In the throes of abuse, innocence is forever lost.

My sister and I were standing in the kitchen prepping for dinner when my husband's cell phone rang. He answered and almost immediately, we heard him shout. I, of course, raced out of the kitchen to find out what was wrong. He held up a finger, indicating I should wait before peppering him with questions as I have a tendency to do.

I waited as patiently as I could while he prompted for more information about whatever he was being told, his face set in grim lines that said all I really needed to know. Whatever he was being told; it wasn't good news.

Within minutes, he put the call on hold and confirmed my suspicions. His childhood friend, Justin (JD as he has always been referred) was in jail, having been charged with murdering his two year old stepson on Wednesday.

According to the friend that delivered the news, JD took Christopher to the hospital on Wednesday, saying he had fallen from a picnic table and hit his head. By the time he got there, the little one was already dead. The hospital called the police who in turn investigated the incident as generally happens when a child dies from such injuries. According to their investigation, the injuries simply didn't match the story they were being told and yesterday, they officially charged him with murder.

My husband sat there for a few minutes after ending the call, looking heartbroken. My heart went out to him. While we do not have children of our own, he treats Kaia, Alo and Aybra as if they are his and even a small tumble sends him leaping to his feet to grab them up and ensure they're okay. He worries about them as obsessively as I do and we have long become accustomed to his tradition of greeting the children after work before he greets me. They aren't his children, but they're as close to it as to make no real difference.

He adores all children and wants his own children as desperately as I do. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that when it's our time, he will be one of the most amazing fathers to be found and our children will never have an occasion to question his devotion to them. So, to learn that one of his childhood friends is now being charged with murdering his own stepson has to be an unimaginable blow. Simply trying to accommodate this new information and fit it in to all of the memories he has of JD cannot be easy. And that makes me rather angry.

During my senior year as a homebound student, one of the girls I had went to public school with, worked with, and talked too often shook her baby so severely that the child never woke up from the coma he slipped into. At the moment I heard the news it was as if this rift opened in my mind and divided the girl I had long known in two. She was the friend who whispered with me in Home Ec and chatted with me across checkout lanes... but she was also this foreign creature I couldn't understand, this near heartless monster that killed her own child in a fit of parental temper.

At the time someone told me that, having never had children, it was understandable that I couldn't grasp how someone got so upset with a child. I still don't have children all these many years later, but I live with and care for three day in and day out. I know how trying they can be and even so, I still cannot fathom losing my temper and lashing out at them and I doubt I ever really will understand such a thing. To be honest, I don't think I ever really want to be able to understand such a thing.

After absorbing the news of JD this evening, my husband looked at me and asked how someone he knew, liked and had always trusted could do that to a child. He felt, as I did in high school, somehow betrayed by the news. I didn't really have an answer for him and I still don't.

I've ranted about idiotic and otherwise worthless parents so many times now that it's almost pointless to do so again. But for the life of me, I will never be able to understand how one gets so angry with a child as to cause that child physical harm. To me, it's not only unfathomable, but it's abhorrent.

Everyone has these various reasons why child abuse happens and that always irritates me. Child abuse is child abuse. It doesn't matter if the pregnancy was unplanned, if you were hopped up on drugs, if you were abused yourself, or if you have medical or psychological issues. There is not now and never will be a reason, excuse or explanation to justify such a thing.

We always teach our children to walk away when they get angry and give themselves time to calm down. That advice should go threefold for any parent. When you feel your temper starting to creep up, it's time to walk away. Get some air, hide out in your room, call a neighbor. Anything to keep you from lashing out at that child is better than doing nothing and giving in to that red haze of rage.

Three children die every day as a result of abuse and as you're reading these words, at least one other case of abuse is being reported somewhere. Of those children, eighty percent are being abused at the hands of parents and caregivers.

It is because of stories such as this that I believe all new parents should be required to take parenting classes. We must prove that we are capable of handling a car before we're ever put in the drivers’ seat. How can we not expect something similar before putting a child into the hands of someone with the potential to do as much harm to that being as a driver may do to another with his car?

Just because one has been a child him or herself and just because one should know better doesn't mean that one knows what to do when it's them staring down a screaming child. It may not solve child abuse, but giving new parents tools for dealing with those rising tempers is infinitely better than doing nothing and hoping that things will turn out well. As we already know, parents don't always know what to do, things don't always turn out well, and another child is forever lost to the world.

To learn more about the signs, symptoms and life long consequences of child abuse and what you can do to prevent it click here.