I’m wandering the streets of Paris with my daughter, searching for a café near the Eiffel Tower. But this isn’t just any café—it’s a special place where I plan to reclaim my strength and embark on a fresh start. I can almost feel it in my bones because I’ve envisioned this spot in therapy as my safe haven, a retreat from the memories of violence and fear I endured during my marriage.
This Parisian café, with its view of the Eiffel Tower, was a figment of my imagination—a sanctuary I created to escape the memories of my ex-husband’s abuse. It’s where I found solace when the memories of stalking and terror became overwhelming, and I knew that once I visited this place with my daughter, it would symbolize the end of my years of suffering and the beginning of a peaceful life. I had always promised myself that after I broke free, I would come here and finally breathe easy, shedding the shame that had clung to me for so long.
As we stroll hand in hand back to our hotel one evening, I finally spot the café. My heart races, and tears fill my eyes—we’re here, we’re safe, we’ve made it. I request a table at the perfect spot where I can gaze at the Eiffel Tower’s glow. My body remembers this place; it feels like I’ve been led here for a reason. I’m on a journey to reclaim who I was before the trauma, when my heart was open and free from fear.
Going through severe trauma alters your entire being; it changes your mind, your body, and even your DNA. But here in Paris, I finally feel like I can let my guard down. For the first time in ages, I’m at peace. This city represents not just a new beginning, but also a powerful ending.
It’s the conclusion of my connection to a man who once shattered our home while I hid my daughter in a bedroom, terrified and calling 911, pleading for help. When the police arrived, they confirmed what I feared—this was violence, and I needed to escape (Protection Order #1).
Many people misunderstand domestic violence. When you’re in it for so long, it becomes your “normal,” and you start doubting your reality. You think, “As long as he’s not hitting me, does it even count?” Most women try to leave their abuser several times before they actually succeed, and I was no different.
This trip to Paris is my triumphant finale, a defiant gesture against the man who stalked me relentlessly. (Protection Order #2) The man who invaded my privacy, installed cameras in my windows, and followed me home from daycare while I begged for help (Protection Order #3). It’s the closure to painful court hearings and a legal system that often fails to protect women like me. He received a mere six-month sentence for the years of terror he caused.
He was not just my daughter’s father but also a threat I vowed to protect her from at all costs. I endured two years of living in fear, constantly assessing the risks around me. I moved three times, hoping to find safety, but he always found me. More police, more court dates, and more times I had to prove his actions while he simply denied everything. Friends would say I didn’t look “abused enough” in court, as if my appearance was a reflection of my experience.
Statistics show that 1 in 4 women will experience severe intimate partner violence in their lifetime, and 1 in 7 will face stalking. It took me years to understand that I didn’t choose this life—abusers choose their victims, manipulating them until they feel powerless. But when I became a mother, I discovered an inner strength I never knew existed—a fierce determination to build a better future.
And now, I find myself at the café on Avenue de Suffren, beneath the bright red awning, with the Eiffel Tower watching over me. I’ve brought with me a gold necklace I wore to every court hearing—a pendant of a mother and baby giraffe whose necks form a heart. I thought about leaving it behind as a symbolic farewell, but now it doesn’t feel right. This necklace represents my strength and the bond I have with my daughter, not just the pain we endured.
Telling others about her father has never been easy, but today, in this café, I’m choosing to rewrite our story. I’m ready to embrace our narrative of resilience and the immeasurable love of a mother.
If you’re looking for support in your own journey, check out Make a Mom for at-home insemination options or join the Make a Mom Facebook group to connect with others. You can learn how at-home insemination works through this helpful guide. Plus, for those interested in home insemination kits, Make a Mom’s Impregnator kit is a great resource. And if you want to learn more about treating infertility, ACOG has excellent information on the topic.
In summary, this journey to Paris symbolizes not just the end of my trauma but also the beginning of a new, empowered life for me and my daughter. It’s a testament to the strength of a mother’s love and the courage to reclaim one’s story.
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