NOP.
These three little letters drastically changed my life, who I am, who I will be, what I do... Everything....
NOP-Non Offending Parent.
I remember that day like it was yesterday, details so clear in my mind I fear even death won't free me. It was the end of July, a couple weeks before my daughters 4th birthday. She and I were in the car on the way to her friends birthday party. We were chatting about everyday things like we always do when she said something that made my heart completely stop. I pulled off the side of the road and turned around to her and said "What did you say?" She replied "I don't want to put the penis in my mouth." (Let me pause here to say she has a little brother and had seen his penis during diaper changes and knew what a penis was.) I said "No! You don't ever put a penis in your mouth!" That seemed to please her and she stopped talking about it, so we went on to the party. The entire time we were at the party my mind circled around those words. Had she seen something? Had s heard something? Where did my innocent baby get THAT idea?! When I got home that evening I asked my husband if he had any idea where that came from "Naybe you were watching a movie and didn't know she was up?" I said. He swore there was no way possible. "We don't even own those movies!" I agreed saying "I didn't know if you have some I didn't know about!"
I decided this had to be something she picked up from one of the older kids at daycare and let it go.
A few days passed. She said nothing...then a week..two..three... And finally, she said it again. I was in the kitchen, putting groceries away, when she came to me. Standing in the middle of the pantry, she said it again. "I don't want to put the penis in my mouth...." But this time she added more detail. More details that I couldn't deny and brush off. This time she ended that sentence with"The milk taste nasty." I immediately told her to show me what she was talking about.
She took my hand and led me to her room. She said "Daddy's penis in my mouth." I asked her to act it out with me. I said "I'm daddy, what did I do?" She told me to lay down on the floor, so I did. Sometime during the walk from the kitchen to her room I picked up a pen. As I was laying on the floor I held the pen up and said "This is my penis. What, now?" She took the pen and put it in her mouth.
Heartbroken and dumbfounded, I waited for my husband. How could this be? Not my husband! There is no way possible he did this to my baby, to OUR baby! We met at church! We dated all through high school! He joined the Navy and served his country to protect people! Some other man was molesting my child and forcing her to call him daddy! But who? My mind raced. Who had she been around? Someone at daycare? It had to be! That's the only other place she had been besides home.
When my husband got home I told him what happened. He was outraged! I told him I was going to report it because we needed to find out who did it. He was 100% on board.
I didn't sleep a wink that night. I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. Was it him? Was it my husband? The man I've been married to for five years? The man that fathered my children? No.There's no way. Right?
I reported it the next morning. Social workers came to talk to me that day. They talked to her as well. They said we had to go to the Advocacy House and we had to go now. When we arrived I was greeted by social workers, investigators, police officers, & NCIS agents. So many hands to shake, names to remember, business cards to hold.
My daughter was instantly taken away from me and placed in another room. I was not allowed to see her or listen to what she said. I sat alone in a waiting room, and lost it. I cried so hard. What was happening? This can't happen to me! I've got a good life! I did things right! I met a man, fell in love, got married, then had kids! We both worked hard, and loved our kids! How did this happen?
After what seemed like hours, the crowd of people came back to me and wanted to "ask me some questions." I was interrogated. I was asked personal questions about my sex life with my husband. Questions about how I discipline my children. Questions about my family. That's when I was labeled the NOP. I was told a protection order was being placed on me and the kids by the Navy and my husband wouldn't be coming home until this was all straightened out.
What...the...hell...is....
I stayed in contact with my husband by phone, and he'd sneak over at night when it was dark, and he wouldn't be caught. He maintained his innocence, and said this would all be over soon. I believed him.
He was arrested in early September. I still held onto hope that this was all a mistake. He was innocent. They needed to find the REAL pedophile and let my husband come home. My husband was a good man! Why were they doing this to us? They forced me to take my daughter to counseling, and they encouraged me to go to a group for NOPs. I refused. I wasn't one of them.
My family all wanted to talk about it. I didn't. I got mad. How could they ask me this? No, he didn't do it! He wouldn't! He loves me!
My friends all disappeared saying: How could I support him? Why did I let him do it?
Everyone looked at me like they felt so sorry for me. I hated that. People would pat me on the shoulder and say "How are you doing?" Such an innocent question but at the time it felt like ammo fresh out of the gun. No one understood.
He was finally offered a lie detector test and he agreed to take it. This was the moment we had waited for. Finally it was all going to be out in the open and he would be free and he could come home! FINALLY!
He called me from jail after the test, I asked how it went. He replied, "I don't know." At that very second - I knew. I knew I was wrong. I knew he did it. My whole world shattered. I walked around like a zombie. I cried over everything. I went to work and just sat there and cried. I struggled with day to day life.
Bad only got worse.
Since my husband was in the military, we lived in base housing. When he got arrested, he wasn't working. In November, he was discharged (OTH - other than honorable) from the Navy, and with that I was forced to move out of my house. In four short months, I lost my husband, my friends, the family I had pushed away, my sanity, and now my house. I had nothing. Broken and defeated, I called my Dad and moved back home with him two states away. I got a job fairly quickly and started getting back on track. I wasn't able to get my kids Christmas gifts that year. I had lost so much and just didn't have the time, money, or energy to shop. I remember feeling like I was nothing. Then my sister called me with the first bit of good news I'd had in months-the local radio station was sponsoring a family. All you had to do was tell the story of a deserving family. She told them our story, and they picked us! My kids got so many gifts from so many strangers. It was amazing. It restored a little bit of faith in mankind for me. I finally was able to hold my head up. It was getting better.
That all came crashing down in early February. I was standing at work when my phone rang. I ran outside to answer. It was my husbands former CO. He was at the hearing and wanted me to know that my husband pled guilty, and was sentenced to 15 years in prison. The pain rushed back. Any tiny ounce of hope I held on to was gone; I could no longer deny anything. It was real. It happened to my child. Instantly I began to hate myself. I must have been a bad wife. I must not have been attractive enough. I allowed this. I was there and had no clue it was going on.. Even worse I stood by his side and supported him through it. I was wrong.
The next few months are a blur. I was embarrassed by my story. I was a failure as a mother. I would wait for the kids to go to sleep and get in the shower to cry, I thought I was keeping it from them. Then one day, the kids and I were going to go somewhere and I said "I need to take a shower real quick." And my son, who was 2 at the time, said "So you can cry?" They knew all along.
The healing process started, and a few short months later I met a man that would help me heal. He made me happy, which was something almost foreign to me. Things were going good, and it felt good to move on. I came home from work one night and I heard the kids in the bedroom. I didn't see my new "boyfriend" anywhere. Fear swept over my body like nothing I had ever felt before. NOT AGAIN, my brain shouted and I all but ran across the house to the bedroom. I busted the door open, ready to fight, and found him putting a movie in for the kids to watch. Completely innocent. That's when I realized I needed help. I was never going to be able to get past this fear without a professional helping me along the way.
It's been almost 6 years now... And I write this with tears in my eyes and an ache in my heart. The pain will never go away. The questions will never be answered. I will never know for certain the extent of what my husband did. I will never know if it was only my daughter, or if he molested my son, too. I was never allowed to know what she said that day at the Advocacy House. I was never allowed to know what questions he was asked on the lie detector.
My kids are now 8 (son) and 9 (daughter). We have not discussed the situation since we left him behind in FL. I watch the time on his sentence tick away. Each day that passes, they take a day off for good behavior. If my math is correct, and nothing changes, he will be getting out of prison in about 2 years. That's a completely new and different fear all together. He still has parental rights to my kids. Will he try to see them? Will they WANT to see him? More questions with answers I don't have.
Life is good for us these days. The man that came along when my whole world was in shambles, is now my husband. We've been married for three and a half years, and though I hate to admit it sometimes I find myself wondering if he's going to be like my first husband. I don't think my daughter remembers the event in detail. I think she knows something bad happened, but doesn't know what. One day, if she asks, I will tell her... I just don't think it's time..she's still so young, and won't understand. Hell, I don't know if I even understand.
My kids call their step dad "Daddy" and never ask about their real dad. I know they will one day, and I will answer their questions as honestly as I can.
I hope my story made sense. I closed my mind, and opened my heart and let it spill out for you. I have never written this down, and in fact I have never given this much detail of my story before so it was a rush of jumbled thoughts, one after the other. I know I left a lot out. It's so hard to get the thoughts to come out straight.
I hope someone, somewhere, can take something from my story. If you are the NOP, please know you are not alone. The pain is just as real as (or possibly even worse than) the victim.
Knowing someone has hurt your child, and you couldn't/didn't stop it will crush you in unimaginable ways.
Something that cause so much hurt and anger before is now empowering. I can talk about it! I am not a victim, I am a survivor! I made it through hell and have two healthy, happy, beautiful children! No one can take that from me!
I'm so proud of you! You're an awesome mother!!
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