This One Might Be Tough

For some of you. Not for me.

So, I mentioned in previous blogs when I was pregnant with Bailey that I have always harbored a fear that I would molest my children. This perfectly normal fear is based on having been molested many times in my childhood. The fact that I can name it, own the fear and move on is a testament to the years of therapy that I went through.

Of course, my fears have proven to be unfounded. There is this moment that has happened with both of my children where I realized in a split second that I would kill myself before I would ever hurt them. I would leave them if I couldn't be safe around them. I would remove myself from them. And I trust that. I have put aside my fears because my gut, my instincts, my heart tells me that I would never perpetrate them the way that I was. I just wouldn't.

So why bring this up now?

Because last night I had a new series of thoughts about it. Most nights, I am the person who baths our children. I'm good at it, I enjoy the intimacy and they seem to like it as well. We used to always bath Bailey together, but the addition of Connor just naturally changed the routine. I found myself staring at Connor while I was bathing him, drinking in his beautiful little body. I was watching his arms shake, the way his knees bend, the crinkles in his neck. I love touching their bodies when they are all soapy and wet and warm and silky smooth. I love running my hands along them and feeling their crevices. I love the way they giggle when I find the perfect ticklish spot and the way that their eyes sparkle as they feel my love flow through my hands. I love the sheer intimacy that caring for them in such a profound way brings.

And because of my history, I have to examine it. I find myself having to step back from those moments and sort out in my head the seperaration between sexual intimacy and loving intimacy. And I have realized, in a way that a therapist telling me never could make me realize, the very profound difference between the two.

See, it's not something I ever learned from my partner. Not that Kelly and I don't have moments of intimacy that are not sexual...we do...but in all honesty, they are rare for me. In many ways, I have always equated the intimacy of touch with sex. It's one of the effects of having touch be sexualized in such a negative way. It's something that I have always carried with me.

But with my children, there is a clear line and that line has taught me so much. I have never felt even a wisp of my worst fear with them. I can touch them in the most intimate ways and it has never felt sexual. I am so thankful for that. In a way that a person who has not been sexually violated may not understand. You have no idea the depth fo the fear that I carried and that I still carry to this day. That I can put my mouth on my sons lips and kiss him over and over again while he giggles and slobbers and licks my lips and NOT feel like I am violating him is such an amazing thing.

I am so thankful for all those years of therapy. My mother did such an amazing job in pulling me through that and not letting that crap fester. I can talk about this stuff. I can shine the bright white light on the fear and name it. I can own my shit, walk through it and come out the other side. Without the support and the tools that therapy has given me, I wouldnt' be able to that. And maybe, I wouldnt' be able to seperate the two. And maybe I would have missed so much of this intimacy with my children that makes the love I have for them so deep.

Thank god I am not missing this. Because those moments with my children are so precious to me. More precious than just about any other moment.