details before (see here and here) so I will not go into them again. In all my efforts to make an informed decision, there was nothing more empowering  and emotionally vindicating than choosing a repeat c-section for my third child’s birth.

I went through the intense labor with my first, ended up exhausted with a c-section, and none of it mattered as soon as I saw that beautiful child that made me a mom. He came home from the hospital sleeping six hours a night and he was just an easy kid! With my daughter, I was overwhelmed with a cross-country move and the news that the new state was not very VBAC friendly. I cried. Hard. For weeks, I was a bawling mess upon hearing I had to have surgery again with my second child. Then, I sucked it up, called my mommy to come and hang out with us so that my husband could be fully present. I was really scared. There was a two-hour delay before the surgery: I sat there is panic mode for the duration. It took the anesthesiologist thirty minutes to administer the drugs. There was pressure from the nursing staff and one of the weekend doctors to give me a blood transfusion. I was homesick, and terrified of being alone with my two children. I had to get over that quickly as my husband had to be out of town for a few days in the first few weeks my daughter was home. We struggled with nursing for a few weeks. Recovery took some time. I truly did not realize how difficult the birth of my daughter had been for me, until a few weeks ago.

From the second I decided to go back with my regular OBGYN, I felt a billion times better. I gave myself a break from the overly-analytical worrying about every single decision I made. I stopped having nightmares about drowning in amniotic fluid and not being able to remember the birth of my child. I remembered to pray, ask for strength, and to trust my instincts. When I felt the occasional contraction, I did not panic, I just paid attention.  As I was being prepared for the surgery, I had to explain to the nursing staff what the h was going on with my records from the previous practice. They were as confused as I was. Then they delivered the Icing on the Cake kind of news: one of the nurses carefully informed me that even though I had consented to sterilization after the surgery (WHAT?!) my physician did not perform sterilizations so I would have to make other arrangements. Anger flashed across my husband’s face, and my mom teared up. I laughed. It was purely confirmation for me that leaving that practice was the best decision I could have possibly made, not only for my child’s health, but for my health AND future fertility. We had never had a conversation about sterilization at the other practice. I was never even given an exam at the other practice. My intake paperwork very clearly stated (in multiple ways) that I was pro-life and not interested in birth control, abortions, or sterilizations.

The anesthetic went easy this time. Though the room was cold, so did the surgery. I was genuinely surprised to find out the newest addition to our family was a beautiful baby boy.  They gave him to me almost immediately. Laying eyes on your child for the first time is just the most wonderful thing in this world. My husband went with him to be weighed, etc. and I laid in a puddle of elated tears as they got me ready to head to my room. I met my mom and the kids in the hall way and we watched my husband with the new baby and we were all smiling bigger than we had in months!

I felt the difference almost immediately. I was not as tired or emotional as I had been the last time. I did not dread getting up to walk around, and it was not as hard to breathe. Pain meds were nice, but I took them less often. I am not capable of going a day without showering, so I showered the next morning with all three c-sections, but this time I felt perkier. I also was discharged a day sooner, and it was wonderful.

I think I am starting to realize that every pregnancy and birth really is different. I am grateful for the bonding moments that my husband has with our children on the day they were born. I love seeing the photos he takes during the moments before I am out of the operating room. He has time to bond with his children that I do not experience. I certainly do not feel like less of a mother, or less of a woman because of how my children came into this world. This birth really left me with a sense of empowerment that I did not know I was capable of feeling. I feel as though I completely conquered the challenge. I might still be running on pure adrenaline (Frankie boy is still figuring out a schedule so solid sleep is elusive) but our home just feels happy and joyous right now, and truly, God is good.

(Note: Pope Francis totally was looking at our baby name list before he chose his name, but we are happy to share. I was also seriously concerned about the Patron Saint for the Cathofeminism project this year, but it seems rather serendipitous to me now!)

So, there it is: the closest thing to a birth story as I am going to be able to get out in writing. I am truly blessed.

Who I Wore on Sunday (04.28.2013)

Click Me to see more Mass fashion!

My first postpartum Mass attire was less than stunning, so my photographer did not take a full body shot, and I wore our newest addition, Frank. (Click here for the quickie announcement. I plan to write a bit more later this week on all the things his birth has brought into my brain!) 

The Breakdown:

Me: 

Black Tank: Target. I bought a couple black long and lean tanks and my glorious mom and my ravishing aunt transformed them into a nursing tank! I seriously lack sewing skills, but they made me five nursing shorts based on this example. LOVE IT.

White cardi: Target

Charcoal pants: NY&Co (of course.)

Unseen zebra print shoes: Target (can be seen in this post. No joke, I randomly started searching for that link and came up with the right post the first time. Winner.)

Green and white sling: Seven Slings. I love this thing, and so does Frank. I had a coupon for a free sling from the site and I just paid $11.90 for shipping. Best money I have spent in a long time.)

Oldest son: Old Navy

Newest son: Carter's

We have had quite the week here, and I have so much to say about it, but we are busy soaking up the last bit of time with the last of our visitors, my father in law! Enjoy your Sunday!

Tres is Here!

I am taking a quick break from the new baby bliss to let you all know Tres is here! I will write up a bit more later, but here are the important facts:

Name: Francis Aloysius (we call him Frank)
Weight: 8 lbs. 15 oz.
Length: 20.5 inches

Frank is a very healthy little boy. The delivery went very well! We even came home a day early. Big brother and big sister are fascinated and very happy to have him! Things really could not have gone better.

Thanks to everyone that has been praying and asking about us. We are well, and truly enjoying getting to know Baby Frank!

I'll be sure to write a bit more when things are a bit more calm, but for now we are enjoying having some grandparents visiting!

(For the record: Pope Francis totally stole his name off our baby name list!)

What I Wore Sunday (04.21.2013)

Click Me for more Mass fashion!

This will be a quick post, but a fun one! It is my last post as a pregnant lady! Hooray!!!

This is a repeat outfit (one of the few that still fit!) so see here for the details!

Yesterday I went and cut the hair and.... a little more!

Because moms are still fun.

I might be a little MIA in weeks to come, but here are some links to some of what I have been up to lately.

Click me!

And me!

Now it is time for family time before we are a slightly bigger family!

An Open Letter of Gratitude for Pro Life Physicians

When our family moved to Florida, I was pregnant. Perhaps the scariest thing about moving across the country away from our friends and family, was that it meant leaving behind a trusted physician. I was nervous about leaving his practice because he gave me what I thought I did not have: hope for a family.

He listened to my concerns. He gave me bible verses and expressed genuine sorrow when I had a miscarriage. He stayed at the hospital long after my son was born and came by to express his regret that we ended more than a day's worth of labor in a c-section. He was kind and always had time for his patients.

When we moved, I did my due diligence to find a pro life physician, hoping that a doctor who cared enough about respecting human life would also treat his patients the same. I found a really wonderful practice that is a husband and wife team. It was a little outside of town, but they took me mid-pregnancy and again, listened to my concerns. Unfortunately, the hospital would not allow for a VBAC opportunity, but I delivered my daughter safely and had doctors that listened to me and that I trusted.

Before I became pregnant this time, I began to research my options in regards to a VBA2C. Not because I felt I was robbed of dignity or an opportunity with my previous birth experiences, but because I wanted to give myself and my body the chance to work the way it was made to work. I located the best facility for such an experience, and before long I was pregnant. I stayed with my physician through the first trimester as I have progesterone deficiencies while the placenta develops. Once I made it safely through the first trimester, I arranged to transfer to another group of physicians.

This practice was much larger, to say the least. While transferring was easy enough, I began to see that things were going to be quite different. To start, I never saw the same physician twice so every appointment was like starting over. Every doctor had a different "sticking" point: one appointment was focused on my VBA2C goal. The next would be focused on PCOS and how I should be high risk. Then my previous records were in and I was green lighted for a VBA2C attempt. Then I wasn't gaining weight slow enough. I needed more iron. I shouldn't be on metformin. Then I was gaining weight too slowly.  I passed the glucose testing, but high levels of amniotic fluid meant I needed to be treated as though I had GD. My blood sugars were on the high end of normal, so my metformin should double now. I needed ten ultrasounds. I was checked in as the wrong patient and marked as a no show. I went two weeks without a doctor ordering follow up appointments and was told it was my fault. Then I was told at 34 weeks that a VBA2C was never in the cards because my reports did not reflect the ideal situation they needed to, meaning no one had actually reviewed them when they were received and I was green lighted nearly four months prior. They performed studies during the ultrasounds but never gave me the results. I was ignored and treated like a standard operating procedure.

After a particularly horrid appointment, I had enough. I went to lobby and called my regular physician and begged his staff to have him call me. By the time I pulled into my driveway, he had returned my call. I unloaded the awfulness of the previous five months: every sordid detail. He told me to send him my records and that he would schedule a repeat c-section for me. I cannot describe the relief I felt! I still had a month or so of issues to deal with, but there was happiness at the end of it all, at last!

I am writing this out, because I am on the cusp of being a week away from my delivery date, and I do not want to have to remember or recall the last six months of this pregnancy. I do not mean to discredit the concerns of any of the physicians, but the constant run around and dishonesty caused many sleepless nights and stress-filled days that simply were not healthy for my pregnancy. I come across posts or stories of women that feel incomplete or as though a piece of their womanhood is missing because of c-sections. I read this piece this morning even. While I teared up when the author wrote about how her husband thanked her for the sacrifice, I will be going through this for the third time and I just can't say that I have any regrets besides transferring to the bigger, "VBAC-friendly" facility. My health and safety matters with my current physician, and so does the health and safety of every life that will potentially grow in my womb.

I am writing this now so that, in a little over a week, I can be free to experience the beginning of my child's life and put all of the turmoil behind me.

I am reminded once more at how incredibly grateful I am to have discovered the kind of care that pro life physicians have to offer. Maybe one has nothing to do with the other, but in my experience a doctor that cares about the life of the tiniest human, cares about the health and safety of the mother as well.

Full Text for The Guiding Star Project: A Sexual Assault Conversation (Part Two)

As some of you know, I also contribute posts over at The Guiding Star Project. To promote awareness for Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I have recently completed a series of posts related to Sexual Violence. This post will provide you with the links to those posts, as well as a complete transcript for the survivor interviews that contributed to the most recent post from yours truly. For the sake of editing, I took quotes from these women for the purposes of the GSP post but really they all gave such beautiful and complete answers to the questions asked of them, that I wanted to find a way to give them space to tell their stories in greater detail.

A Sexual Assault Conversation (Part One)

Our Call to Advocacy

A Sexual Assault Conversation (Part Two)




Interview Questions:

1. Briefly describe your experience with sexual assault. (You do not need to go into great detail. Ex: I am a childhood sexual abuse survivor. I was sexually assaulted in college.)

2. How did this experience influence how you felt about yourself? Did it influence the way you felt about motherhood or your abilities as a parent? (You can speak to how you felt before/after becoming a mother.)

3. How has your experience with sexual assault affected the way you interact with your children (if at all, positively or negatively)?

4. Have you (or do you plan) to disclose the experience with your children? Why or Why not?

5. What have you learned from your experience with sexual assault that you would pass on to someone struggling to heal from sexual assault? (Is there anything related to motherhood, parenting, disclosing, healing, etc. in particular that you would want to pass on?)

Survivor Responses:

Dana

1. I am a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of my father. From about 9 or so until I was 18, and I was also assaulted by a man who was a “house parent” at (a teen home), while “interviewing” to be able to have visitation with a friend of mine who lived at (a teen home).

2. This influenced EVERYTHING about me, and still does. I have never felt as though I was really good enough for anyone…damaged goods. I don’t trust anyone, not totally, and I keep most people I know at arm’s length. And if someone does me wrong, I shut the door on them. I have a hard time with forgiveness. 

 I was pretty scared to be a mother, because my own mother never taught me what that means. She was on the cold side of things, and didn't really care much what was going on in her household, as long as she wasn't affected. So, I didn't really know HOW to be a mother. After I became a mother, I was blown away by how vulnerable children are, and I think it made the anger I had in me come out a little more. 

3. I was never taught boundaries as a child. The parent/child boundaries were non-existent in my household, so when I had my own children, I was really unsure of how to keep those lines from being crossed. I probably erred on the side of being stand-offish because I was afraid someone would think I was being overly affectionate with them. I was horrible when they were in diapers, because I didn't want anyone to ever think I spent too long on that area…so I wasn't very good at the cleaning of the diaper area. However, I did become much more assertive with my father…he tried to discipline my son once. ONCE. I took my children and left his home. He called me to berate me for “embarrassing him” by standing up and saying “do not touch my child” and I (for the first time ever) told him that if he ever touched my children again, he would never see them again. I realized, watching my children, that I was just as vulnerable at their ages as they were, and even though it was put upon me that all of what happened to me was my own fault, I was no more at fault than those small children God gave me. 

4. I did discuss with my children that I had been hurt by my father. My daughter knew the most, because she was older at the time my father was put on trial. And since she was highly intelligent, she was very aware of what was going on. I realized much later that while she figured most of it out on her own, she was still not prepared for that burden. I wish I had handled that better. I also discovered that I had not really told my sons very much, because my older son asked me for details when he was in his 20’s…because he said, “I know you were hurt a lot by your dad, but I just don’t know what he did. I would like to know this.” My youngest son maybe knew a little more, because (honestly) he paid more attention what went on around him than his older brother did.  I do think that children should know about this type of thing, especially if it’s a family member that they could come in contact with. It should be age appropriate, but they should not be shut out of why mom acts sad, or angry at, or scared of a relative. I just believe children should not be treated as though they were unable to handle truth. I worry for my nephews who have never been told about the abuse my sister suffered at our father’s hands, even though he has since passed away. What happens to their relationship the day they find out that the grandpa they were raised to respect and care about is the same man who abused their mother? I worry they will be angry at not being given the choice to be around him or not. They know he had a mean streak, and their mom would be highly angered by him a lot of the time, but they do not know why, so I worry they will feel she lied to them. 

5. I do wish (even for myself) that women trying to heal from this would know it was not their fault. I have always felt that somewhere in there, I did something to make it happen. And since nobody but my sisters have ever told me it wasn't my fault, it feels like it was. To the point that when someone “comes on to me” in a social setting, I feel maybe I did something to cause it, even if I had nothing to do with their actions. A “normal” woman would just feel “what a dirt bag…” and walk away. I would feel “what did I do to make him think that about me?” and worry about it. There are just people out there that are incapable of NOT inflicting some sort of pain on other people, it’s not that you invited them to hurt you.  I wish that part of me would go away, but it is there. And if you do feel as though you need to talk to someone, do it. Even if everyone around you thinks it is embarrassing to the family. It’s not about them, it’s about YOUR mental health and well-being.

Amy

1. I was sexually assaulted by my boyfriend's friend when I was 25.

2. The experience made me completely paranoid about personal safety. I hate being out after dark and being home alone and those things never used to bother me.

3. I think the sexual assault has made me more paranoid. I worry obsessively about my baby daughter's safety and well-being  I'm concerned that because I was sexually assaulted I will be overprotective of my daughter when she's older.

4. I do plan to tell my daughter when she gets older. I just want her to know that if anything ever happens to her, it is not her fault and I will be there to help her. I never told my mother what happened to me.

5. I would tell someone else who experienced sexual assault that they should not think of themselves as less pure or valuable than other women. My husband still thinks I am wonderful despite what happened to me!

Sara

1. What I experienced would best be called as "date rape" because, unfortunately, there really is no terminology for being raped by the boy you had been dating for 3 years.

2. The experience changed how I thought of myself. I felt an immense amount of guilt and shame.

3. I don't think it's affected me at all THUS FAR. My daughter is only 8 and I haven't really seen much of an interest from her in boys yet. I do know, though, that it will affect how I parent her as I get older. I grew up in a staunchly Catholic household, and my boyfriend was Catholic as well. In fact, we were on Diocesan youth boards, active in youth ministry, etc. One youth minister actually called us a "perfect model of a faith-filled teen couple." But we were given too much freedom. I will definitely be more in touch with how my daughter's dating life progresses.

4. I will admit right now that I am not sure if I will disclose it. There are times when I think, yes, I want her to know. But there are times when I think, it's better left where it is--in the past.

5. I've learned that it can take a very, very long time to heal. Sometimes you can go weeks without thinking about it and then there are times when it's on the forefront of your mind. It's going to be with you forever, so you have to find a way to make peace with it. For me, making peace meant saying, "Okay, it happened. I can't change that. But because it happened, XYZ happened. I don't regret XYZ, so therefore I am OK that it happened." Also, I'll share one of the things someone told me along my road to acceptance: "You are at your strongest when you feel as if you are at your weakest." So true.

Joan

1. I've experienced several types during various stages in my life and often wondered if the later assaults were made more possible by the initial one. (Childhood sexual molestation).

2. The initial experience didn't seem to imprint negatives about my self-image, but later ones over time made me feel insecure, or as other survivors might understand, as if I was defective or wearing a bulls eye  As time goes on and you experience more and more interactions, even very obscure ones, you start to blur the line between who is at fault, most especially in our culture of victim-blaming. I began to feel uncomfortable about my introverted personality and even uncomfortable about my body size and things such as my gait.

As a mother, I have the same concerns as any parent. I'm worried about bringing children into a society that protects the perpetrator, mocks or ignores the victim and generally promotes a hushed up environment about sexual assault. I worry that my children will experience what I did, or that I won't be able to encourage in them confidence and skills to avoid these situations.

3. Experiencing sexual assault has given me a deeper perspective about the serious failing of punitive parenting and the inappropriate emphasis our society has on forcing children to obey authority. Forcing a child to ignore his own feelings or bodily signs to obey an authority figure is exactly how early abuse begins and exactly how cycles of abuse continue throughout a person's life.

When we are taught to be "nice" to others even if our brains are screaming in fear, or taught to cover up violation so as not to bring embarrassment to the family, we place the dignity of children on a lower level than social image or reputation. In a different way, this is yet another violation against the victim.

So my parenting method is something I commit to not only b/c I want to avoid disrespectful parenting behaviors, but also b/c I want to encourage my children to have a strong self-will, confidence about their bodily/mental signs and the courage to follow those cues in the face of danger.

4. Yes, I have briefly, in a non-graphic way, informed my children. It's important of course to take care not to scare young children or break their innocence. I feel that my brief discussion with them while reading the body books I purchased was the right mix of information and tact.

For other parents wondering, I made statements such as, "When Mama was 4 years old, a grown up wanted to touch her body and she didn't want him to do it. If that ever happens to you, you can shout no and run to get me. I will always help you."

5. The hardest part is perhaps learning to place full and open responsibility on the perpetrator. It's very easy for a survivor to take on the burden of blame in our culture, and that is a very impairing experience that will halt deep healing. Although it can be extremely painful at first to acknowledge that another person openly and deliberately chose to harm you (and perhaps this was someone close to you or someone who was supposed to protect you) in the end, this clarity opens a path to true healing where you can put the issue to rest, find forgiveness for yourself and begin to move forward.

As parents, it becomes not just a healthy step to healing but a vital, necessary step to take. As long as the survivor holds responsibility and shame/guilt/blame, as a parent, the message passed to the child will be garbled. Hypocrisy is something children can pick up on very easily, even unspoken hypocrisy.

If we cannot face our own violators and accuse them justly and fully, how can we be guardians to our children and potentially do the same for them? Instead, we will only pass on the cycle of abuse to them and give them the continued role of taking on the blame and playing the unhealed victim.

Linda

Last year my oldest turned 6. Last year she started Kindergarten and I dealt with the anxiety of knowing she would be going to the bathroom at school on her own. The idea of my sweet little girl walking around unsupervised made me physically ill. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, the fear that my child will end up being victimized is always with me. It is calculated into everything I do. I realize for some people this may seem an indicator of therapy needs. For those who experienced high levels of trauma, they know that the key is to manage these fears. My oldest has no idea that her first year of school brought an entire fleet of emotions up for me. When we talk about safety, we talk in general terms. She is friendly, kind, and full of zest for life. The way a small child should be.

Being a survivor of child sexual abuse makes me a bit different as a mom. Working with survivors on a daily basis changes the way I parent as well. Unlike some, I cannot pretend that the person who poses the greatest danger to my child is the stranger, the new neighbor, and creepy kid down the street. I know that the people I love the most pose the greatest danger. I have listened to far too many parents cry and ask how they didn't see it, how they didn't know, listened to them talk about how their best friend, their pastor, their favorite cousin hurt their child to pretend that danger isn't all around.

The thing is I also have to balance that information with the knowledge that there is plenty of good in the world. I must work just as hard to keep my child full of hope—as I do to keep her safe. She deserves to grow up knowing there is love, and beauty, and peace to be found in this world for those willing to seek it out. Right now, my little girl only knows that her mommy grew in another person’s tummy. Right now, she knows that mommy works with people who have been hurt by others. Someday I will share my story with my daughter. I am not sure when that story will be—or if it will be in bits and pieces. I will share my story because if my daughter is ever hurt, if someone she loves is ever hurt, I want to make sure I've shown her that it is okay to talk about it. That shame belongs on the perpetrator. I want her to know that no matter what has happened in my life, looking at her gives me everything I was always searching for.