Prevention Begins Before the Pain: The Real Work of Protecting Children

April holds a special place in my heart as Child Abuse Prevention Month, a cause I care about deeply, both professionally and personally. As a mother of four, with children ranging from toddler to teenager, this month evokes a mix of reflection and urgency.

Child Abuse Prevention Month is dedicated to raising awareness and driving action to stop abuse before it starts. The need is undeniable: each year, at least 1 in 7 children in the U.S. experiences some form of abuse or neglect. In 2023 alone, over 104,000 children entered foster care. These numbers are staggering—and they’re not just statistics. They are stories. They are lives. And they are reminders that we must do more than respond to crisis; we must work to prevent it.

Before motherhood, my life played out in high-intensity arenas—trauma bays, resuscitation rooms, intensive care units, and later, racing from call to call as an officer in uniformed patrol. I’m no stranger to chaos or crisis. But even in the most harrowing situations, I was never truly alone- or at least not for long. Whether it was a nurse running to my side during a code or a beat partner on the way with lights and sirens, I knew backup was coming. That knowledge got me through countless critical incidents.

Motherhood, on the other hand, came with no reassuring radio traffic, no battle buddies, no shift change huddle. The adrenaline of hot calls and rapid responses replaced with the quiet, sometimes crushing monotony of diapers, bottle feeds, and spit-up cloths. The camaraderie of the nurses’ station and muster room vanished, replaced with long hours where the only conversation I had was with an infant after shuttling our older children off to school. I know what it feels like to parent in relative isolation, where nothing ever really feels like being “off-duty”.

Motherhood is a paradox: filled with love so deep it takes your breath away, yet laced with moments of loneliness, exhaustion, and tedium. You wouldn’t trade your children for anything in the world, and yet, there are days you quietly grieve the version of yourself that existed before them. It’s possible to feel immense joy and profound weariness at the same time, to be both grateful and overwhelmed. Welcoming a new life into the world often means saying goodbye to pieces of your own.

And yet, I am one of the lucky ones. I have experience, tools, education, and a supportive husband. But even so, there are days when the emotional load of parenting brings me to my knees. The weight of trying to meet everyone’s needs without completely losing myself in the process is real and relentless.

Now, imagine the parent who may not have the same resources that I do. The parent who’s barely holding it together, living paycheck to paycheck, working nights or multiple jobs, facing food insecurity or unstable housing. Add unresolved trauma, or the invisible battles of addiction, anxiety, depression, or chronic illness and it’s not hard to see how the walls can close in. Parenting under pressure becomes parenting in survival mode. And when people live in survival mode long enough, without rest or relief, the risk of harm multiplies.

Most people don’t set out to become a “monster” who hurts their children. Abuse often begins not with malice, but with exhaustion, frustration and burnout. It happens in moments when support systems fail, when there’s no one to call, no one to lean on, and no way out of the chaos. That’s why prevention matters. Because when we lift families before they break, we protect children before they’re harmed.

Preventing child abuse requires more than reacting to harm; it demands a proactive, equitable, and holistic approach. The CDC identified systemic barriers like poverty, food insecurity, unstable housing and a lack of access to education and economic opportunity as clear risk factors for abuse. These aren’t abstract concepts; they are lived realities that shape family stress. When we invest in solutions, like parenting support, mental health care, trauma-informed resources, and economic stability, we can reduce harm and build resilience. By addressing the root causes and investing in support services that strengthen families, we can reduce risk before crises occur.

We need to stop waiting for crisis before we care. Preventing abuse starts not with punishment after the fact, but with compassion before it ever begins. Check in on the parents in your life. Offer a hand, a meal, a hot shower. Offer your presence. If you’re a parent yourself, know that it’s okay to ask for help. It takes courage, not weakness, to say, “I’m not okay.” No amount of stress justifies abuse. Acknowledging this means recognizing that self-awareness and self-regulation are just as vital as community support. It’s not just about watching for warning signs in others, it’s also about recognizing them in ourselves.

Everyone has a role to play. Whether it’s mentoring, volunteering, advocating for family-centered policies, or helping reduce the stigma around mental health and parenting struggles—our actions ripple. Preventing child abuse is possible and it begins with the belief that every family deserves the resources and support needed to thrive, and every child deserves a safe, loving home.

The well-being of children is built on the well-being of their families. This month, and every month, may we strive to be the village that surrounds parents and protects children. May we listen without judgment, act with boundless empathy, and always remember: even the best-trained need backup.