Unwarranted guilt-

I was working flat out , in an excellent position-as I paid the mortgages, clothing- everything but some food. Two children are at the babysitter's. One- 7 months old- (6?) , the other, 1.7 years old. I go to pick them up- am off a bit earlier than usual. The babysitter meets me at the door with the older child- with a terrible look on her face. My husband- the child sexual predator, has come and taken the baby. I ask -how long ago-. Not long- . I drive like a fiend to get back. Arrive- fly into house. I cannot remember where the toddler was or where she went- if she came in- that is a blank. Still. Pervert comes rushing down the stairs, puffing and all red in the face. He says- gasping- don't go up- she's been sick- . Die you fuck.(I think) I go up. Find a sheet with -a circular wet mark about 5 inches in diameter- baby maybe was sucking on it ? She is on her stomach- a hastily thrown clean sheet on the crib mattress- not tucked in- and a new diaper. Her tiny bottom in the air, knees/legs curled under her. At some point- can't remember- immediate ?- I pick her up and put her on the changing table. Open the diaper. She had made desperate protesting noises when I picked her up (from behind). There is a flaming red friction burn mark around the anus, as if a red-hot two dollar piece had been held there and seared the skin. I grab the zinc paste. Gently pick up the legs- she stiffens her whole body and pulls/looks away. God. One part of my mind KNOWS what the bastard did. The other part is reeling from- how could anyone- who will believe me- what the hell do I do do I kill him do I try (again) to get out- can't tell social services- they won't believe me- can't be obvious he will kill me (already tried)She kind of convulses . A viscous white ribbon of matter is expelled. Ejaculate. I call the baby's name. Show her the paste on my finger. Say "it's mummy, it's mummy-" She suddenly focuses on me and the body relaxes. I put the paste on -gingerly. When he did this to the older one (as a baby) I did not connect. He wouldn't let me take her to the hospital (I realize now- until the burn marks went.)When I did go- the hospital didn't "connect" either.

The rest of the days and weeks are a complete blank- except-

A few days later, there are bruises on both legs. I cannot figure it out- my hand does not fit- the marks are too big- and, the marks don't fit the way I had held her legs to put on the paste.Two outlines of two hands- well- ten fingers-. I tried placing my hands every which way- I thought I had caused the bruises. It was years before I realised- the bruises were from HIM grabbing her- from behind, while she was on her stomach. And this being (male) got sole custody and then cut me out entirely from their lives. Then , everyone blamed me and thought I had done something wrong. I wish I WERE a witch and could bring down disaster on all the people who destroyed us.

Torture

For reasons that I haven't yet figured out, the flashbacks are hitting hard and heavy.
The really bad ones. For example; Easter, 1981. The child rapist's mother comes to visit. I take her (and the 7 month old baby to- - was it an auction?- Maybe just to see her old haunts. The 2.5 year old stayed home. Chrapist says he'll stay as she is due for a nap. Not far along in the little drive- the mother suddenly emphatically wants to go back. She was almost in a panic. Back we go- and she rushes out of the car and into the house. And upstairs. Chrapist comes rushing out of the house, all red in face. At the bottom of the stairs, the mother calls to me in a wavery voice-" XXXXXXXXXXXX- there's something wrong with xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.She won't move, she won't talk it's like she can't see me." I go up. I know now- but not then, that the tiny child was catatonic. There were chocolates on the bed, and she was dressed in an awful(to my eyes) pink quilted dressing gown. Never seen before nor after. This is the criminal who got custody. I went for divorce to save myself and my children. ALL my children. Wasn't believed or listened to. But then- neither were the police nor the doctor nor the psychiatrist etc. Insane.

Momma, will I ever be able to pee again?

The 9 year old asked in a trembling terrified voice. I am standing beside her in one of those miniscule hospital emergency room examining stations. Two weeks ago her father, who got custody, actually brought her for a visit. (he never followed court orders) Her sister didn't come. She had marched straight up to the bathroom - actually - limped up- one step, one foot. Then the other foot, hesitatingly beside it. She looked to be in pain. She never spoke. I held back from going up, to see if the wife beater,child sexual assaulter and bestiality practitioner was outside still. He was. Parked. So, we cannot speak. He had bought one of those listening devices. I don't know if it was effective for listening, but the girls certainly thought so.

By the time I go upstairs, the little one- she was small for her age - was in the bathtub- and scalding hot water was in the tub. Horrified, I put on the cold water. She spoke- "No it has to be hot." She turns it off when it is only about two inches deep. I don't understand - but I know it is profound. Her eyes tell me that. Her entire being speaks of trauma. I still don't get it-. I pick up her clothes- dirty as usual. The underpants are coated, in the crotch area with a dried viscous white substance. I think- now he has given her an infection. I want to take her to the hospital. I can't. I have no money. None. I have no gas. I dare not phone the doctor. The perpetrator is still outside. He has attacked men - not just me and not just children. If I phone and he can hear me with that blasted device-the doctor is at even more risk.

I cannot remember the rest of the day.I only know that 2 weeks later I saw her again on a Sunday, and I had some money for gas to go to the hospital. The underpants are in a Ziploc bag.

The doctor doesn't SEE what is in front of him. Or doesn't want to. Emergency room doctors on weekends are frequently beginners. I don't suppose doctors are taught anything about female anatomy from babyhood on. Does he think it normal what I see clearly ? Does he ask ? No. Another big nothing.My child has been raped and no-one sees, hears or wants to know. If I speak too much, my chances of being killed increase- and it looks as though the ONLY thing I can do for my children- is not be killed by him. That would prove the hopelessness of living to them- for sure.

The doctor DID write a bit- about redness he saw - but nothing of the tearing- which I saw. But then- 21 years later-if an adult is raped- there is no operating place, with rape kits etc. -available.(in my geographic region) Society teaches us well- women and children are - nothing.You can do anything you want to them, and nothing will happen. And if you try to tell ? - You are criminalized- for "wanting to tell lies about the nice man." All the while- our society makes nice noises about combatting child sexual assaults.

The underpants finally went to the social services. The answer came back: "there is nothing we can do."

I never thought they would or could- but- followed the law anyway.But then- apart from the perpetrator, the social services were a major obstacle for protecting my children. Goes like this : follow the law, report child sexual aggressions, go for divorce to protect them and self-be blamed for lying by social services, lose custody to child rapist. Some wonder why more sex crimes are not reported -well- really- how inane can you get.

I love to watch Dexter. Of course. I wish he were real.

Every day I want to wrap my arms around my children and tell them I will protect them from a criminal. But that would be lying to them. And now they are confused adults- out there somewhere.I guess.