Parenting After My Own Trauma

Last week, I said something out loud to my husband that I never thought I would say, that I always thought would end our marriage, and I often thought to myself in my head.

Let me get the uncomfortable yet key information out — my dad sexually abused me when I was a young teenager. For years, I have always thought that I was like any other “normal” kid with a “normal” childhood. But now as an adult, I realize all I have experienced because of that abuse. I have felt absolute terror, guilt, shame, anger, anxiety, depression, and most of all, distrust because of it. It has taken years of growth, communication, support, and therapy to get to this point in time, reflecting on how this has affected how I parent.

My son is almost 2 years old now, and already I feel like I have failed 100 times. Last week, another life-changing event occurred, and this time it was all because of words I spoke. To give you an idea of how unprompted my trauma affects me, I often think to myself when I’m out with my family, my husband and my son: “I’m worried this person thinks I’m abusing my child,” or “what if they think my husband is abusive?” These thoughts make me so mindful of how I hold my son, mindful of where my hands are placed on his body, how I talk to him and what my personality seems like to an outsider when they overhear me talking to him. Even at home when I’m wiping my son’s hands after he’s had lunch, and he cries out loud because it annoys him, I always seem to make it a point to loudly say, “honey, I’m just wiping his hands — I’m not hurting him. I swear.”

It’s so difficult to let go of these worries, these intrusive thoughts that go through my mind every hour of every day — I believe I think about these things because I didn’t receive that growing up — the concern from a parent. I’m so worried that the things I do or say will hurt my son that sometimes I forget how it might affect my husband.

Last week I reached what I consider to be my lowest point, and that’s saying something after all my, episodes, I’ll call them, throughout the years: painful days where I react terribly to something that has triggered me, destructive hours, and decisions I’ve gone through — you name it.

And yet, my biggest regret in life so far is saying out loud to my husband: “I don’t trust that you won’t sexually abuse him.”

I was so mortified and remorseful as soon as I said it. My husband’s response was so obviously out of the pain I just caused him as he replied, “Well, it’s not uncommon that victims will repeat the abuse they experienced, so I don’t trust that you won’t.”

This happened after I decided to write about this topic: “my early perspective on parenting after my own trauma.” Trauma is such a wild concept, because to me I feel like every gut-wrenching event I live through is contributive trauma.

When I was pregnant, I had recently just dealt with the reveal to the rest of my family what happened between my father and me, so that trauma was fresh in my mind. I was so hyper-focused on preparing myself mentally for how I would raise my son, and how I would do that with my husband who I have relied so heavily on to help me through life the last 12 years together. Even searching for resources to help me through this, like how Googling “parenting after trauma,” mostly brings results relating to parenting a child that has experienced trauma, brought limited help. Other things I’ve thought of as I prepared to become a mother included: “how will I explain to him where his grandparents are?” and “do I tell him?”

After the distressing exchange of pain my husband and I endured last week, my outlook has completely changed. Initially, I wanted to write about how the abuse I experienced has made me a stronger mother, but really, I’m recognizing that I’m just scratching the surface of this parenting thing. What do I know about parenting when I struggle so much to face how I was parented? I find it comforting in a way, despite how awful I feel for saying it, that I’ve finally let slip out loud this irksome and unwanted pestering thought of mine that I don’t trust my husband, because now we both recognize that there is absolutely no truth to it, and I know to the core that he trusts me.

I have learned that the only thing I should not trust is my pain.

After last week, I feel like my life has pivoted from asking myself, “how do I parent after all I’ve endured?” to communicating to my husband and even my son, “I trust you, but please give me time to feel and teach that.”

Now, I really believe that all the times you stop and feel in your bones the love you have for your child and your partner, and for yourself, you are parenting well.