I was born on a Friday. My Dad says he never saw a bigger smile on my Mom's face then he did on that day. He said it was not as much of a smile, as a grin, and that it carried from ear to ear. My Mom says that as they handed me to her she felt a wave of recognition, as if she had known me before, and been waiting for me to return. That is when the smile broke across her face.

My parents met while in college. It was my Mom's Birthday and the beginning of the school year. She was enjoying her birthday party when she heard the knock on the door. There stood my Dad. My Dad and his buddy had just snuck into the girls’ dorm when the RA caught them. Thinking on his feet, my Dad heard the music coming from my Mom's room and quickly told the RA that he and his friend were headed to the party. The RA called his bluff and walked with him to my Mom's room. My Mom answered the door and saw that he was in a tight spot. She acted as if they were old friends. And so they met for the first time and became inseparable there after. They were married in a restaurant over Spring Break when they were 19 and 20.

I was their first child and only girl. My first brother arrived four years later, the second brother six years later and the last brother clocked in when I was nine. My parents had always dreamed of having a big family and they placed the family first. They led "child centered lives". My Mom stayed at home, volunteered in our schools, and played an active role in our lives. My Dad was active, too. He worked long hours but worked them from a home office. He coached the many sports that we played. They were always there to drive boy scouts or us to a friend’s house, or to dance.

We were lucky enough to have the full support of both parents as well as the extended family. Aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins were all just a few towns away. We had barbeques in the summer, built snowmen in the winter, and our birthdays were treated like national holidays. We were never left with babysitters because there was no need. We knew not to talk to strangers, and the schools made sure we knew never to take candy or get in a car with a stranger. A stranger did not abuse me. A trusted family friend abused me. Someone who was at those barbeques. Someone who helped build snowmen. Someone who gave birthday presents and shared in the celebrations. Someone who sexually abused me from infancy until I was eight years old.

My parents knew that something was wrong, but abuse seemed impossibility. They had no idea that 93 percent of victims know their attacker or that 63 percent of childhood sexual assault cases happen in private residences. All of the signs were there, but they could not see them. From small details like frequent cases of strep throat and bladder infections to more prominent signs such as sexual behavior and an obsession with sex, they were there. I was very depressed as a child. I had frequent mood swings, and was quiet and withdrawn. I would like to think that if a child today displayed the signs I displayed, abuse would be recognized. I would like to think that we are a better educated society today.