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Recurrent Nightmare

August 16th, 2010 · 10 Comments

Everyday I’ve been waking up with a sick feeling in my stomach. It’s a truly awful ache. It’s hard feeling sick all the time. Then sleeping fitfully, night after night, makes everything feel impossible. I had a dream a few nights ago that I had a baby in prison. It was a weird dream with more of a 24 espionage feel to it than a Locked Down feel. (Yes, I compare my life to TV as often as possible. I’m THAT girl.)

In the dream someone (I think it was the baby’s father) had taken her for some sort of field trip away from prison. I spent most of the dream wandering in and out of my cell, collecting pieces of red embroidery floss and needles. I don’t know what I was doing with them, but it was of the highest importance. I had a whole contraband stash of the red embroidery floss that I was going to do something very important with…and then I woke up. So I have no idea what I was going to do with it. Goodbye bad dream, hello waking nightmare….

I’ve been very quiet about my current (real life) pregnancy thus far because my last pregnancy ended in miscarriage, but (big BUT!) I’m pregnant. Unfortunately my pregnancy has coincided with some very serious marital issues. I am not quite sure what is going to happen or how I even feel…other than totally fucking sad. I need to protect the little 11 week old being inside of me; which has been giving me wretched morning sickness and making me feel tired beyond belief, so that it can keep growing. I am trying my best to be nurture myself and allow myself to be sad that my marriage feels so uncertain… but it’s all so fucking hard. I wasn’t going to talk publicly about the pregnancy until after the first trimester, but now that my entire life feels so uncertain and painful I had to get it out. If you can pray, think good thoughts, whatever you do. I need a little help and support for me and this little one… and my marriage too.

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Grams

March 17th, 2010 · 7 Comments

When I quit my job to care for my grandparents I knew the end of my grandpa’s life was soon approaching. My grandma is only three years younger than grandpa was, and I had hoped that when grandpa passed that she and I would have some quality time to spend together. I thought that when the stress of taking care of grandpa (and his often curmudgeonly demands) it would be easier. I’m really disappointed that hasn’t really been the case.

A few weeks ago grandma declared, “I don’t like my life.” It was heartbreaking to hear her say that so I arranged for my dad and uncle to come and give her a priesthood blessing. Respecting her Mormon beliefs has been difficult for me but I do my best because I want to help her. It’s hard for me to see her take things to heart just because a man said them, especially when I’ve been saying the same things. It’s even more frustrating when what the man says is plain wrong. My uncle told her that she needs to enjoy her time here with the family that desires a relationship with her and it made me mad. First, because I felt like he was completely putting her own (valid) feelings of loss aside. Second, because after spending months of working full-time in her home I’ve begun to resent relatives (like my uncle) that have lived five minutes away from her for a decade but never see her, then expect to waltz in and be her BFF after her husband dies.

It’s been really disappointing to see her not doing well, especially when she began acting like obstinate grandpa. She was really sick and needed to go to the hospital. I very frankly told her so and she replied, “I’m not going to the hospital. I am a stone wall.” The “stone wall” crap is something grandpa used to do that drove both of us crazy and it’s sad to see her doing the same thing. After a few days being very sick at home, a home health nurse came (who was one of grandpa’s hospice nurses) and asked her what her long-term goals were. She said she wanted to get better and not feel like she was so the nurse told her she needed to go to the hospital ASAP. The nurse helped me put her into my car (because she refused an ambulance) and we were racing to the hospital within 10 minutes.

Grandma spent five days in the hospital and has been at a transitional rehab for a week now to regain her strength. She doesn’t seem to be getting stronger and it’s hard for me to hear my family all talk about how much stronger she’s getting. It’s frustrating and sad and I’m having a much more difficult time with it than I thought I would.

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Job Shmob

September 3rd, 2009 · 3 Comments

Still looking for a new job…applying and applying and not hearing back. Rather frustrating but I’ve been trying to keep my mind off it by not leaving the house, waiting until the end of the day to shower, and doing embroidery 24/7. Who knew unemployment would be so much fun? Well, maybe not the fun part, though I am enjoying throwing myself into needle crafts with reckless abandon.

Somehow with all the job searching and embroidery fun I’ve had time to become totally obsessed with pbs.org…I found Sick Around the World very enlightening (and fucking depressing). How are we the ONLY developed country with such a fucked up medical system that 60% of people who file for bankruptcy due so because of medical bills? I’ve had my own issues with medical bills…I won’t bore you with…just feeling a bit charged up after seeing some of the “conversation” on FB about health care. :(

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Only 24 days left until the wedding!

June 16th, 2009 · 11 Comments

We celebrated bridal shower fun on Sunday…I was really excited that my maid of honor, Stephanie, was able to make it up at the last minute. We had an incredibly perfect weekend, save for being hungover on Saturday morning.

Stephanie, Mike and I made it to 3 DIs on Saturday, well 4 DIs if you count going back to one twice to pick up the adorable $20 dresser Mike spotted. I have been desperately in need of a dresser. Hopefully now my clothes will stop gathering themselves on the floor of our bedroom. We also scored an assortment of Pyrex and a cookie jar I haven’t had time to photograph, and an adorable vintage jewelry box; I have been looking for one FOREVER.

Thrift store dresser and vintage jewelry box!

Mike and I are both thrilled about getting married but the planning has been really stressful. It was so nice to have Stephanie here, there is something about having a friend around that you’ve known for 21 years…something that just makes everything OK. I really wish we lived a little bit closer so we didn’t have to travel four and a half hours to see each other but at least it’s doable for weekend trips.

The shower was lots of fun. It was nice and small, just like the wedding. At my request we didn’t play any shower games, we just sat around drinking mimosas and bellinis. :) Everyone seemed to think it was funny when I told them it should be illegal to have a shower without alcohol, including BABY SHOWERS! I don’t really care for the shower games (though I’m sure we’ll play games at my family shower on Saturday – I am considering bringing my new flask!). We ate lots of yummy food, including position of the day cupcakes my sister made, fruit salad with fresh mint (my new favorite), cheese and crackers, French toast bake, and some cupcakes that were so delicious they were evil. Heather made Aztec chocolate cupcakes with chunks of chocolate, almond, and chili so they were just a little bit spicy. I received all sorts of awesome gifts, including a “How to become a real old married lady” kit complete my very own muumuu, disposable panties (how have I lived without them?), gigantic cotton panties, a douche, and aspirin. I think the aspirin is part of the kit so you can grab it when you don’t want to have sex.

Position of the Day Cupcakes

Chocolate Aztec Cupcakes with Chili

The hit of the party was definitely Boy Toy Brad, the blowup doll. Though he’s more of an Enrique so I had to rename him. He spent some time looking out the window of our living room window and seemed to attract some attention from a man in an apartment across the way. Enrique also spent some time in our bed and surprised Mike when he arrived home. Since then he’s been in our roommates bed, hanging from the chandelier, peeking out from behind the flat screen TV, and now he’s hiding out in the coat closet. Too bad it’s so warm that no one will discover him for a while.

Blowing...

HELLO!

Peekaboo!

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Pig-Pen Brain

May 8th, 2009 · 1 Comment

Remember how sad and dirty Pig-Pen was in Charlie Brown? I’ve been feeling a bit like him recently. Not literally, more like I’ve had a constant cloud of shame and sadness flying around me. When I get really depressed it takes me a while to recognize it. Then I have this “oh shit” moment where I realize just how sad I’ve been, then I’m able to move on.

Looking back on the past three months it’s no wonder I’ve been depressed. We’ve had a lot to get through but I’m finally feeling better. (THANK GOD.) I’m sure I’ll have my moments but for the most part I feel less like staying in bed all day.

I have plenty to keep me busy. The wedding is only 2 months away. (YIKES!) I am super excited for the wedding and cannot wait to marry Mike. I just want all the little details to go smoothly between now and then. So I’m making GIGANTIC lists and attempting to accomplish tasks, check them off, and restart the whole freaking list process so I can feel like I’m getting things done.

Switching gears: I read an insightful post that compares domestic violence in America to the swine flu. There are so many people within our own communities that need help, yet the issues we (and our media) gravitate toward are potentially global issues that likely will not affect us. It made me want to sit down and write but I do not have time and I certainly couldn’t have said any of it better. I’m going to repost it below and here is a direct link to the original post.

“52 Days of Domestic Violence Flu in America”
By Casey Gwinn, Esq.

This week I have been reflecting on those that would choose to ignore the importance of dealing with domestic violence in America. After over 30 years of the modern domestic violence movement, we still struggle for funding, we face budget cuts and reductions when the economy goes bad (though domestic violence rises) and we rarely are the primary focus of public policy makers in America. This week the news is consumed with coverage of the swine flu, an important public health issue in America. As of May 2, there have been 167 confirmed cases of the swine flu in the United States and one death. But there has been little news about the mass killings of 68 people across America in the last 52 days, with men doing all the killing and virtually all related to men with a history of violence against women.

Public health officials in the United States fear a global pandemic from the so-called H1-N1 virus. A pandemic is defined as a global outbreak of disease that causes serious illness or death and then spreads easily from person to person worldwide. Pandemics differ from seasonal outbreaks of an illness. The news today quoted many officials talking about high levels of illness, death, social disruption, and economic loss from pandemics. We must all be vigilant about addressing swine flu in the days ahead. But the pandemic of violence by men against women, men, and children has killed more people in the last 52 days in America than swine flu. This pandemic has been going on now for hundreds of years causing high levels of mental and physical illness, death, social disruption, and economic loss.

There have been 12 Mass Killings in the last 52 days in the United States. In 10 of the 12, the killer had a history of violence against women. 11 of the 12 were directly related to or defined as domestic violence. 68 people have been killed in those mass killings including 20 children and 7 police officers.

Let’s honor those who have lost their lives by listing them.

March 10 – Michael McLendon, 28, killed ten people, including his mother, grandmother, aunt and uncle, and the wife and child of a local sheriff’s deputy in rural Alabama. He then killed himself. The worst mass killing in the history of Alabama killed: Virginia White, 74; James White, 55; Tracy Wise, 34; Dean Wise, 15; James Starling, 34; Lisa McClendon, Michael’s mom; Bruce Maloy, 51; Andrea Myers, 31; and Corrine Gracy Myers, 18 months.

March 21 – Lovelle Mixon, a parolee with a history of violence against women, sexual assault, and other violent crimes shot and killed four heroic Oakland police officers – Sgt. Mark Dunakin, 40; Officer John Hege, 41, SWAT Sgt. Ervin Romans, 43; and SWAT Sgt. Daniel Sakai, 35 before he was shot and killed by police.

March 29 – Robert Stewart, 45, shot and killed eight people at Pinelake Health and Rehab Center in Robbins, North Carolina. He came to the center seeking to kill his wife, Wanda Neal, 43, a nurse’s assistant. She was working in the Alzheimers Unit when he entered the facility and survived after herding residents into the TV Room and locking the door.

March 30 – Devan Kalathat killed six people in a murder-suicide in Santa Clara, California including his children. During his rampage he shot his wife, but she still clings to life in critical condition. Police identified the victims as Kalathat’s children: 11-year-old Akhil Dev and 4-year-old Negha Dev; Kalathat’s brother-in-law Ashok Appu Poothemkandi, 35, Poothemkandi’s wife, Suchitra Sivaraman, 25; and the Poothemkandis’ infant daughter, Ahana Ashok.

April 4 – Pittsburgh police officers Eric Kelly, Stephen Mayhle, and Paul Scuillo were shot and killed responding to a “domestic disturbance” call. They were ambushed by Richard Poplawski when they arrived at the house. Officer Eric Kelly was not on duty. He was on his way home to his wife and three daughters when he heard the call on his radio and responded to support his fellow officers.

April 5 – James Harrison killed his five children in Pierce County, WA while his wife was at work. Police confirmed that the couple had a domestic violence incident earlier in the day and the wife had left. The husband demanded that she return and while she was away he methodically shot Maxine, Samantha, Heather, Jamie, and James. The first four children were shot in their beds. The last child was shot as she was running toward the bathroom.

April 5 – Kirby Revelus, 23, killed his 17 year old sister, Samantha and his five year old sister, Bianca. Police officers responding to a domestic violence incident shot and killed him as he was trying to kill his 9 year old sister Sarafina.

April 7 – Kevin Garner fled Greenville, Alabama late in the afternoon after setting fire to his wife’s home and car. Hours later, police found his wife and daughter, and her sister and her sister’s son shot to death inside the burning home. Garner later shot himself before being apprehended.

April 10 – Two students at Henry Ford Community College were found dead in a murder-suicide in the Fine Arts Building on campus in Dearborn, Michigan. Police determined that Anthony Powell, 28, killed Asia McGowan, 20 with a shotgun and then turned the gun on himself.

April 18 – Christopher Allan Wood, 34, an accountant for a railroad operator, killed his wife, Frances, and his three children in Middletown, Maryland before taking his own life with gunshot to the head. Chandler was 5 years old, Gavin was 4, and his daughter, Fiona, was 2 years old when she was shot and stabbed by her Dad.

April 19 – William Parente, 59, killed his wife, Betty, 58, and daughters Catherine, 11, and Stephanie, 19 before killing himself in Garden City, New York. Each of the victims was killed by asphyxiation and blunt force trauma.

April 25 – University of Georgia professor George Zinkhans shot and killed his wife, Marie Bruce, and two of her friends from a local community theatre group in Bogart, Georgia. Two others were seriously injured by bullet fragments. Her two murdered colleagues were: Ben Teague, 63, and Tom Tanner, 40. More than 200 police officers are currently searching for him the dense woods near Bogart, 60 miles east of Atlanta. Police believe Marie was preparing to get a restraining order, file for divorce, and leave him after a history of domestic violence.

So, we are not done in the effort to stop family violence in America. We all must re-double our efforts to raise awareness, call for more resources in the war by men against women and children. We must call it what it is…it is not Violence Against Women. It is most often Violence By Men Against Women. All the killers in the mass killings of the last 52 days have been men.

The next time you hear someone say they cannot afford to keep a Family Justice Center or domestic violence shelter program open because of the economy, ask them to read this article. Next time, you hear someone say that we don’t need any new, evolving, innovative approaches to family violence prevention because our current service delivery models are doing the job well; ask them to read the list of 68 names from the 52 bloody days of domestic violence in 2009. Don’t be silent; don’t let elected officials, or policy makers, or bureaucrats, or disinterested community members ignore the tragedy of domestic violence. We must address swine flu in America and around the world but we must also take guns away from men who are violent and start spending the time, energy, and money necessary to stop the pandemic of violence by men against women that is destroying families, killing women, men, and children, and continuing to destroy the lives of so many.

(Casey Gwinn is the former San Diego City Attorney who founded the internationally recognized San Diego Family Justice Center which is credited with reducing domestic violence homicides in San Diego by over 60%. He currently serves as the President of the National Family Justice Center Alliance which is developing specialized, multi-agency Centers to stop domestic violence across the United States. For more information, go to www.familyjusticecenter.org).

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Care Package!

March 3rd, 2009 · 2 Comments

Today I received a care package from my friend Sonja. She stuffed it full of all sorts of awesome goodies! Our cupboard is now full of Trader Joe’s snacks and deliciousness.

Best Birthday Card Ever

She also sent pretty much the best birthday card ever. If only it really came with a tampon holder knitting pattern!

Polygamist Murder Mystery Novel!

Sonja is also a recovering Mormon and we share a fascination and repulsion for our family histories (polygamy). I am so excited to start reading “The 19th Wife,” a polygamist murder mystery novel!

Boa Ventura

And last, but certainly not least, she sent me delicious wine from Boa Ventura Vineyard. Shh! Don’t tell anyone I’m currently enjoying a delicious glass of contraband wine. It goes perfectly with the spicy Italian sausage tomato sauce I threw over brown rice fusilli pasta from Trader Joe’s. NOM!

Categories:Childhood Cult, I miss Trader Joe's, Shh!, Uncategorized, birthday, stuff I put in my mouth
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The question that is never safe to ask

February 25th, 2009 · 21 Comments

Like many people, I’m having a rough time financially. After the miscarriage I was left staring at my WIC checks and my empty bank account: unsure what to do and feeling too guilty to use them. Last week I finally worked up the courage to call the WIC office and ask what to with my remaining checks after the miscarriage. When the woman told me to continue using them because WIC services are still available to women for six months following miscarriage I was so happy, relieved, and sad that I started crying.

Tonight I used a WIC check: the cashier was really talkative and friendly and asked for my phone number so I could get grocery points for my WIC purchase. She went on to say their baby rewards value club doesn’t recognize WIC purchases without manually inputting a customer’s phone number. When she asked if I was part of the baby rewards value club I said no, hoping she would just put information about it in my bag and leave it at that…but she didn’t. She asked when my baby was due. I didn’t know what to say, so I told her the truth, that I had miscarried and WIC offered their services to women like me for six months. I felt horrible. She felt horrible. The just-barely-made-it-to-a-halfway-house bagger looked like he felt bad though I don’t think he quite understood what happened. I couldn’t even run out of the store because she had started ringing up my non-WIC purchase. The tears started before I even made it out of the store. I suppose asking a woman on WIC how far along she is, isn’t such a strange question, I just wish it didn’t feel so bad.

Add to the list of things to feel bad about: today I bought a pack of cigarettes. I know this is disappointing to people in my life. Frankly, it’s disappointing to me too. I just feel so awful and stressed and unsure what the fuck to do with myself and smoking just sounded good, though it’s obviously not a smart choice. So I’m having a cocktail, eating Cadbury Mini Eggs, making some microwave popcorn and praying for today to end and tomorrow to be less painful.

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Yo

February 24th, 2009 · 26 Comments

Today Is my birthday! I am happy that it has been a good day: I worked for a few hours, had lunch with my mom, came home to find Mike wearing the same outfit as our first date and being generally adorable. :)

In a little while we’re going on a Pyrex thrift store hunt. Maybe find me a new jigsaw puzzle (not at the thrift store – thrift store puzzles freak me out)? Last night I finished my 1500 piece mescaline puzzle. This puzzle is so fucked up we decided the creator surely had to be on drugs. Lots and lots of drugs!

1500 Pieces of Joy

Lately I’ve also run across some totally fucking awesome Utah thrift store finds. Here are a few pictures of a game called Forever Families. The object of the game is to collect genealogy information cards called “Ancestors” that you then use to take to the temple to receive “Session Cards.” In case none of that makes sense to you, “Session Cards” refers to baptisms for the dead, or temple marriages for the dead. CREEPY.

We ran across this little jewel last night at the library. I thought the title said it all… but (unbelievably) it gets BETTER. Some creepy person hand wrote extra instructions in the text regarding bust enlargement using total brain power. HOLY FUCK. Mike said he’s going to check it out and read it to my boobs while I sleep.

Just WOW

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Tuesday was particularly heinous

February 20th, 2009 · 11 Comments

I was proud of myself because the only time I cried was (very briefly) on the phone with my sister. Then I came home to a $3941 bill from the hospital for my D&C. (Commence freak out.) Hopefully my insurance company will pick some (er, ALL) of that up but I don’t have high hopes; thus far I have had shitty coverage at best.

Before I was realized I need to hold off worrying for a little bit, I had a complete breakdown. Which I think is an understandable reaction to receiving a large bill as a result of the miscarriage. I don’t think my reaction would have been quite so extreme if I weren’t already having some pretty serious financial problems…not knowing how I’m  going to pay for my current bills, partly as a result of taking time off because of the  miscarriage = stressful times infinity.

When I emailed my mother about the billing mess I told her I hoped my insurance would pick some of it up (AHEM, all of it) because opening a bill for the removal of our no longer viable fetus just seemed cruel upon the horror of everything else.

To which my mother replied: “You will eventually have to stop using statements about your baby that inflame your emotions. Think of nurturing statements to be good to yourself. Wrap a little blankee around yourself.”

I know my mother was just trying to be helpful, but COME ON! It’s been only been two weeks. I’m allowed to say whatever the fuck I want. I can use whatever statements I want about my no longer viable fetus (which I even toned down for her – I have no qualms working my way through my insurance phone tree repeatedly asking why they aren’t covering the removal of my dead baby from my uterus). Besides, that is EXACTLY what happened. The medical term is missed abortion: intrauterine pregnancy is present but is no longer developing normally with fetal demise prior to 20 weeks’ gestation.

My mother and I have always dealt with things differently. I have a more out-there approach to dealing with sadness and trauma. My mother will write two page emails with detailed descriptions of Sunday drives: white puffy clouds and how they look upon a blue sky, the way the road winds through the mountain, which wildflowers are in bloom and how many she pressed for later use, the book on CD they listened to, animals they may have passed, etc.. At the very end of the email she will include an incomplete sentence letting me know that my father’s bladder cancer* has recurred and he’ll be seeking treatment for it. F that.

So that was how my week, how was yours?

*My dad is currently fine; I was just using this as an example of our different methods of coping and communication.

Categories:Uncategorized, fuck you mother nature, miscarriage, my dysfunctional family is better than yours
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Blog Share

February 17th, 2009 · 21 Comments

As mentioned in the post below, the following is part of the Blog Share. I did not write this post. My anonymous post is elsewhere on the internet. A list of the participating blogs can be found at the bottom of this post.

My story is a long one. I hope you can stay with me until the end. I promise it is not a boring story.

I cannot believe I am about to disclose this secret to all of you. I decided to share it for several reasons:

1. It is about something caused by someone else so it wasn’t my fault. Therefore, I should not be ashamed of it.

2. I made the right decision for me at the time, and helped someone else in the process. Therefore, I should not be ashamed of it.

3. I have never regretted how I chose to handle the situation. Therefore, I should not be ashamed of it.

4. I am not the only person on this earth who has been through this type of situation. Therefore, I should not be ashamed of it.

So why can’t I disclose this secret on my own blog? Because, while I should not be ashamed of it, I do feel ashamed. Because my parents have made me feel ashamed about it since it happened. I’ve been feeling ashamed for a very long time and I keep this secret deep within me. I’ve shared this secret with only a handful of people. I was raped. But that’s not the whole story. If that was the entire story, I would not feel ashamed.

It is true that I should not have been at that party at that guy’s house that night. I told my parents I was going to a movie with some of my friends. Just because I was somewhere I should not have been is not an excuse or reason for a guy to rape me though. My parents believed otherwise.

I did not go home that night and share what happened with my parents. I did not share what had happened with anyone. I did not report what happened to the police. I did not go to a hospital for an exam. I did not share it with any other family members. I did not share it with my pastor. I did not share it with my very best friends. I did not share it with my boyfriend. I felt sickened just thinking about telling anyone about what that awful guy had done to me that night at that party.

It soon became apparent that the story had not ended when I left that party and made the decision not to tell anyone. I missed my next period. I started feeling sick every morning. One day I broke down in tears and told my best friend about the guy, about what happened, and that I feared I was pregnant. She hugged me and she held my hand as we walked through the door of the place I was going to be tested a few days later. My worst fears were confirmed. I was pregnant by that wretched piece of shit.

Rather than facing up to reality, I buried my head in the sand for the next few months. I suppose the entire situation had screwed with my head so much that I believed I could ignore it and somehow everything would work itself out and this baby would simply disappear so that I would not have to deal with it or tell anyone about what had happened. I had gone back to college about 2 hours away from home without ever telling anyone other than my best friend. My parents came to visit me one weekend and I was beginning to show. They confronted me and I finally told them everything. At that point, I was almost six months pregnant. They were furious with me for not telling them. My mom was even more furious when I confessed to them that my best friend knew everything. They drove me back to my dorm, told me to pack up my things, and then they withdrew me from school and we returned to my hometown.

I was screamed at during the entire drive back home. I was unpacking my stuff from the car after we got back home when my best friend happened to be driving into the neighborhood (she lived in the same neighborhood we lived in) and she pulled in the driveway. As soon as she got out of her car, my mom began screaming at her. She began crying, got back in her car and left. That was the beginning of the end of our friendship. She could never get past the things my mom yelled at her in the driveway that afternoon and it created a deep crack in our relationship. I don’t blame her for that at all. I felt horrible because it was not my friend’s fault that I chose her to share my story with and chose not to share it with my parents.

I was instructed by my parents to stay inside at all times. I was not allowed to open the blinds in the house because they didn’t want any of the neighbors to be able to look in and see me. I was instructed not to walk down the driveway to the mailbox so no one would see me. They told my siblings that I was pregnant. They didn’t tell them I was raped. Because, as I would soon discover, they didn’t believe me. I did not find out until years later that my siblings did not know the whole story. They were shocked when I told them. They were shocked that my parents would have withheld such information.

My father spoke with our family doctor without my knowledge and made arrangements for me to be sent to a group home approximately six hours away. They let me choose whether or not I wanted to share with my boyfriend what was going on before I left. I decided to tell him because I felt like he deserved an explanation since things had been so chaotic. He told me he loved me very much. He then offered to marry me, adopt the baby, and raise the baby as his own. This was my chance to stand up against my parents and make a different choice about how I was going to handle the situation than the one they were steering me towards. I declined his offer. I knew we were too young. I did not feel that I was capable of being a good mother and despite the fact that this baby was conceived under terrible circumstances, I knew it was not the baby’s fault and that this baby deserved much more than I was able to offer. If I am being completely honest, I also wondered if I would ever look at that baby and not think about what that guy had done to me. My baby did not deserve that. I ended my relationship with my boyfriend because he was kind and he did not deserve to deal with my situation either.

I was whisked away under the cover of darkness. I pretended to be asleep for the drive so I would not have to listen to my parents and their never ending lecturing about what a disappointment I was to them. I had listened to little else since I was brought home from college. I was taken to a group home with approximately 20 other pregnant girls. I lived there for the following three and a half months. It seemed as though I was there for three and a half years and I saw things I never want to see again. I saw one girl lose her baby when the cord became wrapped around its neck. I learned later that after she got home, her father accidentally shot her in the neck and she was paralyzed. I saw others leave arm in arm with their parents with smiles on their faces as they went back home. I saw others leave who were terrified because they were not sure what awaited them at home or how their families would treat them. I saw new girls arrive with the same frightened look I had on my face the first day. I saw girls as young as 13 and as old as 22. I did volunteer work. I took birthing classes. We all had daily chores. I tried to take the new girls in under my wing and show them the ropes when they arrived. I went to the mall with a group of pregnant teens and felt the stares of judgmental people. I heard their ugly remarks.

I chose the adoptive parents. I never doubted my decision for a minute. I knew my baby was going to have a loving home with a wonderful couple and my baby deserved no less.

My parents had made the decision to only tell a couple of family members on my mom’s side. Not one person on my father’s side of the family knows what happened to me to this day. My grandparents lived a couple of hours from the group home and they were with me throughout my labor. My mom arrived at the hospital several hours after the baby was born. My father did not come.

All of this happened over 20 years ago. I can count on one hand how many times my mom has mentioned it. My father has never acknowledged anything ever happened. Yes, it hurts my feelings quite a bit, but I’ve learned to accept that this is way things have to be.

My parents forced me to get a job the week after the baby was born. I was back in college the next month. My mom made me exercise constantly so that I would lose the weight and no one would know. They would not let me sit still at all. They would not let me bury my head in the sand even for one day. I was so angry, but looking back I think this was what I needed.

At some point (years later), I reached a place where I realized I was extremely proud of the way I handled what happened. I never doubted the decisions I made. It made me a very strong person and the strength I gained helped me through some tough situations I’ve faced since all of this happened. Looking back, I think we all realize things could have been handled better, and I’ve forgiven my parents for making me feel so ashamed. But I have not forgotten. I still feel ashamed in some respects. I doubt that will ever go away entirely. When you’ve been told you are not allowed to walk down the driveway lest you embarrass your entire family, you don’t get over how that makes you feel. Not ever. You forgive but trust me, you never forget. You also do not ever forget that your father was so disappointed in you that he could not find it in himself to be there for you when you needed him the most. I don’t know that I’ve entirely forgiven them for not believing that I was raped, but I’ll keep working on that. Some may wonder why I have not shared my story with others since I realize I should not feel ashamed and since I am proud of the manner in which I handled things. I think it is because I had to endure so much to keep it a secret for so many years that it hardly seems to make sense to freely share it with people now.

That is my story. I was raped. I got pregnant. I gave my baby up for adoption. I survived it all.

And You Know What Else
Andrea Unplugged
Blue Soup
Bright Yellow World
Bwildered
Caity of the Keps
Catheroominations
Citystreams
Daily Tannenbaum
Did I Say That Outloud?
Dispatches From The Failed Mommy Club
Face Down
For The Long Run
Full Of Snark
Heidikins
In Java, Literally
Just Below 63
LizLand
Malfeasance
A New Duck
NonSoccer Mom
The North Is My Snowcone
Not The Daddy
Operation Pink Herring
Pants, Pants, Pants
Red Red Whine
Sassy Buster
Sauntering Soul
Shushing Action
Snarke
Snow-Covered Hills
Swimming With Sharks
Thinking Some More
Trueish Story
Way Way Up
Whiskey Marie

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