"Silent House"

I feel the need to launch this post with a bit of fair warning. So here it is, Fair Warning.

I'm not going to tell some funny story about life in Lagos. I would love to tell a nice story about a woman who was my friend years ago and how blessed I am to travel the world and meet amazing women every single day. Because I do. I meet amazing women every day; women who do what I'm doing - follow their spouses around the world, raise babies in countries that are not their own, leave friends, parents, siblings and grandparents behind and cling desperately to other women who understand this delicate dance we all do. The one that balances a love of adventure with an inner sadness and longing for loved ones left behind.

Several years ago when I lived in Australia, I spent most of my time with an amazing group of female friends. Most were expats like me from all over the world but many were Australian. We were almost exclusively all new mothers who met through playgroups or expat social groups. Australian or not, most of us were in a very new phase of life; not working and raising babies. It was a wonderful time filled with collective groans and giggles. We shared every drama - big and small. Poop and puke, crushing fatigue and countless champagne playdates. We watched each other go from being pregnant to being post-pregnant to getting pregnant again. One of my friends lost her husband. Another lost her mother. Some went back to work. We shared everything. The hardest part was slowly watching our group disband as one by one, the spouses' jobs taking us away from eachother and on to the next adventure.

Rachel was a woman who joined our group about a year into our assignment. She had a very little baby and a husband who worked most of the time. My friend Becka found her and quickly brought her into the fold. I think I can actually recall her saying, "this girl needs us". But Hell, we all needed each other. Her situation was not unique. We had all jumped on a 20 hour flight with babies and a spouse whose only purpose in the country was to work. She was funny. She was kooky. She had a lot of amazing stories about her "old life". She had had a whirlwind romance with her husband and like most women in their late 30s, jammed a wedding, a baby, and a move into a 3 month period. Again, it wasn't uncommon to meet someone in her circumstances.

It was uncommon, it seems now, that said husband gave her grief over a much needed Girls' Night Out. He spent his free time making low budget independent films because he wanted to go back to CA and be a film director, ditching his lucrative consulting career. He spent an obscene amount of money bringing his vintage mustang to Australia but seemed upset if Rachel spent too much having coffee with us. If memory serves, I think he gave her an allowance because she didn't have a bank card - even after several months of living in Melbourne.

After I left Australia, I threw myself back into my career and being a working mother. Work, soccer, girl scouts, birthday parties, PTO. Everyone has been there and everyone knows how it sucks you in. Email and facebook were my primary means of keeping in touch with my old crew - who I missed desperately. I saw a few girls at a reunion weekend in Tampa and Savannah but like most situations - summer camp, college, trips abroad; you can really only stay connected with a fraction of your original group. People, do eventually return to their "old life". 

Rachel had two more children, and in a very short amount of time. Her Facebook posts were always about the children and many of her pictures were self-portraits made with her camera phone. Glancing quickly (as one does in a culture driven by facebook posts), it never occurred to me that her husband was rarely in the photos or taking them for that matter. Everything was about those kids; 3 under 4 years old. As usual I assumed she was doing what the rest of us were doing -  treading water and just trying to be the best parents we can. The rest will work out later right?

Last week, Becka told me that Rachel's husband killed her. He actually stabbed her. With scissors. In their home. With those poor babies in the house. This happened in February - over 6 months ago. 

My reaction to this news has changed daily. Probably hourly. How could we not have heard sooner? Why didn't we talk more? Why didn't she him leave sooner? How did we not see that man as the cowardly piece of filth that he is? Why didn't she lean on a friend? Who were her friends? How come they didn't see it? Why didn't we? How in God's name do you not see someone is truly, desperately in danger like that?

Her Facebook page still exists. I find myself going there looking for clues. Looking at pictures of Rachel's "old life". From before.

But all I see are heartfelt notes of people that loved her and miss her. 

Rachel's Childrens Fund 

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