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As I hold my baby son By a survivor It’s been a long and difficult day for me. I came home and sat on my couch holding my beautiful baby in my arms, watching him stare into my eyes. His gaze was penetrating deep into me. Deep into my wounded soul. Soothing my bleeding heart. Caressing my aching soul. After a […]

As I hold my baby son

By a survivor

It’s been a long and difficult day for me. I came home and sat on my couch holding my beautiful baby in my arms, watching him stare into my eyes. His gaze was penetrating deep into me. Deep into my wounded soul. Soothing my bleeding heart. Caressing my aching soul. After a few priceless moments, he slowly closed his eyes and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. The invisible bond I felt those few minutes , was so strong that I didn’t  feel his body weight. It was as though he was part of me.

I watched his stomach rise up and down with each breath. His face, radiating the most magnificent display of purity and innocence. Although his eyes were closed, his deep inner peace was piercing right through my many layers of pain and soothing it, like nothing else can.

I put him into his crib and slowly sat down beside him, wondering, what was it that felt so healing? How can it be that someone so young and fragile, can heal the deep wounds in me? What was it in him, that penetrated so deeply into my heart and soul?

It suddenly hit me. It completely overtook me, sending goosebumps up and down my body. The tears were beginning to fill my eyes and a lump was slowly forming in my throat.

This baby, so angelic and pure, is a product of me. If he is so pure, then I must be pure. If he is so angelic, then I must be that way. If he is untainted and wholesome, am I not the same?

I looked down at myself, the self that feels so dirty and defiled. The body that feels so disgusting and sickly. As the tears were beginning to roll down my cheeks, I began thinking to myself. Yes, I was so badly hurt and burned but look at the product that I was just holding. Yes, I was so badly degraded and defiled but there is no trace of that on my baby’s beautiful face. On his pure and angelic features.

Life is defined by growth. If something stops growing, it is no longer alive. Our cells are constantly regenerating. Our bodies keep changing and as long as we are alive, we will keep growing and altering in one way or another. The body I have now, is not the body I had then. My inner core, the one that was damaged so much, is not the same core that I have now. For if it would be, it would most definitely carry over to my son. It’s simple science, if something is a product of a producer, whatever the producer has, will by default, carry over to the product.

Although many times it seems so hard and completely impossible to heal, I need to look at my beautiful son, sleeping in his crib. I need to breath along with him. Slowly and peacefully. With each breath, I will inhale some of his purity. Some of his wholesomeness. I know I can do it, because he’s a product of mine and if he has it, I must have it as well.

Leaning over his crib and breathing along with him, each inhale is infusing me with a part of his innocence. Each exhale is releasing some of my self hatred and disgust that was thrown upon me. That I was made to believe by that horrible sexual monster.

Each breath is bringing me one step closer to healing and I promise, I will continue along my journey until my face can radiate the very same purity that is so visible on my baby, sound asleep in his crib.

You can read more from this author at https://neversurrenderblog.com/

Contact him at [email protected]

Posted in news-articles, op-eds, survivors-letters.


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