Conceived in Rape Birth Mother Stories

Conceived in Rape Birth Mother Stories
Stories are shared for the purpose of eduction only and not to be misconstrued as any form of representation of any party by Choices4Life. Women may be contacted through information provided individually.

Pro choice supporters like Planned Parenthood see no other option for a child conceived in rape but abortion. However mothers of rape conceived tell a different story.
Birth mothers who saved their babies from society’s death sentence are true heroes. Many people feel that a woman who is raped cannot possibly want to give birth to that child. That is far from the truth as the following mothers will tell you. When a woman is pregnant she will give birth- to a live baby or a dead one. No mother deserves to have the trauma of giving birth to a dead baby even in the case of rape. Why should one who has been previously traumatized with rape? These women know the joy that comes with giving life to their babies!

Click on The Mother’s Name to Read Her Story.

Ann PhillipsAnn Philips

A nanny for a couple in St. Louis, Mo. Ann was dropped off at a movie theater for a night off. It was late after the movie and when she called for her employers to pick her up they were drunk. She was hurriedly walking home when she came to a corner with a used car lot. There stood eight young men. Taking opportunity against a defenseless 22 year old they beat her, raped her and left her for dead. She lay motionless fearing they would return to finish the job.After quite some time she managed to get up and get home. She immediately packed her things and left in the morning for her parents home never telling anyone what happened. Three months later she learned she was pregnant. The doctor that confirmed that fact also said “I can take care of it.” This was in 1956. He was not going to do it with a “coat hanger” but instead would do this without the knowledge or consent of the government. Ann quickly and sternly answered, “You will not take care of “it”. “It” is my baby!”Her parents shared the same opinion of the doctor and insisted Ann get rid of the problem but Ann knew this baby was no accident. Through the help of a Catholic priest and a Methodist minister she got help. She went to live at a home for unwed mothers through Catholic Charities where she safely gave birth to a daughter on Valentine’s Day after 36 hours of labor. She wasn’t supposed to see her daughter but an older woman snuck the baby in to see Ann for two weeks until Ann returned home. The baby was adopted at three months and a picture was sent to Ann with a note assuring her that the baby was loved and would be well cared for. Ann prayed for 48 years and celebrated every Valentine’s Day with the firm belief that she would see her daughter again. And her prayers were answered on December 7, 2007.Ann and Juda met again as if there had never been any separation. The love of this mother, as some would even notice, seemed greater than some mothers who spent a lifetime with their child. Juda would visit Ann as often as possible flying from Texas to Alabama for the seven years they had together. Ann had talked about the daughter she was forced to give away to everyone who would listen. Even the nursing home she lived in knew the story and eagerly awaited this daughter’s arrival.Sadly at age 78 Ann would cry talking about her mother not believing she was raped.Ann had married once and had a daughter three years after Juda. Her husband was a coal miner and had been trapped for eight days in the mine. A loving husband prior he soon became very abusive and Ann sought safety for herself and her daughter never marrying again. Mary, Ann’s daughter died two years prior to Ann passing away. Ann was with Juda in her first moments and Juda was with Ann in her final ones. Click here to watch Ann’s Story

Anna RicheyAnna Richey

When I was little I was molested for several years by my step-father. He was an accomplished liar and fooled everyone, even my mom. No one knew. I was afraid to tell anyone; when you grow up hearing that bad things will happen if anyone finds out, you believe it.
I got pregnant the first time when I was 12. I was scared, and I told him. He hurt me and then loaded me up on drugs, telling my mom that I had been injured while out playing with some other kids. He killed my baby. Of all the things that happened to me, this is what haunts me the most. I will never know who my child might have become. My only hope is in the promise I will get to see him or her in Heaven when I get there, and Jesus will take care of my baby until then.When I was 13, I became pregnant again. This time I did not say anything to him. My mom noticed that my body was changing, even though I was only a few months along at the time, and she asked me about it. I gathered my courage, and told her everything. She immediately packed up my brother, sister, and me and took us to our aunt’s house. From there she called the police. They arrested him and took us to the hospital for some tests, and then we had to go in for questioning ourselves. In the end, he was sentenced to ten years in prison for molesting not only me, but my sister as well.I was told by therapists, friends, teachers, family, and even strangers, that it would probably be best if I had an abortion, but I couldn’t. Earlier that year, I had learned in my science class that a child’s DNA comes from both parents, and that meant that this child was also half mine. I also figured that since I was the one who would carry her in my body for the next several months, that made her mine, not his. I knew from my first pregnancy that he didn’t want me to have the baby. I knew that if I had an abortion, I would be doing just what he wanted and he would win again. He would not only have killed all of my innocence, he would have killed my daughter as well.It might have been easier to choose an abortion. There are many things that I would not have had to go through if I had. It was harder than I have words to describe. But there are some things in life that are worth fighting for, and she was one of them.I’m not a very big person; 5′ even and 95 lbs. I wasn’t big then either. So, due to my size and age, I was deemed a high-risk pregnancy. I had my first ultrasound not long after my mom found out I was pregnant. I got to see her heart beat, and I fell in love. That was when I decided that I couldn’t give her up for adoption either.The next several months were hard. The looks and comments that I received from people everywhere were difficult to deal with, to say the least. I lost all but two of my friends. But knowing that I would have that little girl soon kept me going. I decided to name her Josey Ann, after a character in a book I had read.On Friday, July 28, 1995, roughly six weeks before my due date, I went into labor. I was flown from Vernal, Utah to Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. They gave me some drugs to slow down the labor, and steroids to help develop my daughter a little faster so she would have a better chance of survival. She was born the following Monday, July 31. She weighed 4 lb. 2 oz., and was 18” long.Because she was so premature and needed so much medical help, they kept her in the NICU until the end of August. Words cannot express the joy I felt when we got to bring her home the day before I started the 7th grade.I still had nightmares, but I would wake up and have that little smiling face to greet me. When I would get nasty looks and comments, I would go home and hear her giggle. She truly was a light in one of the darkest times of my life. I shudder to think of what that time would have been like had I aborted her.My mom was amazing; she was so supportive of what I was doing. As a 13 year old child myself, I had no idea how to raise a child. My mom helped me with everything. She showed me how to care for my daughter, and watched her for me so that I could finish school. I did graduate, and was my class Historian. I later met a wonderful man who loves both me and my daughter and we now have a total of 4 children.At the time I had Josey, I believed in God, but I didn’t like Him very much. I couldn’t understand why a loving God would allow me to go through all that I did. It wasn’t until I was 26 that I truly found a relationship with Jesus Christ. A wonderful neighbor of ours showed me how much Jesus loves me, and how He had been with me the entire time. I was able to forgive my step-father, and find a peace that I never knew I could have.Just a few months ago, I was online, and found a poster that Juda Myers had designed. It had been posted by AHA. I started speaking out and telling my story, and for the first time, someone listened. I wasn’t alone anymore! Eventually, through our mutual friends with AHA, I got to speak with Juda, and we became friends as well. After a few phone conversations, Juda asked me to pray about being on the board for Choices4Life, and after several weeks, the Lord told me that it was indeed where He wanted me to be.I am so very excited to be included in an organization whose purpose is so dear to my heart! After all that I went through, it is my dearest wish to help others in similar situations. God does not make mistakes, and each child, regardless of the circumstances of their conception, is a gift from God. Along with the others from Choices4Life, I want to expose the lie that rape conceived children are in any way less than a love conceived child. It is time for us to rise up, take back our voices, and tell the world that we will no longer be silent.

ChristinaChristina

First of all, I had been taught that good girls don’t “go all the way” and good girls wait for marriage. Raised in a good Catholic home, by two very devoutly Christian parents and attended Catholic school for 6 yrs. I knew right from wrong.
I graduated from high school early in June of 1970, at the peak of the “Free Love” “Flower Power/Haight Ashbury” era.
Everything I was taught…the way I was raised was in direct conflict with the social climate and message of “free love” and “if it feels good do it” attitudes of the late 60’s. While all my friends were visiting planned parenthood for condoms and birth control I was avoiding premarital sex until marriage. I was determined….that is until Graduation…and I started to dabble with alcohol and smoked a little “weed,” experimentally. I had thought about having sex with a boy that I was casually seeing right before graduation…but by God’s grace, he had a premature ejaculation and saved me from giving myself away to no one special. Although I came close, I was still a virgin.
Two weeks later, a friend and I were being kind to a friend of her boyfriend, who was in town for a court case. He had been arrested for vagrancy and a minor drug charge, so he was back in town for his trial. It was his birthday, so my friend and I brought a cake over and we sang happy birthday to him.He was a lot older…I was young and naive.
He supplied the pot and the alcohol and we supplied the birthday cake. After I drank a little, he brought out a radio and turned it on, but the batteries were dead. He suggested to my friend and her boyfriend to go get some batteries so we’d have some music.
At some point, he must have slipped something into my drink, because the next thing I remember was waking up on the bathroom floor, naked. He assured me, it was my idea…I do remember telling him I’m not on birth control and I’d never had sex before. He said that it was ok…not to worry.My friend showed back up and came in and helped me dress…I was dazed and in a stupor for several hours…processing what had happened…wondering if I had indeed suggested or encouraged sexual intercourse. I just didn’t remember the details…it was all such a blur. He was acting like I was his girlfriend, when we all went to the park…holding my hand and putting his arm around me. It was like a bad dream. Later, my friend and I went to her home….I told her I was afraid that he got me pregnant. She assured me, that since it was my first time, it was not likely.For weeks, that is all I thought about….then I went to visit my grandma in Illinois. That was my graduation present. To go see my grandma and my cousin, who was my best friend.
The thought that stayed with me the entire time, was that I got pregnant and he raped me! I knew I was pregnant and I hadn’t even missed a period.By the time I did miss a period, I told my grandma what had happened. She offered for me to stay there and offered to help me find a home for the baby. I hadn’t even seen a doctor or confirmed I was pregnant, but we both knew. She promised not to say anything to my mom or dad..that I would tell them when I got home…so I really didn’t want to go home.
When I finally decided to go home, it was after I had a supernatural experience, which made me determined to come home. I got home on August 29. A few weeks later my dad went into the hospital for heart surgery.On Sept. 11, 1970 he died, never waking up after open heart surgery. I thought it was all my fault…that God was protecting him from knowing I was unwed and pregnant! Now I realize how silly and immature that thought was….but then, it was like a knife through my heart.
I hadn’t told him or my mom, anything about what had happened. I kept my secret. I started Jr. College, hanging onto my secret.
Another friend, talked me into going to Planned Parenthood, for a pregnancy test. She suggested I might not even be pregnant.
The pregnancy test was positive and the first thing PP, suggested was for me to get some money together and they’d send me to California for an abortion.They said, since I was technically raped, I could have an abortion in California, for around $500 and the cost of a bus ticket.
I told them I’d think about it, but in my heart and mind I already knew that wasn’t an option. Terminating the pregnancy….sounded so simple, but it meant killing the little life growing inside ofr me. I knew that much. Although abortion was an unfamiliar word to me, I learned quite quickly and decided just as quick that wasn’t for me.
Something in me kept telling saying, the baby didn’t do anything to deserve being killed and besides it was part of me, too.
Our family had just buried my dad and I still held onto my secret. Until the night after the burial and I told my brothers and sister in laws. My grandma already knew. My brother who lived in town said he would be with me, when I told my mom, but to wait for a while. She had just lost her husband, which was trauma enough.It was the beginning of October, my brother and I sat down with my mom and told her that I had been raped and was pregnant. She fainted…then cried….then hugged me. Since I hadn’t had any prenatal care, she said I’d need to see a doctor.
Since my dad had just died, I didn’t have any health insurance. We were working poor….so I went to the county to see if I could get help there. They denied me. Said I was my mothers responsibility, even though I was 18, I lived at home.
A friend of my mothers worked at St. Elizabeth of Hungry clinic. Which was funded by the Catholic church and assisted those who didn’t have insurance or could qualify for county assistance.My mom talked to her and she got me an appointment right away for screening. For $250 I had prenatal care with a private OB/GYN MD in the community and delivery at the Catholic hospital. They counseled me and I was certain, I would give my baby up for adoption. The kindness and care I received was beyond anything I could ever imagine. No pressure, no condemnation.
The day I delivered my little girl, they did come with the papers to sign to place her for adoption. My only request was to see her before I signed.My mother had already seen her but hadn’t said anything. One part of this story that i should mention, is my mother, a diabetic, had lost a little girl, my sister, when I was 6 years old. She died during childbirth and she never was given the chance to even see her. So, my mother was determined to see this little girl. After they placed my daughter into my arms, and our eyes met, I knew I could never say goodbye to her. She was tiny and perfect. She was innocent. She was mine. I told my mother I was thinking about keeping my baby and asked her if that was okay. She said whatever I wanted to do was okay with her. So, we brought her home.That little baby, didn’t do a thing. Her father, was the guilty party. He is the one that took a young, naive girl and took advantage of her, when she couldn’t say yes or no. This was before they had a name for it…..”date rape.” Had I listened to PP, I would have ended the life of a spectacular human being….she played softball from kindergarten to college. She was the athlete of the year, her senior year of high school.
She grew up to get married, was a youth leader for a “Life Teen” program at her church. She taught religion at the same Catholic school we both attended. She has given us 2 beautiful grandchildren….she is a police officer now.I cannot imagine the void there would have been without her.Ericka will be 40 in March 2011. And I don’t regret for one moment the decision to say “yes” to life….her life.
It was really tough being a single mother in the early 70’s. But my mom’s friends from church never let us go without. Several times they would show up with boxes of baby clothes and food for our family. At Christmas, they would bring us Christmas presents and food. My mom was the best. She helped me raise my daughter….while I went to nursing school and worked. Then, one day, I met a very nice young doctor while working in the ER. He was of the same faith, had strong family values and liked me for me and accepted my daughter. We met, when Ericka was 10 and married when she was 14. We waited to marry when he was finished with his training.
When Ericka was about 4 she asked me where her dad was…I told her that God was finding her a special dad. She said, I hope he doesn’t’ wait too long! Well…he was worth the wait. He loves her as much as if she was his own flesh and blood. I know, we have another daughter and he treats them both the same!So that’s the story….if you can use it, great! If it will touch one heart and change it….then God be glorified! It was all worth it!
There is no good reason to end a babies life by abortion…God is the author of all life and His will be done!
I believe we each have a God given potential…only He knows what it is…we live our life discovering it. What a shame to know that this year 1.3 million babies with a potential to do great things will never have that opportunity.
God bless you Juda in the ministry God has called you to!
Christina

Christina Bray

Christina Bray

“My Life Story”

It all started when I was still in the womb. My mother already had my older sister from another man. But my mother was married for the first time to my father. She was in love with him. They tried everything to get pregnant, even went to a fertility doctor. By the time she got pregnant with me the doctors told her she was pregnant with twin boys. Well being pregnant did not keep her off a motorcycle. She drove one till she got too big & then she was on the back of my father’s! When she was 6 months pregnant with me she fell off the back of my father’s bike. That was the first time she knew that God had me in his hands! To her surprise she gave birth to only me and not twin boys. I was just one single 8 pound 10 ounce 21 1/2 inches long very healthy baby girl born in California. I never cried. I talked late walked late & was late in all the development steps that a child goes through.

As much as I would love this story to be a happy-go-lucky one I am sorry to say that it is not.

My mother married my father, loving him with all her heart but not knowing of what type of man he truly was. When I was just weeks old I started crying for unknown reasons. My mother & father tried everything they could to calm me. My father was so upset that he could no longer handle it & threw me down a flight of stairs. God had me in his hands that day & let me land softly. A neighbor of ours heard my crying & came to my mother’s rescue. She told my mother to undress me from head to toe & that is when they found a very small string wrapped around my toe cutting off the circulation & causing me to be in pain. As time went on my mother saw my father in a different light because of what had been done. He became a different person than the man she had married. She could no longer take the rage from him and divorced him. We even lived in a car at one point just to hide from him. My mother even worked two jobs to care for my sister & I. We ended up being put into the witness protection program but he would not let it stop there.

My mother remarried when I was just six years old to her second husband. My father even after she had remarried was a very angry man. He even tried to kill us at one point of my childhood. My mother worked all the time days, nights and even worked weekends. She even worked holidays when needed.

When I was just seven years old my life became more difficult than any child should have to deal with. The new man my mother married was not as good of a man as he had himself out to be.

I was young so when he first started touching me I was not sure how a father should touch their child. I did not have much of a memory of my own father. It started with tucking me into bed at night he would kiss me on the forehead and rub my leg. Every week or so he would go further up my thigh. I was molested for over seven years before anyone even noticed. I never said anything because he would hurt my family, who meant the world to me. I was young & very easy to bribe so anything I wanted he made sure I had. Little did I realize it was all for a price. I had bruises all over my legs & arms, marks on my neck & black eyes. I was in 7th grade when I was forced to tell of what was happening to me. They called my mother & step father, as well as my sister who was now a mother as well. They took me out of my mother’s home for 72 hours to check my home & test my step father with a lie detector. You know they say that when someone lies for so long they tend to believe their own lies. Well that’s what happened. He passed all the tests & I was the one they called the liar. So I was sent back home & nothing happened to him.

After another year of abuse my mother finally started seeing the bruises more & more so she started to wonder herself if I was really telling the truth & if the man that she loved so much could really hurt her child. One day when I got home from school my mom was home waiting for her husband to get off work & come home. When he did she confronted him.He became angry & when he started to hit & beat on her I hid in my bedroom closet with the home phone. I dialed 911 for help. Little did I realize that my asking for help for my mother would cause them to call child protective services (CPS) on me, the miner child in the home. So they took me from my home yet again!

All I was trying to do was get help for my mother not thinking of myself in any way. The police called CPS. Yet again I was taken from my home but this time it was not for a short time. I started off in foster homes but ran from everyone not wanting to be anywhere but home. So they kept moving me from home to home until I was too much for them to handle. They put me in a group home where I could be watched 24-7. That just made my depression even worse. I started to become suicidal & out of hand so they ended up moving me to another part of the state. I was able to see my mother less & less. Even after all I had been through she was still with my step father! I guess she thought he could change but she ended up finding out too late. I was in the system for 3 1/2 years of pain for me & of fighting for my mother. She had to prove to the state of California that she was a good enough mother just to get me back. She did Feb. 14th, two months before my 18th birthday.

Now that I was back with my mother I was happier than I could have ever been! We got a phone call a couple of months after I was home that my grandmother (my mom’s mom) had breast cancer & needed to be cared for. So my mother decided we were moving. It took some time but we packed everything up and we moved cross-country. It was over 3,000 miles away to the upper peninsula of Michigan in a very small town.

My mother was born & raised on an Indian reservation. When we got there the doctors had told us that my grandmother only had 6 months to live. After feeding her the right kinds of food she started to get better. She was better for a long time but when it did come back it got worse!

As she was very sick & dying I went to spend a weekend with a friend of mine. She picked me up & took me to her house. I was told her husband would be gone all weekend & her children were at a friend’s house. I soon learned that was a lie. When we got there her husband & children where there. I said nothing, not thinking anything bad could come of it. After we had dinner & she put her kids to bed we sat to watch a movie while her husband was up in their room. We were down in the living room. We were about half way through the movie when her husband decided to come down & get on the computer. He was not on there for long until he chose to come & sit on the couch right in the middle of his wife & I. He first kissed her cheek & whispered in her ear & all I heard her say was okay. She then got up and came to kneel in front of me with both her knees on my feet so I could not move. Her husband leaned over towards me & started to grope me & before I knew it they had me pinned down & I was couple raped. My cell phone was dead so I had no way to call home so I cried myself to sleep & they woke me up at 6 am & told me to get my stuff. They took me to a gas station near them & dropped me off to sit there with a dead cell phone, a closed gas station & no way to get home.

I sat there for 6 hours with my hand around my neck strangling myself thinking about what I was going to do, who I was going to call & what I was to say. Finally I got the nerve to go inside the gas station & ask to use the phone. I called my mom to come & get me. I sat there for another hour & a half waiting for her to get there. When she did she saw me with marks around my neck & red eyes but she did not ask a thing. On the way home I told her what happened. As soon as we got back into town the first stop she made was the police station so they could take my statement. After everything was said & done I lost my case & was yet again defined as a liar.

My grandmother had passed away & it was time to move back to my home sweet home in California. As much I was looking forward to living back there I was still walking around watching every turn I made & watching my back as I knew that my ex step father was still living in town. I was scared. We lived there for about seven months when my mother’s childhood sweetheart came & asked her to marry him. My sister said I could stay there if I wanted to. She would help me to get my own place & I would not have to move with my mother. Well as good as that offer sounded I had to pass it up due to the issues I still had living there.

So as I chose to move to Michigan to live in a different area than previously I ended up gaining 2 wonderful grandparents. They loved me just as much as I loved them. I had lost all my biological grandparents. It was so great to gain two more. Everything was going great. I ended up moving into my own apartment & was loving it. I only lived there for two months when a resident who didn’t like me called the cops on me for disturbing the peace at 4 in the afternoon. He decided to also put in a complaint for breaking & entering. The apartment were metal & I am 5 foot tall & not very strong. There was no way I could have done such a thing. I was in jail 24 hours waiting for a judge. These 24 hours were the worst time of my life, having anxiety made things even worse. With a whole night of no sleep & all worry I went in front of the judge.The felony for breaking & entering was dropped due to no proof from the apartment complex who claimed to have it all on film. I ended up with a misdemeanor for disturbing the peace & slapped with a ” do not enter.” I lost my apartment & moved back home.

All was going great till I lost my grandfather in 2010. The loss of yet another grandparent was hard on me. The only grandmother that I did have had passed away. It was hard on all of us. It was the end of that year when my grandmother had gotten sick.

I had a very close friend that I spent a lot of my time with to take my mind off the fact that I was loosing yet another & my last grandparent. My friend was married & had beautiful twin girls. She had been put in jail for falsifying a police report. I promised her I would stay at her home & take care of her children as well as her dogs because I wanted to be kind. Her husband worked all the time & was not much of a father when it came to the kids. Well the girls loved me so it was very easy to take care of them. They were used to being kept in the living room boxed in,left alone to watch tv. I was so good with children& played with them everyday making sure they got everything they needed.

One night after I had put the girls to bed & cleaned up I sat down to watch TV.My friend’s husband had just come home from work. He decided to come & sit on the couch next to me & started talking to me like he knew me for so long. The truth is I knew nothing about him. I had seen him once in a while around the house & at bonfires they had out at their place. He started to try & touch me. I looked at him & said “NO” as I pushed his hand away. He would not take no for an answer so he held me down on the couch & had his way with me. I tried to push him off of me but he just held my arms down. When he was done I got up & hurried to the shower to try to get the nasty feeling off of me from being raped. I sat in the bathtub with the shower running, knees to my chest & just cried. I cried for allowing myself to be raped, I cried for the fact that I could not tell my family & for the fact that my grandmother was on her death-bed. I cried because I could not leave. The twins would have no one. I could not tell the police because he owned 95% of the county. So I went on with my everyday life like nothing happened,like nothing was wrong. When I went to bed at night I would cry myself to sleep & keep telling myself how bad I was.

As time went on my grandmother got worse & I started to feel sick everyday.Smells would make me sick & foods I loved made me feel nauseous. So after a couple of weeks of feeling this way I went to the store & picked up a 3 pack of pregnancy tests. I took all of them not believing what I was seeing. They all said that same thing, “Pregnant”. I was so scared. I had my grandmother who was about to die any day. I had not been in a relationship in quiet some time & the only way I could be pregnant was by my friend’s husband who raped me. I said nothing to anyone. I went to my grandmother’s side that day held her hand & told her I knew I was pregnant. I told her I would have the child & care for it the best I could. That night my grandmother passed on. I knew in my heart that she knew all along. I kept it to myself that I was pregnant & said nothing to anyone due to my grandmother’s passing. I did not want to take the center of attention. I chose to tell my parents a week after my grandmother passed. My mother took me to the doctor not believing anything I had said. I found out I was 10 weeks along. I had some family tell me to abort & some tell me I should not keep it. They said I should put it up for adoption if I choose to carry it.

I had found out just two weeks prior to being raped that I would be unable to conceive children due to my uterus. So with becoming pregnant I saw life in a whole new light. I had a life inside me, a live breathing life inside of me. My oldest niece came to visit and discussed names, not knowing what I was having yet. We chose Phoenix after the bird. I had a rough start in my pregnancy I was very sick for the first 4 months of my pregnancy.At about 22 weeks pregnant I became diabetic. I was going weekly to have the baby checked when I found out that she had no fluid & the umbilical cord was around her neck. The doctor doing all the testing sent me upstairs for an emergency c-section but the doctors/students upstairs decided they were going to try & induce me instead. After 24 hours of induced labor they finally realized that I had a non-contracting uterus.

My baby girl even though she was 3 weeks early, was beautiful. I fell in love like I never thought I could! She was 7 lbs even & 19 1/2 Inches long. I named her Phoenix Rose ( I was inspired by the legend of the bird. The story goes that it was able to live through anything. Legend says even when it burned it came back from its ashes, rose the strongest flower & hardest to kill)

God has blessed me like I could never imagine!

Danielle Kleber

Danielle Kleber

Forever Blessed: My Pro-life TestimonyI have waited so long to share this story. I’ve kept telling myself or trying to convince myself that it wouldn’t be wise to share it, the backlash from certain people and the knowledge one day my youngest would learn how to read. I’ve come to realize that now is the ordained time to share my story about my youngest son Eli Samuel.In January 2009 my life was forever changed and I was faced with a decision that I never in my life thought I would have to make let alone having to contemplate. At the beginning of 2009 I began to experience symptoms that matched my pregnancies with my two other boys. I was honestly getting scared. Truth be told, I wasn’t dating anyone let alone having sex. I was focusing on my children and trying to get my life on track. In November ’08 I had let an ex-boyfriend crash on my couch so he could get established in PA before bringing his girlfriend and kids up from Maryland. Around this same time I became terribly sick….To the point where I had a hard time functioning. I couldn’t eat or drink without being in severe pain and had hard time breathing. He suggested I go to the local emergency room and he would stay and watch my boys for me while I did. Come to find out that I had a severe case of strep throat. I was given an antibiotic and a narcotic pain medication vicodin and was told to take 1-2 every 6 hours as needed for pain. With me having two young boys to take care of I only took the medication after they were in bed.
I knew I hadn’t remembered to consenting and frankly wouldn’t have. God was finally become the priority of my life and He was using me in the church. I wasn’t going to willingly mess that up. I knew something was up… I took a home pregnancy test and I cannot begin to explain to you fully the emotions and feelings I experienced those 3 minutes.I imagine it went something along the lines of me questioning God and wondering how stupid I could have been to let my ex stay on my couch. I felt abandoned, worried, alone and petrified of the test would say…
A bright + sign on it…I had been raped while under the influence of pain meds and now I’m pregnant. Some kind of sick, cruel joke. I just can’t be. I had just fallen into the category of women I said that was okay to have an abortion. I was raped and carrying his child. I had made no choice in the matter, yet I was stuck.I wrestled back and forth with abortion or continuing the pregnancy. I had a second test done at a women’s center to confirm the home one. I went on auto pilot mode I guess…I called an OB office to make an appointment.
They had me schedule an ultrasound because they were unsure of gestational age. Once I saw the screen and I saw he had already formed into a baby. My mind was made up… I realized all that I couldn’t abort this child inside of me.God’s hand was on me through the entire pregnancy. So many blessings occurred and could only have happened by HIS grace, mercy and love. My church family helped carry me when I couldn’t “walk” from severe exhaustion in all areas.
I am so glad I didn’t abort my youngest son because of the sin of his father. He has brought so much into my life, the life of my church and others… Life wouldn’t be the same without my precious little man Eli!Danielle Kleber
Pennsylvania
Bornagainchristian2004@yahoo.com

Edith Walnut

Edith Walnut

Isn’t it neat the way God takes all the fun out of Satan’s evil games by turning them in to great, life changing experiences? It’s marvelous!

I am Edith Moore-Parkman, wife, mother of two adult children, and this is my story.

I graduated from a community college and was feeling pretty good about moving on to a major university. Some friends and I had opted to save money by renting at a boarding house close to campus. Things were looking great.

I wasn’t at school very long before I met the man of my dreams. We really enjoyed each others company and got along well, once he understood that I was still a ‘good girl’ and had no intention of changing my sexual status until marriage. He respected my stance and was very respectful.

One night while walking home from the campus library, a guy drove up and offered me a ride. I recognized him as the boyfriend of one of the girls at the boarding house. He told me he was on the way to our house to visit her and I may as well ride with him. No problem. I knew him. His girl and I were friends. We had laughed and talked together. I hopped in the car, grateful for the lift.

As we rode and talked, I suddenly noticed we had passed our turn. ‘Not to worry’, says my friend. “I promised my girl I’d pick up something from the store for her.” No problem. I relaxed until I realized we had passed many stores which he could have shopped. Something was not quite right. By the time I came to this realization, he was turning onto this dark road. I started to cry. “Stop acting like a baby.” he screamed. ” This is nothing new. We’re just going to have a little fun.” “No”, I said. I’ve never done this before. I’m a virgin.” He didn’t believe me, stating that nobody who was a junior in college was still a virgin. Well, I was.

I tried screaming but there was no one to hear. When I tried to fight him off, he only became more aggressive. Being an asthmatic, I couldn’t catch my breath. He thought my gasping was a ploy to get him off me. He began to slap me on my face to get me to stop. That’s the last I remember until he drove in front of the boarding house to put me out. I don’t know if I blacked out and just blocked out the memory of the actual rape. I only remember getting out of that car, blood running down my legs, fumbling for my keys.

Everybody was in bed when I came in. I went to the bathroom, took a shower, got on my knees and prayed and went to bed.

The next day, I went about my business as usual, mentioning nothing to anybody about my ordeal. My boyfriend and I continued our platonic relationship. My monthly cycle continued and all was behind me…or so I thought.

A few months after the ‘incident’, I went home to spend some time with my family. We were in the family room and I was standing with my hands behind me. My little brother commented, “Hey, Marie, you’ve got a shape like an ‘s’. That’s when my mom took a good look at me and she knew right away I was pregnant. I had noticed a weight gain and had been dieting to lose it, but to no avail. Pregnancy had not crossed my mind because my menstrual cycle had continued.

Mom took me to the doctor and sure enough, I was four, almost five months pregnant.

I was devastated. Pregnant for a man who’s first name was all I knew. He had been on leave from the Army during the encounter, but had gone back. I hadn’t told his girlfriend or anybody else about the rape. My mom asked me who the father was and that was the first time I had ever spoken of the rape. Mom and dad told me they would help me with the baby because abortion was not an option. If I wanted to marry the father, they would help me track him down. I didn’t want to marry him! I hardly knew him!

My parents took me back to school to withdraw and collect my things. Imagine having to tell my boyfriend, whom I had continued to say no to, that I was five months pregnant. He was crushed. I never said anything to my rapist girlfriend. I was too ashamed.

I lost my appetite. I had no interest in anything. I was in a deep depression. My mom and dad literally spoon fed me, reminding me that I was carrying a life inside me and the baby needed nourishment. Finally, I felt my baby move, and right away, that baby became mine. I began to look forward to the birth, buy baby clothes and decide on a name. I was sure it was going to be a boy and had picked out only boy names.

When the baby came, it was the prettiest,fat, black, curly haired little baby girl I had ever seen! I loved her so much. My mom named her Clarissa LeVerne, for all I had was boy names. I forgot all about how she was conceived. She was my baby.

That little girl has been a joy. She was so smart and outgoing. She still is. She has been with me through thick and thin, always by my side. She often asked me who her father was and I hedged around the facts. I told her the only thing I knew and that was his first name. Finally, when she was eighteen years old, she asked me again about her father, and I told her the entire story. She cried, but her tears were not for herself. They were for me. She actually scolded me for not having told her earlier. “You’ve been carrying this all by yourself all this time and we could have shared it.” she said. ” I would have been there for you.” That’s the kind of young woman she is, always giving, always caring.

She has done really well for herself. She had her first job in banking when she was a sophomore in high school, and she continues in banking today. She married and presented me with my first grandson. She was there for me when I surgery to remove a brain tumor that left me completely paralyzed on my left side with a prognosis that I would never walk again. She helped work with me and encouraged me until we proved the prognosis wrong. When she had breast cancer, one of the first things she thought about was whether or not she may have sisters who would need to know to check themselves. Again, not her own pain, but wondering about somebody else.

I’m very proud of my daughter. I can’t imagine life without her. She is a good example of God taking what you think is the worse thing in the world and proving He can make it the best. Clarissa is certainly one of His very best.



JaquelineJacqueline E.

My father left when I was 5 years old and I never saw him again. My step father married my mother when I was 7. His family became my family, and it took me many years to understand that not all families were like this one.

I was an abused child.

This was a time in history when you didn’t talk about these things, when you kept family secrets just that… a secret. The sexual abuse in our house started when I was 9 years old. By the age of 17, I was pregnant, and the father of my baby was my step- uncle, a man 20 years my senior.

I was 3 1/2 months pregnant before I even knew I was going to have a baby. And I was very afraid when I found out. I was afraid of what my friends would say, of how my family would take the news, and of the choices I now had to make.

When I told my family, I got a single sentence from my step- father. He said “You have 2 weeks to get out of this house.” I had no income and nowhere to go.

My grandmother told me if I didn’t have an abortion, she would no longer speak to me. She told me I was bringing shame on this family if I brought this baby into the world. I was alone and afraid and not sure about anything in my life. It seemed like I was losing everything that was important to me.

I went to the local Planned Parenthood and asked for information about adoption for my baby and where I could stay until it was born. They had nothing to give me about adoption, but after hearing my story of incest and abuse, they told me to get an abortion right away and they could arrange it within 72 hours.

I was horrified, and now totally confused because the people who dealt with this kind of thing were telling me the right thing to do was to kill my baby. And time was very short for me to have an ‘easy’ abortion, so I had to figure out something fast.

God sent me an angel right then.

My mother went to a local pastor and told him my predicament. He came to me and helped me research adoption and places for me to live. Within two weeks, I moved into a home for unwed mothers supported by the Salvation Army. They fed me and clothed me and counseled me. They got me and my baby medical care. The people there cared enough to talk with me and made me feel as if my life had purpose and I was not worthless.

My maternal aunt and uncle stood by me. They put me in contact with adoption agencies and we talked long into the night in the coming weeks. In the long run, I determined I was going to keep my baby, and be the best mother I possibly could, even if it meant doing it alone.

My baby girl was born healthy on a spring afternoon. She was beautiful and I fell in love with her as soon as she was in my arms. I was amazed by this special little being with a personality and preferences all her own. I had never held a baby before, and it was all a brand new experience to me.

I didn’t know as I held her those first days what troubles and lean times would lay ahead. I didn’t think on the coming paternity testing and child support issues and family drama that would unfold. I didn’t worry on how we would eat or where we would live. I didn’t think about teething or chicken pox or dating. I was totally focused on getting to know the tiny little life that was delivered into my hands.

Was I young and gullible and ignoring life’s realities? Probably. Was I ‘blessed among women’? Absolutely!

My baby girl has been a blessing to me since the hour she was born. She has been my joy in life, and my reason to go on when times are hard. She is now 31 years old and she is a beautiful and successful person. She is a light to the world, bright and wonderful. She has two babies of her own now. And their lives bless me daily.

What if I had listened to those ‘In the Know’, and aborted my baby? I think of all the things I would have missed out on, and the special human being that would have died without seeing the light of the world. I think of the skinned knees and school programs and college graduation I would never have seen. I think of the movie nights and bike rides and girl talks I would have missed. I think of my younger daughter who would not have had that older sister to look up to and learn from. I think of my grandchildren that would have never been here to draw me a picture or fight over Tonka trucks or wrapped their chubby little arms around my neck. And I KNOW I made the right choice in choosing LIFE for my baby all those years ago.

Was this journey tough? Yes. Did I have fears? Oh yes! Was my young life a challenge financially and emotionally? Absolutely. But the journey I took was a positive experience, always celebrating a life I helped to create. It shaped who I was to become, morally and spiritually, in making a choice of life for my baby. My world was shaped into a better place knowing I brought life into this world, and it was a life that made a difference.

God blessed me for making the decision against abortion. He gave me courage when I was afraid. He gave me strength when I was weak. He gave me mercy for my mistakes. He gave me joy out of painful struggles. He eventually gave me a wonderful 30 year marriage to a husband who adopted and raised my daughter as his own. And I can track it back to a single decision… to do the right thing in His eyes and choose life for my child.

I am no super-hero. I am just an ordinary person. And if I can face this situation and give life to my child, so can all the other women who are perfectly ordinary. With God, we ordinary folks can do extraordinary things!

If I had to tell one young woman my thoughts about having an abortion, these are the things I would tell her…

Don’t miss what this life growing within you can bring to the world. Yes, it IS worth the trouble of giving birth. Whether you keep your baby and experience all of those things with your child, or you adopt your baby and give all of those things to other people, don’t let the light of a special life you have created be snuffed out! Your baby has something to give to the world, and you have something to give to the world with your baby. Don’t live with the regret of abortion. Live with the knowledge of having added to the world, not having taken from it. Choose life! You will not regret it.

Jessica

Jessica’s story:(Adoptive mom on left and Jessica on right)
I was raped in February 2006 staying late and making up a class at my culinary school. I tried abortion. Key word, TRIED. I keep seeing childless families in my head as I lay there on that table, alone. I sat up and said no, I can’t do this, this is wrong. All the abortionist said was that that was just the gas talking. I still said no and I got up and called my ride. I moved back home because I couldn’t bring myself to go back to school.I went home and knew I couldn’t parent. If love were enough that would be one thing. I still had to finish getting my education. I was only 20 when it happened. I didn’t want to have to work 3 jobs to raise her and not be at her recitals, baseball games, all of it that my mom missed out on trying to make ends meet. Don’t get me wrong I love my momma and appreciate everything she has done for me. anyways..I now have a beautiful baby girl who is not only the light of my world, but the light of her parents world!
But God too has touched my heart and healed me. I have forgiven that man and I pray that someone on in his path will give him the Good News Gospel!
I just got done with Bible College and I am on my way to California to do an internship at an AG church. I am also starting school to be a licensed Christian pastoral counselor.My favorite scripture comes from Isaiah 61:3 He gives us BEAUTY for ashes!What was meant to destroy me (I tried to kill myself a couple of times) was turned around and when the devil takes one from me, I turn around and take 2 for the Kingdom of Light!



Jessi

My name is Jessi. I was 20 years old when I was raped, it happened at my own house. My roommate was very promiscuous and always had guys over. I came home from work walked in and there was this guy setting on the couch, I thought he was one of my roommate’s “friends”. I continued to the bathroom to change out of my work clothes and he asked to use the bathroom, told him I would be out in a minute. Then all of a sudden he comes rushing in with a knife. Tells me if I make a sound he was going to hurt me, had his way with me and left. I never went to the police, see I was molested when I was 10 and I told my father and nothing was done. I thought this was going to end the same way. Plus I just wanted it to go away, so I didn’t tell anyone. Then on February 1,2010 I found out I was pregnant. I have a boyfriend of 3 years and I didn’t even tell him till I found out I was pregnant. He didn’t believe me cause I didn’t go to the police and he wanted me to abort my son, he was willing to pay. I didn’t have it in me to kill something so innocent, it wasn’t his fault. So I gave birth to a healthy 8.1 lb, 22.5 baby boy on October 5,2010 at 2:06am.

I had the adoption plan all ready worked out but when he got here I changed my mind. I got out of the hospital and had time to myself to think and I said to myself I want only the best for my son so I decided to continue with the adoption plan. There was no way I could do it by myself, my family said they would help but I knew that wouldn’t last long. Now my father, an aunt and an uncle won’t have anything to do with me, as wall as some friends. That’s just a short version my story, I hope it helps someone some how.
Thanks
Jessi.

Kathryn PlasenciaKathryn Plasencia

Today’s post isn’t so fun. I’ve been invited to receive an award at a pro-life gala in November. Part of the whole shebang involves writing about not aborting the baby that I conceived through rape. A few (very few) people know pieces of the story, but this is the first time I’ve ever shared the whole thing. And thanks to all my wonderful prayer partners on Facebook, I got it done in record time and without any PTSD flashbacks or panic attack! So, like I said, this post is not fun, but it is important. Also, it should probably be rated PG-13. Here it is:

My first husband liked it rough. Not just rough like, “Harder, baby, harder,” kind of rough. No, he liked it really rough, like putting dents in the wall with the headboard, leaving bruises on my hips and thighs, shouting dirty words at me as I cried beneath his weight – that kind of rough. He was my first love, though, so I easily bought his claims that it was just his preference, that I was being too sensitive, that I was a prude. Until his fetish killed my unborn baby.[1] Then I realized it wasn’t just me.

I tried many times to leave him or to kick him out, but nothing kept him away. We would separate for brief periods, he would calm down a little and apologize, and I would settle back into his seemingly loving arms. But after a while, it would all start again.

When I was 21 and we had been married for just over two years, he decided it was time to have anal sex. I didn’t want to – not just for the obvious reasons, but because I’ve had bowel problems my entire life. When I refused, he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. He sodomized me until I collapsed, then finished in the usual way. I couldn’t sit right for days, but I didn’t tell anyone, because I felt like it was my fault for trying to deny my husband his marital right[2] and because I was too proud to face the humiliation of admitting that I had been hurt in such a way. Plus, how was I going to raise my two children without him?

A few weeks later, I started to feel sick and realized I had missed my period, so I picked up a pregnancy test on our next trip to Walmart. Sure enough, it was positive. I sobbed uncontrollably for hours. I wondered how on earth I could bring another child into this world, into such a hostile home. What was God thinking?! By this point, I was aware that my husband’s abuse was extending to my oldest (he was 2 at the time) in the form of overly-rowdy horse play and unearned spankings. I also knew that seeing him degrade me would teach my sons to disrespect women. I did NOT want to bring another child home to live this way!

I cried every day for a month, and every night I cried myself to sleep. The abuse was a little bit better during this time, because my brother and his girlfriend had moved in with us. That meant that my husband couldn’t get away with much without his real self being known. But one night, he forgot they were there.

It was about a month after I had taken the pregnancy test, and two months after the rape. He wanted anal again, and what he wanted he always got. I didn’t fight it this time – I just laid there, weeping as quietly as possibly so as not to wake the kids. And while he pounded away at me, I made a decision. I decided he would never do this to me again.

The next morning, after my husband had gone to work, I told my brother what had happened the night before and asked him to stick around that evening so I could tell my husband he had to leave. When he got home, I calmly explained that he needed help. I told him that I had arranged for him to stay at the Salvation Army, and that I might consider taking him back after he’d successfully completed counseling. Then I helped him pack. Soon after, he headed to Chicago to be with his family.

Some of my friends told me I should end the pregnancy. Family members said, even though they were pro-life, they wouldn’t blame me if I didn’t think I could handle raising a third child on my own. For a while, I considered putting the baby up for adoption. I mean, there I was: jobless, no driver’s license, no credentials for a decent job, no money to hire a babysitter, no self-confidence, and he wasn’t sending child support. How was I supposed to care for the two kids I already had, let alone throw a newborn into the mix?

And then I felt a kick.

And then I heard the heartbeat.

And then I saw him in the ultrasound.

And I fell in love.

The next few months were amazing! For the first time, I got to experience pregnancy without an angry voice yelling at me for craving the “wrong” foods, for being tired, for wanting to relax and talk to my belly. I got to become the mommy my baby and toddler needed. I got to wake up in the morning and smile at myself in the mirror, knowing that today I would not be put down, today I did not have to be afraid.

When my son was born, I loved him right away. His little head, his tiny fingers, his scrawny legs – he was perfect! I won’t lie and tell you it was exactly like with the others. The bond was definitely different. With the first three[1] pregnancies, I rejoiced as soon as I found out I was expecting. I thought that maybe having a baby would make my husband grow up; with this baby, it took longer for the joy to come. With the first two children, it was easy to spend quality time bonding with them; with this baby I was a single parent to a three year old, a one year old, and a newborn. But the love was still there.

Unfortunately, my husband came back when the baby was less than two months old. Life was even worse once he was back, and he stayed for another 3+ years before he was finally arrested for assaulting me in front of some friends. All of his offspring were hurt, and all have acquired some major baggage, so I can’t say what things would have been like had they kept on a positive path, but having one less child certainly wouldn’t have changed any of it.

This is the first time I’ve ever told anyone about how my son was conceived. Not even my mother knows all of it (though I guess she will now). When Juda invited me to share my story, I realized it was my chance to help others understand that abortion is never the answer. Sure, it may have been easier to have gotten rid of this unwanted pregnancy, but then I would be laden with guilt. And worse, I would never have gotten to meet my beloved little boy!

I know how hard it is to deliver a child that you didn’t really want, one that came from an awful experience, but I also know that with God all things are possible and work together for the good of those who love Him.[3] Perhaps keeping a rape baby is too hard for some mothers. There are thousands of would-be parents out there who would do anything to have a child of their own and can’t. I believe that God can take your pain and turn it into joy and self-respect by letting you give the gift of life to an eager couple.

The baby that was conceived through this rape is five now. He looks more like his biological father than the others do. There are days when he or his oldest brother do or say something that reminds me so much of my abuser that I want to scream. Sometimes I do: I’m not perfect.

But it is not my son’s fault that he was the product of a sexual assault. It is not his fault that his face occasionally sparks a bad memory. And the times that I am overwhelmed with love for this beautiful, funny, smart, wonderful child far outweigh the times that I remember the pain of how he came to be.



M From Arizona

I asked this young woman to share her story so that we can change the mindset of rape conception. She does not want to share her story openly for the same reasons many others keep silent. I am grateful that “M” is sharing her honest testimony. 1.6.11My childhood wasn’t “good” as I guess some people would put it. After the death of a close family member, my mother turned to prescription drugs and my father hid in his work, leaving me and my sister open for the emotional abuse from a woman who had lost complete control of herself. The abuse went on for years, turning me away from God and renouncing His existence. Both me and my sister attempted suicide to no avail, so it was no surprise that the day I turned 18, I was always on the move.

Then, I finally turned the big two -one. I was finally old enough to go into a bar. My emotional issues from my childhood were still in tact, leaving me vulnerable to risqué behavior, drugs, and alcohol, although, I wasn’t addicted until after the incident happened. It was summer and I was having so much fun. I started a new job, moved in with close friends, met new friend, things were great! It was my new friend that introduced me to the sports bar. I was never into sports, but I loved the social atmosphere, and I loved the attention I got from the boys!

That is where I met him. He was an attractive, charming, sweet, older, musician, bad boy. The boy your parents tell you to stay away from, but that only makes them more attractive. I was taken at the time though, and, when asked that question by him, I reluctantly coughed up a “yeah. I’m taken.” Of course, this was in the midst of a failing relationship filled with problems that ended up leading to the relationships end. That first night, I went home.

The next night, I was back at the bar. He bought me a beer, that I drank half of, and me and my new friend from work drove over to the musician’s house. He mixed a drink for me, that I can’t honestly say I remember drinking. I didn’t drink enough to get drunk, but I know I must’ve been since I remember feeling drunk. At some point I ended up in his room with a bunch of other people, doing cocaine, my first time. Slowly they started filtering out, and the next thing I remember he was on top of me pulling my pants down. I fought him and pulled them back up, telling him no, and that I was taken. I remember I was laughing. I thought this was a joke.

I can’t really tell you what happened. I can’t tell you how it happened. I can’t tell you when. The next thing I remember is waking up the next morning, half naked, next to him, snoring. I was freezing and felt so guilty. I couldn’t believe what I had done. I barely knew this guy! And now I cheated on my bf! I couldn’t believe it. I felt dirty, violated, guilty, disgusting, and everything in between.

That was the start of it. That was the start of being victimized. The start of a drinking problem and a drug addiction. He did this to me almost daily for almost 2 months. I couldn’t get away. He knew where I lived. He knew where I worked. He knew where to find me when I wasn’t home. Once, he forced himself on me at a park, while 2 men not far away on their porch watched! With every time, I lost more of myself to drinking and drugs, and I stopped fighting. I gave up. I tried to convince myself that I was using him. The thoughts of suicide started up again, and I tried to kill myself.

Then, one day, I had a dream that I was pregnant and I just knew it. I can’t explain it any other way. I just knew I was pregnant. Less than 2 weeks into my pregnancy, i could no longer drink or smoke or do any type of drug without getting sick. I still denied it though, brushing it off as I did too much and needed a break, which I took. Months later, a friend convinced me to take a test and there it was… positive. I didn’t cry. I didn’t panic. I didn’t get angry. I felt literally nothing. I felt empty.

Pregnancy was a nightmare. Honestly, the pregnancy couldn’t have been easier physically. No complications. No problems. Funny cravings. Normal. But, the emotional turmoil of having this… thing… growing inside me. This child from that monster. I couldn’t take it. I thought about abortion. I thought about adoption. Honestly, I’m still not sure why I didn’t go those routes.

I ended up moving home for most of my pregnancy. My mother had long since recovered from her addiction, and I forgave both my parents. Since then they’ve been so great and supportive! They were so excited for the baby, and couldn’t understand why the ultrasound made me sick, why I wasn’t happy to hear the heartbeat, and I never told them what happened.

Finally, that day came for…. it…. to come out.

They handed her to me. This messy little creature, so calm and gentle. So tiny. How could I hate her? But, I did. I hated her. She looked exactly like him. All those memories came rushing back every time I looked into her little eyes. What kind of mother can hate their own child?

Over the first month, my mother helped me a lot raising my new baby. I never had thoughts of killing her, but I hated her and I hated myself for hating her. Finally, one day, she wouldn’t leave me, so we spent hours cuddling, and that is when it hit me. I don’t hate her. I love her. I hate how she came into this world. I hate her father. But, I love this little girl more than life itself, and I can’t blame or punish her for his sin. I can’t cut myself off from connecting with her because of one mans selfish desires.

It’s been a few years now, and I won’t lie… It can be difficult! There are days when I am ready to pull my hair out! (Although that could be the age!) With time, it does get easier though. I don’t see him in her at all. She doesn’t remind me of him. She reminds me of how blessed I am for what I do have. She makes me strive to be a better person. Because of her I ended up in college. I found life.

I don’t know if this was God’s doing, but I think it was. Had I not gotten pregnant, I would be dead. I would’ve been victimized until I finally died from my self destructive habits. I wouldn’t have ever broken free of him. It amazes me to this day I could drop a cocaine and alcohol addiction in not even a day, with absolutely NO effects. Not even morning sickness! If this isn’t the work of God, I don’t know what is, but I choose to thank Him every single day for giving me life, and I thank my daughter for bringing me hope and teaching me what real love is.

M., AZ

My comment:
I am so glad that “M” shared her true feelings. Feelings come from ideas we have but can easily change when those ideas change. The fact that a woman can separate an innocent baby from the horrible act of violence is shown here. And if a woman is unable adoption is always a perfect option without guilt.


Michelle Orman

I grew up without the love of my mother or father. I had no concept of what love was, only hate. My mom hated me for getting molested(age 4-9) by the man she loved, & splitting up their marriage. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I spent the rest of my childhood being punished for it. Many times I would watch my mom with a knife in my hand & ponder killing her. I tried to tell what was happening to me but no one believed me. I found out when I got older my mom new what he was doing to me. She didn’t care, she didn’t leave him for that. She just hated me for getting molested. She watched him beat me, punch me, slam my head into tables & walls. He also shot at us, none of that was reason enough to leave him. I don’t know for sure why she left. Somehow she felt the need to punish me for having to leave him. I was only nine when she left him. After mom left my step-dad, she told us she had lied to us. He wasn’t our real dad, & our names weren’t what we were told they were. My older brother began to molest me & my friends. Then he would sometimes set me up to be raped by his friends. I started drinking at age 5, smoking at 16, by 17 I had become a slut & even tried to rape a guy. At 17 I stood up to my mom & was sent to foster care. Went to 2 bad places, they were still better than home. Then my foster mom, at first I didn’t know how to respond to her for the first time in my life I was shone a mothers love. It felt strange to me, & took time to get use to it. At age 18 I started doing drugs & was drunk from morning till night. I had my oldest son at age 19. I was so young, I thought I was ready. Then when I went into labor, it hit me, this baby would completely depend on me. I was so scared I would make a mistake & ruin his life. When I held him all I could feel was love. Love like I never knew before. I loved him more than I had ever loved or been loved. I feel that way about all of my kids.

My husband raped me for 3 yrs, as well as verbal abuse. Then he got violent, when my son saw it I knew I had to leave. He was so upset & crying so hard, I never wanted him to feel that way again. Over the yrs many other guys have raped & abused me. My family had helped my abusive ex-husband get custody of my 2 boys. They spread lies & rumors about me. I had gotten engaged & was helping him raise his kids. I was on my way to fighting to get my boys back, when my health got so bad I lost my job. I found out he got another women pregnant, & slept with my friend. About 2 weeks later a good friend died. After he died his girlfriend wanted me to move in & help her, so I did. About a month later our closest friend died. She flipped & kicked me out. I was on the streets; there was a waiting list at the homeless shelter. I had nothing & nobody left. I prayed for death to come.

Within a week I got raped. I found out I had gotten pregnant from the rape & finally got a room in the homeless shelter. I was so emotional, but I knew my baby needed me to get through it all. I tried to call about putting the baby up for adoption. I couldn’t make the call, every time I tried I would cry so hard. I finally decided I wanted to keep my baby. She made it easier to get past the rape. I got a beautiful baby girl from what happened to me. She is sweet, loving, & beautiful. What I went through was nothing compared to the joy my little girl has brought to my life. God had given me a reason to keep going. My little girl is my miracle baby. I love her so much, & I have seen lives changed by her life. She is 2 1/2 & 3’4″ tall, a very tall baby. Everyone who meets her loves her, & of course she is adorable. I have a friend (who’s only child is from rape as well) she has adopted us, I call her mom & she is a grandma to Alice.



Rebekah BergRebecca

After I graduated high school I moved as far away as my mom would allow for me to go to college. I chose a small Christian school fourteen hours away to establish my independence. I was a member of the cheer leading squad, worked as an assistant athletic trainer, played intramural girls’ flag football & basketball and enjoyed making friends with new people, including the athletes I worked with. Four months into my freshman year in college my life drastically changed. A friend on the football team invited me to a movie and forced sex on me.
Because we were friends, I never thought that what he had done was a rape. He told me that I had wanted it to happen, as though I had asked for it and had no one to blame but myself. I was afraid of him, and for the next two weeks, he continued to sexually abuse me.
Four weeks later I discovered that I was pregnant. I reluctantly agreed to his suggestion that I would have an abortion to end the pregnancy. His idea of ending the pregnancy was punching me in the abdomen in the park. When that didn’t work, he came into my work and used force to pin me to one of the tables informing me he was going home to get money for an abortion. He would be gone for 2 days. When he got back I was to have the appointment set up. It was obvious by his tone and the force he used that he wasn’t giving me any other option.I was afraid and felt I didn’t have any options. Finally, I broke down and shared my predicament with the girl that lived across the dorm hallway from me, and she helped me to realize that I simply could not have an abortion. I had grown up in a pro-life family and was strongly against abortion.I immediately went home. Since my “so-called friend” didn’t have access to me, his physical abuse turned into verbal threats. I sought help from a lawyer for protection. This one act changed everything I thought I knew. During my initial discussion with the lawyer, as I was sharing what had happened, she informed me that I had been raped by my friend. I told her she had to be wrong because a friend wouldn’t do that. Under those circumstances, it couldn’t count as a rape. She had me call a detective in the city where it had happened and that conversation changed my life.As I talked with the detective, she said the same thing as my lawyer . I argued with her, as well, making the same claims that he was a friend. She then asked me a question that put everything into perspective, “Did he ever tell you it was your fault that the sex had happened?” The simple answer was “yes.” I learned that day that over 70% of rapes are done by a so-called “friend,” someone that you already know. The assailant tells you it’s your fault, thereby making it look like you’re partly to blame. Most victims of rape by a friend are attacked more than the one time. This was me. This was my story.In my pain and confusion, my rapist had made me feel that I was the guilty one. Now I could see that I was truly the one who had been victimized. But I was not the only victim. When I was confronted with the fact that the child I was carrying had been conceived in a rape, I knew of no one to talk to. I had never heard of a woman who had gotten pregnant as a result of a rape and chosen to mother, let alone ive the baby life. I personally thought that a woman who became pregnant as a result of a rape should have an abortion. Who would want a child as a constant reminder of the horrible experience she had been through? Wouldn’t she be birthing another rapist? Now I was face to face with that situation.I certainly had not chosen to be raped nor had I chosen to become pregnant. No more did my child asked to be conceived. I knew that I had no right to take his life because of the horrible situation that had happened to me. He should not become a victim, too.Still, it was not easy. I struggled throughout my pregnancy with how I would respond to my son as well as whether or not there really was a rape gene. My son’s gentle spirit and willingness to put others first confirms that there is no such gene. Since the moment I met him, I have only had love for him which will continue until the day I die. Do I see the man’s face when I look at my son? Only once has my son given me a look where I saw a resemblance to him. It was gone as quickly as it came, and it has never changed my feelings for him.My life did not end when I had my son either. It wasn’t always easy, as parenting never is, no matter how the child is conceived, but I made it through. I went on to graduate college with a degree in Exercise Physiology with an emphasis in Aquatic Therapy. Three years later I got married and since have had two more beautiful children.

Ten years later, I am honored to be the mother to a creative 9-year old boy who loves life and has the love of everyone he meets around him. Yes, he is a product of a rape. He’s the exception to the rule they say. But just as the rape doesn’t define me and what I have been able to accomplish, it doesn’t define him or who he will become. He plays football and basketball. He is a healthy, well-rounded, mart, funny, and happy child. I could not imagine my life without him in it. What may have looked like ashes has truly been turned to beauty. My son has made my life better.

Shauna Prewitt

Shauna was raped and became pregnant. She prosecuted her rapist but this clever man basically blackmailed her for custody of her child if the charges weren’t dropped. Her story is coming soon.

Suzanne mauerSuzanne Maurer

Chapter 37, titled “The Night that Changed Everything”

“Miracles on Hope Hill: And Other True Stories of God’s Love” by Carol Kent

“God will not permit any troubles to come upon us, unless He has a specific plan by which great blessing can come out of the difficulty.”[1] Peter Marshall

It was Christmas Eve. Suzanne, now in her sophomore year of college, was home for the holidays. Before she left for school in September of 1960, she and her boyfriend broke up. Throughout the fall months they had not written, called, or contacted each other. They had been high school sweethearts, but both realized the romance was completely over.

For the past several years their families had celebrated the night before Christmas at the home of friends—and this year was no different. The adults had their party downstairs and the college crowd congregated upstairs. The upperclassmen put together a drink called a “scorpion,” which was a combination of liquors they served in a beautiful sterling silver punch bowl. A straw was placed in the bowl and it was passed from person to person. Suzanne’s friends coaxed her to participate and she played along. With her limited experience with alcohol, the drink tasted like strong punch. Suzanne assumed everyone was drinking from the bowl just like she was, not realizing the group was goading her into a drunken state while they barely sipped the beverage. Before long she was intoxicated and struggling to stand up without assistance.

Moments later her former boyfriend stopped by the house to wish everyone a “Merry Christmas”. When he entered the room, the instigators of this perverse entertainment were relieved. They explained what happened and asked him to drive her home. He happily obliged and carefully took her down the back steps so the adults on the first floor wouldn’t discover what happened.

In retrospect, no one should have been more surprised with what took place than Dave.[2] They hadn’t drunk alcohol during the entire time they dated. That night, instead of taking Suzanne home, he took her to his apartment. She had never been in his apartment before because she wanted to avoid the appearance of impropriety. During their months of dating Suzanne and Dave showed great affection for each other, but they had never slept together. Throughout their earlier dating relationship they had an agreement that they would never go that far before marriage.

Even in her drunken state, Suzanne remembers being happy to see Dave walk through the door. She realized her need to leave and willingly gotten into his car, assuming he was taking her home. Instead, he took her to his apartment but she was too intoxicated to know where she was.

Once they arrived, Suzanne was unable to walk without assistance, and Dave guided her inside and laid her down on his bed. He told her she needed something to eat and he went in the kitchen in search of food. Moments later she passed out. As Suzanne lay unconscious on his bed, Dave took advantage of her drunken state and had intercourse with her sexually. On Christmas Eve of 1960, Suzanne was date raped by her former boyfriend.
With guilt closing in after the attack, Dave grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking Suzanne frantically as he yelled, “Wake up! Wake up! I’ve gone too far!” Slowly, Suzanne awakened and strained to understand what had taken place.

The first week in January, heartsick and ridden with false guilt over what had happened, Suzanne headed back to college. She never planned to be in contact with Dave again. A few weeks passed and when she was late for her period, panic set in. During the last week of the month, she drove home and made an appointment with Dr. Charles, a gynecologist and family friend. A test confirmed her worst fear—she was pregnant.
Suzanne’s mind raced. Returning to college and overwhelmed with fear, she contemplated suicide. Her father was a politician and their family was well known in their community and far beyond. With great angst she thought about the public embarrassment and shame her pregnancy would bring to the family.

She soon realized she lacked the courage to take her own life, so Suzanne called Dave, the former boyfriend she never planned to see again, and told him she was pregnant. He immediately picked her up at school and drove her to the home of her parents. Her mom and dad were shocked and in emotional turmoil following this unexpected news. They took Suzanne to meet with a couple in another city fifty miles away where they had arranged for this pastor and his wife to adopt her baby. Suzanne was in a daze, but when she fully understood the purpose of the meeting, she spoke up. “I don’t think you understand. My baby is not going to be put up for adoption. I am going to give birth to this baby and raise it myself!”

Her father pointed to the exit and forcefully replied, “Do you see that door over there? You have two choices, you can either walk through that door and never look back or you can marry Dave!” When Suzanne wouldn’t agree to adoption, her mother and father planned her private wedding. With only her immediate family in attendance, Suzanne’s rushed marriage quietly took place out of town just two days later on February 4, 1961.

Suzanne knew she had shattered her parents’ rosy dream for her life and didn’t want to cause them more distress. The marriage was a struggle, but Suzanne desperately wanted to make up for their complicated and difficult beginning, and she longed for a good life for her child. Jimmy was born on September 11, 1961, and five years later she delivered a second son on June 15, 1966. Dave had gone fishing and wasn’t there during her labor and delivery. For five and a half years she tried to make the marriage work. In his own way, Dave tried, too, but they were young and both were haunted by the circumstances that led to their marriage. There was more than enough guilt to go around and she and Dave eventually divorced.

Life was challenging and Suzanne struggled on multiple levels. When Jimmy was young, she wrote to Ann Landers and asked her how and when she should tell her son about his conception. Ann wrote back and said, “You will know how and when at the right time. Good luck, dear!”

****
Twenty years passed. Jimmy was finishing his freshman year at Stanford University, and he had returned home on the eve of Suzanne’s fortieth birthday. As Suzanne and Jimmy sat up talking late into the night, she instinctively knew it was time to tell him the truth. It was as if God had already prepared his heart for this unexpected news.

The next day Jimmy pulled out the gift he had wrapped for her birthday. It was a bible. He said, “Mom, one month ago I invited Jesus Christ into my life.” He spoke at length about what it meant to become a Christian. He explained, “God has a purpose and a plan and it was no accident I was conceived under such unusual circumstances.”
Suzanne explained, “That day my son introduced me to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. He had come to faith at the university where he was finishing up his first year. He gave me a beautiful Bible, and wrote a letter to accompany the gift.”

Dear Mom,

I cannot imagine anything in the world that I would rather give you on your birthday than the Word of God. The fact that every Scripture found in it is inspired by God, provides the basis for our faith…When used with the guidance of the Holy Spirit, it will enable you to grow in your knowledge of the Lord…I believe you will find that trusting in Him is the greatest comfort imaginable…

I love you with all my heart, and wish you a beautiful 40th birthday. God bless you always, and may He bring out even more of the infinite potential that exists inside your loving heart…
Love,
Jimmy

Now, twenty-nine years later, Suzanne and Jimmy welcome opportunities to talk to each other about how God is at work in their lives. They honestly share the circumstances of Jimmy’s conception with others and agree that if only one woman is encouraged to carry a baby to full term and not seek abortion as a solution to an unwanted pregnancy, it is worth their decision to be open about their journey.
God’s gift to Suzanne came through adversity and revealed His sovereignty. The date rape that resulted in an unwanted pregnancy produced a beloved son who introduced her to Christ, as well as countless others as a pastor for the past 20 years.
God makes everything come out right;
He puts victims back on their feet.
Psalm 103:6 MSG

.

Becca Cruz

I was raised in a very abusive home. I was abused mentally, physically, spiritually, and sexually. Think of the commercials on TV that show the abused dogs, well that’s what my life was like but worse. While I was 14 years old, I went to the dr. to see if I was pregnant. I knew I wasn’t, because I didn’t like boys and I wasn’t having sex. The dr. to my surprise told me I was pregnant. What! How! I had no idea my father was having sex with me. All I knew was it was bad and I didn’t like it. What was I going to do with a baby! I felt so ashamed and alone. My friends at school became my enemies. I was called every name in the book when every one at school found out I was pregnant. I was having my dad’s child! My emotions were like tidal waves being tossed to and fro. I was so confused. My parents hid me from all my external family. I was like the invisible man. In March the following year I gave birth to a 6#10oz baby girl. I remember not knowing how to love her. How does a 15 year old sheltered, abuse girl know how to love. I didn’t know how to love, I was full of hate. All these years have passed and my daughter and I have been on a roller coaster ride, but now our ride has calmed down. We know what happened to me was meant for evil, but God has turned it around for good. I love Rowena and she loves me. We enjoy living and sharing our lives together. Rowena was God’s gift to me in the middle of rape and incest. I know many won’t understand, but every person weather big or small even the unborn matter. It wasn’t Rowena’s fault that my dad raped and abused me. Rowena deserved life and I thank God I had enough of him to deliver Rowena and keep her and love her till forever. This is a short story of God’s goodness in my life. Thanks for letting me share my blessed story.

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