Abortion Saved My Life
I have found myself trolling all the abortion topics on Twitter and Facebook lately. I guess I know how the Anti Abortion people feel in a sense. I feel like talking to these people is a waste of time, yet I still try to make them comprehend their feelings about fetuses are compromising their feelings about living and breathing women. Yet they don’t care. They continue to spout a woman should just suffer out a pregnancy that is unwanted. “Just put the child up for adoption” they say, while ignoring the fact that 23,000 children will age out of foster care (aka cheapest way to adopt) each year without ever finding a family. They ignore simple facts. Like if abortion became illegal, and say only 1/4 of those born children were placed up for adoption, we would need an ADDITIONAL 163,159 adopted parents per year when we can’t even get the 23,000 aged out foster children adopted. So I want to share my story. A story that a hand full of anti abortion folks will understand, while the rest will still shout I should have put the child up for adoption.
I am a sexual abuse survivor. And what I am about to say next is not an insult to other sexual abuse survivors. However my case was not the average. I was raped over 3,000 times and held captive in my home much of my childhood until I was 14. I’m one of those crazy cases you only hear about once in a while. Thankfully I was “saved” by foster care before the times of constant news, so my story didn’t end up blasted all over the internet and TV.
My father had make shift traps around doors and windows to keep me from escaping during the nights the older I got. In my younger years I had no idea that what was happening to me wasn’t normal. I was allowed to go to school unless I misbehaved. Mostly because my father had trained me from my youngest years to think “this is how daddy’s show their love”. Around 10 I realized it was wrong. I told the school what was happening to me. They called in CPS/DSS who took pictures of my bruised covered back and butt. Then they sent me home. A caseworker came out to our house on a surprise visit about a week later. My father didn’t even let her in, she was a black woman in the mid 90’s, and I later found out she was truly scared of my father when she became my first caseworker when I went in at 14. And I pretty much get it, but still, the system pretty much failed me by leaving me there an additional 4 years.
In that 4 years the rapes got much more violent. The traps were installed. The isolation grew more and more. School was a luxury for not fighting back and keeping my mouth shut. The threats towards my mother grew, with the occasional back hand to her face in front of me to prove how serious he was if I talked. So I behaved. I submitted in the only way I knew to protect myself and my mother.
Then comes a month after my 14th birthday. I missed my period for the second month. My father, who always kept track of this was the first to notice. Another week went by. He told my mother he was taking me fishing for the day. I wasn’t sure if I should be excited or fearful. Fishing meant an entire day out of the house. It also meant pulling into a cove for 15 minutes while he had his way with me in exchange for the freedom. So we packed the car, loaded the boat, and left the house. When we pulled into the landing and he dropped the boat off in the parking lot I was confused. I asked what was happening as we pulled away and the water view left my sight. He informed me that we were going to a doctors office and that I was to keep my mouth shut and let him talk. That is when I realized he must have known about my missed period.
We arrived at a doctors office about 2 hours later. When we got in my dad approached the desk and began talking about how his daughter was promiscuous and needed to be seen. I was told to go sit down, he continued talking. Shortly after I peed in a cup. Then I was put in a darkish room. I was given 2 pills, that I have no idea what were. They put me in a gown, made me lie down, and did a vaginal ultra sound. I was in fact pregnant. I heard the heart beat. I heard them talking about a timeline. 10 weeks. I laid there thinking about the fetus inside of me. My child who was also my sister or brother. I felt anger. Then I drifted off to sleep from whatever meds they gave me. I woke up in a room, in a chair, where other women were also laying. Recovery they said. And in that moment I fully comprehended the fetus inside of me was gone.
Now here I am an adult, 3 children of my own, an amazing husband, and in my 30’s. Now I can fully comprehend the reality of that moment. That moment saved my life. I am not sure I would have been physically or mentally strong enough to carry to term. I’ve never had a suicidal moment in my life, and I truly believe not continuing pregnancy is the only reason why. I could not imagine having to face my child sibling. Having to see my father’s face when looking at it. This, while simply saving his own ass, was the only good thing my father ever did for me. I realize that had I carried to term, my father would have likely had a much harsher sentencing than the plea deal he got. However it saved me from hating myself the rest of my life. It saved me from wanting to die. It saved me from carrying a child I never asked for.
I’ve made this long enough, probably so long most of you want even make it this far. However if you have, I want you to remember something. The next time you say a rape victim should just put the child up for adoption, somewhere there is a scared 14 year old carrying a fetus that is the product of incest fearing the changes about to come. You can’t say you are pro life while ignoring the life of that 14 year old little girl! You are a hypocrite if you believe that child shouldn’t be able to abort.