Nina: “My mother started this form of abuse when I was still a baby”

Behind closed doors, Nina was made severely ill from infancy. This continued for 14 years, and then she narrowly escaped death. Nina was a victim of Munchausen by Proxy syndrome. Now it is called Child Abuse by Falsification. It is a form of child abuse where they (often the mother) intentionally make their child sick; both physically and mentally. The perpetrator does this to gain attention from professionals and their social circle.

My mother started this when I was still a baby

Of course, I can't remember any of that. I've done a lot of research for myself because I wanted to find out what happened to me and when it all started. In 2009, I found the courage and was advised by a pediatrician to request my medical records. I could then read that I had been in the hospital as a baby. According to my mother, my posture was not good, and I had some intestinal problems. I couldn't keep any food down. During the hospital stay, I quickly improved and was able to keep the food down.

From around my third or fourth year of life, there are memories of my troubled childhood

I remember that among other things, my mother gave me laxatives. I recall having to visit the general practitioner countless times. Soon after, I was referred to the hospital, to a specialist. There, I often underwent unpleasant and traumatic examinations. For instance, my blood was frequently drawn, but I also had to endure unpleasant intestinal investigations. This went on for years. I remember when I was eight years old, I couldn't go to school for over six weeks. I had lost a lot of weight because I often had diarrhea. I also had to vomit regularly. My mother made me incredibly scared at that time. She told me I had to go to the hospital, otherwise things would not end well for me. I don't know what the cause was when I couldn't keep any food down. During this period, we had a very kind neighbor, Aunt Lucy, who then urged my mother to take action because things were going very badly for me. I was then admitted to the hospital urgently and once again: I quickly recovered in the hospital. How much I had missed at school during those weeks. I was trying to catch up on everything, every year I was so afraid that I wouldn't advance to the next grade. I was already struggling with difficult problems like long division, and I had a lot of trouble with them at school. I barely moved up to the next class. But then things got even worse…

From the age of nine, I was suddenly no longer allowed to go to school at all

I still remember exactly how it happened and on which day it was. To get a better picture, I'm going to go back a few months, it was summer vacation. We never really went on vacation, but that time we went to a campsite in the Netherlands. That was an amazing week. There was a kids' disco and a large swimming pool. I swam all day long. Once I complained a bit about muscle pain and my mother invented a new disease. According to her, I had to have rheumatism or a muscle disease. I remember feeling very guilty at the time because I thought it was my own fault. It was late October, a few days before my mother's birthday, I was kept at home completely. According to my mother, I could barely get out of bed and I was walking very limply. In reality, my mother forced me to act very sick. I was not allowed to walk anymore and I was also not allowed to see any children. Everyone and everything was kept away from me. I was completely isolated. It was as if I was literally put into a cart of a roller coaster. A terrible rollercoaster and I didn't know where this flight was going to and also not when it would stop.

My earliest childhood memory is the bars of the hospital crib

But fortunately, I also have fond memories, and those were the moments when I was allowed to go to school for the first time. I absolutely loved school. I was very eager to learn and I had a very sweet kindergarten teacher. As for the unpleasant memories: I found the bars of the hospital bed so distressing, and often this was accompanied by unpleasant examinations or an IV. I would end up in the hospital with symptoms of dehydration, but as I could read in my file, I would recover quickly in the hospital. What has also stayed with me very strongly are the moments when I desperately wanted to go to school, but my mother would keep me at home because she thought I was too sick. I was confused because I didn't feel sick, but still, I couldn't argue against it.

My mother was always dominant and stronger

It also happened often that my mother would take me to a doctor, and then in the small, stuffy hallway at our home, I would receive all sorts of instructions on how to behave and what to tell the doctor. I was coached and I found this so confusing. I did not understand my own mother. Cheerful behavior was immediately punished by her. She told me how much she hated me because she thought I was a braggart. The sad thing was that after we had been to the doctor, according to my mother, I had not done it well (enough). I had not acted sick enough. At such times, my mother would destroy my favorite book or become terribly angry. I was always punished. Right before my eyes, she tore up my fairy tale book and started to curse. "You are a terrible child, do you hear what I'm saying?"

I panicked and felt anxious

I was really scared of my mother because she could get so incredibly angry. Whenever she cursed like that, a bit of spit would always come out of her mouth, and in the worst case, she would bite her tongue. I knew then that I had to be careful. Those are the saddest and most frightening memories I have of my mother. Fortunately, I also have warm memories of school. I had a best friend from the age of four, and her name was Claudia. She didn't live far from me, and we were inseparable. Eventually, we always walked to school together and back home together. She taught me how to roller skate because I wasn't very coordinated. She was always very kind to me. I was also allowed to come over to her house to play. I was never allowed to bring children home, but Claudia didn't mind.

My mother always managed to convince a doctor that I needed medication

For example, Agarol (a laxative) and later also painkillers. I believe some medications could also be bought at the drugstore, but there were definitely medicines that my mother had to get from the pharmacy, so that was on a doctor's prescription. How my mother managed to convince the doctors time and again for so long is beyond me. We did often switch doctors, I think this was because there were doctors who did not agree with my mother's wishes. In the worst case, we would move, change general practitioners or even hospitals.

Eventually, I also received very dangerous medication

To this day, I still don't know how my mother got hold of certain medications. I'm talking specifically about Luminal (a drug for epilepsy), muscle relaxant, and Vesparax (which was used as a sleeping pill and for euthanasia in the '70s and '80s). How could my mother administer these dangerous medications to me and for so long? I barely survived. I really thought I wouldn't make it. My mother often said literally: 'You're going to die, end of story!' I couldn't believe it and was literally paralyzed by her words, but especially by the way and the tone in which my mother said it. So cold, her voice so monotonous. It made me sad and sometimes I would freeze up. I would get chills. How could she say this so bluntly? It was as if she really wanted me dead. Even now, when I think back on it, I still feel cold.

My father has been very accommodating to my mother's behavior all this time

He stood behind my mother, at least that's how it seemed. There were sometimes tensions between my father and mother, but still, he let it all happen. He may not have known everything, for instance, he didn't know how much medication my mother was secretly giving me. What I find worst is that after I was rescued at the age of fourteen, it was explained to him what was happening to me, what my mother was doing to me. Despite this clarity, he always stayed with her. Moreover, when I told him that I wasn't sick during the first supervised visit with a camera, he literally said he would wash his hands of me if I kept saying such strange things. It was my father who literally said to the pediatrician Dr. Vrienten: "A dog that has been sick for so long would have been put down by now". In other words: my father was advocating for euthanasia. I made this discovery in 2009 when I received my requested files.

I don't know what I find worse, a mother who poisoned me like that or a father who said something so nasty

I remember dissociating because I was anxious during the visit after being taken out of my home, yet at the same time I used the camera to show the doctors and medical staff that my parents did not have my best interests at heart. I was looking for evidence of what I couldn't put into words. Now I know it's child abuse, a very serious and dangerous form that can actually lead to children's death. And that this severe form of child abuse often continues in the hospital. My father's role? My father could always be very unpredictable. He could suddenly become very aggressive. For instance, he once threw hot coffee over my foot. He also stood over me with a ladyshave at one point, threatening to shave my head. I was thirteen years old then. I remember my father was often at work. Later he became overstressed and I was blamed for that. In short, it was never safe for me anywhere. I couldn't turn to my father either.

A very attentive pediatrician realized that I was being made sick

I refer to him as Doctor Vrienten in my books (that's not his real name). He made a discovery when he approached other hospitals and requested data. In this data, he was able to identify certain patterns and ultimately concluded that there was nothing physically wrong with me, but that it was very likely my mother who was making me sick. It was about various facts such as improvement when there were few visitors, a pattern of complaints that was very unusual and did not match the clinical picture. My mother was always dominantly present. There had been many conflicts where I was taken home against advice. Psychological help was repeatedly rejected and my impending death was accepted. There were even more striking indications that were very worrying. When my father said in the last conversation, the evening before I was taken out of the home, that a dog that had been sick for so long would have been put down by now, Doctor Vrienten urgently contacted the public prosecutor. The police, ambulance, and the child protection services were also involved. Doctor Vrienten was genuinely afraid that my parents would harm me. On August 2, 1989, at the age of fourteen, I was urgently taken out of my home. That was absolutely my salvation. I would not have survived otherwise.

Nina has written an autobiographical book HIER. Her story has also been given a graphic design HIER. Created by comic artist Margreet de Heer and colorist Ruben Brinkman.