Dear Little One,
If only I could wrap you in a warm embrace right now. Your life feels like it’s been turned upside down, and you’re lost in confusion. Coming from a protective home, you have no idea what has just happened to you. You’ve been violated—not just once, but repeatedly. Your innocence has been shattered, and your body has been touched in ways no child should ever endure.
I see you on that fateful day, coming home filled with fear and uncertainty. It pains me to know that you feel you can’t confide in your parents. No child should have to bear this burden alone. I still hold a grudge against our mother for that—how could she not see the signs?
You felt an instinctive fear that prevented you from sharing something so monumental with her. If I were in her shoes and my child faced such horror, I would be devastated if they didn’t feel safe enough to open up to me. That day would mark the beginning of a chaotic childhood. You lay awake that night, replaying the horrifying scenes in your mind—wondering why a “doctor” would examine you in a dark cellar, and why he threatened you if you dared to speak out.
You were too innocent to comprehend the gravity of what had occurred. The pit in your stomach and the burning sensation when you peed signaled that something was terribly wrong, even if you didn’t grasp the full concept of it.
It breaks my heart to know you were all alone, grappling with feelings far too heavy for your small shoulders. I wish I could sit beside you, stroking your hair, and providing the comfort and reassurance you needed. Instead, you were met with punishment and misunderstanding rather than the love and support you longed for.
Unfortunately, fate had more in store for you. Soon, someone who was meant to protect you would betray your trust yet again. The remnants of your faith in humanity were obliterated. You’re still battling with that today. Did he ever realize the pain his moment of selfishness would inflict upon you?
After another traumatic encounter, you found yourself replaying the events, questioning if this was typical behavior for fathers. I wish I could tell you that no, not all fathers act this way, and he was entirely wrong.
At 12, while your peers were focused on typical adolescent experiences, you were delving into the topic of touching, seeking answers in a world where sex was taboo. Without access to healthy sources of information, you turned to books filled with explicit content, trying to educate yourself. I am so sorry that you had to navigate this on your own.
You were never to blame for what happened, and you displayed incredible bravery just by carrying on with life. My heart aches for the strength you had to muster to survive. I wish I could whisper to you that it would be okay, something no adult was there to say at that time. I apologize for the absence of those who should have been your advocates—like our mother, who should have recognized your struggles.
I’m proud of you for standing strong in the face of adversity and for seeking the help you needed, help that should have been offered long ago. You managed to build a beautiful family, even though your son had to endure a similar fate. I am so impressed by how he trusted you enough to speak out, and how you responded with love and understanding that you never received.
I hope these words bring you some comfort and assist in breaking the chains of the past. Though I know this isn’t enough, I hope it helps you heal.
Remember, you are strong, you are brave, and you are not alone.
For those seeking more information about healing and support, consider visiting this helpful resource or exploring options for at-home insemination kits at Make A Mom. Additionally, for those interested in fertility treatments, UCSF’s resource offers invaluable information.
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