Loving a Child Conceived in Rape

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 an 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.

In order for me to get to the gala, I need to be “adopted” and have my flight and lodging paid for. If you’d like to help out, please contact Juda Myers  to set up a donation or click on my PayPal button to the right. Thanks!


[1] My second pregnancy resulted in a miscarriage after my husband forced me to drink two forty-ounce bottles of Shmirrnoff then raped me for almost two hours, while our infant napped in the next room.

[2] A misinterpretation of 1 Corinthians 7:2-4

[3] See Matthew 19:26 and Romans 8:28

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9 thoughts on “Loving a Child Conceived in Rape

  1. Corinthians 7:2-4 But since sexual immorality is occurring, each man should have sexual relations with his own wife, and each woman with her own husband. 3 The husband should fulfill his marital duty to his wife, and likewise the wife to her husband. 4 The wife does not have authority over her own body but yields it to her husband. In the same way, the husband does not have authority over his own body but yields it to his wife.
    ~~ The parts of the bible like this are why I struggle to hold it as truth and a guide for my life. How women and men interpret these passages can be so different. Women, especially young women, often feel as you did that your husband had a right to get what he wanted instead of knowing you should be treated equally, respectfully, gently, and with love and to return it in the same way. The sexual immorality that it was talking about was more of what was happening outside of the basic husband and wife relationships and the perversions that were being discouraged. The yielding is meant to be not so much sexual as respectful… in my opinion anyway. I always try to see things in a positive, loving way and reject the negative aspects… I believe that the God I believe in would never expect us to suffer or be tortured in this manner even thought it happens more than anyone really knows.

    I am so glad that you were able to remove yourself and your children from this horrible situation and move on to find someone so loving and caring and respectful as you have now. Time will heal your wounds and the support of family and friends and with your faith in God you will achieve happiness in your life. Your family loves you!

    • Thanks for the beautiful comment! I do think husbands and wives are to submit sexually, but not to the extreme that I once was forced to believe. I think we’re just supposed to not deny our spouse all the time with excuses like “I have a headache” or whatever. It IS a respect issue, and an issue of meeting each others’ needs in a healthy way.

      Oh, and I love you, too!

  2. Thank you for sending this out into the world. I have been in your shoes. Unfortunately I lost the baby. Congratulations on your award. I have a blog that I started about my story and what happened to me. It is, well hopefully will be, a place where others can come to see that they are not alone…that there are other people out there who have been through the same things they have. Partner rape is one of the least reported crimes against women because it is the hardest to prove. And the hardest to convince ourselves that it is happening. If you would like to visit my blog, the link is http://www.victimnomore.wordpress.com

    Blessings to you and your family.

    • I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve lost two and almost lost another – there is no pain quite like that. But you are an overcomer! Thank you for sharing your story of hope 🙂

    • I am so sorry for your loss too. So many times the world tells women they should be relieved. I know you hurt deeply for the loss of your precious little one no matter how they were conceived. You are still a hero for committing to giving that baby life. You are still a hero. God bless you.

    • Well praise the Lord for giving you the blessing of a son! I know it’s the joy I feel when looking into my children’s eyes that makes all the pain worthwhile.

  3. 6 mos. later and I find your post after searching ‘how to love a child from rape’.
    My daughter was conceived the night my Mom was buried. He was a loosely stated friend of the family and called himself a minister. My cousin got him to be one of the pallbearers, unbeknown to me. My Mom died on that Saturday. He came by on the following Monday. We were sitting on the sofa, he said his condolences and I thanked him. I recall him pushing me back onto the edge of the sofa trying to get to my something, He was moving so fast and strong. I did manage to wiggle out of the way and to get to my feet. I shockingly asked what did he thing he was doing. He responded that he was consoling me. I opened the door and he was gone. I didn’t say anything, I thought maybe I misunderstood his intentions and I went back to my attempt at grieving, I was numb.
    That Saturday at the grave site is when I saw him again. I noticed he kept starring at me. Again, I dismissed it because of sunglasses. That evening my daughter had stayed with family that had come to town, my Dad included. I was home alone when the sound of a knock at the door startled me. I opened the door and found it was him. I don’t recall asking who was there. He came in and closed the door. I don’t recall telling him to come in. Somehow I made it to a chair across my small living room. He sat on the sofa closer to me. Suddenly the phone rang, it was a friend I hadn’t seen in years who wanted to come by as he was in the area. I quickly told him to come by. I then recall being so scared, so frighten. My friend knocked on the door, he could clearly see cars at my house. That minister spoke in a voice that terrified me, he said don’t open that door. I didn’t, I couldn’t move. Then darkness. I awoke, in my bed, crying so hard and hearing ‘Oh baby.” I saw him, he still had his shirt on, I still had my blouse on. So surreal, in sobs, I closed my eyes again and didn’t wake to the next day when someone called me. I don’t know when he finished or when he left. I know he came back for 2 weeks, staying around me but didn’t touch me. I was numb. Then he was gone. I saw him 2 times in several years before I moved in 2005. My daughter is now 16 yrs old. We are having the teen angst, she’s home schooled since 2nd semester of 7th grade. She’s 10th grade now. We are moving this year and I want her back in school once the move is complete. I did tell her about the rape. She wondered why her dad wasn’t around. I told her, through tears. I couldn’t give away me! We, she and I, work at this hardship given us, trying to get away from being the victim and the outcome.

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