These parents have kept secrets from their children for far too long. But why do they choose to hide things from their kids? Is it in their best interests in safety or is it because the harsh truth may change their outlook on life?
Stories edited for clarity.
She Can’t Look At Him The Same
“My parents divorced when I was 15 because my mom was violent and abusive towards me. I moved out with my dad. I’m 25 now and she still tries to get me to hate my dad.
She decided to tell me some bad things that my dad did when he was young. Disgusting things. It changed a lot for me. It was nothing he ever did to me, it was before I was born, but it was still awful. I just wanted to keep thinking of my father as my protector, the person I Idolize.
I tried to not let those images get in the way, but they have. I can’t look at him the same. I’ve never told him, but I get nauseated when he tries to give me a hug.
So now I hate my mom even more for not letting me be happy, and I can’t stomach being near my dad.”
Too Young To Go Through All Of That
“My husband’s aunt and uncle are the legal guardians of their grandson, who is 8 years old. They were awarded custody after his mom and in-utero sister were murdered in some type of streetwalker/illegal substance scandal in another state. Evidently, his father also violated and abused him, which is why he didn’t get custody. He knows that his mother is dead, but that’s it. He was in the same house when she was shot.
His dad was murdered not too long ago. They aren’t going to tell him until he gets older. The kid’s already screwed up, and has routinely gone to school and recounted different ‘versions’ of his mom’s death to his unsuspecting classmates. It’s sad because he’s actually an intelligent kid who has understandable behavior issues. They’re working through them, but it just takes time.”
Finding Out Who His Real Father Was?
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“My parents divorced when I was 12 years old because of my father’s addiction, and he died of cirrhosis of the liver shortly after I turned 14. he was 20 years older than my mother. I am the oldest of three from their marriage (he had children from a previous marriage), even though I was the oldest both my younger brothers were twice as big as me and had straight-light hair and were also husky like our father, a stark contrast to my tiny-self with brown-curly hair. After my father passed, my mom moved us back to her hometown where she reconnected with a lot of her high school friends. She had this one friend Dusty, who was gay, who would hang around a lot and was a male role model for us (he wasn’t the stereotypical flamboyant type).
After I turned 16, Dusty was diagnosed with HIV. One day, after dropping him home after a doctor’s visit, it was just my mom and me in the car driving home. Dusty had left his hat in the back seat, I grabbed it and put it on and was admiring how I looked in the visor mirror and jokingly said: ‘Man, I look like Dusty in this hat…shoot he could be my dad.’ My mother turned ghost white, slowed the car down and pulled over.
She sat looking down at her lap and tears began streaming and finally said: ‘That’s because he is your father.’ Apparently the summer after high school, my mother and Dusty were best buds (he was openly gay then too, according to her). One wasted night, he decided he wanted to know what he may have been missing, so my mom was his test, I guess if you want to call it that, and she ended up pregnant. Her parents kicked her out of their house, she moved in with her sister and met my dad. It was originally just him taking care of her but they fell for each other and married two weeks after I was born. He is listed as my father on the birth certificate and gave me his name. She said no one knew who the real father was, just told everyone it was a one-time thing. After that, we ended meeting with Dusty and she told him, he said he knew but didn’t want to act a fool and ask. I spent the next three years getting to know my real father before he passed. It was hard having to lose two fathers within five years of each other.”
His Time In Prison
“So for my whole life, up until last year (I’m 24 now), I never knew how my parents met. They never wanted to tell me, and anytime it came up in conversation with other people that randomly came to visit, they would get quiet.
My parents came from a different country, so it wasn’t like I had easy access to anyone they knew and we were pretty much by ourselves, family-wise in the states. My dad always said he would tell us when my youngest brother turned 18 because he knew us older kids would blab about it. So we asked all the time, we waited, we tried to figure it out. We asked mom too, but she would just chuckle and say, ‘That’s his story to tell you.’
Time goes by, youngest brother finally turns 18, no story. He says there is no point to tell it with it having been so long ago. This is upsetting because I’ve been waiting forever. two years pass and it finally comes out, in a conversation we were having because he and my mom were getting a divorce.
So the big secret was that he was in jail. As it turned out, he hung around with some shady characters in his youth. One of them was a crooked cop. This crooked cop had some brilliant plan to unload a bunch of (hard) stolen illegal substances that his department had confiscated, and my dad was going to help him do it. But, they got caught while in the process and got sent to jail. How he meets my mom though – she lived across the street from the prison with her grandmother who worked in the prison. My dad’s mom, met my mom’s grandmother while visiting and paid her to look in on my dad from time to time, bring him stuff, etc. So that’s how they first met. My dad gets released from prison after about a year (when he was supposed to be serving a much longer sentence) because a bunch of people got bribed and he got his record wiped. This happened in a third-world country. But from that event, he remembered my mom and when he met her again a few years later, they got together, had some kids and are now getting divorced.”
A Father’s Confessions
“My father drank until I was 17 years old, which caused a lot of sad confessions from him.
Apparently, my mother was pregnant with a girl after my older brother was born, but before I was born. She got into a car accident in the beginning of her third trimester and bent the steering wheel into her abdomen. She was taken to a hospital and the fetus was monitored for a bit. They found a heartbeat and then left her in the room. A few hours later, the fetus died and my mother gave birth to a stillborn baby about a month later. This was at a military hospital in the ’80s, and this is why my father mistrusts military doctors. Also, my mother (oddly) passed away in a car accident when I was 10.
My older brother has always been a bit strange. He tried going into the military when I was 16 and kept getting recycled during basic. They eventually discharged him with ADHD and possible schizophrenia. We got him a psychological evaluation and he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I found out soon after that, from my aunt that my grandmother on my mother’s side was actually alive and living in a mental institution. I had been told the entire time my mother was alive that she was dead. This stuff did mess with me for a bit. I thought I was over it until my grandmother called me randomly one day. I was odd talking to her. I had no emotional connection to her what so ever and it felt like I was talking to a stranger. I asked my aunt to tell her not to call me again. I didn’t hate her, I didn’t love her. I honestly didn’t feel anything towards my grandmother.
Lastly, I gave birth to a baby boy about three years ago. I gave him to a friend of mine who was unable to have children and I was not in any sort of emotional or financial state to raise a child. She swore to me that she would tell him as soon as he understood. He knows now that I’m an important part of his life, but I don’t think he quite understands how. I’ve been suffering from depression for years, and for a while, the only reason I didn’t end my life was my son. I wanted to stick around and watch him grow up. Thankfully, now I have a loving husband, which is another reason why I don’t want to die.”
At Least She Made It Out Alive!
“My daughter had an identical twin who didn’t survive, and the man she knows as her father is not her father.
I was in an abusive relationship and the biological father decided he would rather us both be dead if I didn’t want to be with him, so he started driving into oncoming traffic. I reacted by fleeing the vehicle at 45 mph because I saw a cop car parked a block away. I opened the door and grabbed my knees and tucked my head and rolled out and ended up bruised and sore and killed one of the babies. But I made it the police and never saw him again.”
How Her Hamster Disappeared
“When I was 18 years old, my mom took me aside. It looked like she was going to say something important which scared me. Finally, she confessed that when I was 12 years old, our then 7-year-old dog, KiKi, had partially eaten my pet hamster that had escaped. She covered it up because she didn’t want me to hate KiKi. All I could say was:
‘I already knew that.’ ‘Since when?’ ‘Since I found the body and was too scared to tell you. But that would explain how she disappeared. I just thought KiKi ate the whole thing.’
My mom’s a big animal lover, so it affected her more than it did me.”
After Learning About Blood Types
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“I found out, many years ago, that my father is not my sister’s biological father, and I have kept the secret from her because my father asked me to since he believes it would mess her up.
My mother was pregnant when my parents met; dad has always known she wasn’t his, but it has never mattered to him. I only found out after learning that my parents both had O+ blood and my sister has A+.
I am torn as to whether or not to tell her because I would want to know, but I also think that it would mess her up to find this out at 40 years old. A few years ago, I got my mother to tell me the name of my sister’s biological father in case she asks me someday down the road.”
Her Mother Never Wanted Her?
“My sister told me my mother did not want me, not just postpartum but before. She was going to get rid of me. My sister did not let her do that, still, she tried. She drank, smoked, and did illegal substances all through the pregnancy.
I came out sooner than expected; small and weak. My mother tried giving me away. She threw me in a trash can. I don’t know who my father is nor will I ever know. All I know is that it was someone that slept with my mother while she was in one of her wasted stupors.
I wish I had not been told, but at the same time, I love my sister more than anything in the world for it. She is the only reason I am alive.
Don’t get me wrong, it was crippling to learn that you are an accident, something out of an addict’s mistake. That your mother wanted you dead and that she cared so little that she ingested nearly every bad thing one can take. Then dumping me in the trash, it was hard to hear these things.”
She Finally Brought It Up To Her Parents!
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“I was assaulted when I was 4 years old by my babysitter’s 13-year-old son. I don’t think my parents ever meant to tell me, because I brought it up once, and my mom said, ‘Oh, you remember that?’
Yes, mom, I remember seeing his lower half, shoved in my face. I also remember coming upstairs from their pantry (they were Mormon, and had that huge pantry with food to feed their entire family for like seven years) and getting yelled at from the babysitter, because we weren’t supposed to be down there. I remember going to see a counselor, at least I remember her name. I also remember being in a pink leotard (I was in dance) talking to my parents, but I don’t remember how it came up or what was said.
I brought it up last year. I’m 27.
I get not telling details, but if your kid has a memory like this, talk to them about it. Don’t hide it and make it a bad thing! Obviously, don’t normalize it, but talk about the reality of it, and let them process their feelings. Let them know what happened when they ask and are really old enough to understand, or at least let them know based on age-appropriate conversation.
I’m not mad how my parents handled it when I was younger. They did well from what I do remember. I just wish I knew more now, especially since he did other things to other girls, but I don’t know what. All I know is he got in trouble, but somehow it wasn’t for what he did to me?
What was screwed up was when that family sent us an invitation to his wedding.
And I just wish I knew more the sequence of events so I could better process it. How my parents found out, etc. I do have flashbacks sometimes, especially in intimate situations. I can’t do the same act now because of it, ESPECIALLY when pressured.”
He Was Suspicious For A While
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“When I was in the seventh grade, I was becoming increasingly suspicious that I might have some sort of mental issue. I’ve always had severe problems when it comes to socializing, and I was realizing that a lot of the things I did as a small kid were weird.
One day, my sister told me that my mom accidentally mentioned something about me being autistic. This wouldn’t have meant much to me, but at that age, all I knew was that it was a mental disorder and that scared the crap out of me. I asked my mom and she denied it, but the pieces started coming together and I realized what all the counseling was about when I was little. One day, I was given a form to take to my parents. I decided to take a peak and unsurprisingly saw that autism was checked in the list of conditions.
Five years later, and as far as I know, my parents still think that I just accepted my mom’s answer and don’t know that I know. I have never brought it up since, and though I’ve gotten far better and am now actually a social guy, I was a bit messed up for a while. I had no perception of what was okay and what was not, and the idea that I was simply insane or something caused me to not care. I only started showering regularly a couple years ago, and I have absolutely rotten teeth due to lack of dental hygiene for years that still isn’t that great.
Weird thing is, I never noticed how strange I was until a few years ago. It’s actually a mild case of Asperger’s. I’m better off now and everything turned out alright, but I was near falling into severe depression, several times, and I have no clue how bad things might have been. I wish my parents would have just explained it early on.”
She Almost Lost Her Son
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“I wouldn’t say it was a secret, my son knows this, and I can’t imagine it destroying his life, but this almost destroyed mine. I almost lost him.
I was in the Army and was transporting a soldier to the local ER near the base we were deployed to for training.
I was at the end of my first trimester, and despite the nurse-midwife, I was assigned to telling my company commander I needed to stay in garrison (meaning stay at our home battalion). They insisted I needed to go to Fort Polk. We were assigned to the rear in the TMC (troop medical clinic) in the field to take care of anyone who was sick.
That day, a pilot had gastroenteritis and needed to be seen by the ER docs. A far as I can recall, they were worried about dehydration. Well, I was bringing the pt in on a stretcher with another medic. I was just holding his IV fluids when I suddenly felt what I thought was water running down my leg. It was blood. I was admitted before the poor guy we brought in. The docs were convinced that I terminated, and got an ultrasound to confirm it. Lo and behold, my son was still alive! He was/is a strong-willed guy.
I was flown back to my home unit the next day by medical flight, and sad to say, the information at my home unit was mixed up, they all thought I actually miscarried, along with my son’s father, who was out-processing (his time in the Army was up), so he wasn’t deployed. I was wondering why everyone was avoiding me like the plague until my son’s father told me. The CO was reprimanded for doing what she did.
To this day I feel lucky but terrible that I didn’t fight harder to stay home and take care of myself/my unborn child. Thank goodness my son is ok; he has no problems at all.”
“The Father Anyone Would Like To Have Until You Know His Past”
“About two years ago, I was 19, my mom told me that my father assaulted and violated many of my cousins and aunts. At that moment, I hated my dad. I wanted bad things to happen to him so that he could pay for what he did. I was mad at my mom for staying by his side through all those times; she knew what my dad was doing but never did anything about it. She feared that our dad would do the same to us but never tried to get us away from him. I didn’t know what to think of my dad when my mom told me this.
My dad was my favorite hero, he was my prince charming, my everything. I still don’t know what to think. I love him because he’s so caring towards us; he’s the father anyone would like to have until you know his past. I wish my mom would have never told me. That’s a secret I wish they would have taken to the grave with them because every time I look at my dad, every time he tries to correct me when I’m wrong, I feel this fire, this anger building up inside me. When I told my dad I was gay, he gave me a speech on morals. He also told me that being gay was morally wrong. How could he say that, right? I wanted to kill him for trying to make me feel like an animal. I have a battle going on within me. I’m the type of person who would take a bullet for a stranger; I’m extremely caring and loving but my dad’s actions ruined me. I still have a hard time processing that not so new news. I can’t look my family in the eye because the conversation with my mother comes to mind. I feel like I have to apologize on behalf of my dad.”
The Truth About Her Great-Grandparents
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“This is a secret about my paternal grandmother which would devastate her if she ever knew.
My mother is a huge genealogy enthusiast. After getting as far as she could with her own family, she began researching my father’s side. In the course of trying to locate details about my grandmother’s parents, she discovered that my great-grandfather had more than one wife, and at least three other children. These people (if any of them are still alive), are my grandmother’s half-sisters and brothers.
The most heart-breaking part is that the mother of the three children died, and my great-grandfather took them to an orphanage. I know nothing else about them (and precious little about him since he used a false name to marry my great-grandmother), but I think about them often. My grandmother has no idea. I’m glad my mom has never told her what she discovered.”