Showing posts with label Step-Father Rape. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Step-Father Rape. Show all posts
Sunday, January 17, 2016

My Son is My Most Precious Treasure, Though Conceived From Step-Father Rape, by Yohanka Reyes

Trials are a way for God’s name to be glorified.  It’s called purpose! My name is Yoi Reyes and my husband Pete and I are the founders of Mary's Pregnancy Resource Center in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  It is my prayer that as you read my story and what the Lord has done, you will be encouraged.  The reason why I was called to serve this specific population of women experiencing unplanned pregnancies is because I, like these women, had to face many of the hardships that they are presently facing.  

 I was born in Havana, Cuba.  My father was a Captain for the Navy and my mother was an English teacher for the Naval Academy.  However, when I was only 3 years old, my parents divorced.  That was the first wound of many.  My father was my hero and I remember sitting at the front door of my house and crying as I waited for him to come home from work, and when he did, I would cry for him to take his shirt off as a sign that he was going to stay.  He did every time, but then the nightmare would start all over again whenever I woke up, and he wasn't there.   

 My mother couldn't deal with the divorce and ended up at a military psychiatric center where she met my step-father who was a Captain for the western district of the Police Force in Havana.  He had also been admitted to this psychiatric center because he was dealing with chronic depression as a result of his own divorce.  Not long after they were both discharged, they married and he moved in with us.  I was about 4 years old. 

 Soon after, my step-father began to sexually molest me.  At such a young age, I could not understand what was happening.  I was too young to make much of it and he was smart enough to know how to confuse me, by making me think that he loved me as my father.  He was a father in every other area, so in my mind that was the way it was, although I felt uncomfortable and fearful.   As if that was not enough, around the same time a neighbor and close friend of the family also sexually molested me. 

 Years passed by and the abuse continued, so I escaped into a world I created where books were the only thing that mattered.  I would read all kinds of books and study as much as I could.  Year after year, I would receive the highest report card score of my grade, so everyone assumed that I was "fine." I did not show much interest in playing with other kids, but everyone also assumed that I was sociable because I enjoyed talking and spending time with the adults. 

 At 9 years old, as my stepfather was abusing me, I got upset and told him that I was going to tell my dad about it and that I didn't like what he was doing to me.  In response, he put his gun to my head and told me that if I ever told anyone, he would kill my family and then kill himself.  From that moment on, I felt responsible for the well-being of my family which placed an impossible burden to carry at my young age.   

 My mother, on the other hand, asked me not to testify or rather to lie and tell the judge I didn't remember the abuse that I had received from my neighbor.  She thought it was better to "forgive."  Of course, what message did I get from that?  So I thought, "Why bother telling anyone what my step-father was doing to me? No one cares.” After all, my own mother had just coerced me to forgive the same offense by lying to the judge. 

 My teen years arrived and with it, you can guess:  lots of rebelliousness.  I was angry, disrespectful and began to smoke cigarettes.  By then, I fully understood what was being done to me and I didn't know how to deal with it.  I was now 13 years old and so, my step-father decided to take it to the next level.  The abuse went from molestation to rape involving intercourse.  As that continued, I eventually got pregnant.  I had a boyfriend with whom I was having sexual relations as well.  My step-father was not sure who the father of the baby was, and did not want to risk being caught.  So he convinced my mother, and they took me to a clinic to have an abortion.  It worked – no one knew how he’d been raping me.  The abortion protected him, and the rape continued.

I was very confused when they took me for the abortion.  The only thing I remember is a deep anxiety and desire to know whether it was a boy or a girl, and that desire actually never went away. I was put under anesthesia, but I remember being depressed afterwards and having horrible nightmares -- always the same ones where I would fall into a deep dark hole at a very fast speed. 

 By the time that I was 15 years old, I got pregnant again. This time, the doctors didn't want to perform another abortion because I was too young and underweight.  When my son was growing inside of me, I was happy and couldn't wait to meet him.  I did have a fear that he would look like my stepfather, but when he was born on November 21, 1990, that all went away, and I was madly in love with him.   

 Years passed by and I always wondered who the real father was, always fearful that it could be my step-father.  To this day, I haven’t had a DNA paternity test, although many genetic similarities lead me to believe he is biologically my step-father's.  But it doesn't matter -- I know who his mother is and I love my son with all of my heart! 

 The next years were hard; I was practically out of control, spending very little time in my house, partying, drinking, and everything else that comes with it.  It was at the age of 18 when I got involved with a man that was 15 years older than me and at 19, I left the country in a raft with him.  Out of desperation, I left behind everything, including my 4 year old son.  This was just the beginning of another journey full of pain and abuse.  The man was a drug dealer and I was smoking lots of marijuana, but through it all, I always managed to work and help my family in Cuba.   

 This 7 year abusive relationship left many physical, emotional and psychological scars. I didn't have anyone in this country and was more fearful of the outside world than of the abuse I was facing.  After all, as far back as I could remember, abuse had always been a part of my life.  I couldn't resist anymore and suicidal thoughts were visiting me very often, so I decided I was going to leave this guy, but I was afraid because he was very dangerous and aggressive. However, I did find help to leave, and met my husband Pete during that process.

 Because of our histories, my husband and I decided that we needed help and we pursued counseling.  Two years of counseling and 60 weeks of Life Skills Classes gave us healing and an understanding that things did not have to stay the way they were, and that we can use our tests and turn them into testimonies -- allowing those experiences to be used for God's glory to help others understand that with help, they too can overcome their painful histories.  It is just a matter of being humble and recognizing that we need help.

 While receiving counseling, I was working as a Case Manager for a shelter and they acquired a grant to help women experiencing unplanned pregnancies.  They assigned me to that program and I found myself right at home.  However, the more I did, the more I wanted to do for these clients, but could not spread my wings. It was through a time of prayer when I felt this urge.  I couldn't change my past, but I could become in the future something that I longed for many times -- someone who cared.  I made up my mind that I was going to be that someone.   

 I spoke to my husband and pastor regarding opening a Crisis Pregnancy Center at our church and they supported me.  My husband worked long hours in a room of our church transforming it into a beautiful center and we began helping the women of our community, but the financial situation was tight.  We were financing the ministry primarily out of our personal savings account.  Several months later, we applied and received a grant from the Florida Pregnancy Support Services Program.  I can share with you testimony after testimony of lives that have been saved and healing that have taken place.  

 We now rent a 3/4 acre facility where we counsel and case manage the clients, educate, refer and provide many resources. We have celebrated weddings, baby showers, childbirth and even serve stillborn services.  I can understand the pain of these women.  I can see that there is more than a rebellious young lady, or a lazy woman, or a promiscuous one.  I share with them the trials, but also the victory.   

 My husband and I have been married for 14 years now.  I hadn't seen my son for a long 12 years, but then with my husband's help, I was able to bring my son to the United States since I became an American Citizen. We were able to buy our own house several years ago and have work for God and ministry for the last 10 years. I overcame, and have seen that by sharing my story with our clients, it gives them hope and encourages them to keep fighting and to turn their lives into something beautiful.  I also like to share my story because many people are quick to judge another person's life without knowing the root of the problem or the wounds that the person has suffered.  In fact, many times these problems are rooted in their childhood and are responsible for their unhealthy lifestyles. 

 I am a Christian and will never be ashamed of the gospel of Christ for it was Jesus who brought light into my world of darkness and all glory goes to Him for every accomplishment.  Every hurting soul who is experiencing an unplanned pregnancy is our responsibility.  Every baby deserves to live and we seek to testify about Jesus through our unconditional services to their mothers.  Because I know the mothers’ pain, I can share the good news of the hope that is in Christ.  Through my life, they can see that no matter what we have gone through in life, we are able to conquer and become something new and beautiful. 

 I have been able to mourn the loss of the child that was aborted when I was young and I don't walk in guilt and shame anymore.  Instead, I speak boldly and openly about my life – yes, with pain, but also with the hope that others will see how it is not impossible to get out of the pit in which they find themselves at the present time.

Unfortunately, I was never able to conceive again; my son is my only living child and without him, I would not have had the opportunity to know what being a mother feels like.  I can't imagine my life without him from the time he was born to now at 25 years old.  I can't imagine my life without the nights in the hospital with his asthma attacks, or his hernia surgery or all of the other things we experience as mothers.  No one can imagine the pain when I had to leave him behind not to risk his life in the ocean while coming to the U.S.. I got to experience the joy of picking him up in the airport when brought him here, seeing him give himself to Christ and getting baptized by my husband, taking him to soccer games and youth activities, and helping him get his first job and apartment. 

  Life is not easy and it has not been easy for him either.  He has many things to deal with, as society pushes shame upon children conceived in rape, and he is not the exception.  But nothing will keep his father (my husband) and I from continuing to pray and support him as he travels the painful, but worthy, journey of healing.  My son is not perfect, but he is a hard working young man who was definitely fearfully and wonderfully made by our Lord and Savior.

I had never heard about abortion bans "except in cases of rape" back in Cuba, but as soon as I heard about it here in the U.S., I was angry that someone could think it was best for my son not to be alive because of no fault of his own.  There should be no exceptions because my son is all I would want in a child; no exceptions because he is not the son of a stigma, but the son of a mother who would do anything in this world for him and of an adoptive father who loves him as his own; no exceptions because he is not a piece of garbage, but my most precious treasure; no exceptions because his life matters!
 
Bio:  Yohanka Reyes is a pro-life blogger for Save The 1. Bilingual, she's also a blogger for Salvar El 1.  She serves as the Executive Director of Mary's Pregnancy Resource Center, is a wife, and mother.  She'll be in Washington, D.C. at the March For Life 2016.  Please come by the Save The 1 booth at the Expo, or say hello when you see her with her pink sign -- MOTHER FROM RAPE I LOVE MY CHILD!

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Monday, June 1, 2015

Though Conceived Through Step-Father Rape at Age 13, My Daughter is a Blessing by Cherie Miller

“I thought I was a broken person.”  That’s what I explained to my husband just after I told him my story. 

My mom married my stepfather while she was still pregnant with me, so it wasn’t until years later that I found out he was not my biological father.  I never knew my biological father -- it was a family secret, and to this day, I still don’t know him.  This family secret was not the only one, but secrets can become normal for someone unless they are revealed. 

Growing up was “normal” for me, I thought.  I have three younger brothers  -- all who were born to my mother and stepfather.  We did the things families normally do:  camping, fishing, and celebrating birthdays and holidays.  We went to movies, laughed together and enjoyed playing outside.  We occasionally went to church.   One thing which wasn’t truly normal however, was the secret between me and my stepfather.  From as young as I can remember, he sexually molested me.  I knew nothing different.  As I said, I thought it was normal.  This was a secret no one knew – a secret he told me I must keep, and I was too terrified to tell anyone anyway.  I’m guessing someone around us may have suspected something, but we moved a lot -- five times by the time I was in 7th grade.

This horrible secret went on for years and probably would have never been completely revealed until one day when I started having abdominal pain which got worse as the day went on.  I told my mom and she brought me to the doctor.   At the age of thirteen, I was in labor, and I was absolutely scared to death!  I was worried about mom and how devastating this would be for her to find out, and fear of what would happen next.  But while in the hospital, no one asked me who the father was.  Today, as a health care professional, this would have been the first thing I would have asked, and I would not have wanted a 13 year old mother to be sent home without knowing she was safe.

Now, as you all know, you must first be pregnant before you can go into labor, right?  Yes, I had been pregnant for several months.   I remember feeling the baby move, but I was scared, and perhaps in denial.   I was 13, and although my body was feeling different, I really never showed.  Without showing, nobody asked any questions, and without questions, the secret could continue, and I just lived it.  This was my “normal.”  But going into labor was the inconvenient truth nobody could keep covered. 

My mom is an incredibly strong woman.  I can’t imagine what was going through her mind at that time, but she never left my side.  What pain must she have endured wondering who had done this to her daughter?  She later told me that her immediate thought was that one of the fathers of the children I babysat did this to me.  My brother revealed to me years later that he suspected what was going on because he saw his father going into my room regularly, but he was young and scared as well.

I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl.  The first thing I remember is that I cried, and I felt happy.  There was this little person laying on my belly, she was crying, I was looking at her, and I was in awe that she was just so beautiful!  When I looked at her I didn’t see him, I didn’t see the crappy stuff that was going on in my life – I didn’t see any of that.  I just saw her. 

After being cleaned up, a nurse brought my daughter back into the room again.  It was late at night and I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about her.  I felt relief to see her again and to hold her, knowing she was healthy.   All I could think of was about the better life I knew she was going to have.   I didn’t want to bring her into my horrible situation since I had no hope it would end.  Being only thirteen and in light of everything which I knew was to come, I chose adoption for her.   The heaviness in my heart was gone as I thought of the good life she would have.

I thought life as “normal” would go on, and we quickly just forgot everything.   We did not speak about who did this to me.  My baby went to a foster home while awaiting placement with an adoptive family, and I returned to live with my brothers, mother, and yes, even stepfather.  The lie continued, though my stepfather avoided me.   Life was going back to “normal.”  However, the truth was about to come out.

About a week after I went home, the social worker I was assigned to at the hospital had my mom and me come to her office.  At the social worker’s insistence, I told my secret.   I felt like I had crushed my mom’s heart!   In my mind, I had deceived her.   In my mind, I was destroying her marriage.   In my mind, it was all my fault this was happening.   Amazingly, my mom believed me without doubt and she supported me.   I felt like a thousand-pound brick was lifted off my shoulders!  The healing could begin.  However, because of everything that had occurred, I requested to go to a foster home.  My request was granted.

 I was placed in foster care with wonderful people.  My stepfather was arrested.  At trial, he was convicted and sentenced to 90 days in jail with work release, and 15 years of probation.   That’s not much of a sentence.  He got off easy in my mind.  But he denied ever having intercourse with me – never penetrating, claiming he masturbated and that I was somehow inseminated that way.  Preposterous, right?  And yet, he apparently got away with that story.

While I was in the foster home, my stepfather returned home with my mom and brothers.  My mom was raised in a strong Catholic family, and was too ashamed to let her parents know the dark secret.  She’s also struggled from a low self-esteem.  I was just glad to be out of there at the time.  We all started family counseling, and I personally went to counseling.  That was a real blessing for me.  I learned I could heal and maybe become a whole person for the first time in my life. 

After a year in foster care, I returned home.  I had hopes that this would be a positive turning point.  I still had no idea that he was not my biological father.  Looking back, I think the system was entirely screwed up that they would send me back and is still in need of reform.  All of us lived together, including my stepfather, under one roof.  “Normal” unfortunately had returned.  It was difficult for me, but I was young and I thought we could just move on.  That lasted about six months before my stepfather attempted molesting me again.  I told a high school friend, who told her mom who was a nurse, who then contacted the authorities.  He was ordered to leave the home, but was not arrested.  My mom was angry and she finally began standing up for herself, and for me.  They divorced, but no more jail time.

I was almost 16 at that time.  My remaining teenage years were a struggle.  My mom was raising four children alone.  She worked multiple jobs and received no child support.  In public, I felt like I was “that girl that was molested by her father” and everyone in school and town knew it.  It felt like it was “stamped” on my forehead.  It was very hard for me.  One thing I really enjoyed in high school that did make me feel like I belonged was cheerleading.  My advisor was incredible and I never felt like the outsider with her.  I spent a lot of my teenage years trying to get away from my past.  I drank.  I did things I shouldn’t have.  I just wanted to forget and move on.  The truth was painful and I just wanted to find a new “normal.”  But the truth of my past always found me. 

After high school, I joined the National Guard so I could get away from those who knew, and hopefully get away from the memories as well.  I did have positive people in my life who continually encouraged me and stood by me.  But even with all the encouragement, as a young adult I was definitely going down the wrong road.  I had unhealthy abusive relationships, including a failed marriage.  I drank a lot of alcohol.  I got to the point where I didn’t feel I was worth anything better.   I had gotten pregnant once again.  I now had a son and I was only 21.  It was just him and me.  I was determined to give him the best life that I could, but we struggled at times.

At about the age of 25, I decided I needed better for myself and I went to college.  Looking back, that was my turning point.  I finally was feeling I had found myself.  The more I went, the better and more confident I felt.  I had numerous uplifting positive people in my life.  I eventually remarried and had two more beautiful children.  I received my education as a nurse.   Nursing was definitely something important and rewarding to me.  My career eventually led me to a position as a health care educator.   I got away from the unhealthy things in my life with the help of more counseling.   My new normal was not perfect – unfortunately, I divorced once again, but things were slowly getting better.  Soon, things were about to get much better.

In December 2010, my brother received a letter from the county stating they were looking for me.  In my gut, I felt I knew it had something to do with my past.  I was fearful, but also confident I could take anything on now.  I called the agency and spoke with the county adoption advocate.  She asked if I had a baby in 1983 and gave her up for adoption.  My heart was in my throat.  I was waiting for this day and hoped at some point she would try to find me.  I thought about her all the time, wondered where she was, and what she looked like.  I prayed she had a great family and was healthy and successful, without the struggles I had growing up.  I said yes.  She said the young woman was looking for me!

One of my first questions was if she knew she was conceived in rape.  The county advocate thought she did in fact know.  All sorts of emotions came over me.  Would she hate me?  Was this going to be good for her?  Was it good for me?  How would this affect all of us? 

I received a letter from my newly found daughter.  She is married with two children.  After several letters and conversations on Facebook, we met in person in February, 2011.  Her parents and her husbands’ parents were amazingly supportive, encouraging, and so incredibly open to including me in their lives.  Words cannot express how thankful I am to them!  Perhaps my greatest gift was a photo album Heidi gave to me when we met.  It included pictures of Heidi growing up, her wedding, and pictures of my grandchildren.  In the front cover was a poem I’d never seen before and I was sobbing as I read it:

“Legacy of an adopted child”
Author unknown 

Once there were two women who never knew each other.
One you do not remember, one you call Mother.
Two different lives shaped to make you one.
One became your guiding star; the other became your sun.
The first one gave you life, and the second taught you to live it.
The first gave you a need for love.  The second was there to give it.
One gave you nationality.  The other gave you a name.
One gave you talent.  The other gave you aim.
One gave you emotions.  The other calmed your fears. 
One saw your first sweet smile.  The other dried your tears.
One sought for you a home that she could not provide. 
The other prayed for a child and her hope was not denied.
And now you ask me, through your tears,
The age-old question unanswered through the years.
Heredity or environment, which are you a product of?
Neither, my darling, Neither.  Just two different kinds of love. 

Having Heidi back in my life, I could now say that my “normal” was full and complete.  I felt like I was truly whole, and I still feel that way today.   Though she lives a couple of hours away, I try to visit as often as I can.  We see each other every couple of months on average and celebrate holidays and birthdays together.  I'm so incredibly proud of Heidi!  She's been accepting of knowing how she was conceived and still wanting to have a relationship with me.  Her parents are incredible!
 
Forgiveness was also something which had to happen.  This was hard.  He is no longer a part of my life, but I can say that I have forgiven him.  Without forgiveness, I don’t think I could have gotten to where I am today.  You have to choose in your life if you will be bitter or if you will forgive.  I chose to forgive.

In June 2012, I remarried to the most amazing man I have ever met!  Tim is the one I talked about in the beginning.  My story never scared him.  He has never judged me.  Tim encourages me,
challenges me, and loves me completely.  Here is a note my husband wrote for me after I told him my story:

“It is difficult for me to separate a person from their story.  It is what has formed them.  Our past and those who were an influence over us shape our values and our character.  The good and bad in all of us are cultivated by our experiences.  I would never wish on anyone what you had to endure over the years.  But this is your story and I love you for it.  You make me better.  You are the strongest woman I have ever met and you are kind, compassionate, and very patient with others.  I wouldn’t want you any different.  Because of that, however difficult your life may have been, I can accept it and be blessed by you because of it.  Looking at your life, I can see that many people were placed there by God to take care of you during difficult times. God bless you Cherie.”

I want my story to be one of hope and an understanding that despite how difficult life can be, there is always a future.  I believe God puts people in our lives to bless us and to be blessed by us.  We don’t always know who or when, or for how long.  But my challenge to you is to never think you are alone and to never give up hope.

BIO:  Cherie Miller is a wife and mother of four biological children, three step-children, and a birthmother to one.  Her husband Tim Miller is a 100% pro-life Minnesota State House Representative, representing District 17A, having worked as a grant writer for Habitat for Humanity before becoming a state rep..   Cherie is a nurse, teaching health care at a local college, and a blogger for Save The 1.  As a birthmother from rape, she's hoping to mentor others through sharing her story.
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