The Day I Woke Up To My Uncle's Lips and Fingers Upon My Virgin Va-JayJay

I was fifteen, I was a virgin, and I was violated by my favorite uncle. I knew he was a pervert, but I genuinely believed, as his niece, that I was an exception. Thinking back, even though I never would have classified him to be a pedophile- I knew that he was a pedophile... It sounds awful, but only now that I am grown and not at the disposal of his twisted lies and sick ways, am I finally able to identify and understand any of what was going on. What went on... 

The clearest way to describe the relationship my uncle and I had up until the incident, is probably best summarized as: a grown man's long-term efforts toward seriously brainwashing and grooming his niece. Blood-niece, might I add.* Brennon is my mothers full-blood brother. Way back before I ever even knew what "grooming" meant, I would have been unwilling to hear such a thing nor would I have allowed anyone around me to throw dirt on his name like that. Because, prior to that morning, I was truly under the impression that he was my BEST FRIEND, who I idolized and who "did no wrong," in my eyes. I knew he was sick in the head, but he made me feel like I was too, so we bonded on those common grounds, on which we were flawed. 

His pedophilic nature should have alerted me, but he knew how to edit and draft the thoughts in my head. I was fully aware that he was attracted to underage girls... But here's the thing, he "taught me" that ALL straight men are attracted to under-aged girls- and the only ones who aren't, are liars! When I questioned the morality of that idea, he assured me that it wasn't he who lacked moral integrity on the subject- because he would never just approach or suggest vulgarity to an under-aged girl; but that if a girl were both under-aged AND a slut who approached him- the only morals to question would be those of the young lady. After all, he was "just a man," and how dare she tempt.....Sick, right?

Well in lieu of his acceptance, I was able to make perfect sense of what he was saying and not only that- but I'd even go on to preach his word when the subject would arise in his absence. Never mentioning his name of course, and all the while, pretending the ideas were the product of my very own naive, little mind. As long as I was an exception, and as long as I could share in our friendship- I could accept anything that man said.. and I trusted him with all my little heart. 

Without knowing these details, it will be impossible for you to understand how I came to be so attached to Brennon in the first place:

So, my mom's mom had 3 kids (1 girl/ 2 boys); they each had 5 years of age between them, and in order from oldest to youngest it went: my mother; then Brennon; then my uncle Kelly.

My mom was not at all like her brothers, she was more of a preppy, judgmental type. She was a good kid, who got good grades; never got in trouble; didn't drink, do drugs or party. She always dreamed of being a cheerleader, but was much too shy and reserved to actually try out for the squad....

And then there were her two younger brothers- existing in direct contrast to everything that is my mother... They were punk-rock, gothic, skater-boys. They wore eyeliner, and crazy colors in their spiked or mo-hawked hair! They listened to metal and broke the rules, wore black leather studded belts, Converse, and baggy jeans. They were always partying and covering themselves in tattoos and just doing whatever the hell they wanted, at all times. 

Now, imagine, a sweet, little, tiny, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, mischievous, freckle-nosed tomboy of a girl who is clumsy but quiet, adventurous but restricted by the pull of a very tight-leash, at the hands of a mother who is never quite satisfied, and overly-concerned with opinions and social status. While mother marched to the beat of society's predictable drum, and tried her best to constantly correct me and guide me right- I was just enamoured with the grungy, punk-rock, "do what I want," party-lifestyle. Understandable, I'd say.

As time progressed and I got into my pre-teen and teenage years, Brennon started introducing me to aspects of the lifestyle which otherwise, I would have still had to wait years for... The irony there is that I thought this was limited to drugs and alcohol- but apparently that wasn't it. 

Oh, and for the record, though he was grungy and into that same scene- Kelly was and is still to this day- an absolute saint and just a hell of a man. He refused to provide me alcohol or drugs while I was a child, he refused to party with me, and many, many years down the road when he found out about the crazy thing that I caught Brennon doing to me, he punched his big brother in the face! Rocked him with that two-piece combo. For a million reasons, I will always love and respect my Uncle Kelly, he is truly good people. But unfortunately, this story is not about good people :/ 

So, whether that punk-rock lifestyle was 'part of me,' like I always thought, or if it had more to do with the era into which I was born, or maybe even to blame on my earliest influences during a "misunderstood" phase in my young life- whose to say.... I choose not to entertain the idea that I was "guided" toward that lifestyle; but at the same time, I wouldn't rule out the possibility, either. Because after it happened, I struggled with self-acceptance and entered a state of identity-crisis (and anxiety and a whole mess of other effects).

Waking up and realizing what was being done to my sleeping body was shocking and just too much for my young mind to process, which is why I mentally checked-out, instead. So, when it happened, I was speechless, I just gathered a fraction of my things and bolted out the back door, I didn't know what to think, what to feel, what to do- I just knew that I needed to GO....

So, I called this girlfriend I had at the time, Jacqueline, because she was the only other person I even knew that lived in that area, near my uncle. I'm from the country, and Brennon's house was in the city, almost 45 minutes from my stomping grounds... I just remember being SO relieved that Jacqueline answered the phone, we had been out late the night prior- and apparently she hadn't yet slept.

She was surprised I was calling, considering it was almost 5AM, She was worried, and kept asking what happened- but I refused to speak the words into reality. At that point, hell maybe I could pass it off as a nightmare? I didn't know what to make of it, I didn't know anything.... I just knew I needed to go and that's the only information I was able to supply to Jacqueline,

"I don't know, I just need to leave here," I kept responding. 

I never told Jacqueline what happened, but I know she knew something was very wrong because she stayed on the phone with me until she arrived, which was within a matter of minutes! I am gonna have to say she was just able to read the situation, without me speaking a word of details... Because when she pulled up, she rolled down the window and said,

"Where's the rest of your stuff?! Come get in the car." 

She put her car in park right there in the middle of his street, and as I hopped in the passenger seat she stepped out of the car and walked right into my uncle's house, emerging five or so minutes later, carrying two black trash-bags, my laptop, and my easel. She had filled the trash-bags with everything of mine that I had left in Brennon's house; bits and pieces of several years of accumulation.

As I peered at the items she carried, seeing my easel specifically, struck me odd. I still can't even explain it.... It was probably a year or two sooner, when I had ended up leaving that easel at his house, basically surrendering it to him... I was painting one day and I had taken some pills so I passed out, and I later woke up to see that he had taken over my damn canvas!

I don't even remember what I was painting at first, but when I woke up there was no trace of it! Instead he had covered my work, painted the entire canvas black, then at the center of the canvas he had painted what looked like a tornado of an equal combination of smoke and water in the shape or form of a woman's curvy body with a water-and-smoke-head as well. It had no facial features, it lacked any limbs or humanly details (kind of like a silhouette- but filled in with water and smoke, if that makes sense) the only distinguished feature on the "smoke and water lady form" was a very specific hairstyle. It was two-toned, platinum blonde on top and black underneath; shoulder-length, flat-ironed, and pulled into two quirky, low pigtails with dramatic tapered bangs (aka "scene kid bangs")...

Guess who had two-toned hair like that, and wore it in that exact style 80% of the time... Yeah, it was I. Anyway, I never understood the message behind the painting, nor why he was SO proud of this particular work, cause it was not his best. He made it a point to tell me how much he liked the way it looked sitting on display on my easel, so I felt obligated to let it continue to waste it's life, standing there in lieu of a frame. He had duct taped his odd artwork to my easel, I guess to put claims on it, or something... I mean, it worked- because I never bothered the easel from that point forward...

But the point of me saying all of this, is that on the morning that I woke up to the weird shit and called Jacqueline. She came to pick me up and took it upon herself to go in and get all the rest of my possessions- intuition which I was loving and appreciating.. Then just after she comes back out of the house carrying the excess of my stuff- that is where my recollection just dead-ends. She stepped off of the porch and turned her body to the side in order to exit the gate, I got a full-view of my easel that was tucked under her arm and I just remember thinking, "he is really ate up with that stupid painting..." There was something that just bothered me about knowing that following being caught in that sick act, Brennon would be unfazed and entertaining thoughts like taking the time to cut and free the canvas from the easel... It just set a very nonchalant/ light-hearted and carefree tone to the happenings- which, on my end, was the biggest event of my life thus far. I was devastated and so bothered....

However, that moment in which I made the observation about the easel is literally the last thing I remember from that morning...I don't mean, "I don't remember the rest of the day," - I could maybe make sense of that- but no, instead, there is a gap of time from that moment through to a couple years onward that is just GONE, absent from my brain...

Of course, I didn't realize the void in my memory until many, many years down the road... Why? Because the shit completely rattled and uprooted my whole existence and everything I thought I knew to be so...I did everything I could to avoid and ignore the thought... I was such a baby when that happened, I wasn't equipped to even begin to accept or process the reality of it.... So instead, I suppressed it as absolutely hard as I had to in order to pretend it never happened... I thought if I could just trick myself into thinking it had only been a terrible nightmare, surely everything else around me could remain as it was, and be unaffected by the situation.. Fair enough, right?

It was my first year as a high school student- and for the first time in my life I could say that I was actually enjoying school and looking forward to getting up and going everyday. Starting the school year in this new place, with less rules and more responsibility was exactly what I needed, to interest me in performing better academically. I started my freshman year with high hopes and high energy, and as a result- everything in my life seemed to be going better than it ever had before.. 

I was dating a boy i was really into; I was going to all of my classes everyday- showing up on time and getting decent grades! I had even been getting along better than ever with my mom....  I was rather popular, and gaining momentum- but that was mostly because I had the weekend party spot (Brennon's) and the "of-age" person to buy our alcohol and aid us in finding whatever drugs we wanted (Brennon).... 

So, as you can imagine, when the incident with Brennon happened 3 months into freshman year, things pretty much took a turn for the worse. It didn't matter that I never spoke of it to a soul, it didn't matter that I pushed it to the furthest corner of my mind and refused to acknowledge it; I could ignore it all I wanted- it didn't matter...The fact was, I simply couldn't erase it... I had integrated Uncle Brennon into my group of friends so hard that he was nearly seen as royalty by my schoolmates. They knew nothing more than that we had an "unforgivable falling out,"- but they kept in touch with him. They knew he was a pervert- but they kept in touch with him...Meanwhile, I faded out...Other than the wonderful beginning of the school year, that incident is the only memory I have from my first year of high school. I remember nothing beyond Jacqueline holding the empty easel on Brennon's porch. I can recall no memories from my sophomore or junior years either... I can look at photos from that two-year period, and I can obviously recognize myself however I can never remember being in the moment in which the photo was taken. That whole chunk of time is just, nothingness in my mind.

Remember how much I was enjoying my first year of high school? I'm so grateful I get to keep the memories of those first few months of school... Because after the "nightmare," nothing was the same. It just didn't matter how hard I tried to suppress it, it had happened and it really tried to ruin me. I couldn't enjoy school anymore, and I ended up dropping out. My mother told me for a couple months I pretended I was still in school, to avoid getting in trouble- but I guess she caught on pretty quickly and tried to force me to go back. She kept pushing, I kept resisting, and eventually I ended up moving in with my father, to get her off my ass. My father lived with his mom at the time, there was not much room but they let me move in anyway.

I ended up staying there a little over a year. I had no rules, no curfew. From what I understand I just spent that time partying and being reckless- again, this was during the timeframe that my memory blocked out so I base my understanding on photographs and stories. My mother said she would call me everyday, but I would rarely answer. She said it was one of the hardest times of her life, because she felt helpless to her child's struggle. She spent so long wanting to hear the words I wasn't willing to say. My mom couldn't stand me not being at home, especially knowing I wasn't attending school- so she waited for an opportunity to get me back under her roof, and finally it came.

I got in trouble with the police one night, but since I was seventeen, they called my parents to come get me instead of taking me to jail. Apparently I was at a big party that got busted and I was so messed up on so many different things- I was OUT OF IT- when the police officer asked me for my parents phone number, my dumb ass mindlessly gave him my mom's home phone number- so she came and picked me up.

She said she cried the whole way home, because I was so messed up, and that she took me to her house and I woke up the next morning puzzled, asking her to please take me back home (to my grandma's where I'd been living with my father)*... She drove me "home" but when we pulled up she also got out of the car and said she, my father and I had to have a "talk."

"The talk" was pretty much my mom demanding that I come back to live with her, so I could finish school and go on to live a meaningful life of purpose. I argued that I didn't have to live with her to accomplish that, but she pointed out that all I'd done since I left home was party to no end.

After some back and forth, she finally threatened that if I didn't leave with her at that moment, she was going to call the police on my father for letting me drink and do drugs under his care. Of course I didn't want him to get in trouble, so I packed my bags- crying hysterically all the while. 

And DAMN did it feel good to cry!! I couldn't stop crying once the floodgates opened; these were the tears of a girl who had bottled and held them back for YEARS. I couldn't even remember the last time I cried, I just knew that it was long before the "Nightmare at Brennon's" had happened...

That argument with my mother kicked off this long-awaited cry that stood to mourn everything I had lost and been through the previous couple years, including that terrible event that fucked my up in the first place.... I cried and cried all day long, until I cried myself to sleep that night, in my bed at my mothers. When I woke up the next morning, I felt different than I had in a long time. Better.

My mom enrolled me in night school, and I ended up earning all the credits I lacked in a matter of a few months, and was able to graduate on time, with my classmates, in 2009. Here's what's crazy though... I guess my cry-fest that day was enough of a release for me, because in present day when I think back, this is the point where my memory kicks back in- I retain all my memories beyond this point and I was able to move forward and resume a normal life, nearly unaffected... After crying that day, the burden became so much lighter that I was finally able to treat it as the nightmare it was. I didn't feel like it existed in my reality anymore. I kept that secret locked deep inside of me for many years to follow, and probably would have taken it to the grave with me- but something weird happened, and I'll be damned if it didn't bring the truth to the surface....

Fast forward about ten years... At this point, I had been married to the man of my dreams for about six years. We have a daughter, a couple dogs, a couple cats, a couple acres, a beautiful home- a beautiful life. 

One day, out of the blue, I get a call from a number I didn't recognize. Typically, I don't even answer calls from unknown numbers, however, we had some items for sale online so I answered it thinking it might be a buyer calling...

WRONG....

My husband was on a phone call in the same room, so I stepped out and shut myself in the bathroom so we could both hear our phone calls. I answer the phone, and guess who it is....

None other than UNCLE BRENNON.... and you won't believe what this fool says to me!!!!Mind you, prior to answering this phone call, I hadn't seen or spoken to him AT ALL since the incident, over a damn decade ago....

"Hey sweetie, it's your Uncle Brennon, how are you? It's been a while..." he says.

I instantly hang up the phone and am fighting back tears. 

He texts, "Please, I am begging you- this isn't about me, or you- I'm calling concerning a family matter. Please answer.."

So, he calls back...

and I go ahead and answer...

This mf proceeds to tell me that there has been an incident at his house, concerning his two sons, and he was hoping I could talk to the oldest of the two to console him... He said the boys have different mothers, the oldest is almost nine years old, and the youngest is almost two. He and the mother of the youngest boy are in a relationship and share a home, in which his boys share a bedroom. But, something happened, to which his girlfriend is "totally overreacting" and shaming his oldest son, as a result... He said the kids bedroom door was locked, so his girlfriend quietly popped the lock and opened the door, and to her shock and dismay, the older boy was sexually molesting her baby boy!!!! So, naturally, she freaked out!! (DUH!!!) She picked up the baby and was screaming at the older boy, shaming him for touching his baby brother like that! Brennon said in an annoyed voice, ever since that happened, his girlfriend won't allow his older son to be alone with the baby; the baby isn't allowed to go into the bedroom they shared, and she wants the older son to move out of their house and in with his mother, immediately...

(What is life, right now?..)

After a couple moments, I finally break my silence and respond, "Okay.... Rightfully so, Brennon... I am so sorry for your girlfriend and your youngest son... Beyond that, I have no idea what to even say to you right now, and I am even more confused as to what would compel you to call me about this?"

He goes, "Ouch. Well, I didn't know you wouldn't want me to call. I don't know who to turn to right now, for my boy... This bitch made him feel like a piece of shit, and you've always been so easy to talk to... I was hoping since we've kinda been there before, maybe you could talk to him and make him feel like he isn't just wrong, and twisted for what he has done."

I'm fighting back tears, I am APPALLED... "WTF are you talking about Brennon?!? Are you kidding me right now?! For starters, we have NOT 'kinda been there before,' it's only YOU who has 'kinda been there before,' I didn't have a fucking choice! And I was NOT okay with it!!! I was not okay!!!!"

He chuckles, "So, you don't want to talk to me, I get it.... Can you at least talk to my boy and help me get him through this?"

By now tears are pouring down my cheeks and I am screaming into the phone, "FUCK YOU, BRENNON!!!!!! You are sick in the damn head, and you always have been!!! People like YOU make it so scary to raise children in this world... You're mad at your girl for trying to put a stop to this sick shit?! If you really want my advice, take him to a mental institution and tell them not to release him until they've got all the 'YOU' out of his poor infected head!"

Again, he laughs.

"What's so damn funny?!" I demand.

"I am just remembering how cute you are when you're being so serious and throwing a fit. I love how much emotion you are always so full of. I miss you, Bunny." he says.

I cringe and say, "Throwing a fit??? You are delusional and disturbed. If I NEVER see you again, it'll still be too soon. The only emotion I am full of when it comes to you or anything to do with you- is sheer DISGUST. Please NEVER reach out to me again, under any circumstance. You may as well pretend I don't exist, because that's how I regard you and that will never change."

And before he could say one more stupid thing, I quickly hung the phone up... Then I slid down the wall until I was sitting, and I pulled my knees to my chest, rested my head upon them and just started bawling. 

*tap, tap, tap*

I hear my sweet husband's voice from the other side of the door, "Baby, can I come in?"

I reach up and twist the knob, and he steps in and takes a seat on the ledge of the bathtub. 

"I wanna tell you something I've never spoken of before, in my life." I say.

"And I want to hear it. Are you okay? Would it make you feel better if we went and sat down at the coffee shop to talk about it?" He is the most thoughtful man in the world. 

(And that sounds WONDERFUL, and under any other circumstance 'hell yes,'....)

But I tell him maybe we could go later for coffee, here's why, "Actually honey, this is the first time in a decade I've felt like I am capable of saying this out loud... I don't even want to keep it in another second, I don't want to give myself a chance to change my mind.."

He says, "spill."

And I told him every single detail...

I explained to him how I idolized Brennon while I was growing up, and how he started buying me and my friends any and all the alcohol and drugs we ever wanted back when I was in junior high. I told him that Brennon was my very best friend, and that I trusted him with all of my heart. I told him about Brennon's views and ideas and how he would feed them to me in a way that made them MY views and MY ideas as well... I told him about how Brennon taught me how to mix music and how to do the screamy-type vocals you hear in metal music; he taught me how to steal shoes from the mall, by wearing flip flops in and leaving the flip flops in the shoe box in place of the new ones- which I would then just walk out of the store wearing. I told him how Brennon taught me how to do a keg-stand and even let me sing back-up vocals for his band one night when he got in a fight with his backup vocalist on the way to a local show. I told him how Brennon didn't believe in marriage and had preached the reasoning to me to the extent that I felt the same way and made me promise him I'd never get married. I told him how Brennon got me into modeling, and how I got to start with an advantage because I had a built-in photographer (Brennon, himself)- and of course, he made sure I understood that no company or brand would take me seriously if I didn't have boudoir/ lingerie photo samples in my model portfolio - and again, how lucky that I had him as my personal photographer- because this way I was able to avoid the risk of dealing with creepy photographers and compromising situations. I told him about how Brennon would only fuck with underage girls who propositioned him first- cause it's okay to engage with minors as long as the man isn't the one to initiate it, after all the sluts would just go after someone else if he declined them- so better he go ahead and fuck them so at least he can be sure that they are safe and in good hands!! I told him about how one night I was having a party at Brennon's, and this boy who I'd had a crust on for several years showed up for the first time (despite that I'd invited him to come every weekend for the previous two years)- he FINALLY came- but Brennon kept picking on him all night, and then at some point, I took that boy into the guest room with me, and was making out with him and potentially about to lose my virginity to this boy, and Brennon broke the door to get in there and beat the kid up. When I asked why the hell he did that, he played it off, "You're my fucking niece.... You're never allowed to have sex!!! One day when you have kids (when you're WAYYY older)*, you'll be able to understand." and when he put it that way, I DID understand, and I felt so, so loved, and apologized infinitely for my behavior. I told him about how when My Uncle Kelly's first daughter was learning how to talk, the way she pronounced my name (Brittany) sounded more like the word "Bunny," and it was so precious, but Brennon heard her say it and decided that from then on he would call me Bunny as well, and a short time later he got a tattoo of a pink bunny, with gray eyes like mine- and he presented it to me as though it were a surprise for me...I told him about my easel and canvas, and how Brennon claimed the canvas as his own- painting over my picture, a weird smoke and water lady with my hairstyle and then duct taping that canvas to my easel....And then, finally, I told him about the nightmare....

Brennon, myself, my friend Jacqueline, and her friend Taylyn had gone on an outing the night previous. He took us three girls to a local concert venue to watch his buddy's band, "Rouge & Ruger," perform. Brennon gave us each an ex pill and we were all drinking liquor all night. The rolls were "Blue Dolphin's," and the drank was cheap whiskey, which we drank from Brennon's belt buckle flask. We'd take turns taking the flask to the bathroom for sips, so the venues staff wouldn't see us girls drinking, despite the huge black X's that were drawn on the back of our hands at the door.

From what I recall we had a good time, the end of the evening became a blur, which was absolutely not uncommon. Jacqueline and Taylyn couldn't stay the night, which wasn't revealed until after the show. It was obvious that Brennon was less than thrilled about this, because she had been kinda dancing on him and flirting with him all night, so he probably had it in mind that he would be getting him some Taylyn after the show. But when that didn't happen, and it was already after 2AM, there was nothing more to do than go home and go to bed. When there was a group of us, we'd always opt for after-partying, but on this night, me and Brennon were the only two that remained- and as I said, my blur-stage was in full-effect and I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep! Which, when we got back to his house, is exactly what I did. I took a quick shower, because I fell when we were leaving the venue and what I landed in was more than likely a puddle of piss :( yuck.

I remember I could feel each individual stream of water coming out of the shower head hitting my skin and it felt and sounded like the buzzing of a symphony of obedient bees (gotta love Ecstasy)...and when I was finally able to drag myself from the hold of that sensational shower, I put my hello kitty pajama set on, and slid into the bed in he guest room and I was asleep within seconds, seriously. I was soooo tired!!

Now, here's where it gets bad....the next thing I know, I am startled by an unfamiliar feeling, and it jolts me awake... I open my eyes and see nothing or no one right in front of my face, and I just lay there motionless looking at the ceiling for a minute... I guess the lack of movement made BRENNON think I hadn't woken, so he proceeded with what he was doing that woke me up in the first place.... So, a crazy, shocking feeling of violation is sent through my body, and causes me to yank the blanket off of myself, only to reveal my uncle laying on his stomach  between my legs with his mouth and one of his hands literally ON my va-jayjay!!!!! He's got my panties and my hello kitty pants pulled down to my knees and his other hand is on... himself  !!!As if that's not disturbing enough, being caught doing this didn't even prompt him to move!! He looked up from what he was doing and had a dumb ass grin on his face! I tried to scoot away from him but he was partially laying on one of my legs, somewhat immobilizing me, so I hiked up my free leg and kicked him in the face. That was enough to make him hop up and walk out to the bathroom cupping his face with both hands, and that's when I quickly gathered a few of my things and dialed Jacqueline to come get me.

It was so hard to tell my husband this story, I just looked down at my lap most of the time while I was speaking, because there were tears rolling down his cheeks. Of course, consequently, I was crying as well. And the whole time I was telling him the story, we were ignoring the constant buzzing of my phone. But once I finished telling him, and the phone was still buzzing, my husband grabbed my phone.

"Is that the MF you were just talking to? and he has been blowing your phone up ever since you hung up?" he asked.

I nodded my head, indicating so.

My husband answers the phone and steps out of the bathroom.

"Is this 'Uncle' Brennon?" he asks in an aggressive, sarcastic tone, "This is her husband, and unless you'd like to meet me and hash some things out, you better quit calling this MF phone...I know what you're about...."

..His voice fades off as he walks toward the front door, until I can't hear him at all, because he has stepped outside to finish the phone call....I stood up from the bathroom floor and looked into the mirror. As I stared into my own eyes, within them and all over my face I so clearly saw pure relief. I had spent the past decade completely unaware of just how badly I needed that relief. Then, I was free to start living my life, void of burden. What a blessing.

Carrying heavy burdens around in secrecy is poison to your soul. If you have been through a traumatizing experience that you've been keeping to yourself, I hope you will consider freeing yourself, by opening up to someone you can trust. It's not gonna be easy, but you'll be glad you did it. 

Be gentle with yourself, and hold your children close- always ask questions and make yourself available and easy to talk to.