Shame 5

When I told my mother, she took it fairly well. When she got pregnant with me as an unwed mother, I think she felt rejected by some of her family. So she went above and beyond to show me love and acceptance at this time. I never really asked her what to do, I just presented the financial, educational, and marriage arguments and told her I had already made up my mind. She offered many times to figure out a way to make it work if I wanted to have the baby, but I refused to consider it. Once I told her what I wanted, she had to help me figure out how to get it done. I placed an unfair burden on her.

So we went to the clinic and the pregnancy test confirmed what I already knew. I remember the doctor said he could already feel that my uterus was growing. We passed from one room to another for paperwork, lab, exam, nurse, and social worker, as the stress mounted at every stop. In the last office we were denied financial aid as Mom made too much money. That caused her to explode and me to cry. What a mess I had created.

We went home in despair, and Mom told the stepfather, "LP". She called my father's mother and asked to borrow money, but was told no. Finally she called her own mother and stepfather, telling them all of what I had so desperately wanted to keep secret. I didn't talk to any of them myself, but the impression I got was that Grandma was horrified and Grandpa was completely supportive. Of all the people in my family, the only one who was willing to help me get what I wanted was the same man who molested me as a child. His view of the matter was exactly what I wanted to hear…no guilt; just an easy medical procedure and a few hundred dollars and I would get a "do-over".

The plan was for me to fly to Dallas for the Thanksgiving holiday and get it done. I missed my BFF Cheri and needed her, and all I could think about was going home. I was still furious that Mom and "LP" had moved us 6 hours from our home in Ft Worth to Galveston the year before. I hated going to a new school and missed the friends I had grown up with. I just wanted to go home and escape the situation I was in. I fixed my heart on home and thought if I could only get there everything else would be ok.

The ride to the Houston airport that day was surreal. Mom was so tender with me and we talked about our lives and the world and growing up. I finally got up enough nerve to ask her the question that had stayed buried for the last few years. I asked her if "Daddy" was really my daddy, and she told me that he wasn't. He was killed a few years before in a work-related accident, so Mom had to hire a lawyer for top secret legal stuff that I was too young to be told about. One day I found a piece of paper that said he (OC) had given me his name although I was not his. In spite of the fact that I already knew deep in my heart, I was shocked by the confirmation. What I felt was betrayal, because in that moment I understood that my entire adult family had lied to me my whole life. I kept a brave face on until I got on the plane, then I cried quietly through the flight. My soul began to mourn in a way that I did not even understand.

As I got off the plane and entered the airport, I saw my grandpa immediately. He waved me to hurry and as we walked to the baggage claim he explained that he had already made an appointment and we were going straight to the clinic for the abortion. I was terrified…I tried to tell him I wanted to go to Cheri first, but he said I had to get it over with. I wanted to call her, but he said there was no time. I stopped arguing and cried as he drove.

Shame 4

Being pregnant doesn't fit my plan. I have to finish high school. I am too young and my future is too bright. Everyone will think I am an idiot. All the people who think I am nobody will be right. I'm not ready to get married, and I can't take care of a baby by myself. I can't tell Mom or anyone, because I am ashamed. I knew what I was doing, and I thought I was too smart to get pregnant. I can't think about this today. I'm just gonna wait and see…maybe I'm not really pregnant…maybe I'll get my period…maybe I'll have a miscarriage…maybe no one else will ever have to know. I can't think about this right now anyway. I am afraid…this is my worst nightmare come true. This can't be happening.

This is the merry-go-round that I have spun on for about 6 weeks.

Finally I have accepted the fact that I am pregnant. Even though I have not had a pregnancy test, I know it is true. My body is doing strange things. I am terrified. Oh, my God, what am I going to do??? Why me? Isn't my life screwed up enough without THIS? If only I hadn't gotten pregnant. If only I could undo this. If this would just go away, no one would ever have to know my shame. I can't think about this today…it's too hard. What am I going to do? It's just one stupid mistake. This is going to ruin my life. I can't let this ruin my life.

OK, I have made up my mind. I can have an abortion and this fear and worry will all be gone. I won't have to tell anyone, and my life will not be wrecked. I can undo this…it's legal, and lots of women do it all the time. If it was wrong then no one would do it, right? It's ok if I do it because I am important, right? This is the only way I can have what I want. This is the only answer. This is the most logical thing to do. But isn't it a life?

Shame 3

(Continued, age 16)

So my life plan is to go to college and become a choir teacher. I will find a perfect man one day and he will ask me to marry him. We will live happily ever after in prosperity. We will have perfect kids who will require no effort to raise. I am not going to get divorced like my mother and father, and I will never make any bad choices that hurt them or make them afraid. I will not let them be hurt, and they will never be dressed like a poor kid. No one will ridicule them and they will be popular in school. I am smart and I have it all figured out.

We live in an apartment complex on the Island. It has nasty carpet that too many feet have walked on before us, and roaches. My mother is an obsessive housekeeper, so the rest of the place is clean. We just stay off of the carpet and protect our food from the roaches. My sister and I share a tiny bedroom, and we fight about everything. Mom and step dad "LP" irritate me, so I try to avoid them. I am passing the time until adulthood. Every day I find something to look forward to, and if nothing exciting is planned, I will make something happen. I hang out with anyone who accepts me.

Once I met a guy (L) with blond hair, blue eyes, dark tan, and gorgeous smile. He is my age but he quit school, and works as a roofer. I think he is cool because he works and makes money and is close to being independent. He smokes and drinks and has a yellow Fender Stratocaster. He dreams of playing guitar with Stevie Ray Vaughn. His parents are older, and he lives with them, but they don't tell him what to do. They let me stay at their house a lot, so I don't have to see my family unless I want to. I don't see him as the man I will one day marry, but I love him in some way. I ride my bicycle back and forth from my house to his. We smoke dope a lot and eat, so I am afraid of getting fat. My friend from school usually gives me a couple of hits of speed in the mornings, so I can stay awake and skip meals. L and I are together for over a year before I get pregnant.

Shame 2

I am 16 years old, and I live with my mother, sister, and stepfather. My mother is married to a man I detest. If I were to begin the list of reasons this story would take another turn, and I must stay on task. I am angry at my mother because I don’t trust the decisions she makes for me. I am angry at my sister because she is never pleasant and only finds delight in tormenting me. I am angry at my stepfather because he is a pervert. I am afraid.

The only place I find any form of happiness is in the choir room at school, or on the stage rehearsing with the drama students. Singing has always taken me away from my problems. For me, singing is a treasure that God gave me to survive this world.

As much as I love singing and music of any kind, it is not enough. I still search for acceptance, validation, protection, safety, love. I live in fear of so many things: rejection, ridicule, abandonment, death, pain, homelessness, starvation. I think I need to find the right man to provide for me and keep me safe from all my fears. I think I am not pretty enough, because no one ever asks me out.

I am not good enough to have all the things other girls my age have, like normal parents, a boyfriend, good clothes and shoes, etc. I can’t wait to become a legal adult, so I can go get all the things I am supposed to have. My mom can’t do it, so I will just have to take care of myself. Everyone tells me I have a bright future ahead of me. My bright future is going to make me rich and happy and I am gonna buy all the things I want and cannot have now. I am going to prove to everyone who does not care about me that I never really needed them and they never hurt me.

(To be continued…)

Shame 1

Today I am beginning a series of posts about my 16 year old self. For the most part I am writing from my perspective at that time. Some of the things I used to think sound so selfish and bitter now, and I hope you will understand that is not who I am today. I have a long story to tell and God put it on me to share it. I really didn't want to, because I knew I would have to remember things that hurt. I love it and hate it when He pushes me out of my comfort zone. He knows that I need it, and I trust Him, so here I go. My wish would be that this ugly story would bless you somehow and change a life.

November 1982

How did I get here? As I ponder the timeline of my life, I wonder if there is a specific day I can label as the starting point of this torment. There are so many possibilities. Maybe it was the day I met him. Or the day I had sex with him. Is it the day my family moved to Galveston? Or the day my mother divorced my stepfather? Maybe it was the day she brought another man home. Or was it the day that my father died? It might have been a day when I was feeling rejected by my grandmother. Or any of the days we didn’t know where mom was and why we couldn’t see her. Or the day my sister and I moved in with my grandparents? Was it the day my mother divorced my dad? Did it begin when I was being molested? Or maybe it was the day I was born. It could have been the day God knit me in my mother’s womb. Was this written before I was physically manifested? Surely God knew what I would do long before I could form a thought.