Suddenly I had entered uncharted terrain in the course of life. My husband was telling me that our precious daughter had been raped.
Barely twenty four hours ago I had left on a Saturday overnight business trip. Phil, my husband and Jessica's father, had brought me to the airport in the early morning. While I flew overhead, he returned home to see a flashing light on the telephone. Checking the message, he heard our daughter's brief, urgent, and alarming message. With little information and fearing the worst, he drove alone to hospital. He spent the day with her in the emergency room with a crisis counselor and her boyfriend. Jessica, Phil, and her boyfriend returned to our home where Jessica's friends and brother descended to support her. Together Jessica and Phil decided to inform me of the rape when I returned home.
On Sunday afternoon Phil met me at the airport and chatted lightly until we were underway in the car. Then he gently told me what happened. I had twenty minutes to prepare myself to support my daughter and her boyfriend. Bill had been in the next room as Jessica was raped. He woke to Jessica's calls, hit the rapist several times and followed him as he ran from the apartment to a nearby house. He had called the police. Bill had been heroic and had also been victimized. I tried to think of all the words I might say, trying to eliminate the wrong ones ("It could have been worse." or "If only you had...") and identify the supportive ones ("I'm so glad Bill acted quickly" and "You are safe now. He is in jail"). I knew that I needed to follow her lead, to listen carefully and listen some more. Her needs were paramount, not mine. I wanted to provide guidance and a warm, loving perspective, and even to discuss other topics as we do with grieving friends as a reminder of the fullness of life. I hoped to hear my daughter's laughter.
I barely remember the hours of conversation that day. I remember how close we sat, her head at times on my lap. When she tried to return to the apartment but could not, we welcomed them both to stay in her childhood home. Jessica and Bill moved in with us and I was relieved because I wanted to see her daily. I needed to see for myself how she responded to being raped.
The four of us engaged in lots of conversation. Discussing the rape became a normal part of every dinner conversation. The four of us talked about what would happen to the rapist, what to do next, how to help Jessica feel safe again, and her decision to get a dog. I looked for balance in her life, between work, friends, and family. I watched to see if she was eating enough because she immediately lost weight and expressed her own concerns about eating. She stayed in contact with the rape crisis center and also began to connect with rape survivors through the internet. I watched to see if she was focused on her own healing rather than becoming overinvolved with the healing of others. As her mother, I wanted the daily contact yet I worried about the time we would need to separate.
I needed support, too. One day at work, Jessica experienced a debilitating anxiety attack. I was called at my place of work by the school nurse. When I was called out of my classroom, I felt the same fear and concern I had when she was a child, calling me at work because she was ill. I picked her up in my car and brought her to the rape crisis center. Jessica allowed me to stay while she talked to the counselor. It helped me, too, to know this was a normal reaction and that there were ways to prepare oneself to respond. It also helped me to watch my daughter and listen to her during the counseling session.
The rape crisis counselors in our area would meet with parents of rape survivors and my husband and I went. It was helpful to learn what to expect and how to be helpful. We were worred about AIDS and were enormously relieved when test results came in negative. I didn't know who, of my family and friends, I wanted to tell and how to tell them. It was hardest to tell my father, Jessica's grandfather. Talking about the rape is still an issue for me. I am quite private while my daughter is open. She defined her experience and I needed to broaden mine to accept her healthier definition of it.
Jessica has been photographed for a photoessay about rape survivors, she has been interviewed for a newspaper article, and, of course, developed this web site. My daughter had emerged strong and sure of herself, beautiful, vivacious, plucky, tough and tender, savvy and full of joy. Each time I hear her laughter, I am especially filled with a mother's joy. She has shown that the human spirit can be greater than anything that can happen to it. I am so proud of her.
The actions of the rapist have raised some big questions about evil, justice, and forgiveness for me which I still have not resolved. The anger I've seen evoked in people I love has pained me. It has helped to relieve myself of responsibility to forgive the rapist by believing that only God can truly forgive. The legal system is so slow. Her rapist is in jail because of the preponderance of evidence, but there has been no trial and it is now fourteen months later. I'm not looking forward to that experience.
-Jes' mother, Carolyn
