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Showing posts with label pregnancy by rape. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy by rape. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
I'm a 78 Year Old Birthmom From Rape, and Have Never Regretted Saving His Life, by Patricia Lawrence
I'm 78 years old and I'm telling my story now while I still have the opportunity. I want people to know that pregnancy by rape is not the fault of the child, so why should we punish the child for something the biological father did?
My teen years were difficult. My mom was overly permissive while my dad was nowhere to be seen at this troubled time in my life. Dad even refused to pay the
child support the court had ordered. To me, this meant they didn't love me.
So I joined the U.S. Women's Army.
Eight weeks into Basic Training, I went on a double date which was a blind date. He was
also in the military, stationed at the same base. All I remember is that we had all driven somewhere and he gave me a drink. I passed out and have no memory of the rest of the evening. I don't even remember how I got back to the barracks or in bed.
Two weeks later, while standing in line for inspection, I passed out. I was taken to the base infirmary where the doctor examined me and said, "Private, because of your symptoms, I would say you are pregnant." I replied, "I can't be pregnant because I have not done anything to become pregnant!" He then said, "Still, we need to do a test to see if you are pregnant."
I was totally devastated to learn that I was pregnant. Since I hadn't been anywhere socially, I knew right away that it had to have been that night, and my date must have drugged and raped me. Of course, I told the doctor what had happened, the Army did conduct an investigation and contacted the rapist, but they kept me out of it and I was never informed of anything.
My commanding officer gave me 48 to call home and tell my mother what had happened and that I was pregnant. When I called home and told my mom I was being discharged from the Army because I was pregnant, she immediately asked, "Who, what, where, why, when and how?" I told her about the rape, and she just said that I needed to come home. It took a few weeks for all of paperwork to be completed, I was discharged from the Army, and returned home.
My mother and two sisters met me at the bus station and we got into my mother's car. Her first words to me were: "Patricia, you will have an abortion." It was May, 1957, I was 18 years old, and I did not know what that word meant. She told me it meant "they would take the baby" from me. The way she stated it, I knew that she meant something was going to happen very quickly, and that she wasn't saying they were going to take the baby from me after my baby was born. I realized this meant they would kill my baby.
Eight weeks into Basic Training, I went on a double date which was a blind date. He was
Two weeks later, while standing in line for inspection, I passed out. I was taken to the base infirmary where the doctor examined me and said, "Private, because of your symptoms, I would say you are pregnant." I replied, "I can't be pregnant because I have not done anything to become pregnant!" He then said, "Still, we need to do a test to see if you are pregnant."
I was totally devastated to learn that I was pregnant. Since I hadn't been anywhere socially, I knew right away that it had to have been that night, and my date must have drugged and raped me. Of course, I told the doctor what had happened, the Army did conduct an investigation and contacted the rapist, but they kept me out of it and I was never informed of anything.
My commanding officer gave me 48 to call home and tell my mother what had happened and that I was pregnant. When I called home and told my mom I was being discharged from the Army because I was pregnant, she immediately asked, "Who, what, where, why, when and how?" I told her about the rape, and she just said that I needed to come home. It took a few weeks for all of paperwork to be completed, I was discharged from the Army, and returned home.
My mother and two sisters met me at the bus station and we got into my mother's car. Her first words to me were: "Patricia, you will have an abortion." It was May, 1957, I was 18 years old, and I did not know what that word meant. She told me it meant "they would take the baby" from me. The way she stated it, I knew that she meant something was going to happen very quickly, and that she wasn't saying they were going to take the baby from me after my baby was born. I realized this meant they would kill my baby.
I said, "I will not
have an abortion because that is murder and I will not stand before God as one who committed murder." My mom replied, "Patricia, you're just being stupid." Both of my sisters agreed that I should have an abortion. I felt like I was being ganged up on, but I knew I had to stand for what was right.
The relationship between my mother and I grew colder over the next couple of weeks. One afternoon, I was asleep on the bed and awoke to my mother holding a rifle within one inch of my face, square between my eyes. I was totally afraid for my life! I instantly pushed the gun aside, frantically saying to my mother, "What do you think you are doing?" She said, "I am trying to frighten you so much you will miscarry the child."
At that point, I determined I would leave my mother's home. She mocked me, asking, "Where will you go, who will have you?" I said, "Juanita, my oldest sister will help me." But
Mom said, "She doesn't want your shame."
However, within days I went to live with my oldest sister, Juanita. Shortly after I arrived at her home, my other sister Mary came to me and said, "Patricia, hold out you hand." When I held out my hand, she dropped about 20 pills into my hand and said, "Mom says you are to take these all at once." I knew enough to know that taking 20 of any kind of pill was dangerous for your health and that my mother was intending to kill me. I walked into the bathroom, stood over the toilet, dropped the pills in, and flushed them away as I told my sister, "I may be dumb, but I am not stupid."
After my son was born, my mother confessed to me that the pills were medicine that was given to heart patients, and had I taken them as instructed, according to doctors, I would have had a massive heart attack. She never apologized, but I think in her own feeble way, she was trying to tell me she was sorry.
Finally, arrangements were made for me to go to the Salvation Army Home for Unwed Mothers in St Louis, Missouri, on November 2, 1957, where I was spent the remainder of my pregnancy. In the home, I experienced for the first time in my life unconditional love -- love from the workers there who loved all of us, and never condemned any of the nine girls in their care.
My son was born on January 11, 1958, in the early morning hours. He was a big baby, weighing in at 9 pounds 2 ounces and was 23 inches long. As he was being delivered, since it was the Salvation Army policy at the hospital within the home for birthmothers placing for adoption, my eyes were covered with a towel. They also strapped my arms down so I could not remove the towel. They did not let me see him until two days later when I was in the presence of a social worker.
The relationship between my mother and I grew colder over the next couple of weeks. One afternoon, I was asleep on the bed and awoke to my mother holding a rifle within one inch of my face, square between my eyes. I was totally afraid for my life! I instantly pushed the gun aside, frantically saying to my mother, "What do you think you are doing?" She said, "I am trying to frighten you so much you will miscarry the child."
At that point, I determined I would leave my mother's home. She mocked me, asking, "Where will you go, who will have you?" I said, "Juanita, my oldest sister will help me." But
Mom said, "She doesn't want your shame."
However, within days I went to live with my oldest sister, Juanita. Shortly after I arrived at her home, my other sister Mary came to me and said, "Patricia, hold out you hand." When I held out my hand, she dropped about 20 pills into my hand and said, "Mom says you are to take these all at once." I knew enough to know that taking 20 of any kind of pill was dangerous for your health and that my mother was intending to kill me. I walked into the bathroom, stood over the toilet, dropped the pills in, and flushed them away as I told my sister, "I may be dumb, but I am not stupid."
After my son was born, my mother confessed to me that the pills were medicine that was given to heart patients, and had I taken them as instructed, according to doctors, I would have had a massive heart attack. She never apologized, but I think in her own feeble way, she was trying to tell me she was sorry.
Finally, arrangements were made for me to go to the Salvation Army Home for Unwed Mothers in St Louis, Missouri, on November 2, 1957, where I was spent the remainder of my pregnancy. In the home, I experienced for the first time in my life unconditional love -- love from the workers there who loved all of us, and never condemned any of the nine girls in their care.
My son was born on January 11, 1958, in the early morning hours. He was a big baby, weighing in at 9 pounds 2 ounces and was 23 inches long. As he was being delivered, since it was the Salvation Army policy at the hospital within the home for birthmothers placing for adoption, my eyes were covered with a towel. They also strapped my arms down so I could not remove the towel. They did not let me see him until two days later when I was in the presence of a social worker.
I was told that I could hold him, but I chose not to do so because I did not want him to bond with me since he needed to bond with his adoptive mother. For his sake and
for mine as well, I knew it was best that I placed him for adoption. Even to this day, my heart breaks as I think about that moment, looking through the nursery window, telling him "I'm so sorry my precious little boy that I have to give you up, but for your sake and mine, I have to do this, so please forgive me." I loved that child. I had fought for him. I knew I had done the right thing for him.
I wasn't a believer -- I wasn't a Christian at that time, but I knew there was a just God, and that I was doing what was right before God and that He would honor that in some way.
Giving up this son for adoption was and still is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life, but I knew his life was worth everything that I had gone through.
Giving up this son for adoption was and still is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life, but I knew his life was worth everything that I had gone through.
When I saw my son, I didn't see the rapist. I saw my child, my own flesh and blood.
Two weeks later, I went back home and I was never allowed to talk about what I had been through. I was told by my mom, "now you will never find a decent man to marry you." However, seven months later, I met Wayne.
Two weeks later, I went back home and I was never allowed to talk about what I had been through. I was told by my mom, "now you will never find a decent man to marry you." However, seven months later, I met Wayne.
Terrified my mother would be right, nevertheless, about a month into dating, I told Wayne about my son. I knew we were falling in love and felt he had the right to know about my story. After telling him, he took me home and I thought, "There goes another one. No one wants used merchandise." Two days later, Wayne called me and asked if he could come see me. He drove me to a wonderful spot in the San Gabriel mountains, parked the car under a beautiful pine tree, turned to me and said, "Pat, I don't care where you've been or what you've done. What's important to me is what you can be to me now and in our future." Five days later, he proposed to me.
We were married 36 years, 8 months and 2 days, and he loved me despite all I had been through.
We were married 36 years, 8 months and 2 days, and he loved me despite all I had been through.
We went on to have three daughters. I prayed to God, "Why didn't you ever give me a son to raise?" I felt God answered me that my daughter was born on Christmas Day as a reminder to me that God knew what it was like to give up His only Son.
Years later . . . . On May 20, 1993, we began the trip to Missouri to the hometown of my son, Bob. We had agreed to meet in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart. When Wayne and I arrived, we did not see anyone who might be my son, so we waited on a bench outside the store. In about 10 minutes, there was walking toward us a big man. He was 6'4" tall and he had his wife with him. I had described what I would be wearing so he knew how to identify me. As he approached, I felt like a piece of a puzzle had just been put in place. We shook hands. We talked for a bit, then he asked us to follow him and his wife to their home.
That evening, Bob took my husband and me to the home of his mother for a dinner. It was
Years later . . . . On May 20, 1993, we began the trip to Missouri to the hometown of my son, Bob. We had agreed to meet in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart. When Wayne and I arrived, we did not see anyone who might be my son, so we waited on a bench outside the store. In about 10 minutes, there was walking toward us a big man. He was 6'4" tall and he had his wife with him. I had described what I would be wearing so he knew how to identify me. As he approached, I felt like a piece of a puzzle had just been put in place. We shook hands. We talked for a bit, then he asked us to follow him and his wife to their home.
That evening, Bob took my husband and me to the home of his mother for a dinner. It was
I had made her an afghan as my gift to her for doing the wonderful job she had done in raising my son, her son. Although I am his birth mom, she is indeed his mother. She did all the things of a mother and did them well. In my mind she will always be his mother.
Before dinner she said, "Patricia, would you ask the blessing on our meal?" I was honored.
This time was a very special time as I got to talk to and hug my son for the first time. My heart was bursting with happiness, and I was feeling so good about having given him life, when others wanted me to abort him.
I did give him
the details of how it came about that the only thing I could do at the time,
for his best interests and for mine as well, was to place him for adoption. When I told
him the story, he said two words that made the wait of 35 years worth it all.
He looked into my eyes and said, "THANK YOU."
Last year, a week after his birthday, my son completely surprised me by picking me up and taking me to lunch at a restaurant I frequented in my hometown. I introduced my son to the waitress, telling her that this is the son I placed for adoption. My son looked intently at the waitress, pointed to me and said, "I want you to know that this is one very strong woman." My heart was bursting with pride that I would hear him speak those words.
Last year, a week after his birthday, my son completely surprised me by picking me up and taking me to lunch at a restaurant I frequented in my hometown. I introduced my son to the waitress, telling her that this is the son I placed for adoption. My son looked intently at the waitress, pointed to me and said, "I want you to know that this is one very strong woman." My heart was bursting with pride that I would hear him speak those words.
I hope all of you can see how God takes the ashes of our lives and He makes them into a beautiful picture which He intends it to be!
BIO: Patricia Lawrence is a widow, mother of 3 daughters, birthmother to one son,
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Forced to Devise a Parenting Plan With My Rapist, by Ashley Beal
During Christmas break of my Sophomore year, at age 16, I stayed
with my 24 year old 2nd cousin.
One night, she had a 19 year old guy come over who she’d
met in a chat room. Everyone was
drinking, and I believe that our drinks must have been drugged. I briefly "came to" in the basement while the guy was raping me and then must have passed out again. When I awoke, I was alone. I ran upstairs to get my cousin, but the guy was still there and I was frozen. Once I had the opportunity to speak with my cousin, I asked her what had happened, but she didn’t
remember anything either.
The upcoming weeks after being raped were quite disastrous. I had vowed to myself not to tell anyone. I felt like trash. I felt disgusting. I felt like I deserved it, and that nobody
would believe me anyway.
A couple of weeks later, after realizing that I had missed my
period, I decided to take a pregnancy test. The pregnancy test was immediately positive. I was in disbelief. I felt ashamed and sick, as my child’s father was a rapist. I wasn't sexually active, so I knew that was
the situation I was facing – that I was pregnant from rape
Abortion never crossed my mind.
I had a Christian upbringing and I was always taught that children are a
blessing, so even though I was facing this pregnancy by rape, I actually became
excited about having a baby. However,
when I told my cousin I was pregnant, she immediately told me that I need to
get an abortion.
My parents were upset of course.
I’d never seen my father cry until I told him I’d
been raped and that I was pregnant. He
cried like a baby, then went through an angry period. He took me to the police station, but they
just said it was too late for a rape kit and they weren’t
going to do anything since I was 16 and they said they rarely get convictions
under such circumstances.
Over the course of
my pregnancy, especially during the summer of 2004 leading up to the birth of
my son, I had people call and ask me if I was giving my son up for
adoption. My mom would answer the phone
and respond with “Baby
not for sale.”
My parents and I never discussed
adoption -- it was just assumed that I would keep my son.
After a lengthy
labor with no pain medication, I gave birth to my son Monday, September 27th at
2:57 pm. The process of the birth was
both joyful and scary at the same time. My
sister held one hand and my mom the other as I gave birth to my son. I instantly felt like he was a part of me, he
was beautiful and I loved him.
While in the
hospital, I called my grandma and grandpa and I remember just crying and my
grandma asking why I was crying. I told
her that I felt like I had let them down, still blaming myself for being raped,
giving birth as a teen mom out of a rape.
She reassured me, saying, “It’ll be okay dear. You don’t
need to cry.”
When I came home from the hospital, life sort of proceeded
as normal -- as normal as it could proceed, being a teenage mom. It
wasn't until after my son was born that I began to dwell on the rape. The first
few weeks of being a mom were great, but once I went back to school, it got a
lot more challenging. I had to work
full-time, be a mom full time, and go to school part-time.
When I went back to
school and knew that I had to find daycare for my son, I applied for daycare
assistance, as well as food stamps and WIC through the county. In January, 2005, because I was actively
getting assistance and I was now over the age of 18, I was forced by the state
of Wisconsin to pursue child support. I
was absolutely terrified! I was told
that he had just as much right to my son as any other single father because our case was “he said/she said” and they were not going to treat our
case as a rape case. I begged and
pleaded to not have State aid, but they said even if I chose to discontinue the
State aid that he still had rights.
I decided to do what I thought was right, and was going to
ultimately protect my son in the end and followed all court documentation to a “T”.
I was so scared and worried that if I
had one small mess up, then the rapist would swoop in and get full
rights to my son. I also often feared
that he would try to kidnap him as well, so I watched my son like a hawk and
made absolutely sure that everyone at daycare knew who could pick up my son and
only people on that list could pick him up.
In early 2007, the courts ultimately forced me to start
building a relationship with my son’s biological father. Under court order, I had to meet the man who
raped me in Portage, WI at the Columbia County Health and Human Services
building for court supervised mediation where they forced me to devise a parenting plan
with my rapist, as he was granted joint custody by the state of Wisconsin. The stated goal was to build up to 50/50
time. The mediator agreed with my pleas
that we start off slowly by having an initial meeting between the parents, then
gradually developing a relationship between my son and my rapist. At the initial meeting, I was horrified as we had
to exchange phone numbers and emails.
Over the next few
weeks, the rapist and I would chat by Yahoo messenger here and there, along
with some phone calls, as I was under court order to do. I was so scared. To this day, I still cannot
believe that the Court of Law didn't protect me from him. I feel like the justice system failed me and
that they wouldn’t
even consider that I was raped. There
was absolutely no hearing before the Court on this issue. It just wasn’t even allowed.
I had to meet me
rapist face to face, and parenting visits began. After about 10 of these visits, something
changed in my life which caused the rapist to back down – I got engaged. I’m
not sure exactly what happened, but he just stopped all visits after I told him
at our last mediation in March, 2006 that I was engaged. Maybe he realized that he wouldn’t be able to manipulate or control me
because there was now another man involved.
Maybe he had just been curious to meet his biological son. Maybe his parents had been the ones pushing
for the visits. I don’t know, but I was just relieved it
stopped!
However, the fact remains that I was failed by the court
system. I shouldn't have had to tell him
I was engaged. I should have been
protected by the court of law. I was
raped! I feel like they protected the
rapist better than they protected me. 10
years later, it still makes me literally sick, and I fill with panic thinking
that I was forced to interact with him. I would cry and be on nerves end for days
before I would have to see him, or know that I would have to talk to him.
Because of the rape, the trauma of having to deal with my
son’s biological father, and fighting so
hard and ferociously to protect my son, I now suffer from PTSD. I deal with my trauma on a daily basis. It goes deeper than just being raped. The interaction I was forced to have with the
rapist, feeling like I had to get married young to protect my son -- it didn't
just affect me, it affected my son as well. With the rapists’ selfish actions, it turned my life
upside down. Thankfully, my husband has
been a good father to my son, and my son has no knowledge or memory of the
visits with the man who raped me.
I’m sharing my story now because I was
inspired by a recent story out of St. Louis of another woman who became
pregnant by rape. First of all, I want
people to know that a child conceived in rape is a blessing and is worthy of
love. Secondly, I want to bring
awareness to the plight of women who are raped and choose to parent their
child. The law needs to be changed in
Wisconsin. No woman should be put in a
position that if she chooses to keep her child, she would have to co-parent
with her rapist. I want to be available
to testify before legislatures to make sure this never happens to another woman
again.
BIO: Ashley Beal is a mother and Independent Living Specialist/Youth Services, residing in the Madison, Wisconsin area, and a pro-life speaker and blogger for Save The 1. She is Save The 1's Director for the Rape Survivor Child Custody Act project.
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