What has happened to my children? What has happened to our lives? How can you go from dreaming of your family to living a nightmare? My child, my first born, my sweet boy was hurting my other innocent sweet boy. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, but I knew it was bad. What do I do? Their futures flashed before my eyes. The pain, the fear, of not knowing how to connect with other people. Would they hurt other people too? Would they hurt themselves? My only concern was protecting them BOTH, and I was not capable of doing that alone.
I called Sebastian at work, “Come home. Now. David and Douglas have been engaging in … I don’t even know, but you need to get home.” The other end of the line was silent, he took a deep breath and said “I’m on my way.” I left David in his room, and went to speak to Douglas. Maybe before Sebastian arrives, I can lightly ask him some questions and not make him feel like he’s in trouble. I knew that once Sebastian came running through the door, everything would be more difficult. He had a tendancy to fly off the handle, raise his voice and become overbearing when he didn’t feel like he was getting the answers he wanted. Douglas was sitting on the couch, seemingly unfazed from me walking into his room and the scene that came afterwards. “Baby, mommy wants to ask you a few questions. Is that ok?” He shook his head yes and waited. “Can you tell mommy what you and bubby were just doing in your room?”
“Oh yeah, we were playing the bouncy game.” he said quickly, no fear or nervousness in his voice. “The bouncy game huh? How do you play that?” I smiled softly so he knew I wasn’t upset. “You take your pants off and rub against each other. I don’t really get it.” I thought I was going to throw up. “How much do you play this game?” I held his hand lightly in mine. I wanted desperatly for him to say that it only happened once, but I knew he wouldn’t. “A couple of times, I’m not sure really. It’s not my favorite.” I gave him a hug, thanked him for talking to me and let him go play his games. I dragged myself into the kitchen and plopped down in a chair. My unborn baby moved as I adjusted myself and I thought, “What family are you coming into? We’re really fucking this up. I have no idea what my husband is doing, who’s in my house, and now my children are scarred for life. I had no idea, how could I not have known? What else didn’t I know? Where did this all come from? Could Sebastian have done something to David? Is that where he got this idea? Would Sebastian do that?” The truth was that I had no idea what Sebastian would or wouldn’t do any more.
Sebastian came in the door, but was suprisingly not upset. He was calm, collected, almost submissive. You could tell he wanted to know every detail of the story. What did I see? Who said what? When did this all happen? Had David explained where he heard it? Did Douglas say how long it had been going on? He peppered me with questions so fast that I felt like I was under interrogation. “How could this have gotten past you? Don’t you watch them?” He was trying to blame me! “Am I the only parent around here? I’m doing everything from running the company, to cooking and cleaning and paying the bills. I can’t be everywhere all at once. They’re brothers, they’re supposed to play and spend time together. How was I supposed to know that this was happening?” I didn’t cry. I held my ground, my chin high, but inside I was blaming myself too. I was the one person in the whole world who was supposed to keep them safe. I had failed miserably. I just didn’t need him pointing it out to me. Sebastian talked to both boys as well, getting the same answers I did. After two hours, we let them both go to bed. I could barely hold my up, I was so tired. Everything hurt and my stomach contracted with every breath, the baby performing Cirque du Soleil in my uterus.
I collapsed into the bed, whipped out my phone and googled “child protective services.” I knew, no matter what, that I wasn’t able to provide them the help they would need. I quickly glanced through the website, found a submission form and started filling out my contact information. Sebastian came in and began to change. “What are you doing?” I didn’t even look up from my phone, “I’m contacting CPS, it says they’ll get back to you within 24 hours.” Sebastian stopped, slowly slid onto the bed and forced me to put the phone down. “Is that really what you want to do? There will be a record. David could get into some serious trouble for this. It could follow him around for the rest of his life. They won’t just help them, they’ll investigate him. Is that a risk you want to take? He’s only 12.” I considered this, and for a moment hestitated. I didn’t want him to get in trouble, but there’s a process and a system for a reason. They had the tools, the experience and the resources to get them the help they needed. I had no idea where to even start. “Yes, I’m sure. We can’t handle this on our own, and I won’t risk further damage. I’m doing this.” I finished the form and hit submit. It was done.
Sebastian climbed into bed and we both stared at the ceiling. “Sebastian, I have to ask you. Did you have anything to do with this? Because if so, they’re going to find out. If David is in trouble, we might be too.” Sebastian sat up on his elbow and looked deep into my eyes, “I have nothing to do with this. I see why you might think so, but I swear, I love our kids and they can investigate all they want.” I went to sleep that night, blaming everyone and everything for this horrible situation, and knowing very well…I was more to blame than anyone. Whether it was allowing something to happen to them, or living in this situation too long, I put them here. I kept them here. We had to change our lives, or lose it all.