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**I really don't know what was going on with the font in the last post.  I'm having a hard time caring.**

There is a photo in our hallway, a family photo of the three of us.  I remember the day it was taken.  Our former church had some photo company come in and take the pictures for a photo directory and then the company tried to sell us these horribly expensive packages.  We declined.  I remember the photo shoot, though.  We were trying to get a couple of good pictures of Sweet Pea in the silk dress that Aunt Carolyn made, so we had her 9-month-old self alone in some of the shots.  She sat on a small white wicker chair.  At one point she leaned forward and, as though it were happening in slow motion, her body fell forward, heading directly to the floor from the 4' platform.  I was right there and I caught her before she landed, smoothly bringing her back up to me as she laughed at the roller coaster ride she'd just been on.  Disaster averted.  Mommy is there.

That's what we're supposed to do, as parents.  We're supposed to see the potholes ahead in the road, to intuit headaches and heartaches and prevent our children from either one.  We accept that at some point we won't be able to do this, but that's 'someday' when our children are teenagers, a far off future that may or may not involve robots and superflus and daily trips to the moon.

Last week Sweet Pea and Neighborgirl were playing in SweetPea's bedroom.  She came downstairs and whispered in my ear that Neighborgirl asked her if she wanted to have sex.  I asked her to repeat the question because, although Sweet Pea has heard many colorful phrases from me, like 'pomegranate martini' and 'stupid motherfucker' I am reasonably sure I've never used the word 'sex' in front of her.

After she repeated herself, I sent her upstairs and, heart pounding, turned to face Neighborgirl.

"Sweetie, did you ask Sweet Pea if she wanted to have sex?"

"No."

I took her hand, looked in her eyes, and gently said, "It's okay.  Nobody is mad.  I just need to know.  Did you say that?"

Her eyes filled with tears and she said, "Well, I did say that."

I hugged her and said, "Okay.  What did you do?"

"I laid on Sweet Pea's chest."

"I see.  Honey, who told you about sex," I asked her, thinking it was her middle school brother or high school sister.

"It's what my stepdad does to my Mom."

Cold dread in my stomach for what was coming next.  "I'm confused, honey.  Don't you sleep with your Mom?"

"Yes.  With him, too.  And he does sex to her."

"While you're there in bed?"

"Yes." 

Oh God.  Oh God oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgodohgod.

She was crying.  I asked her if there was anything else she wanted to tell me.  She shook her head 'no' but cried even harder.

When she was finished, DJ arrived.  I told Neighborgirl it was time for her to go home.  I told DJ what happened.  I called my sister-in-law, a first-grade teacher, for advice.  She told me to talk to the Mom, that it was just one of those awkward conversations that has to be had.  She pointed out that while it was definitely bad parenting, I could say, "I'm sure it's completely innocent or maybe she's misunderstood, but..." 

I wasn't so sure.

We had a family meeting.  That's when Sweet Pea told me everything that happened.

Apparently Neighborgirl persuaded Sweet Pea to get in bed.  They pulled the covers over them and then Neighborgirl pulled her pants down.  When I asked Sweet Pea what happened next, she said she wasn't sure; she'd put her hands over her face at that point.

Now we'd moved to a different arena.  A little bit of "You show me yours, I'll show  you mine" is completely normal for small children.  A demonstration of the act is something else entirely.

The next day I went to the guidance counselor at Sweet Pea and Neighborgirl's school.  I told her the whole story and was advised that they would be contacting DFCS.

I shook the whole time.  I'm an incest survivor.  I had just committed the ultimate sin: I Told.  I Told the Secret.  Even if this wasn't my Secret.  I felt guilty because I hadn't asked Neighborgirl more pressing questions.  All I could think about was Sweet Pea, the effect it had on her. 

Now I've moved into anger and guilt.  I'm angry at Neighborgirl.  I know she's 6 years old.  I know it's not her fault.  But she just visited this experience on my child.  My own precious daughter experienced something that was WAY beyond what she was prepared for, in the midst of her own grief process about her adoption.

And, of course, I feel guilty.  I feel like I should have known.  I should have been able to protect Sweet Pea.  When it was happening I was sitting right below them, in the living room, creating a lecture outline for my lesson on the rise of the dictators before WWII.  Why didn't something set me off?  Why didn't I intuit that something was wrong?

I failed her.  When she needed me the most, I failed my daughter.  I cannot protect her, not really.  I knew that someday it would happen.

I had no idea it would be this soon. 

Comments

[Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah]

Oh man. I woulnd't even have known what to do!

[Lisa]

You didn't fail Sweet Pea in any way. Stop that right now! You're not the Amazing Kreskin, how could you have known?

You did exactly the right thing in going to the counselor. Obivously, there is something amiss in that household that needs to be addressed. You may have just saved a child.

[Elaine Benfield]

You did not fail as a parent. You are such an amazing mother and you could have never known that was going to happen. You protect your daughter and give her a LOVING and safe home. She will be fine and she will love and respect you for everything you've done for her.

[Pammer]

Nice job. You didn't fail anyone - you just wish you could save them both...a whole different feeling.

[linnea]

Stacy, there needs to be the recognition of doing the right thing - Sweet Pea TOLD you! That is so all about you and your relationship with her... You told the proper authorities, also the right thing, you will get Sweet Pea anything she needs to work through this and all other things in her life.

Sounds like a homerun there, not a strike out, my dear...

[Poor_Statue]

I'm so sorry this happened.

Just know, you handled it well.

[LauraL]

Repeating everyone else: YOU DID NOT FAIL. Nor did you fail Sweet Pea. And yeah, you may have done something that, oh, Neighborgirl's MOTHER should have done, which is protect HER.

Oh, and for why you didn't intuit what was happening above you? You're not psychic or omniscient, babe. There was no way for you to know unless, Sweet Pea told you, which she did. Sounds to me like you're still doing a kick-ass job of parenting your child. :)