Showing posts with label right to life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label right to life. Show all posts
Monday, August 6, 2018

Is My Life Worth Less Than One Conceived In Love? by Karina Estrella Etchepare, Argentina

I am a person like anyone else.  I am a lawyer, a National Public Accountant and an adult education teacher in a humble neighborhood of Buenos Aires, but I have a different story.  My right to life was questioned, and the continuation of my life depended on the strength and tenacity of a 14-year-old girl in order that I may now tell you my story.  Today in Argentina this challenging of lives is being repeated again.  This time, for all unborn children through 14 weeks, and for children conceived in rape right up until birth.

People like me today are considered disposable.  What was my fault so that my right to life is questioned?  I did not steal, I did not kill and yet I was about to be killed in utero just for having been gestated out of the rape of a poor girl.

My biological mother, Teresa delMilagro, lived in the Itatí de Bernal emergency village in the Province of Buenos Aires, Argentina in a context of absolute poverty, violence and alcoholism.  She was raped and abused by her stepfather and from that terrible situation she became pregnant with me at 14 years old.

My biological grandmother, complicit in this situation, did the impossible for my birthmother to abort me.  I believe that if RU486 -- the abortion pill -- had existed at the time, today I am not here telling this story.  However, despite my maternal grandmother's actions, pregnancy continued and one day, my biological grandmother offered me -- before I had yet been born -- to a woman in the neighborhood who always helped the most needy.  For my biological grandmother, I was an abomination, but not for my birthmother.  For her, I was the only person in the world whom she really loved.

That is how 22 days after I was born I was handed over to that neighbor, who was my adoptive mother, or as we say, "heart mom," Alicia.  She lived with her husband Franklin and 21-year-old son Fran.  I arrived at my new home in a deplorable state with smoky, dirty clothing, hunger and third degree burns on my genitals.

My arrival in the neighborhood was a revolution.  That day, all the neighbors joined in looking for clothes, milk and a cradle.  My new mom immediately bathed me and I, who still did not even open my eyes, sighed with relief, as I must have felt the sense that I'd been saved.

The next day my heart mom started the adoption proceedings and, as required, a corresponding police report.

If I had to describe the relationship with my adoptive parents, the two words that would summarize our life together today would be infinite love.  When I arrived into their lives, my mother was 54 years old and my father was 49.  Even though they were older, they loved me deeply and shaped me into the woman I am today, with both defects and virtues, but always with the same values, impressing upon me the importance of helping the most defenseless and a profound respect for life.

The last time my heart mom saw my biological mother was when I was eight months old.  My birthmother came to know about me, but she was warned of the restraining order that the adoption judge had imposed.  Teresa delMilagro, embarrassed by the situation, took a baby cap from my mother, caressed it gently and gave it back to her.  My heart mom always waited for her to return, but Teresa delMilagro never came back.

When I was eight years old, I learned my origin and it was hard to know, but it was always clear to me that despite the pain, I wanted to help the weakest.  There were years of internal healing and I am grateful to have gone through all that, because I know now that the only way to heal the pain is with love, understanding and forgiveness.

At age 28, with my original birth certificate in hand, I decided to look for Teresa del Milagro. I needed to close my story but above all, I wanted to tell her, "THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO LIVE FULLY."

Disappointed, I found out through a governmental search page of people, that my birthmother had died at age of 25, when I was just 11 years old.

However, I found the family that my birthmother had formed.  In spite of everything, her continuous great act of love for me made her betting for life again.  I talked to them and learned that my biological mother was sadly returned to her abuser, that he attempted to traffic her sexually to other men, and, as she refused, she was admitted to a school until she was 18 years old.  

I learned that she had looked for me intensely, but my biological grandmother denied her any information and then, without hope, Teresa committed suicide.  I'm sure it was an impulse, as her family had said she was not like that, but that she was a fighter.   In a moment of weakness, she took her own life.  It hurts me to know that the lack of protection and abandonment of the State killed her.  I know that if we'd met, I would have been a part of her healing.
 
My adoptive parents did not change my original names, the names which Teresa delMilagro had given me.  I have a half-brother and a half-sister who she had with her partner.  The surprise was that my sister is also called Karina, like me.  I knew this was a sign from my birthmother that she had never forgotten me. 

Although I could not meet her, I appreciate the strong convictions she had when she was so young. According to her partner and other children, she never saw me as a trauma from rape or an aberration,  but it was always the love of a mother for all of her children, to the point that she did not differentiate which of her children was gestated out of love or rape.

Teresa delMilagro did, as her name says, achieve a miracle in me because she allowed me to live and she saved me by placing me for adoption, by changing my destiny.  I would not be what I am if I had not been given to my adoptive family, the best I had.

Today my parents are gone but their love for my life transcended theirs -- the proof of which are my sons, Manuel and Martín.  They are here today because my three saviors said Yes to my life!  And now, I fight to say Yes for others who are just as deserving of love and life.

Tuesday, May 8, 2018 was not just any day in my life, but it was the day I shouted to the four winds: ALL LIFE IS GOOD! in the Chamber of Deputies of the Nation.  All the pieces of my puzzle called "Life" were perfectly embedded.  My sad origin and my experiences over the years would serve to defend the lives of the purest beings in the world -- unborn children, those who have no voice and cannot defend themselves.  I related my story to the legislators, then showed them the purpose of it.

"My story comes to an end, but not before asking you:  Could you dare to tell me that your life is worth more than mine because I am the result of a rape? I hope you are clear that the mother and child are victims of the rapist and that is why you have to protect them.  No one has the right to say that one life is worth less than the other, much less that of the fruit of a rape, because that baby did NOT CHOOSE HOW TO BE GESTATED.  If the rapist, with luck, is sentenced to 15 years in prison, why is the innocent baby sentenced to death?  Without life there is no freedom. Value ​​life and defend the unprotected, sow love, sow peace, sow life, honor life!"

I will not stop fighting to prevent abortion from being legalized in my country. I will not stop because I have a debt to life.  Teresa fought for me and gave me an opportunity to live, and now it's my turn to fight back to ensure that every human being is guaranteed his or her first and most precious of rights: the right to live.

BIO:  Karina Estrella Etchepare is a wife, mother of two beautiful children, and a family law attorney
and accountant.  She combines her professional work with intense pro-life activism, speaking publicly at every opportunity.  Karina is a blogger, page editor and pro-life speaker for Save The 1's Spanish team, Salvar El 1.

For more stories from Argentina, please read:

10 Argentine Women Conceived in Rape and Mothers From Rape Speak Up! by Rebecca Kiessling

Maria de la Paz Rodriguez Coronel Dudignac and
Karina Estrella Etchpare, both from Argentina,
both conceived in rape and pro-life speakers
and bloggers for Salvar El 1.

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Thursday, November 16, 2017

They Say 'Except in Cases' Like My Son, by Rose Duncan

I had my son, Daniel, when I was 16 years old.  There have been challenges, but he has been my saving grace.  Now, at age 6, he is a fantastic student, a loving big brother, and a wonderful son.  He has been a huge blessing in my life, as well as the lives of our family members. My son has more love surrounding him than he knows what to do with.  He is truly a beautiful, blessed child.   And . . ., my son was conceived in rape.
I lived with a family member and my mother as a young teenager. This family member began dating a man much younger than her, who would ultimately turn my world upside down for the worst, yet at the same time, I ended up with the biggest blessing of my life.  This 33-year-old man moved in with us shortly after they began dating.  At first, he was kind of like a cool uncle.  But now I realize that, from the time this man moved in, he had begun grooming me. 
He would advocate on my behalf to convince the adults in the house to allow me to do things with friends, so I felt like he was in my corner.  On one occasion, he told the family he was taking me to see a pastor for counseling, but instead, he surprised me by taking me to dinner and to the movies.  He also began to sneak alcohol to me and my friends. I needed new underwear, and he took me to buy some, which included thongs. 

 After this happened, I asked a friend if that was normal, and she said no not at all, but this type of distorted and perverted relationship was all I knew.  I had no idea of the manipulation that was going on. He encouraged me to skip school and hang out with him at home after everyone left for work. And, he did the same in a way, by pretending he worked night shifts, but he would leave for work and sneak back in the house and hang out with me watching movies.
Eventually, he began initiating physical contact.  At first, I didn’t know what to make of it.  I thought that just maybe, some people have this way of showing care for someone with a quick peck on the lips.  I looked up to him, and I wanted to make him happy, even though I told him to stop and I knew it was wrong.  But he was a lot bigger than me and I felt helpless.  I tried pushing him off each time, but I knew physically I couldn’t stop him. 

I felt terrible.  I just felt terrible.  He kept saying it was all okay.  I had already been sexually assaulted previously, and I had a sense of what was supposed to be normal, but these experiences distorted my concepts of safe relationships.

For a year between the ages of 14 and 15, I was sexually and physically abused by this man.  He told me that if I ever got pregnant, I would have to have an abortion.  My whole life, I’ve always been 100% pro-life.  I’ve always just had a strong conviction that abortion is wrong, no matter what.  So, when he said this to me, I didn’t argue, but I knew it would never happen if I were to get pregnant.  He told me he had a vasectomy anyway, so I really didn’t think it could happen. Of course, now, I see the inconsistency in what he was saying, but at the time I was 14 and had no frame of reference for sorting through all of this.
When I was 15, I found out I was pregnant.  It was kind of odd, because he just said to me one day, “You need to take a pregnancy test.”  He was with me when I took it. When I saw the positive, I just began to sob.  He hugged me and said, “It’s going to be okay,” but I knew it was not. 
I knew I was going to have to tell my mom.  I sat down on her bed, and I told her I was pregnant and, of course, she wanted to know by who?  I told her it was some random 20-year-old guy.  She was furious and right away told me we were going to go to the police and said “He’s going to pay for this.”  It broke my heart knowing that if she had known the truth then, she would have been even more heartbroken.
We made an appointment with my pediatrician, about five days later.  My rapist drove me and my mom.  I wanted to get pre-natal vitamins and see how my baby was doing, to make sure I had a healthy pregnancy.  I was about eight weeks pregnant and everything looked normal.
When we got in the car after the appointment, he pressured me greatly. He said that I "was not going to have this baby.”  I was hard-headed and stubborn as always, and said "Yes, I am," but inside, I was terrified.  I didn’t want him to do anything to hurt my baby. 
Although he was still pressuring me to abort, oddly enough, he was otherwise very nice to me, and very accommodating.  However, the morning after the doctor’s appointment, the police came to our house, banging on the door.  He hid in the attic, and the entrance was in my room where I was sleeping.  I awoke to guns in my face and the police asking me where he was.  They eventually dragged him out of the house, putting him in handcuffs.  It turns out, he was wanted for felony charges of assault and kidnapping of a girlfriend he had a few years ago.
Once he was gone, I felt relief knowing I wouldn’t be subjected to assault and abuse, and I knew I would have some time to think. That momentary relief was ripped away when I overheard a conversation between family members discussing all his violent history, and I was afraid he would come for me and my baby when he was released from prison.
About a week later, he wrote to us saying he was getting out in about 10 days.  He wrote to me, “Don’t believe things you hear about me.  Remember what we talked about and what you need to do.”  That’s when I spoke with a family friend, and we decided to tell my mom, together, that he is the one who is the father of my baby. That was one of the most painful conversations I have had, but it needed to be done for mine and my baby’s protection.  My mom was heartbroken and sobbed and sobbed.
We went to the police and filed a report.  He was released from prison on the prior conviction of assault when my son was six months old.  It wasn’t until my son was eight months old that they finally did a DNA test, which took four months to come back.  In the meantime, he was harassing me, driving by my house, etc..
He ultimately got a plea deal and was convicted of criminal sexual assault with a minor and sentenced to three years for raping me, but got timed-served for the prior assault.  Thank goodness, he’s on the sex offender registry in South Carolina.
Although this was a lot to endure, getting pregnant is what really got me right with God.  Don’t get me wrong -- I was devastated, because I anticipated that this would be a long, heart-breaking road raising this child.  
With the pressure to abort from not just family, but friends as well, I remember sitting outside on the back patio, and for the first time in my life, I heard God truly speak to me.  He told me that I was to raise this child, and not to worry, because He would take care of everything. 
From that moment on, I had a steely determination when it came to my pregnancy and my baby.  I told anyone who doubted, that I could do all things through Christ who gives me strength.  I didn’t even know exactly what that meant at the time, but I knew in my spirit it was true.  
As He always does, God provided.  I had everything I needed for my son, mainly through donations through church and from friends around me.  I was so blessed to have an abundance of support and love for me and this child. 
I’m not going to lie -- I was a fantastic mother to my son, even at 16!  I wasn’t what people think of as the stereotypical teen mom who supposedly leaves her child with grandma to do whatever, and the grandparents raise the child.  I took care of him, I breastfeed him for 2-1/2 years, I read him books, played with him, sang him nursery rhymes.  I loved being a mom!  I had the support of my amazing mother who I lived with, which greatly helped.  I also had the support of my church and extended family.  I took care of my son full time.  I taught him sign language, read and sang to him every day, and loved him unconditionally. 
Now, six years later, I am married to the most wonderful man in the world, who loves my son as if he were his own blood and we are in the process of my husband adopting him.  My son is a truly wonderful, outgoing, sweet, beautiful child.  I see him growing into an amazing man of God who will move mountains.
My beautiful son is why, when I hear about “pro-life” beliefs, “except in the cases of rape,” I do more than cringe:  my heart aches!
“Except of course in the case of”... my son -- my firstborn child, who is a wonderful and amazing person.  They say except in the cases like him, in cases like my son, the baby should never even have had a chance to live.
Regardless of your preconceived notions, please understand every single life has meaning.  Through no circumstance should a child ever not get a chance to live and thrive in this world.  Every child has a right to life. 
According to statistics, less than 1% of abortions performed in the U.S. are the result of rape.  Those 1% matter.  My baby boy, the 1% matters!  It’s insulting and very hurtful to me.  It’s like a stab.  How can you think it was just a   decision and that my child shouldn’t even be here if my rapist had succeeded in pressuring me?  The law should protect my son and children like him. 
We must stop looking at the circumstance, and start looking at the life.  Regardless of conception, developmental impairments, or the circumstances the mother is in, every single child deserves their right to life. 
I truly believe my son will make a difference in the world, and he has most certainly left a positive impact on our family and all our friends.  He is a light and a beautiful soul. 
I am a mother of three, but I only have two on this earth.  After long awaiting, planning and excitement, I unexpectedly lost my sweet daughter, Savannah, at 40 weeks gestation.  After a perfectly healthy pregnancy, she was stillborn with the cord wrapped around her neck several times. It showed me again how precious life is and how fleeting.  You don’t know what tomorrow will bring. 
A few weeks later, we unexpectedly welcomed our foster daughter who was almost two years old, and her life is precious too. 
There are so many who desperately want to be parents, to be a mommy or a daddy.  There are so many people longing for a baby in their life, myself included.  We cannot disregard life, just based on how the life began. 
Despite how a life begins, that child’s life can truly turn into something beautiful.  My son is a testimony of that.  Even in the bleakest moments, there is always hope.  We need to change our mindset of fear to a mindset of hope -- that every baby deserves a chance, even in cases of rape.  Every child is a true blessing from God, and deserves to have a chance for a beautiful life.  It is up to us to save the 1%.

BIO:  Rose Duncan is a wife, a stay-at-home mom and student, and resides in South Carolina where she hopes to make a difference to end the rape exception in her home state.  She’s now a pro-life blogger for Save The 1.
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Monday, October 30, 2017

When I Look at My Son, I Have Never Thought of Him as Being Born From Rape, by Alisha Weiler

I'm finally ready to tell my story about having become pregnant by rape because the more of us that tell our stories, the better chance we have of being heard.  This is hard for me, but we have to start somewhere first.
 
When I was 18, I was supposed to go on a double blind date with my best friend (who was pregnant at the time) and her boyfriend.  We were supposed to meet at the bowling alley, but supposedly my blind date’s truck didn't work and he was at his step-father’s bar, so we met there.  We drank quite a bit -- not my friend who was pregnant, but her boyfriend, me and my blind date.  I had never really drank before, so I was certainly naïve.  My blind date kept serving up shots of Tequila.  I know I was under the legal age to drink, and should have known better. . . .

I ended up really sick, throwing up on the bathroom floor, and was carried out by my blind date.  I remember being put in my friend’s boyfriend’s car.  I passed out, and then I woke up as I was being pulled out and carried to my blind date’s apartment.  There was only a couch and no lights. I thought that was odd.  My blind date put me on the floor in a room and I passed out again.  I woke up naked and in pain, with him on top of me.  I was groggy, but I knew what he was trying to do and told him “No!” and managed to roll over, but he continued his efforts of forcing himself on me, and I began screaming.  I couldn’t understand why my friend and her boyfriend had left me alone and why nobody responded to my screams.

After he raped me, he left the room, and I remember finding a pair of pants nearby and putting them on.  I just sat there, my knees to chest, head down in my arms, rocking back and forth crying and confused.  After a few minutes, he came back in the room and attempted raping me again.  He grabbed my arms and tried to push me back, but I fought hard.  He got angry and left, slamming the door behind him.

I quickly got up and opened the door and yelled for my friend because I was afraid he would come back again. She was in the next room crying.  I told her what happened and she told me he attempted to rape her too, and that her boyfriend and my blind date had planned the whole thing.  He didn't rape her, but he tried,  and they had a massive struggle which ultimately resulted in her losing her baby hours later.
 
Her boyfriend wasn't in the room with her at the time I walked in, and I don't know where they were, but eventually they came back in and her boyfriend decided to take us home.  

He dropped us off at about 3:00 a.m. on a road close by her house and made us walk home from there.  Her boyfriend told me that the guy who raped me said to tell me, whatever he did to me, he's sorry.  

The next morning, my friend lost her baby. I was too ashamed to tell my parents or anybody that I’d been raped.  

Eight weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.  When the nurses and doctors heard that I was pregnant by rape, they tried to convince me that aborting my baby or adopting my baby out would be the best thing for my baby.  I was in disbelief!  I was just traumatized, and now they want to do that again?  More violence, more trauma?  Why would I kill an innocent child?  Why would God give me a gift so I can say, “No, I don't want what you just gave to me,” and throw it right back at God like a piece of trash?  My child is human and he deserves to live!

My parents found out I was raped and pregnant when they overheard me tell a friend on the phone.  Of course, they were upset that two months had gone by and I had not told them, but they were extremely supportive of me and my baby. They had raised me to be pro-life, and I knew it was never okay to kill a baby.

Once my parents knew about the rape, we proceeded to report it, as well as my girlfriend reporting her attempted rape and loss of her unborn child.  We both got restraining orders against him.  This was all in Florida.  My parents moved us to Texas when my son was four months old, and the wheels of justice were turning slowly. 

My biggest concern was making sure he could not have parental rights to my child.  At the time, Florida law did not protect me and my son.  However, a few years ago, the Rape Survivor Child Custody Act was passed in Florida to terminate the parental rights of rapists.  So, in order of us to be protected from the rapist, when my son was about six months old, a deal was made through his lawyer that he would agree to the termination of his parental rights in exchange for me dropping the charges against him. 

I felt guilty for not going through with the charges because he could just do the same thing to someone else, but my ultimate goal at this point was to protect myself and my son.  It was very difficult dealing with the whole situation and even just the thought of returning to Florida and seeing him again in court.

When I look at my son, I have never thought of him as being born from rape.  Life has
been good for me and my son.  He's smart and gets great grades.  He's in the 7th grade now.  He knows what happened and he's so thankful to be alive.  He will one day grow up and get married and have children and grandchildren.  My son deserved his right to life. 

He knows that people think that if a child is born from a rape, then that child should be aborted.  He told me that he’s glad I didn’t abort him and that he’s happy to be alive. My son still has not told anyone his story himself.  I’m sure he doesn’t want to be ridiculed for it.

I’ve told him that it can be a cold, hard world, but I am sharing my story now because people need to be aware that these babies don’t deserve to die for someone else’s crime.  I’d like to get the message across that there are more women like me who love our children who were conceived in rape, and like my son, who deserve to live – and without shame to them.  

Why would people think it's okay to take that right to life away?  It's time to speak out and up for these babies who should never be denied life!

For many years, I felt like I must be the only one who was raped and is raising her child.  I can't even describe how it felt to be so alone in this. But now, through Save The 1, I have met dozens of other mothers.  I want other women to know that there are others of us and we understand. 
BIO:  Alisha Weiler works in child care, is a mother of two, and resides in Florida.  She is now a pro-life blogger for Save The 1 and is available for speaking in Florida.
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Monday, February 13, 2017

It Looked Like Such a Bleak Situation, But I Had a Reason For Being by Kerry Ann Beckley from the U.K.

I was conceived in 1974, in a little town called Newbury, in England. Abortion became legal in the UK in 1967, but it wasn't as acceptable or as accessible as it is now.

When my mum fell pregnant with me, she already had four other children to look after, and she was married to my dad who had schizophrenia. He was extremely physically and mentally abusive to her, beating her often -- once was with a chain.

They were struggling financially and my mum really didn't want to bring me into the world, so she tried to force herself to miscarry with a hot bath and alcohol, but obviously it didn't work.

I am quite sure that if abortion had been as accessible then as it is now, I wouldn't be here to share this story.

My mum is the one who confessed to me that she had tried to abort me. I don't know why she told me -- I never thought to ask because I knew she loved me and she did her best by us. Of course, she made mistakes -- some huge ones, but growing up, I saw my mom as a strong woman who found herself in a difficult situation.

My dad took his own life when I was 18 months old. Then my mum had a partner after him who was a horrible bully to us, but she loved him. They split when I was 8 years old and I was overjoyed. My mum and I had a great relationship.

I did struggle with issues of self worth, but I think that was more to do with feeling abandoned by my dad, which is crazy I know. I found my faith when my mum died. I was a single parent myself with an eight month old baby. My mum was my rock, my foundation, my breath. I was heartbroken.

I had dabbled with party drugs before that, but then I met a guy a few months
Kerry Ann Beckley, 2nd from the right
after I lost my mum, and I was doing all kinds of drugs at that point. My life felt like fun, but I was an emotional mess. My friend invited me to church one day and I liked it. I didn't feel judged by anyone there. I love to sing, so I always enjoyed the music worship -- I still do! I went on to take an Alpha course -- learning the basics of who Christ is -- and I found my faith. At first, I wanted to ensure my ticket to Heaven so I would see my mum again, but then finding out what Jesus had done for me and that he would mend my brokenness, was just so attractive!

 My relationship with Christ has taught me that I have value and purpose, because He laid down His life for me, so that I could be all that He wants me to be. I mess up daily, but I know that His grace is sufficient and His mercies are new each morning! My start looked incredibly bleak and who in this day and age would try to convince a woman in that situation to keep her child? My friend put it like this: my mum's pregnancy (me) wasn't the problem -- my mum's situation was. She needed to get all of us away from my dad. She should have been safe, she should have had someone to turn to, to help her relocate, and my dad really should have gone to prison or been committed. She thought she had no way out, but that should never be the case!

A baby is never the problem. A baby is a blessing. The circumstances and situation may be a huge problem, but they can be changed. I just really want people to understand that a bad start doesn't mean a bad end.

I am a wife, a mother, a foster parent, a volunteer for a homeless charity, a friend, a sister and a voice for the unborn. I am living out God's purpose for my life. It looked like such a bleak situation, but I had a reason for being -- as every child who is conceived does!

 My husband is as passionate about defending the rights of the unborn as I am. I knew Paul when I was a teenager, and I had a crush on him then. We reconnected through Facebook and got married in 2013. We have so much respect for each other, so that even when we at times drive each other crazy, we are such good friends and we always have each other's backs.

Especially given my own beginnings, I am passionate about the unborn having a right to life! Just by defending the unborn, many think I'm being judgmental to those who have had abortions, but I'm really not. I hate abortion -- but just as I still loved my mum who had attempted to abort me, I don't hate people for having one.

BIO: Kerry Ann Beckley is a wife and mother, residing in Reading, England. She is a foster care giver, a worship singer at her church, and a pro-life blogger for Save The 1.

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Wednesday, February 8, 2017

The Abortion Was More Damaging Than the Rape, by Nona Ellington

My father was an evangelist, traveling and ministering where ever he was called.
 My mother was a devout Southern Baptist and my father was a full-gospel, spirit-filled Christian.  I was torn between two churches.  They were both very godly people but had different outlooks on the Bible because of their denominations.

 I received Jesus as my Savior and was baptized at age 12 in the Baptist Church, but I did not understand the importance of daily prayer, and reading the Word of God.  

 At the age of 13, I was raped by a 15 year old extended family member, stealing my virginity.  I was scared, having not received any sexual education at all.  I thought immediately that I would be pregnant.  I was afraid to tell anyone because this was a family member. Because he had given me marijuana beforehand, I felt ashamed that I had not seen it coming.

 As a result, I turned to drugs, alcohol and sought attention from older men.  Within a year, I was raped by a cousin who was 10 years older than me  -- once again, after being given marijuana.  He drove me into the woods and raped me in his truck.  

 At that point, I felt like there was a big sign on me, "Rape this girl."  After that, I went into a really dark place, again, feeling so much shame.  I didn't want the devastation in the family if I told anyone because I knew he would go to jail, and I didn't even know if anyone would believe my story.

 I became distant with my parents.  I was involved in church, going church with my Mom, but found the worst crowd to hang out with there -- those who would smoke pot in the parking lot.  I was even in a private Christian school, but got kicked out at age 14 because of my activities.

 In 10th grade, I started a public school and soon after met a boy who I began dating.  He took me to his cousin's house after school because no adults were home.  We smoked pot that must have been laced with something else, then he locked me in his cousin's room and raped me.  

 He left me in the room where I was devastated, and I could hear him and his cousin laughing about it.  I felt like I just wanted to get out of there and get home, but I didn't even know where I was so I was still dependent upon the guy who raped me to be able to get a ride home. 

 After few weeks later, I'd missed my period.  I called an older sister to tell her my predicament, and my sister began to tell me I needed to have an abortion.  At 15, I didn't even know what an abortion was.  My mother overheard our conversation, burst into the room and grabbed the phone from me.  During their conversation, my sister convinced my mom that I needed to abort. I have no idea how she achieved this, because my mom had 9 children and was, as I said, very devout. 

 I was scared, so I made a "deal" with God:  "Please help me to not be pregnant.  If I'm not pregnant, I promise not to ever have sex out of marriage again."

 That same sister took me to Planned Parenthood in Houston for a pregnancy test, where they confirmed my pregnancy, and I was in shock.  They told me that at this stage of only five weeks, "it" was only a blob of tissue. They also suggested that I needed an abortion, since I was so young and still in school. I didn't know what questions to ask as far as other options.  All that was discussed was abortion, and they referred me to another clinic to have one. 
I was devastated.  At school, I told all of my girlfriends and every single one recommended I get an abortion.  Everybody told me that it was really "no big deal, people do it all the time, especially since you're still in school."  Not one person suggested that I could keep the baby or choose adoption.  I felt abortion was my only choice, and completely lacked any education on pregnancy.
I was covered with shame and guilt, even before the abortion took place. 

 When I told the guy who raped me that I was pregnant and needed money for an abortion, he denied that he was the father, which deepened my shame.  However, under pressure from my sister, he decided to tell everyone in school so he could gather money to pay for the abortion, and handed my sister a wad of 1's and 5's.

Around October, 1983, my Mom and sister took me to the abortion facility.  My Dad was never told until more than 20 years later.  My Mom, like me, knew absolutely nothing of what an abortion actually did to a baby or the woman, but she knew enough to hide it from my Dad.

 The first thing I remember is that my mother was appalled, having noticed that there were women in the waiting room who were far along in their pregnancies, and she said to me, "What are all of these women doing in here?  They look like they are about to deliver."

 My sister handled the paperwork, but my Mom and sister were not allowed into the counseling room.  The older woman there advised me that because I was so young and so small, I might not be able to have children later in life.  But marriage and children were the furthest thing from my mind in the moment and I was not afforded the benefit of having my mother there for me to help me make an informed decision.

 In hindsight, I believe this was the first open door God gave me to not go through with it.  I really believe that, had my mom been in the room with me, we would have left.

 The next thing I remember is being on the hard, cold abortion table.  I was never introduced to the doctor.  I just remember that he was a man.  As the nurse was prepping me, I could hear my mother's voice at the door, asking, "Is my daughter in there?", then her being told, "Ma'am, you cannot come in here."  We never discussed it since, but I believe my Mom was wanting to get me out of there -- the second open door.

 I was told to focus on a baby mobile hanging from the ceiling.  Now that I look back on it, I see how sadistic that was.  

 I could hear and feel everything that was happening to me.  I'd never been to a gynecologist before, and I felt like my entire insides were being ripped out of me.  I've heard it said that abortion is like rape, and it's true, but worse than rape because of the devastating level of violence involved.  The violence and pain of the abortion are more extreme in my memory than the violence and pain of the rapes.

 I was bleeding profusely when I left.  My Mom and sister took me to a restaurant, but I passed out on my plate because I was so physically and emotionally exhausted.  After that, the subject of abortion was taboo with them.

Emotionally, I spiraled into a very destructive behavior of drugs, alcohol and promiscuous sex almost immediately following the abortion. I was completely spiritually void, rebelling against my Christian upbringing.  I also became emotionally numb, with not much regard for living at all.  

 As I was going through the motions, trying to fill this huge void within me, I attached myself to an abusive relationship less than a year after the abortion, and I eventually married him at age 19.

The abortion did in fact ruin all chances of having children.  I suffered 5 miscarriages during my marriage of 18 years, which resulted in divorce. Three of these miscarriages were tubal pregnancies, requiring emergency surgery and very near-death experiences.  I so wanted an "atonement" baby to make up for the one I killed. 

 At the age of 32, having suffered low self-esteem from the rapes, the abortion, the shame, the abusive marriage, the loss of my babies, and my infertility, I attempted suicide.  The experience of the abortion did not make the rape experience any better, but drove me into a much darker place, and I realize I'd been suffering from clinical depression all of those years.

 God then began drawing me close to Him through listening to Christian music on the radio.  As the Lord was filling me with this influence of His Truth, I gave my heart back to Christ, and the radio became my Church.  I even committed myself to quit smoking.

 One day, on my local Christian radio station, they happened to be holding was what was called the world's largest baby shower, benefiting local pregnancy resource centers.  I heard a woman speaking about the centers, and I knew I had to pick up the phone, call her, and make myself available to tell other women never to have an abortion. I realized that God had been working on me to see that so many of my struggles in life were caused by my abortion.

 Up to that point, I'd still considered myself to be pro-choice, because I felt like I had been forced into an abortion and wasn't really given a choice.

 As I visited the pregnancy resource center in central Houston, the director asked me if I'd ever had an abortion, and breaking my silence, I told her.  In order to volunteer, I was told I had to go through their post-abortion healing study called "Beauty For Ashes."  It sounded so refreshing to hear that something like this existed!

 This study saved my life.  My abusive husband didn't want me going.  He didn't want me volunteering at the center.  It was a battle to come back to the Lord, but I received so much healing through this study.  I got to name each of my six babies, and God healed me to be able to minister to other people and change my life.

 During this time, I'd also begun attending church with my Dad.  As I said, he was an evangelist, so I was too fearful to ever tell him about the abortion, until almost 20 years later as I was going through this study.  When I told him, he was devastated that he had lost a grandchild.  He said to me, "If I had known I had a grandchild, I would have raised that baby myself."

Abortion was the most selfish decision I ever made in my whole life. It affected everyone in my life and caused devastation to my mind, soul and body.  It caused the loss of my five other babies, my infertility, and I'm also convinced it caused me to get breast cancer at the age of 45 in 2014.  Research has proven that abortion can cause breast cancer -- especially early onset.

There is healing for broken hearts and lives after abortion, through the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ. His work at the Cross of Calvary removes all shame, bitterness, self hatred and sin, if we only believe and receive Him in our hearts.
I pray that anyone reading this testimony who is considering abortion for their self or someone else would consider seeking help through a pregnancy care center that will share the truth in love about all of your options.  I'm convinced that if anyone had taken me to a pregnancy care center, I would not have had an abortion.

 I want everyone to know that abortion doesn't fix rape, and the experience of abortion is more damaging physically and emotionally than the rape itself.  My child had every right to life and I would do anything in my power to have that child in my arms, or to be able to hand that baby to a loving couple.

BIO:  Nona Lynn Ellington is a pro-life speaker and writer, residing in Houston,
Texas.  Her ministry is Eagles Restoration Ministries.   She spoke at the Family Research Council press conference in DC in March, 2016, the day before the Texas HB2 US Supreme Court hearing. Her name and story, along with many others, was on the amicus brief filed with the high court by The Justice Foundation.  Nona is now a blogger for Save The 1 and available for speaking and testifying before legislatures. Watch a video of her sharing her post-abortive from rape testimony 
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Sunday, December 11, 2016

Just Because I Was Raped, I Should Not Be Able to End an Innocent Life, by Yazmin from Mexico

I want a world where violence does not exist! I want a world where respect exists, and equality and love! 
Hello, my name is Yazmin, I am Mexican, and I am a victim of child molestation who became pregnant by rape.  I would have loved to tell another story where there would be a world of harmony and where no one would know what violence is, but sadly, I will talk about my life -- a miserable life in the eyes of the world, but today a life of blessing in the eyes of God.

From an early age, I suffered physical, sexual, psychological and verbal abuse at the hands of my uncle and others who surrounded me.  I grew up with two small boys who belonged to my uncle because my aunt abandoned him, just as I was abandoned, and they were in his care and custody.

The sexual abuse began when I was very small.  I grew up amidst constant insults and physical harm which, each time, would sink me into a terrible depression with much sadness and loneliness.  I did not speak much, having been raised with only the company of the two small boys and I really did not interact with anyone else.  I did not have friends nor anyone with whom I could talk, so my two best friends became those two little ones.  Through them, I learned cope with the physical and internal pain.  

In order to not scare them or worry them, I would tell the boys that my body was so strong that the physical hits did not hurt and that they did not need to cry for me or be scared because I would protect them. The physical pain can be cured in a certain amount of time because the bruises and wounds disappear later, but the psychological wounds take more time.

I remember when they were sleeping, I would go out and cry my pain out -- which was a lot; I was mad at my uncle, at God, with my own self, with life, with people and with the authorities.  I thought -- the same as God, they had forgotten about me. “People are blind”, I thought, or “Am I invisible to others?”  I even named myself the “ghost girl."  I determined, “The day I have money, I will help all the children of the streets, (that is the name eventually called us), I will not allow them to get abused like me, I will give them a home, blanket, food, and above all, I will give them love!  Lots of love!”

I would contemplate many things:  But, someday will I accomplish this? I can’t even help my own self, let alone the other children!  God, did you abandon me completely? Where are You now?  Why do you permit all this pain and suffering?  I do not understand!  Life is ugly and I do not like it.  Who would want to live in a world like this?  You have abandoned me.  I am an unhappy and miserable girl.  I want to be happy and go to school and play, I behave and obey, God, I am not rude with anyone.  Please tell me what I have done wrong.  I ONLY WANT TO BE HAPPY!
 
People would only see me with pity, and the police and the authorities merely follow stupid
norms which do not work and do not defend. Justice comes late and after long processes, they comply halfway where they look for an easy solution which does not cause conflict and they did not worry about me at all.  I wanted a hug full of love that would make me feel special.

At the end of the questions without answers, reproaches and tears in some way relieved my pain.  I would achieve sleeping a little to gain some strength and work the next day, and serve my uncle.

I would sell candies in the streets with other children who would be around there.  That was my daily routine so I would not arrive home empty-handed, having some money to pay my cousins and my plate of food; the days and the hours were long for me.

Some days were harder than others since my uncle would come home drugged and under the influence of alcohol with women and men and they would wake me up to serve them --forcing me to have sex with them. They would pay my uncle so he would let them do what they wanted to me and he would gladly accept the deal, before telling me that I would have to obey and be calm if I did not want to have problems.  I chose to accept it and be still -- like a rag doll for their pleasures.  This was the easiest way, because if not, then the sudden blows would appear and I would end up in a sea of blood and pain.

One day after the constant abuses of my uncle and his friends, I got pregnant.  I had a human being who was growing inside of me each day.  I was really scared, honestly, and I did not know what to do with a baby or how to take care of one.  I was afraid I would not be able to protect a baby in a world where so much evil exists, so I thought of abortion.  I thought that I would not know how or could not give this baby the care which he or she would need and me being a "dumb and useless child," I would fail in the attempt.  I was only 14 years old at the time. 

Then I thought: “If God gave me life and permitted me to be born, who am I to take away an innocent life and snatch the right to life by deciding for this baby?” They were snatching my life away by submitting and forcing me to do things which I did not want to do and without a right to anything, and here I was thinking of doing the same with this baby!  IT IS NOT FAIR, I realized.  A life is growing within me with a purpose and a mission, and the same as me, this baby has a right to life.

I decided to continue with my pregnancy after finding a pro-life page.  I must say that super heroes exist without a cape and they are not how stories and television programs say they are. They do not receive recognition or come out in magazines awarding their courage and effort for helping, but they are like angels with a mission, who God entrusted.  With that purpose, they exist in this life. 

I had the fortune of finding super heroes in my journey, in those difficult moments of my life. They were determined to help me without asking me for anything in return.  Finally, my pleas were answered and God and this baby gave me the strength and the courage which I needed to move on!  They never left me alone.  There were three super heroes in my path who would communicate with me, figuring out ways on how to free me from the “bad man” since in the distance it was very complicated -- not so easy to help me.  

Even with all of these obstacles, they would dedicate themselves to help me and hear me with such calm and attention that no one had ever given me. They felt the pain I went through and would suffer with me.  For the first time ever, I learned to trust people and I discovered that not all people are bad.

I began for the first time in my life rebelling against my uncle and I would demand my rights and the rights for the two boys, as well as the rights of my baby, even though he was not born yet.  I knew I had to leave before the baby was born and I tried to escape to begin to live a life fully and happy, far from that environment which would do us so much harm.

My uncle was engaged in drugs -- he would sell them and consume them.  As a result, he knew many people and powerful contacts from all over, and somehow when I tried to runaway, they found me and the two boys.  When I finally believed my life would change and everything would be better, he came back and he found me -- the same as in a horror movie where an exit does not exist.  I knew that my hopes of moving on would end and all my dreams succumbed when he captured me.  I did not have an exit!  I also knew that it was not going to go really well, so the fear came back and did not let me go.

My uncle, along with his friends, drugged me and beat me.  When I woke up, I was in another home, alone with my cousins, tied up, without food or water.  It was a solitary place, cold and ugly, making me feel very scared.  I would scream, but no one would hear me, I could not even hear the noise of cars.  I did not know where I was and I was very frightened. 

A while later, my uncle came telling me that I was ungrateful and that if I thought that I was going to report him or do something against him, I was really wrong.  He said that I was a crazy prostitute and that everything I received was because I deserved it.  He warned me that I would not leave that place -- that I would not ever leave him, and that if I wanted to see the two boys, then I had to obey him, sleep with more men, and meet his manly needs. He said that I was born for this and nothing more.

My cousins would go to the street, but my uncle would take them and watch them now. They were threatened and told that if they spoke with anyone, they would not see me ever again and that he would kill me because of them. Therefore, the children only dedicated themselves to selling and doing whatever he would tell them to do, fearing what he could do to me.  

My uncle punished me for trying to escape -- his beatings stronger every time.  All of his rage was taken out on me like I was a boxing bag.  He would say that my aunt left him and that no one would ever leave him again -- not even my cousins.

He would beat me, rape me, and spit on me.  I could not take it any longer.  I was very hungry and thirsty.  My whole body hurt.  My hands, feet, thighs, everything completely! Once more, I was alone and disappointed, and I felt I had failed my baby.  I would ask my baby forgiveness, rubbing my womb and telling him that everything would be good, asking that he would forgive me.

One day, my uncle became very drugged and drunk that upon seeing me, he started beating me.  Immediately he began to hit and kick my womb.  This was the most pain I could ever feel -- it was inexplicable.  I could not move, I started to bleed and I knew that something was not right.  He left, startled as he saw the amount of blood and my physical state.  I could not get up and I could not even cry.  Inside me, in my mind, I would tell my baby to forgive me.  I would ask my baby to please not leave me and that he should be strong, that I needed him.  I could only ask God not to take him away from me and to allow him to live, but I lost my baby!

My uncle did not take long to come back with a friend of his who was a doctor.  He helped me a little.  I could only hear what they would talk about as if I heard them in a dream.  I thought that I would die in that moment and I asked for that.  I asked God to take me in that moment because I could not take anymore.  I heard how they planned to get rid of me as if I was an abandoned dog.  I could hear them say that if I was left in the house, then someday someone had to find me, and that they could not take me to a hospital because it would be worse for him.

They got me in the car and left me in a cold and isolated place, waiting for the worst.  I already felt prepared to leave this world.  I did not wish anything more than that.  I yearned it with all my soul, but God’s plans were different.  His plans are distinct from ours.  That night, the hand of God took care of me.  I cannot find another word to describe it.  It was like a miracle!

I do not remember how, or what time, or who, but someone found me and helped me.  The only thing I remember is waking up in a hospital, with medicine being administered.  One of my super heroes was there with me.  I did not know how she found out or how she came to me.  She was taking care of me, she hugged me with love and told me that everything would be alright.  I could not even talk.  I felt sadness, pain, isolation, and at the same time joy.  Well, I felt a little relieved that she was there with me, but I also felt sad and empty -- it was an ocean of feelings which I could not explain.

My super hero was connected by phone with a pro-life woman in Guadalajara and three more who were aware of me, who had me included in prayer chains, talking to me and making me feel their love in between the distance -- angels taking care of me, keeping a close eye on my physical, emotional, and spiritual healing.  They did not know me, but were worried about me without receiving anything in return.  I was really blessed!
  
A report against him was filed and as expected, the night that he killed my baby, he fled with the two boys, just like I thought he would.  Finally, they found him and arrested him, but sadly, they released him.  I suppose he moved his influences and somehow, he got away with it and was free.  I never understood this and why the authorities did not defend me and did not leave him in jail where he needed to be so he would not continue to cause more harm.

Later on, I found out that he died in an automobile accident where he was found very drunk and drugged -- just the way he was accustomed.  I understood that God’s justice is different than man’s justice and that sometimes we do our own justice, by acting wrong.  All bad in some sort returns.

If the authorities would have cared for me since I was small, I wouldn’t have suffered all of this for so long, and I would not have lost my baby. 

But thanks to my super heroes, finally I was free!  There was no one to abuse me or hit me. Somehow, justice had been done and the bad man in the story of my life was gone, once and for all, and would not torment me anymore.

Physically, I began to recover, I began to regain strength, and the only thing left were scars. But even then, I felt pain -- not physical, but emotional.  All of it was a nightmare that would not let me sleep at night.  I would feel guilty for not keeping my promise of taking care of my baby.  I could not forgive myself.

As time passed, I understood that I did everything in my reach, and that I could not protect my baby if I was not protected either.  It was not my fault -- I was only a victim along with my cousins and my baby. I was a victim of my uncle, and of the authorities.  I did not provoke it, as he had convinced me.  It was time to end the pain which was not allowing me move on.  I had the power in my hands to continue being a victim, or to get back up like a lion and pull out the claws to continue with my life and fulfill my dreams.

No one was going to forbid it, there was no one to detain me and that is how it was.  It was not easy, but it was also not impossible. The pain was inevitable, but the suffering was optional.

I decided to open my wings and begin to fly!  I decided to leave the pain to the side, along with my past and begin to live.  Forgiveness is the key to being happy -- not for them, but for myself!  The feeling of rage and remorse provokes an emotional cancer which does not let us advance, and I did not want any more of that.

The pro-life super heroes are angels who God sends in a human form to give us hope, joy, peace, and love -- the love of God reflected in their lives.  God talked to me through them. Now it was only up to me to move on.  I was not an invisible girl anymore.  It was a miracle of life -- like a butterfly which opens its wings and decides to fly!  This is the right of all the children and women who are sexual abuse victims.

My question is:  Why do they want to cut our wings?  By approving abortion laws -- in cases of rape, you send us a wrong and contradictory message about life.  Your way of “protecting” does not work!  It is selfish to end a life to save another.  You cannot kill another to live “good” because you are not even living.  They say that all of us are free, and you do not give us that freedom!  It is contradictory, and I cannot end a life to be free -- not even to feel better.

The pain will not disappear from my life.  Contrary to that, you are teaching me to kill and to feel alone and finished.  Just because I was a raped woman, I should not be able to end an innocent life to be alright.

No one assures that the procedure will come out fine.  Is it not two people who die in an abortion?  The baby dies physically and the mother dies of sadness internally.  You will only say that you were thinking that it was best for me, but you would be wrong.

Do not cut our wings!  Help us fly!  Do not cut the wings of the innocent beings.  No one knows if one of the many aborted babies came with the mission to create a cure for cancer and we took the hope of life away.  Let’s stop taking a role which does not correspond to us by taking someone else’s life.  Let’s respect!  We are not God, and He is the only one who should decide life and death.

Let’s be more humane towards others' pain.  We should listen with our hearts and our reason.  Those men who steal our lives and our hopes need to be arrested.  We need the authorities to be our societal conscience.

Your abortion agenda is killing us -- it cuts our hope and continues our pain!  Like my story, there are many other young girls and women who are rape victims who need to be heard -- all with different stories, but with the same feeling of pain and the impotence of needing to be protected and truly heard.

My life story is still being written -- thanks to my favorite super hero who asked me to write my story.  I am and will be forever grateful to her!  My name is Yazmin, one more victim of sexual abuse and I am pro-life!

BIO: Yazmin, from Mexico, is a pro-life blogger for Salvar El 1 and for Save The 1.
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