Updated: Aug. 17, 2019
Originally Published: April 30, 2019
This piece serves as a reflection on a deeply painful experience. When the Victim Witness and Prosecutor’s office invited me to speak today, I was flooded with a mix of emotions—anger, fear, sadness, and a glimmer of hope. I felt an immense weight on my shoulders, grappling with the unfairness of having to represent my now 15-month-old daughter, Eva, in front of a judge, our former nanny, Rachel, and her family. How can I truly convey Eva’s emotions and feelings when I can hardly comprehend what has happened? How will I explain this harrowing chapter to her when she’s old enough to understand?
I was heartbroken knowing that my eldest daughter, Mia, will forever remember the term “forensic interview.” It pains me that Mia, at just 4 and a half, has had to take on the role of speaking out for her baby sister, while Rachel chose to prioritize her own well-being over that of a defenseless infant.
Yet amidst this turmoil, I held onto hope. Hope that perhaps sharing our story would provide the closure my family desperately needs. Hope for a future free from the dread of letters arriving at our mailbox that reference Eva as a victim, hope for a time when we wouldn’t have to take calls from the Prosecutor’s office. Hope that Rachel could also find a way to move forward with her own life.
Where do I even begin with such a statement? Should I recount the moments when I asked Rachel three times if she was aware of what had happened to my sweet baby? Or should I share the panic I felt while convincing my pediatrician’s office that even though my daughter wasn’t crying or showing obvious signs of distress, something was definitely wrong? The frantic message to my mother when I realized my 3-month-old had sustained a skull fracture and that the Department of Child Safety had been involved, leaving me feeling isolated and distrusted with my own children.
Imagine, if you will, standing in the hospital’s pediatric wing, tears streaming down as they X-ray your child to investigate potential past abuse. How do you explain to your other daughters why they have to meet with social workers to answer questions about their parents?
I read the character reference letters for Rachel, and two things struck me profoundly. First, it hurt that a woman I once trusted with my children chose to withhold care from a vulnerable infant, fearing repercussions for an accident. I genuinely believe the incident was an accident, but it doesn’t lessen the pain. The letters highlighted Rachel’s kindness, a quality that made me comfortable leaving my children in her care—but it left me questioning the trust I had placed in her.
The second point that resonated was a statement from Rachel’s mother about how great a mother Rachel is and how she would never leave her child with just anyone. She was right; deciding to trust Rachel was both an easy and hard choice for me. Easy because I believed in her caring nature, hard because I wanted to be the one there for my daughters during their milestones and moments of need. I had entrusted Rachel with their care during my absence, and she let me down.
Despite everything, I am grateful that Eva is thriving—walking, laughing, and full of life. I have come to appreciate my blessings even more, as my husband and I have adjusted our lives to be fully present for our girls. We’ve chosen to work part-time, allowing us to focus on nurturing our family and cherishing every moment together.
Through this ordeal, I wanted Rachel to grasp the weight of her responsibility toward the children she cares for daily. I hoped she would understand the long-lasting impact her actions would have on my daughters’ lives. More importantly, I wished to shield other parents from experiencing similar heartbreak.
In truth, I’m unsure if I’ve achieved either of these goals, but I can look Eva in the eyes and assure her that I did my utmost to advocate for her. I fought for her, and we will navigate the repercussions of her injury together as a family.
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Summary:
The emotional journey of a mother grappling with the abuse of her infant daughter by a previously trusted nanny. Through reflections on trauma and hope, she advocates for understanding the responsibilities caregivers hold and shares the importance of being present in her children’s lives. The family has found strength amidst adversity, with a commitment to healing and protection.
Keyphrase: infant daughter abuse caregiver
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