Despite it all . . . .

Many many years ago, I was an abused child. Once, my mother tried to kill me. I have this weird mix of very specific and non-existent memories of the event. I was five years old at the time. I was a very small child. I have a dress that I wore in the 4th grade that a cousin was able to wear when she was in kindergarten.

I remember playing army men in the planter box with my younger brother. I remember my mother was wearing her goggles she wore when she was cooking foods prone to splatter. I remember walking away from the planter box. The next thing I remember is my mother clutching me by both arms and holding me in front of her like a shield. We were lying on my bed and my father was coming towards us and my mother was yelling for my grandmother (my father's mother) to help her because my father was going to hurt her.

The next thing I remember is being in a hotel room with my grandmother. She was on the phone with my Grandfather and very upset. I was upset because the china doll she bought for me that had a suction cup on it wouldn't stick to the head board.

The next morning, my Grandmother and Father had a serious talk - I don't remember anything that was said. I remember my father driving me home in his VW and buying me one of those sandwiches that comes from a machine and is packaged in a triangular plastic container. I remember it tasted terrible. I remember my Mother opening the door for us, my Father standing a couple steps behind me. I remember feeling very small and feeling like my Mother was also giant.

In my adulthood, my Grandmother told me that what I don't remember includes my Mother trying to kill me. My Grandmother says that as my brother and I were walking away from the planter box, the bookshelf that had been over our heads came crashing down to where we had just been playing. She says that my Mother was convinced I'd some how pulled the shelf down in an attempt to harm my brother. Both my Grandmother and Father were in the room and they both say that they never saw me pull or tug on anything near the shelf and that they both saw my brother and I walk away. What is strange is that this event is one of the reasons I believe that children do have guardian angels. I have no other explanation as to why we both managed to walk away just before we both could have been seriously hurt.

I have no memory of my Mother harming me that night. My Grandmother says that I don't need to know more than "She tried to kill you."

My Grandmother says that after she and my Father got me away from my Mother, they took me and my siblings out for ice cream. This gave them a chance to discuss what needed to happen in response and got us all out of the house. She says that my younger brother was just a baby and slept. She says that my older brother was wide eyed and frightened. She says that I skipped and played as if nothing were wrong.

Some time last year, I spent much of a night in the Emergency Room with a family who had just discovered that their darling 5 year old girl was being sexually abused by her father. The mother cried and wept. She said that she'd been abused herself as a child and she'd promised herself that her children wouldn't suffer the same. The child's grandmother was practical and attended to the details of reporting the crime and securing help for the child. The child - an apple cheeked, adorable thing -- skipped and played as if nothing were wrong. We made rubber glove puppets. We played word games. And finally she fell happily asleep in her mother's arms.

That night, I realized I was seeing what my own Grandmother had seen so many years ago. I knew that I was in the right job. I KNEW that all the experiences in my life - good and bad - had led me to this place and this moment. And, I know that this child will be resilient and grow up okay.