My Abortion Story


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.

I’m a Bad Mom and That is Okay!

Yes I said it! I’m a Bad Mom!

Please don’t say “oh no, you’re a great mom”. I’m not! It took me a while to come to this point, and for me to realize that I am OK with being a bad mother. My children have a roof, food, clothes, gadgets, toys, and are loved. I have come to the conclusion that I am OK with it just being that.

I created 3 amazing kids, but I am no longer going to pretend I am a great mom. I am someone who wanted children for selfish reasons. My children were all brought into this world so that I could create and be responsible for little people. My lack of family lead me to want to create my own family. Which I did. Now these beautiful little me children are my responsibility, which leads to why I am a bad mother!

10 Reasons I am a Horrible Mom and a Bad Parent

  1. I hate playing with kids! I always have. I would rather talk science or show them how to garden than have a tea party or watch their magic show (did I say I hate magic, well I do I HATE magic even though my oldest loves it). The thing is I have ZERO imagination or creativity! I mean none! I don’t plan on pretending to like any of these things either. I also do not intend to pretend to like playing with dolls or racing little cars around on the floor. I just won’t do it! They can join me outside in the garden or play some minecraft with me, but I will never do the pretend stuff.
  2. I use bad words A LOT!! I mean a lot. I am never going to believe that cussing around my children will some how turn them into horrible people. So yes, I cuss in front of my children. Do I run around dropping the F bomb every two minutes? No, but that has nothing to do with the kids, I just don’t use the F word often. I don’t cuss in front of other people’s children, but mine know that mommy says words that aren’t ok said anywhere other than home or with close friends.
  3. I have zero patience and I’m a control freak! These go together because I am demanding. I want things done the way I want them, when I want them. My expectations are really high! This is not something that goes well with the average view of parenting at all.
  4. I am not a peaceful parent! As much as I like to think I can be a peaceful parent and as much as I TRY to be a peaceful parent, my natural personality leads me to be loud, demanding, and hold my little children to grown up expectations. I keep wanting to be the mom who never raises her voice, that remembers children will be children, and to always treat my kids the way I want to be treated. It doesn’t always work that way for me. I’m a loud person. This goes with the demanding part of me. It’s kind of hard to hold my children to my high expectations AND be a peaceful parent. Sometimes I yell, and (gasp) argue with my tween!
  5. My kids eat fast food sometimes. Once a week we eat food that is horrible for us. Yes I do feed my kids that pink slime (McDonalds) sometimes even though I know it will likely cause cancer for some people.
  6. I don’t home school. This is a big trend right now. I’m happy for those who can make it work, but there is no way in hell I will ever have the want or ability to home school. I really give credit to those who can. Such an amazing ability to keep their kids out of crappy public schools, but my schedule, life, and body will never allow me to home school.
  7. Sometimes breakfast is candy! Yup, I simply give in and say yes to candy for breakfast sometimes! No I do not argue the benefits of a healthy breakfast every single time. I just say “here, have it”
  8. Bed time is Bed time! I mean it. Unless you’re sick, dying, the house is on fire, you have to pee, or there is a burglar in your room I will not come back in and tuck you in 20 times and you will not get up and down. You don’t have to go to sleep, but my kids aren’t going to be bothering me after their bed time. That’s my me time and my couples time with my husband! Sorry, but I have to have uninterrupted time without children each day to stay sane!
  9. I don’t force my children to shower every day. Would I like it if my two stinky boys washed daily? Of course, but I have explained to them the possible consequences of not washing, if they want to deal with it then that’s on them! My toddler gets a bath when she asks unless of course I can no longer tell what color her skin is because she’s covered it in mud.
  10. My kids play a ton of video games and love TV. Everyone in my house enjoys gaming and TV, and (gasp) sometimes a lot! TV’s stay on most of the time in our home and there are 4 tablets usually going at the same time with a possibility that the XBOX might be on too! We are gamers and netflix bingers!

Why Am I OK With Being A Bad Mom?

Until recently I wanted to keep pushing towards being a better parent, to be the parent everyone pretends they are. Then I woke up this morning and said screw it! My kids are smart, healthy, and provided for! I have an 11 year old who is smart beyond my understanding. He’s a critical thinker of all things. He questions everything, and that is amazing! I have a 9 year old who can throw a football further than many grown men. No matter the sport he can conquer it like a natural. He puts me to shame every time he competes against me and I think that is pretty freaking cool! My baby is 4. She is so bright and creative that sometime I forget she is only 4. She’s been drawing little people since she was 1. She draws better than I do. On top of that she has conversations like an adult would. She is the little more amazing version of me!!

So why should I feel bad about being a crappy mom? My kids are cool!! So be NORMAL people! You can read a million studies about what is best for your children, but when it comes down to it if they are happy and healthy, maybe, just maybe, you aren’t that bad of a parent!

To All of You Perfect Parents

No matter how perfect you think your parenting is, reality is we all screw our kids up a little! We just do. You are no different than any of us “bad parents”, your kids might just be screwed up in a different way!

So I will take being a crappy mom, because trying or pretending to be a great mom is exhausting! If my kids will end up messed up either way, I might as well keep myself in the process and not fake it till I make it! After all, we are talking about little people with brains of their owns. As long as they are provided for and not abused they will make it!

I love my kids, they love me! That is all that really matters!