Jenni Maas' Story: Conceived in Rape, reprinted with permission from
Human Life International
http://www.humanlife.org/abortion_jenni_story.php
I first began to recognize that I had a
story to tell when I was attending a
public Junior High school in Forest
Lake, MN. Frequently the abortion
topic would come up with friends and
on occasion teachers would talk about
why abortion should remain legal. I
would always cringe a little when they
would say, "I don't like abortion. I
think it is wrong . . . except in cases
of rape and incest," or "We really have
to keep abortion legal for cases of
rape and incest."
My mom had slowly been revealing the circumstances of my
conception to me over the years and by the time I was 13, I
understood and had come to grips with the reality that my father was,
essentially, a rapist. He was 18, as was my mother, at the time of my
conception. Though he had most likely acted out of a dare by his
friends, he had violated my mother against her will.
When my mom found out she was pregnant with me, the only advice
she was given was to discard the "products of conception." She
explains how she was never offered support to keep me, though this
is where her heart was leading her. Needless to say, I am eternally
grateful that she heeded that still, small voice in her heart that told
her the life growing within her had a purpose and did not deserve
death.
When the topic of rape and incest came up throughout junior high
and high school, I would usually first try to appeal to reason saying:
"Why don't you like abortion? What is wrong with it?" When they
would answer "Because, it's a life" some would immediately recognize
the double standard and relent. Most of the time, however, even when
faced with their own illogical statements, they would still persist with
emotional arguments: "You can't make a woman go through with a
pregnancy like that." Though it is an unjust and heart wrenching
scenario to consider, it must be dealt with, and so I would tell them our
story. Only once in high school did a person who heard this story turn
away cold-faced. Every other person who was confronted with "a
face" allowed their heart to melt at the truth of the matter-God has a
plan for everyone!
As my husband and I anticipate the birth of our own baby soon, I am
continually discovering God's magnificent plan, not only for my life,
but also for every life that he calls into existence. It is crucial that
every citizen realize that a person's dignity is not founded in whether
or not one is wanted, as abortion peddlers and legislators would like
them to believe. A person's dignity is founded in the reality that
persons are created in the image and likeness of God. The
circumstance of my conception or yours does not determine the
quality of our lives.
Young people across the nation and around the world are
increasingly recognizing the double standards of abortion rhetoric.
They see that all the promises of the so-called "sexual revolution" are
coming up empty. Young people are renewing the pro-life movement
with an enthusiastic determination to bring about a "Culture of Life."
By the grace of God, my mom (and I) were spared the life-long, direct
agony that abortion brings. However, when you consider Planned
Parenthood's grisly statistic that 40% of all women in the U.S. will have
an abortion by the age of 40 (mothers, daughters, aunts,
grandmothers, granddaughters, cousins, wives) every American
citizen has been touched by the grief of abortion directly or indirectly.
Therefore, every one of us has an obligation to stand up! I am thrilled
to be a part of the generation that WILL turn the cultural tide so that
following generations will be spared this unjust suffering.
For Life,
Jenni Maas
Human Life International
http://www.humanlife.org/abortion_jenni_story.php
I first began to recognize that I had a
story to tell when I was attending a
public Junior High school in Forest
Lake, MN. Frequently the abortion
topic would come up with friends and
on occasion teachers would talk about
why abortion should remain legal. I
would always cringe a little when they
would say, "I don't like abortion. I
think it is wrong . . . except in cases
of rape and incest," or "We really have
to keep abortion legal for cases of
rape and incest."
My mom had slowly been revealing the circumstances of my
conception to me over the years and by the time I was 13, I
understood and had come to grips with the reality that my father was,
essentially, a rapist. He was 18, as was my mother, at the time of my
conception. Though he had most likely acted out of a dare by his
friends, he had violated my mother against her will.
When my mom found out she was pregnant with me, the only advice
she was given was to discard the "products of conception." She
explains how she was never offered support to keep me, though this
is where her heart was leading her. Needless to say, I am eternally
grateful that she heeded that still, small voice in her heart that told
her the life growing within her had a purpose and did not deserve
death.
When the topic of rape and incest came up throughout junior high
and high school, I would usually first try to appeal to reason saying:
"Why don't you like abortion? What is wrong with it?" When they
would answer "Because, it's a life" some would immediately recognize
the double standard and relent. Most of the time, however, even when
faced with their own illogical statements, they would still persist with
emotional arguments: "You can't make a woman go through with a
pregnancy like that." Though it is an unjust and heart wrenching
scenario to consider, it must be dealt with, and so I would tell them our
story. Only once in high school did a person who heard this story turn
away cold-faced. Every other person who was confronted with "a
face" allowed their heart to melt at the truth of the matter-God has a
plan for everyone!
As my husband and I anticipate the birth of our own baby soon, I am
continually discovering God's magnificent plan, not only for my life,
but also for every life that he calls into existence. It is crucial that
every citizen realize that a person's dignity is not founded in whether
or not one is wanted, as abortion peddlers and legislators would like
them to believe. A person's dignity is founded in the reality that
persons are created in the image and likeness of God. The
circumstance of my conception or yours does not determine the
quality of our lives.
Young people across the nation and around the world are
increasingly recognizing the double standards of abortion rhetoric.
They see that all the promises of the so-called "sexual revolution" are
coming up empty. Young people are renewing the pro-life movement
with an enthusiastic determination to bring about a "Culture of Life."
By the grace of God, my mom (and I) were spared the life-long, direct
agony that abortion brings. However, when you consider Planned
Parenthood's grisly statistic that 40% of all women in the U.S. will have
an abortion by the age of 40 (mothers, daughters, aunts,
grandmothers, granddaughters, cousins, wives) every American
citizen has been touched by the grief of abortion directly or indirectly.
Therefore, every one of us has an obligation to stand up! I am thrilled
to be a part of the generation that WILL turn the cultural tide so that
following generations will be spared this unjust suffering.
For Life,
Jenni Maas
| Russell Saltzman's Story Conceived in step-sibling incest, Russell lives in the Kansas City area and is available for speaking -- russell.e.saltzman@gmail.com Summary Remarks of Russell E. Saltzman, Pastor of Ruskin Heights Lutheran Church, Kansas City, MO Before the U.S. Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on Labor, Health and Human Services, and Education, September 14, 2000 Thank you, Mr. Chairman and Senators, for the opportunity to appear before this subcommittee this morning. I count it as a privilege. I once worked for a Member of Congress and I know the energy and the time you bring to this work and how difficult your decisions sometimes are, and you are to be thanked for your efforts. I am here as a person with diabetes to testify against the use of human embryonic stem cell research. But I shall first reveal something of myself. I am the adopted child of Harry and Lola Saltzman, my parents who live yet in the home where I was raised in Olathe, Kansas. Since I am an adopted child, you might guess, accurately, that the circumstances of my conception were not ideal. In the summer of 1946, I was an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy. My birth parents were members of the same family. In fact they were step-siblings. Very possibly my conception was the result not only of step-sibling incest, but step-sibling rape. There is no question in my mind - given the circumstances current these days - that my birth mother would have been urged to accept abortion and very likely would have sought one as the means of solving the dilemma I represented. I am unable to look at abortion in any light except those of my origin. When I say that appearing here is a privilege, I hope I also convey my sense of the miraculous, for had my conception occurred after 1972, I would not be here at all. And suddenly it comes to mind that - having been aborted - the fetal parts that were once me might have become research material for somebody's investigation into the very disease I have come here to discuss. So at the outset, I say it is a terrible thing we undertake in these discussions, not only because the matter touches me so personally, but also because I know our common origin, the base humanity that links us one to another, whatever our stage of development or maturity. We all once sprang from an act of union between egg and sperm. We all once were human embryos. We all once were fetuses quickening in our mothers' wombs. We are all, each, human life. We may hope that all of us were conceived in love, but in my case that matters not at all. Whether I was conceived in love or in violence, what is important for me is the fact that I am here in the first place. My existence by itself has some considerable consequence for other people, not least for my seven children, two of whom are adopted. I suffer from diabetes. Since my diagnosis in 1995, I have learned that the burden of a chronic illness is a real burden. I have experienced the progression of this illness from a time when simple diet alterations controlled it, to the point now where I am completely insulin-dependent. It is the chronic part that constitutes the real burden, knowing I shall never be rid of it, knowing my life will always be governed by diet and injection schedules, and knowing, too, that my death probably will be the result of some diabetic complication. When I say I wish I did not have it, I am saying there is almost anything I would do to get rid of it. Almost. The prospect of stem cell therapy derived from human embryonic research - involving the destruction of a human embryo - touches me in a most profound way. I would never consent to any treatment for my diabetes that directly or indirectly came about as the result of destroying a human embryo. What I find disturbing about this incessant rush to harvest stem cells from embryos is the fact that no researcher to date has been able to develop a pancreatic cell from the techniques presently used, this while there are several promising avenues of research that do not involve destruction of a human embryo. Most recently, I have learned about investigations by Canadian researchers that employed pancreatic islet cells from cadavers. The technique successfully eliminated insulin-dependence of several diabetics who received the procedure. The procedure is subject to further trials and it must be nuanced in application. But this holds greater promise for a diabetic cure than anything else I have heard about - and islet cell transplant is ethically neutral. It has no moral implications associated with it. Yet, we here in the United States seem in a rush to use what is arguably the most ethically objectionable method available, while other morally neutral medical technologies virtually are at hand. The President's own National Bioethics Advisory Commission has said that because human embryos deserve respect as a developing form of human life, destroying them "is justifiable only if no less morally problematic alternatives are available for advancing research." The fact is, those alternatives exist. It comes to a question. Is the human embryo human life, or is it a mere bit of research material? If it is mere research material, then why should any human life at any stage of development - yours or mine - carry any special privilege? But if the embryo is human life, then we should have in place some restraint that cautions the strong against using the weak for their own purposes. I would commend to your reading Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Written in 1933 Huxley, with astonishing prophetic foresight, created a world of genetic clones and what he called "decanted babies." All this arose because in the world of his novel, the human embryo was merely research material. He worried that science was being twisted all around. Where once, as with the sabbath, science was made for Man, he foresaw a time when Man would be made for science. In Huxley's fictionalized world the process that turned science around was methodical and deliberate, and without moral regard. In our own world, the process going on is less tidy but no less deliberate, and, I fear, with equally little moral regard. If a cure for diabetes and a host of other ailments require the production and destruction of human embryos, then I beg you to consider the possibility that some diseases are better than their cure. -- Russell E. Saltzman rhlcpastor@sbcglobal.net |
Conceived in Rape Personal Stories and Pro-Life Speakers
| Rebecca Kiessling Conceived in rape / Pro-life speaker |
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Mary Payne's Story Conceived in rape, Mary lives in Oklahoma
City. She is an advocate for adoptees and is the current moderator
for www.stigmatized.org's e-mail support group. Mary is available for
speaking -- marpayne@siriusnet.net
Ladies and Gentlemen and Friends of Life,
my name is Mary Payne. I am grateful for the
opportunity to share with you today. I have
written this piece because I want to share with
you that all life is important and children born
from rape or incest are no different from you.
I can say this because I was born as the result
of a conception, which occurred after a
rape/assault. Although I came from a criminal
act, does not define who I am. I am a loving
daughter, faithful wife, nurturing mother, and
doting grandmother. I am very sorry for the pain and anguish that my
birthmother endured on my behalf. I wish I had the power to wipe
away all her suffering, but I can't. I love her even more now, because
I know the details of my conception. She certainly did not deserve the
events that occurred in her life.
She made the best of a tragic situation. And the only thing I can do
at this point is to pray for her every day and to work toward being the
best and most loving person I can be, breaking the cycle of abuse.
Our two-year-old granddaughter lives in California. When her mom
or dad puts her on the phone and she says, “I love you, Gramma!”
My heart just melts. All babies are so special.
I’d like for you to close your eyes for a minute and picture in your
mind the first time you held a newborn baby. Think about how it felt
to have the baby nuzzle your neck. Look at the baby’s hair, her little
toes, her fingers, and her skin. Visualize the baby’s eyes. At that
moment in time when you looked into her eyes, did you stop and ask
yourself, “Gee, I wonder what the parents were saying to each other
when this little person was formed? Did the mother consent? Is it OK
for this baby to be here?” Absolutely not! And that is what I want to
impart to you today. Life is life. And life in the womb -- no matter
how he or she was precipitated -- is still a developing human being
and should be constitutionally protected. What if great statesmen
like Thomas Jefferson, or George Washington, or honored poets like
Maya Angelou had been aborted? We will never know what great
individuals are missing from our society because we have condoned
abortion for 33 years.
I am so grateful that my birthmother chose life for me. I found her in
1991, but I didn’t learn the circumstances surrounding my conception
until 1993. My birthmother wanted to spare me the details of knowing
I was conceived from rape. I cannot deny that it was difficult. I felt
dirty, guilty, and less-than-a-human-being for a period of time. To be
perfectly honest, because our society looks down on violence,
illegitimacy, and factors associated with unwed motherhood, I was
unprepared for the news. My self-esteem plummeted. I had always
been told that my birthparents were just two kids in love who were too
young to get married. Naturally, it was a blow to learn the truth. The
floor could have swallowed me. My brain cells shattered and for a
time, I had difficulty thinking about anything other than my
conception. I bought a 6,000-piece jigsaw puzzle, because working
jig-saw puzzles helps the brain to overcome trauma. I reasoned that
for the kind of trauma I had, it would take 6,000 pieces! We lost our
dining room table to the puzzle. It took 10 months to complete. My
husband bought a microwave so he wouldn’t miss any meals. Well,
you gotta’ do what you gotta’ do! As I worked the puzzle with my
husband’s and sons’ support, faith gave me the power to sort through
my thoughts and feelings about conception. My conclusion is that I
am okay. I didn’t cause the rape, I can’t cure it, and I couldn’t control
the result. I can just be me. When the egg and the sperm meet, the
egg actually surrounds and envelopes the sperm, rather than the
sperm penetrating the egg. At the moment of conception, God’s
creative energy flows through the newly created cell. Because God
has a purpose for everyone, his energy flows through the cell, giving
it life. If God did not have a Divine plan for the embryo, the mother
would perhaps miscarry the child naturally.
Even children who are miscarried can be a blessing and a child
whose life ended early is still a soul who exists in Heaven. The time
that a mother spends with an unborn child in her womb is a blessing,
even if it is for a short time. So many women rejoice just finding out
that they are pregnant. That’s the way God planned it to be — that
the knowledge of a conception would be a cause for joy, but He gave
us free will and our choices have interfered with His plan.
When Roe v. Wade was argued in 1972, one of the reasons given
was that society had to protect women who were raped. It was
supposed to apply to a narrow segment of embryos, sometimes
called “Castaway Souls.” But if people are given an inch, they will
take a mile and the number of Castaway Souls ballooned into football
stadiums full of "unwanted" baby humans, who were not allowed to be
born. What legalized abortion actually does is to pre-empt God. It
gives man control over who lives and who dies — not God. Too bad
we have been so ego-centered and materialistic that we have thought
we knew better than God.
I am grateful to each one of you who has the inner intuition of
knowing the value of every human life. Thank you from the bottom
of my heart for all you are doing. You are standing for life and those
of us who were in danger of being aborted salute you for all you do;
for being here; for phoning your legislators; for passing out flyers;
raising money; talking to your friends and neighbors about the
meaning of life. And, last but certainly not least, for voting for life.
YOU are our advocates. You honor us with your efforts and so I
honor you.
We must prevail to give even the tiniest victim a voice for life. In a
democracy, every life is important. Our society cannot afford to lose
even one statesman or stateswoman to help guide us through the
twenty-first century and beyond.
Thank you. -- Mary Payne
City. She is an advocate for adoptees and is the current moderator
for www.stigmatized.org's e-mail support group. Mary is available for
speaking -- marpayne@siriusnet.net
Ladies and Gentlemen and Friends of Life,
my name is Mary Payne. I am grateful for the
opportunity to share with you today. I have
written this piece because I want to share with
you that all life is important and children born
from rape or incest are no different from you.
I can say this because I was born as the result
of a conception, which occurred after a
rape/assault. Although I came from a criminal
act, does not define who I am. I am a loving
daughter, faithful wife, nurturing mother, and
doting grandmother. I am very sorry for the pain and anguish that my
birthmother endured on my behalf. I wish I had the power to wipe
away all her suffering, but I can't. I love her even more now, because
I know the details of my conception. She certainly did not deserve the
events that occurred in her life.
She made the best of a tragic situation. And the only thing I can do
at this point is to pray for her every day and to work toward being the
best and most loving person I can be, breaking the cycle of abuse.
Our two-year-old granddaughter lives in California. When her mom
or dad puts her on the phone and she says, “I love you, Gramma!”
My heart just melts. All babies are so special.
I’d like for you to close your eyes for a minute and picture in your
mind the first time you held a newborn baby. Think about how it felt
to have the baby nuzzle your neck. Look at the baby’s hair, her little
toes, her fingers, and her skin. Visualize the baby’s eyes. At that
moment in time when you looked into her eyes, did you stop and ask
yourself, “Gee, I wonder what the parents were saying to each other
when this little person was formed? Did the mother consent? Is it OK
for this baby to be here?” Absolutely not! And that is what I want to
impart to you today. Life is life. And life in the womb -- no matter
how he or she was precipitated -- is still a developing human being
and should be constitutionally protected. What if great statesmen
like Thomas Jefferson, or George Washington, or honored poets like
Maya Angelou had been aborted? We will never know what great
individuals are missing from our society because we have condoned
abortion for 33 years.
I am so grateful that my birthmother chose life for me. I found her in
1991, but I didn’t learn the circumstances surrounding my conception
until 1993. My birthmother wanted to spare me the details of knowing
I was conceived from rape. I cannot deny that it was difficult. I felt
dirty, guilty, and less-than-a-human-being for a period of time. To be
perfectly honest, because our society looks down on violence,
illegitimacy, and factors associated with unwed motherhood, I was
unprepared for the news. My self-esteem plummeted. I had always
been told that my birthparents were just two kids in love who were too
young to get married. Naturally, it was a blow to learn the truth. The
floor could have swallowed me. My brain cells shattered and for a
time, I had difficulty thinking about anything other than my
conception. I bought a 6,000-piece jigsaw puzzle, because working
jig-saw puzzles helps the brain to overcome trauma. I reasoned that
for the kind of trauma I had, it would take 6,000 pieces! We lost our
dining room table to the puzzle. It took 10 months to complete. My
husband bought a microwave so he wouldn’t miss any meals. Well,
you gotta’ do what you gotta’ do! As I worked the puzzle with my
husband’s and sons’ support, faith gave me the power to sort through
my thoughts and feelings about conception. My conclusion is that I
am okay. I didn’t cause the rape, I can’t cure it, and I couldn’t control
the result. I can just be me. When the egg and the sperm meet, the
egg actually surrounds and envelopes the sperm, rather than the
sperm penetrating the egg. At the moment of conception, God’s
creative energy flows through the newly created cell. Because God
has a purpose for everyone, his energy flows through the cell, giving
it life. If God did not have a Divine plan for the embryo, the mother
would perhaps miscarry the child naturally.
Even children who are miscarried can be a blessing and a child
whose life ended early is still a soul who exists in Heaven. The time
that a mother spends with an unborn child in her womb is a blessing,
even if it is for a short time. So many women rejoice just finding out
that they are pregnant. That’s the way God planned it to be — that
the knowledge of a conception would be a cause for joy, but He gave
us free will and our choices have interfered with His plan.
When Roe v. Wade was argued in 1972, one of the reasons given
was that society had to protect women who were raped. It was
supposed to apply to a narrow segment of embryos, sometimes
called “Castaway Souls.” But if people are given an inch, they will
take a mile and the number of Castaway Souls ballooned into football
stadiums full of "unwanted" baby humans, who were not allowed to be
born. What legalized abortion actually does is to pre-empt God. It
gives man control over who lives and who dies — not God. Too bad
we have been so ego-centered and materialistic that we have thought
we knew better than God.
I am grateful to each one of you who has the inner intuition of
knowing the value of every human life. Thank you from the bottom
of my heart for all you are doing. You are standing for life and those
of us who were in danger of being aborted salute you for all you do;
for being here; for phoning your legislators; for passing out flyers;
raising money; talking to your friends and neighbors about the
meaning of life. And, last but certainly not least, for voting for life.
YOU are our advocates. You honor us with your efforts and so I
honor you.
We must prevail to give even the tiniest victim a voice for life. In a
democracy, every life is important. Our society cannot afford to lose
even one statesman or stateswoman to help guide us through the
twenty-first century and beyond.
Thank you. -- Mary Payne
www.jamesrobison.com, host of
daily tv program, "Life Today"
and Founder and President of
Life Outreach International
daily tv program, "Life Today"
and Founder and President of
Life Outreach International
Other famous people
conceived in rape:
Eartha Kitt, actress ("Cat
Woman") and singer ("Santa
Baby.")
John Cox, 2008 Republican
Presidential Candidate:
"Conceived in rape, John was
brought into this world by a
mother who refused to abort
her pre-born possible future
President."
www.cox2008.com/cox/south_car
olina_straw_polls_confound_exp
erts/
Angelina Jolie's adopted
daughter Zahara "Result of
Rape." Link to Article
Faith Daniels -- talk show host
of the TV show Dateline, A
Closer Look, and Today
(among others). She describes
coming to terms with the fact
that her conception resulted
from rape in a People Magazine
article.
Layne Beachley -- Australian
surfing champion, contestant on
Australia's Dancing With the
Stars, she shares in her
autobiography, "Beneath the
Waves," about learning she was
conceived in rape and striving
to show her value.
Fredrick Douglass -- former
slave and abolitionist. He details
his conception by rape in his
writing, Narrative of the Life of
Fredrick Douglass, available
online at
http://pd.sparknotes.com/lit/narr
ative/section5.html
Jesse Jackson -- Reverend
whose mother was 16 when he
was conceived and whose
father was a 30-year old next
door neighbor who was already
married
Tracy Carter Jennieve --
daughter of actress Nell Carter,
who was conceived when Nell
was raped at 16 years old.
Traci Lords (Nora Kuzma) --
conceived in rape and exploited
as a teen, she shares in her
autobiography, "Underneath It
All"
Lemm Sissay -- famed
international poet from Great
Britain, of Ethiopian descent
conceived in rape:
Eartha Kitt, actress ("Cat
Woman") and singer ("Santa
Baby.")
John Cox, 2008 Republican
Presidential Candidate:
"Conceived in rape, John was
brought into this world by a
mother who refused to abort
her pre-born possible future
President."
www.cox2008.com/cox/south_car
olina_straw_polls_confound_exp
erts/
Angelina Jolie's adopted
daughter Zahara "Result of
Rape." Link to Article
Faith Daniels -- talk show host
of the TV show Dateline, A
Closer Look, and Today
(among others). She describes
coming to terms with the fact
that her conception resulted
from rape in a People Magazine
article.
Layne Beachley -- Australian
surfing champion, contestant on
Australia's Dancing With the
Stars, she shares in her
autobiography, "Beneath the
Waves," about learning she was
conceived in rape and striving
to show her value.
Fredrick Douglass -- former
slave and abolitionist. He details
his conception by rape in his
writing, Narrative of the Life of
Fredrick Douglass, available
online at
http://pd.sparknotes.com/lit/narr
ative/section5.html
Jesse Jackson -- Reverend
whose mother was 16 when he
was conceived and whose
father was a 30-year old next
door neighbor who was already
married
Tracy Carter Jennieve --
daughter of actress Nell Carter,
who was conceived when Nell
was raped at 16 years old.
Traci Lords (Nora Kuzma) --
conceived in rape and exploited
as a teen, she shares in her
autobiography, "Underneath It
All"
Lemm Sissay -- famed
international poet from Great
Britain, of Ethiopian descent
| Dr. Bethaney Tessitore's Story -- Bethaney resides in Decatur, Alabama, and is available for speaking. nittanneey96@yahoo.com Thank you very much for reading my story here today. For the past two years I have gone to Zambia, Africa. Due to the high rate of AIDS in sub- Saharan Africa, there are more orphans in Zambia than in any other country of the world. Last year when I was there, I felt compelled to share my testimony of foster care and adoption. I knew that the Zambians would be able to relate to the feeling of being unwanted, unloved, and orphaned. They needed to know that there is more to them as individuals than the circumstances surrounding their conception or who they have in their family unit. There is purpose in their life above and beyond anything that they could ever imagine and unconditional love that can only come from God. Six days after returning to the states, I was asked to be the keynote speaker at a Right To Life Rally. Imagine that…only six days later and God showed Himself to be faithful. He showed me that not only can I impact Zambians on the other side of the world, but I can also have an impact on Americans in my own community as well. So, today I want to share with you some of my experiences and how those issues have impacted my life. I was an only child until I was ten years old. One day my mom said to me that I was going to have a baby brother or sister. I asked her if she was pregnant. She said no, that we were going to adopt a child because she couldn’t have babies anymore. The way she said it led me to believe that she had me and then could not have any more children after me. Finally in December, my brother, Josh came to us. When Josh was a few months old my family was driving through a mall parking lot. I asked my parents when we were going to tell my brother he was adopted. My dad slammed the car into park, took off his seatbelt, and leaned over me, telling me sternly never to bring the subject up again. He is our child now so he never needs to know that he is adopted. It was that night that I learned from my parents that adoption was taboo and never to be brought up again. My brother’s adoption, and unknown to me at the time my adoption as well, was our family secret. During these times, it never occurred to me that I might also be adopted. That was until I found an obituary for a stillborn baby girl that my mother had. The date was April 7th 1974. My birthday is March 30th 1974. As a result of this discovery as well as others, thus began the process of acceptance into the reality that I was adopted. I didn’t tell my parents any of this because I was afraid of what their reaction would be. My family made it clear that there was a shame and stigma attached to adoption. As a result, I withdrew and never told any of my friends either. When I was in college, I finally told my best friend that I was adopted. When she still accepted me for who I was and was not ashamed of me, I began to realize that adoption is not necessarily a bad thing. With her support, I called my mom during my senior year at Penn State to tell her everything that I had discovered. When I finally told my mother, she denied it, got upset, and told me I was lying. She woke up my father and put him on the phone. My dad was very supportive and told me that if I ever wanted to search for my birthmother, he would help me. At that point in time, I had no desire to look for my birthparents. I knew that eventually that time would come when I would want more answers but this was not yet the time. A few years later my mother died. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to deal with. She was 44, I was 23, and my brother was only 12. Even though she had concealed my adoption and even lied about it, I still loved her more than anyone. I moved out shortly thereafter to attend graduate school. In 2000 following graduation, it was then that I was finally ready to start searching for my birthparents. I definitely did not want to replace my own parents; however, I just needed answers. In December of 2000, I received a letter of non-identifying information. Reading that letter for the first time was incredible. In a period of five minutes I found out so many things about me; my given name at birth was Stephanie, I found out my birth weight and length, the time of my birth, and my maternal family history. Finding out so many things about yourself at one time really is indescribable. I could not take my eyes off that paper. I just sat there for the rest of the evening, holding that paper in my hands and staring at it. Two weeks later, I contacted Catholic Charities and started the search for my birthmother. Now all I could do was sit back, be patient, and wait. And wait I did. For over four years I did not hear anything from them. By May of 2005, I was now residing in Florida. It was then that I received a phone call by Catholic Charities. The case worker who was working on my search said “Bethaney, we found your birthmother. I will give you her phone number and you can call her.” She started by saying “813.” “813, I interrupted! That is Tampa!” “Yes,” my caseworker said. “She lives in FL near you.” What are the chances of that? I lived in Florida for less than one year and within those few months, I find my birthmother living only 20 miles from me! I called her and we met on Memorial Day. It was amazing to meet her and see what she looked like. She brought pictures of her family and I showed her pictures of me growing up. Finding out some things were incredible. She was in the medical field just like me. She told me that she thought about me every day, especially on my birthday and mother’s day. She had always wanted to look for me but decided not to interfere with my life. She respected me enough to wait until I was ready to contact her. So many of the things she told me were positive. However, others were not quite so uplifting. My birthmother remained single and had a tough life. She grew up without her mother around and still has no communication with her. She got pregnant with me at age 19, placed me up for adoption, and one year later had a hysterectomy. This was difficult on her because she had always wanted many children. She just was not ready to be a single mother to a child while she was still a teenager. The following year, her older brother and sister, whom she was very close with, died in a car accident. Later on she almost killed herself and another person in a terrible car accident where she was at fault. In addition to finding out about her difficult life, I also found out many things that no one would really want to hear about their genetic heritage. She told me that she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, as was her father. Almost all of her family dealt with severe depression and took anti-depressants, and my first cousin, who was seven days older than me, committed suicide a few years before. In the midst of finding out all of these things about her and her family, I still had a burning desire to find out who the father was. Catholic Charities reported that the birthfather was unknown. My hope was that my birthmother knew who the birthfather was but just didn’t divulge that information to Catholic Charities. When I asked her who the father was, she responded, “I knew you were going to ask me this. I don’t know.” She told me she was dating a black man at the time so it may have been him. Unbeknownst to her, I had already found out that I had genetic testing completed at birth at Children’s Hospital to see if her boyfriend may have been my birthfather. Testing revealed that there was no black parentage present. I shared this information with her and said “So, if it wasn’t him, then who else could it have been.” She was slow to answer. Then she told me that she left Pittsburgh and moved to Tampa for six months in 1973. It was during that time that she started using drugs and drinking heavily. She would go clubbing in downtown Tampa and after those late evening she got involved with many men. As a result, she had no idea who the father could be and could not even begin to guess on names. Although this is the answer I had been expecting, I was still disappointed that I would never be able to find out where half of my DNA came from. I am never going to be able to look my father in his eyes. I am never going to be able to see what traits we share. What made it even stranger for me is that I was conceived in Tampa. My birthfather and his family might be living right next door to me and I would never know it! After realizing that more conversation on this topic would do nothing to gain more information, we moved on. However, later on in the evening when I was telling a story, my birthmother abruptly interrupted me and said “By the way, I was raped by gunpoint.” For a second I just sat there. I was prepared for her to tell me that I was conceived through a one night stand. And I was prepared for her to tell me she was a prostitute. However, I never thought about the fact that rape could have resulted in my conception. All I could think to ask her was “So, that could be my father.” She responded by saying “Yes, It could be. But that doesn’t matter.” I was so shocked to hear that I might be alive because of someone else’s anger, lack of self-control, and need for dominance, that I had no idea what to say back to her. I had always assumed that my conception was my birthmother’s fault for not being responsible. But, finding out that I might have been conceived by rape; that is a whole new ball game. Now the birthfather’s selfish behavior led to my birthmother having to endure nine months of horror and a more or less a lifetime of pain and regret. Months after I moved to Alabama, the idea of me being a product of rape still haunted me. I emailed my birthmother to obtain more details. Two months later she responded to my email saying “Yes, I was raped, but that was not how you were conceived. I was already pregnant with you during the time of the rape. I remember telling the man not to hurt me because I was pregnant.” After talking to some other people well-versed in the area of rape and incest with experience in counseling birthmothers, I am told that I am likely a product of rape. Birthmothers do not necessarily want their child to find out that they were conceived in rape but the internal desire to express that causes the birthmother to quickly state that they were raped and get that out into the open. Then if the birthmother sees a backing away by the child, the birthmother may perceive that the child is backing away due to the rape and then the she rescinds her first statement and changes her story to promote a better relationship. So, even today, I still do not know the real answer regarding my conception. All I know is that in any case, I was unplanned and unwanted. Knowing that I was a possible product of rape, I asked the big question that many adoptees want to know. “Did you want to abort me?” The answer was one that I expected, but one that stung never-the-less. “Yes” she responded. “I did.” In 1974, although abortion was legal at the time, it still it wasn’t as accepted as it is today. So, as a result of that and her Roman Catholic upbringing, she chose to give me life. In the midst of finding out all of this new information from my birthmother, I also spoke with my adoptive grandmother to figure out some of the other missing pieces of my adoption story. One day I found a calendar from 1974. Under June 19th, it read “Bethaney came to us.” I always wondered where I was from March 30th until June 19th, almost two and a half months. Being a healthy, white baby girl, I should have been adopted out by Catholic Charities as soon as I left the hospital. Since there is a long waiting list for white adoptions, I could not figure out how my family got through the entire process so quickly considering that they planned on having their own child up until April 7th. After years of wondering, I finally asked my grandma about that situation. She told me that my mom was devastated by the news of her stillborn baby and no hope of having any more. My grandfather knew someone who worked for Catholic Charities. When my grandpa met with that person, the man said that in fact there was a baby girl in foster care waiting to be adopted. That baby girl was me. All of the prospective parents on the list to adopt were told about me…a healthy, white baby girl. However, due to the negative maternal history and lack of paternal history, no one wanted to take a chance on raising me. Everyone thought that I would turn out like my birthparents, a promiscuous drug addict and alcoholic, with very little education and no hope for the future. My parents on the other hand had a different opinion. My mom didn’t care anything about my birthparents and they were willing to give me an opportunity to have a product live life. My parents chose me despite the rejection I faced from the rest of the world. So the process of meeting my birthmother enlightened me to many things about my negative genetic history, possible traumatic conception by rape, and the unimaginable pain and loss felt by my adoptive mother as she gave birth to a stillborn baby. The awareness that not only was I unwanted by my birthmother, but that I was also unwanted by the entire Catholic Charities adoption list, hit me hard. I had no strong connections while in Florida that year – no family, no network of friends, and no church home. I began to question why I even existed. I was taken to the lowest point that I have ever been in my life. Then in September of 2005, without any prospective jobs available and not enough money to get me through two months, I quit my current job in Florida and I moved to Decatur, Alabama. I needed to get connected into a good church home and decided on one that I had visited several times where my best friend’s husband was one of the pastors. It was during that first year in Alabama that I began to take a step back to the basic foundation of my life and rediscover who I really was. I got saved in August of 2003 and baptized shortly thereafter. For the next eleven months I was planted in a strong Bible believing church where my spiritual life grew tremendously. I learned more about the Bible in those eleven months than I have the entire 29 years prior. Having learned so many new and troubling details about my life, I realized that in order to experience healing, I would have to go back and apply those Biblical principles that I learned to the overall picture of my life. I already acknowledged the basic foundation that God created the heaven and the earth. As I began to search the Bible for answers, I slowly realized the magnitude of God’s love and plan for each one of us. In Acts Chapter 17, it states that God made the world and all things therein. It continues on to say that not only did he create us, but he created each of us to live in a specific time period and a specific locale. God has a reason for me living here in the south in 2007. If God plans for us to live in specific regions in certain decades, then that shows me that I am definitely not a mistake. God wants me here for a purpose and planned out my birth, life, and death to accomplish that purpose long before I was ever born. Earlier on in Matthew, it states that God knows the number of hairs on my head. I have heard and read that verse many times before. However, this time that verse meant something different to me. For God to know the number of hairs on my head, a number that is constantly changing, that must mean that He cares about me. That He thinks I am important. That I matter. That I have value and purpose. While I was now understanding that God created everyone no matter what the circumstance of their conception, I still needed to process why being adopted had to be part of my life. Essentially adoptees are not wanted by their birthmother and in most situations adoption is not the first choice that couples use to have children. It is a “plan B” scenario when “plan A” does not work. By opening my eyes and allowing God to show me His divine plan for each of us, I found many verses describing how adoption is the method that God chooses to bring us into His family. I learned that adoption is God’s way of picturing His love for us. After reading the prevalence of adoption in the Bible and internalizing that, I have realized many things. Since God used the spirit of adoption to call us to be children of God through Jesus Christ, I definitely know there is no stigma in being adopted. Look at the life God chose for Moses, one of the most famous adoptees in all of history. Through being raised in the midst of his enemies, Moses learned the tools and skills that were needed to make him a leader in order to take his own people, the Israelites, out of Egypt. By acknowledging the power of God in my life and the truth that He has a purpose for me and loves me for who I am, I have accepted the fact that I am an adoptee. I no longer feel the need to keep that fact a secret. I am just as important and can make as much impact here on earth as any planned human being. Through acquiring knowledge and regaining a close relationship with God, I began to see my life in a whole new way. A life with purpose. A life made through love; the opposite of what most people would say, but it’s true! A life made through His love, which is so much more powerful than any human parents love could ever be! I began to internalize that the rapist is not my creator. Neither is a promiscuous mother my creator. I am not of child of either one but rather I am a child of God. That is all that matters. Genetics and environment both play a role in who a person grows up to be. But ultimately, a person who allows Jesus Christ to be their savior and turns over the control of their life to Him can become anything that God intends for them to be. America, however, lost that sense of purpose and love of human life when on January 22, 1973, a landmark decision by the United States Supreme Court put all unwanted children’s lives in jeopardy. On that date, Roe vs. Wade legalized abortion. Since that ruling, over 47 million abortions have been performed. That equals approximately 1.5 million abortions every year or one abortion every 20 seconds. Norma McCorvey who is “Jane Roe” from Roe vs. Wade, announced to the world that she has since changed her mind about abortion. Ms. McCorvey, the woman who is the foundation behind legalization of abortion, is now an active pro-life advocate. Right now with abortion being legal, approximately 75% of women who conceive a child as a result of rape choose to give life to their baby. Those who choose to abort are four times more likely to die within the next year due to murder, suicide and drug overdose. These women have a much higher rate of divorce, alcoholism, abusive relationships, lowered self-esteem, guilt, and depression. And as far as incest goes, the story is no different. Giving birth to the baby will help the woman heal. Choosing life also serves to keep more incest from occurring. However, most victims of incest are not given a choice and are coerced into having abortions by their families. Abortion protects the perpetrator by keeping consequences of their immoral behavior hidden. This scenario also makes the woman be not only a victim during the act of incest but also makes her victimized for a second time as she kills the baby within her. In cases of conception resulting from sexual assault, abortion not only kills an unborn human being, but it also has long-term negative ramifications for the mother as well. Banning abortions with no exceptions to that rule, in reality, protects the physical health and the mental well-being of women who are too emotionally traumatized to make rational decisions that will affect the rest of their lives. On the superficial level, abortion appears to be a good way out of a bad situation. However, only the physical severing of mother/child bond takes place. Abortion never erases the memory and emotional bond between the mother and child. According to many testimonies of victims of sexual assault and incest, giving birth to their baby enabled healing to take place by helping the woman regain a sense of self-worth. Those women who were sexually assaulted and had abortions report that the pain and anguish experienced as a result of abortion was much worse than that associated with the rape. So if you really care about what is best for the well-being of the women, if you really care about victims of sexual assault, you should be 100% pro-life…totally against abortion no matter what the scenario. My life can be summarized by some lyrics written by Avalon. There are no strangers There are no outcasts There are no orphans of God So many fallen, but hallelujah There are no orphans of God I was unwanted. I was unloved. I was orphaned. But God has no orphans. He gives us that promise when he says in Hebrews 13:5 when God tells us that he will NEVER leave us! He will NEVER forsake us! Listen to the magnitude of those versus. God will NEVER abandon us. He will NEVER deny that we are His children. Once we are children of God, we are Children of God forever! I want to live. I am thankful that my birthmother gave me that right to live. Please, give other children like me, children who may be a product of rape, children who may be a product of incest, children who just weren’t planned or wanted, give them the right to live just like what I had. GIVE THEM A RIGHT TO LIFE. Dr. Bethaney Tessitore, Au.D. nittanneey96@yahoo.com www.myspace.com/bethaneytessitore Congratulations to Bethaney on her recent adoption of two foster girls! |
Kim's Story (Mother to a daughter conceived when she was raped)
*This piece was written by Kim to provide comfort to those who were
conceived out of rape or incest, as well as other moms who were
rape victims.
I just want to let everyone know that life does not always turn out like
it should and we can question why or why me? But sometimes, there
are just no answers for those questions. What matters is you. And
you are here on this earth and you are important. Your life matters.
You have a lot to offer. Maybe in life you have been told horrible
things or made to feel like you were a mistake. But whoever made
you feel this way or said any bad things -- they were wrong. You
were created for a reason. There is a purpose and meaning for
every person and child and it is up to you to take advantage of this
life and make the best of it and to let the person inside shine through
the pain and show how special you are.
People wonder how I can keep and love my daughter who was
created the night of my rape. They don't have to understand it and I
don't have to explain to them how. I just do. Why? Because she is
mine. She is a child and she is innocent, as well as any child who
was brought into this world in such ways. Don't let anyone ever pull
you down or make you second-guess why you are here. You are no
different than anyone else. You are people and caring and deserve
the best out of life. We all here have been through a lot, whether we
are on one side or the other -- the mom or the child. We have a
chance to do something with our lives. I take my pain and I say "No --
you won't win." I will take my heart and shine through with love and
hope. Because without hope, life is so hard. I have been there and
yes, there will probably be days to come when I have a bad day. But
I will make it through it. It hurts to see such pain inflicted on the
children who were brought into this world as a result of rape/incest.
Because you had no part, no say, no control over what happened.
All you are is an innocent person who deserves a shot in life, who
deserves respect and love. I just want to let you all know (moms here
and children) that I do respect you and I do love and care for you and
hold your thoughts and feelings in my heart. Hold your head up. No
one can take away the gift you are. Take care everyone.
-- Kim
*This piece was written by Kim to provide comfort to those who were
conceived out of rape or incest, as well as other moms who were
rape victims.
I just want to let everyone know that life does not always turn out like
it should and we can question why or why me? But sometimes, there
are just no answers for those questions. What matters is you. And
you are here on this earth and you are important. Your life matters.
You have a lot to offer. Maybe in life you have been told horrible
things or made to feel like you were a mistake. But whoever made
you feel this way or said any bad things -- they were wrong. You
were created for a reason. There is a purpose and meaning for
every person and child and it is up to you to take advantage of this
life and make the best of it and to let the person inside shine through
the pain and show how special you are.
People wonder how I can keep and love my daughter who was
created the night of my rape. They don't have to understand it and I
don't have to explain to them how. I just do. Why? Because she is
mine. She is a child and she is innocent, as well as any child who
was brought into this world in such ways. Don't let anyone ever pull
you down or make you second-guess why you are here. You are no
different than anyone else. You are people and caring and deserve
the best out of life. We all here have been through a lot, whether we
are on one side or the other -- the mom or the child. We have a
chance to do something with our lives. I take my pain and I say "No --
you won't win." I will take my heart and shine through with love and
hope. Because without hope, life is so hard. I have been there and
yes, there will probably be days to come when I have a bad day. But
I will make it through it. It hurts to see such pain inflicted on the
children who were brought into this world as a result of rape/incest.
Because you had no part, no say, no control over what happened.
All you are is an innocent person who deserves a shot in life, who
deserves respect and love. I just want to let you all know (moms here
and children) that I do respect you and I do love and care for you and
hold your thoughts and feelings in my heart. Hold your head up. No
one can take away the gift you are. Take care everyone.
-- Kim
| Tony Kiessling's Story, conceived by "acquaintance rape" (no relation to Rebecca Kiessling) From an early age, I knew I was different from the other kids. I grew up fatherless, being raised by a single mom who lived with her older sister and mother. I have no brothers or sisters. These circumstances were not common in suburbia in the 1960's. All my friends had fathers. All my cousins too. I didn't have an explanation for it. I think most of my friends assumed my father had died somehow. I guess I came to believe that too. As I got into my teenage years, I knew some things didn't add up -- like why my mom still had her maiden name. Why she had never married? Then one day, when I was 18, I found out the truth -- my mother had been raped. Raped by a man that she knew. The circumstances under which my mom told me the truth are vague to me today. I do remember that she told me the truth in a letter and that it was always very difficult for her to talk about. There were only about three times that we actually talked about it but never at length. One thing I know for sure is that I was about the most important person to her. She gave up a lot to raise me as her own. As for what happened to my mom well she had been working in a diner at the time and there was a regular customer that winter. She talked to him and even knew his name. And then one night in February, somehow he got her into his car, drove to a park, and raped her. He left her there in the park and my mom was found a couple hours later by the police. Nothing ever came of the police report. Wow! That news hit me hard. So, I was one of "those people." I didn't know what to do, so I buried that information. I ignored the truth of my conception and hid it from my consciousness. I rebelled. I rebelled against family and against God. Suddenly, I wasn't too sure about God either. Oh, I knew about God. From my earliest years, I knew that there had to be a God. For two summers, I had attended vacation Bible school when I was about 10/11 years old. That second year, I remember reading the tract and saying the "sinners prayer" at the end, asking Jesus into my life. And when I was 18, right before I found out the truth of my conception, I had watched a Billy Graham Crusade on TV and became convinced again of the reality of the cross. But that news of my conception just didn't fit into my notion of things at the time, and I turned away from the cross and the church -- and my family to a lesser degree. I went on a journey to explore what I believed to be "the pleasurable side of life" in order to try to forget the rest. That journey lasted about five years, and one day, I realized how miserable I was. I remember surfing the TV one night (this is back in the day when surfing the TV meant seeing what was on each of the 7 channels available) and stumbling upon a Billy Graham Crusade. He talked that night about Jesus' parable of the Prodigal Son. I felt as though he was really talking straight to me. I had not gone off to a foreign land, but I was just as far away as I could be spiritually and mentally. And much like that son in the parable, I was worn out by all that riotous living I had been doing. And, the answer to my problem was the same -- repent, get up, and go home. I rediscovered my relationship with God that night through the death and resurrection of Christ. Since that time nearly 25 years ago, I came to know more about the relationship I have with God. One of the most important things I have learned is God's promise in Psalm 68 to be a father to the fatherless. I came to own this verse as God's personal promise to me. He cared enough about me to tell me he would be my father. I also see how God provided father-like men who taught me things at different times in my life. One of the most important was a man named Len who was an elder in the first church I joined. Len taught me a great deal about being a Christian man with flaws. I would like to say that my life has been a nice, easy, uphill walk, but it hasn't. I never had an easy time talking about my conception. For a long time the truth was something only my mom and I knew. I made every effort to avoid having to talk about my father's side of the family. Even when my wife was pregnant with our first child and the pediatrician' s assistant asked about family history, I avoided any information about my father. Of course, I really do not know very much about him anyway. The only thing I know about him for certain is that he had brown eyes. My mom told me once that she could see his face in mine, so I guess that's why I keep part of my face hidden behind a beard. Then one day shortly after my first child was born, I told my wife the truth. My wife never really pressed for any information about my father. She waited until I was ready to talk about it and then I told her everything I knew. My wife has been very supportive of my life in every way possible. For 45 years, I had never met another person who was conceived in rape. Then one day while driving, I had heard a radio broadcast of Dr. James Dobson -- Focus on the Family, with two women who each were accompanied by their adult children who had been conceived in rape. This was the very first time I ever heard of another person conceived in rape! I knew there had to be other people out there like me, but I had not met any. Then about a year ago, I was searching the internet for information regarding my maternal family's history, and I stumbled upon Rebecca's website (because of the Kiessling name.) As I read her story, I was shocked to find another person like me, and with the same last name! I had to find out more, so I contacted Rebecca. My wife and I went to meet her when she gave a talk an hour from where we live. It was oddly liberating to finally meet someone who had a history similar to mine. Since then, I have met a host of other people on the Stigma group who all share the same conception story as me! Some wonder if I am pro-life. Absolutely! Some have wondered if my mom was prolife. Absolutely! I know from our few conversations on the subject that she would not change a thing regarding giving birth to me and raising me. She could not imagine a world that did not include me and, in time, her three grandchildren. She had no issue with adoption -- it just wasn't the path she wanted. But abortion? She often said, "Two wrongs do not make a right, and it is wrong to end one life because it inconveniences your own." And she also said that, for all the pain that was involved, it was worth it in the end. She died a few years ago at the end of a life-long battle with type 1 diabetes and its various complications. As for my mom's spiritual journey, I know that the rape caused her some real doubts that stayed with her. She believed in God and Christ, and for a very long time, she was Catholic. In fact, I bear a testimony to her Catholic faith as I am named after two saints. For most of my life, I hid the truth of my conception from everyone -- even myself. It may seem strange now to put this testimony out on the web. But I have come to the place in my life where I know there are other people like me out there and other people like my mom as well. Now I want to join Rebecca and the others represented here and say that our lives have value and purpose. People conceived in rape do not have to hide and be ashamed. We were uniquely created by God, though the circumstances were extreme. And I personally want to say that God is indeed still fulfilling his promise to be a father to the fatherless. -- Tony Kiessling, university chemistry professor |
| Juda Myers' Story -- Singer, Songwriter, Speaker from Houston, Texas. Juda can be reached by e-mail at juda@juda4praise.com. Her new book is entitled Hostile Conception Living With Purpose and her CD is God is Faithful. Knowing I had been adopted as a baby, I longed to find my birth mom to express my gratitude for the life I’d been given. Upon obtaining information that my mother had been raped (but not having any idea of the horrible details,) I was devastated. I cried for the pain my mother had endured and I then I cried for "who I am." All of the voices of worthlessness I’d previously heard in my head had returned “with proof.” I sat and cried, desperately wondering if I should end it all. Then I realized I had no choice but to live on. After all, in 1986, I had sold my life for the price of another’s, and Jesus’ life was worth far too much to ignore that cost. So I proclaimed out loud, “My life does not belong to me and I cannot take it!” But the resulting depression of learning I was conceived in rape paralyzed me, and I refused to speak to anyone -- not even to my husband who had been eagerly awaiting for me to share my news with him. My anger caused me to instantly hate all men and I unfairly threw my husband into the "horrible male bag." I'd always had a very vibrant personality, with people describing me as "animated" and "happy." But then all I could think of was that I had the blood of a rapist running through my veins and it felt like a demon crawling around inside of me. I felt like all the life had been sucked out of me and there was not even a smile left. I felt robotic and I simply feared my life was over. The next day, I happened to have an appointment with a woman to work on a song. I was sure my acting ability would allow me to pretend all was well since the woman didn’t know anything about my recent adoption search. As this woman shared a song she’d been working on for another client, I suddenly broke down screaming for her to stop. It had been a song about men using and losing women, and I couldn’t take it! Burying my head, I saw a vision of myself, falling down an abyss, which grew deeper and darker. The woman jumped off her piano bench, came to me and said, “I don’t know what you’re going through, but God knew you before you were ever conceived!” Right at that moment, I saw a different vision -- a hand reached down, grabbed my arm and catapulted me into a brilliant light. It was so bright, I could hardly keep my eyes open. I then raised my head, looked the woman in the eyes and joyfully declared, “I believe it. I BELIEVE IT!” In one moment, I was having a nervous breakdown, and the next, I was set free! The woman said she witnessed a true miracle. What made the difference in just a matter of seconds? It was my choice to believe the truth – that God did indeed know me before I was ever conceived! This experiential truth brought me such great freedom, that I now feel I can’t be deterred from sharing with everyone this freedom to live, love, forgive and be forgiven. What is even more remarkable is that I had no idea my birth mother was living this truth as well. On December 7, 2005, I finally got the opportunity I had waited for all of my life. The good news was that my mom was waiting for me, hoping and praying that the day would come that we’d finally reunite. When our bright blue eyes met, the joy was unspeakable! She was so sweet and loving to me, so after about an hour, I asked if she'd feel comfortable telling me the circumstances of my conception. I was horrified to hear my birth mother describe how she had been raped by eight men and subsequently became pregnant with me. With my head buried in her lap, I cried deeply as she reassured me, comforted me and told me not to cry. Her next words were unforgettable: “I’ve forgiven those men and look what God has done. He has brought you back to me!” The peace (and love) that passes all understanding as described in Phillippians 4:6,7 was very real and overwhelming. It inspired to write a song called “God is Faithful,” which I presented to my birth mom on Valentine’s Day, 2006 – my birthday. Since then, I’ve discovered that this song has the ability to penetrate the hearts of men and women, young or old, any race or culture. Through my story, people have the opportunity to see the goodness of God instead of horror and tragedy. I’ve found that even previously “pro-choice” people have been left speechless. After all, there is a serious question to be considered: would I deserve to pay the death penalty for a crime my biological father had committed? What kind of a person would say “yes”?!!! When my birth mom and I were interviewed together for a television program, she said she couldn't kill a puppy or a kitten and certainly wouldn't kill a baby! Though her own mom had tried to talk her into aborting me, she says she never considered doing so. She tells me she is proud of me and that she loves me and wants everyone to know, "If I can do it, anyone can." "YOU'RE MY DAUGHTER!!!" she says, and that makes me feel great! For many years now, I have been sharing the love of God, even being a representative of “The Voice of the Martyrs.” But now, there is a personal passion in my testimony of God’s love of mankind. A professional (paint) artist for the past 11 years, wife of 18 1/2 years and mother to two grown sons, I find humor and purpose in my own trials, and I rejoice for having been taught great lessons. Not thinking myself any more special than any other person created of God, I try to bring meaning and purpose to others who have been stuck in doubt, hopelessness and despair. Through song and word, I hope that my message is changing the way people think about life and their own lives. With the release of my new CD, “God is Faithful”, I have been invited to South Africa to share God’s greatness and love. And I look forward to sharing anywhere with anyone. -- Juda Myers juda@juda4praise.com |
Pam Stenzel's Story -- Pam is a professional pro-life/abstinence
speaker and author of the book Sex Has A Price Tag. Her website is
www.pamstenzel.com.
In 1964, a fifteen year old girl was raped,
became pregnant, and decided to carry
her unborn child to term. Five months
after the baby girl was born, in an act of
courage and love the young mother
provided her child a better environment
by giving her to an adoptive family. That
child was Pam Stenzel. She is the oldest
of 8 children…7 adopted…1 biological,
and her extended family includes 38
adopted children in all.
Following her graduation from Liberty University with a degree in
psychology, Pam moved to Minneapolis, MN where she began to work
with New Life Family Services, and young girls who were planning to
place their children for adoption.
Pam was approached by a group of concerned parents, to develop a
two-hour program for the Rally for Life 1992, a conference on sexual
abstinence. She developed the program mixing media and music,
her own talk and the testimonies of young girls. The response of
students, parents and the community was so
overwhelming that Pam began to speaking full-time across the United
States.
In 1993, Pam’s talk, “Sex has a Price Tag”, was produced as a video.
No one was prepared for the explosive response. The video has
since been translated into 11 languages, won the Charleston Film
Festival Award in 1995 and is currently used in the US, Canada,
Mexico, Central and South America, Australia, Ireland, Europe, the
Ukraine, Romania, Poland and throughout Africa.
In 1998 Vision Video and Gateway films produced the film series,
“Sex, Love and Relationships” in Santa Monica, California. It won the
Crown Award for Curriculum of the Year in November 1999.
Pam’s current videography includes: “Time to Wait for Sex”, “Sex Has
a Price Tag 2000”, “Character Matters”, “Sex, Love and
Relationships” and “Take a Look in the Mirror”.
She is also the founder of Enlighten Communications, Inc. which is an
organization focused and committed to the betterment of children and
families in America and around the world. Enlighten offers a broad
new model approach for those desiring to embrace strong character
in today’s youth. Enlighten empower parents, youth leaders and
educators to lead informed discussions on sexual abstinence and the
benefits it produces.
Pam now travels both domestically and internationally, speaking to
over 500,000 teens a year. Surprisingly many of her requests to
speak come from teens themselves. She has been a guest on
numerous national TV and radio programs, including: “Hannity and
Combs”, “ABC Radio’s Sean Hannity Show”, “The Dr. Laura Show”,
“700 Club” (CBN), “Politically Incorrect”.
Pam is a dynamic, charismatic and educated expert on Sex, Love and
Relationships. She understands the perils that young people face as
they make adult choices, and is dedicated to reviving the character
and integrity of today’s youth.
speaker and author of the book Sex Has A Price Tag. Her website is
www.pamstenzel.com.
In 1964, a fifteen year old girl was raped,
became pregnant, and decided to carry
her unborn child to term. Five months
after the baby girl was born, in an act of
courage and love the young mother
provided her child a better environment
by giving her to an adoptive family. That
child was Pam Stenzel. She is the oldest
of 8 children…7 adopted…1 biological,
and her extended family includes 38
adopted children in all.
Following her graduation from Liberty University with a degree in
psychology, Pam moved to Minneapolis, MN where she began to work
with New Life Family Services, and young girls who were planning to
place their children for adoption.
Pam was approached by a group of concerned parents, to develop a
two-hour program for the Rally for Life 1992, a conference on sexual
abstinence. She developed the program mixing media and music,
her own talk and the testimonies of young girls. The response of
students, parents and the community was so
overwhelming that Pam began to speaking full-time across the United
States.
In 1993, Pam’s talk, “Sex has a Price Tag”, was produced as a video.
No one was prepared for the explosive response. The video has
since been translated into 11 languages, won the Charleston Film
Festival Award in 1995 and is currently used in the US, Canada,
Mexico, Central and South America, Australia, Ireland, Europe, the
Ukraine, Romania, Poland and throughout Africa.
In 1998 Vision Video and Gateway films produced the film series,
“Sex, Love and Relationships” in Santa Monica, California. It won the
Crown Award for Curriculum of the Year in November 1999.
Pam’s current videography includes: “Time to Wait for Sex”, “Sex Has
a Price Tag 2000”, “Character Matters”, “Sex, Love and
Relationships” and “Take a Look in the Mirror”.
She is also the founder of Enlighten Communications, Inc. which is an
organization focused and committed to the betterment of children and
families in America and around the world. Enlighten offers a broad
new model approach for those desiring to embrace strong character
in today’s youth. Enlighten empower parents, youth leaders and
educators to lead informed discussions on sexual abstinence and the
benefits it produces.
Pam now travels both domestically and internationally, speaking to
over 500,000 teens a year. Surprisingly many of her requests to
speak come from teens themselves. She has been a guest on
numerous national TV and radio programs, including: “Hannity and
Combs”, “ABC Radio’s Sean Hannity Show”, “The Dr. Laura Show”,
“700 Club” (CBN), “Politically Incorrect”.
Pam is a dynamic, charismatic and educated expert on Sex, Love and
Relationships. She understands the perils that young people face as
they make adult choices, and is dedicated to reviving the character
and integrity of today’s youth.
This page is a compilation of life-affirming personal stories of men and women who were conceived in rape and/or
incest, and women who gave birth to children conceived in rape, including the following:
Rebecca Kiessling from Michigan, Heather Gemmen from Michigan, Allison Hillaker from Michigan, Kaylee
Swanson from Pennsylvania, Liz Carl from Kentucky, Russell Saltzman from Missouri, Irene van der Wende from the
Netherlands, Sharon Isley from Iowa, Carole Roy from Ontario, Canada, Bethaney Tessitore from Alabama, Jenni
Maas with Human Life International, Tony Kiessling, Juda Myers from Texas, Pam Stenzel with Enlighten
Communications, Mary Payne from Oklahoma, Tim, Ed Mohs from Washington, Kristi Hofferber from Illinois, Brian T.
from Minnesota, Patti Smith from California, Jaquese Gaskins from Michigan (attending college in California),
"Godchaser" from Alabama, Heather Peterson-Grech from New Mexico, Ildiko Curis from Texas (born in Hungary),
Laura Tedders from Michigan, "Grace Hope," and Julie Savage from the United Kingdom. On the right, you'll also
find links to other children born of rape stories. "The adult pregnancy rate associated with rape is estimated to be
4.7%. This information, in conjunction with estimates based on the U.S. Census, suggest that there may be 32,101
annual rape-related pregnancies among American women over the age of 18." -- Center for Diseases Control Rape
Fact Sheet 2/2000. WE ARE NOT ALONE!
For more information on Rebecca Kiessling, go to "Rebecca Kiessling Home".
incest, and women who gave birth to children conceived in rape, including the following:
Rebecca Kiessling from Michigan, Heather Gemmen from Michigan, Allison Hillaker from Michigan, Kaylee
Swanson from Pennsylvania, Liz Carl from Kentucky, Russell Saltzman from Missouri, Irene van der Wende from the
Netherlands, Sharon Isley from Iowa, Carole Roy from Ontario, Canada, Bethaney Tessitore from Alabama, Jenni
Maas with Human Life International, Tony Kiessling, Juda Myers from Texas, Pam Stenzel with Enlighten
Communications, Mary Payne from Oklahoma, Tim, Ed Mohs from Washington, Kristi Hofferber from Illinois, Brian T.
from Minnesota, Patti Smith from California, Jaquese Gaskins from Michigan (attending college in California),
"Godchaser" from Alabama, Heather Peterson-Grech from New Mexico, Ildiko Curis from Texas (born in Hungary),
Laura Tedders from Michigan, "Grace Hope," and Julie Savage from the United Kingdom. On the right, you'll also
find links to other children born of rape stories. "The adult pregnancy rate associated with rape is estimated to be
4.7%. This information, in conjunction with estimates based on the U.S. Census, suggest that there may be 32,101
annual rape-related pregnancies among American women over the age of 18." -- Center for Diseases Control Rape
Fact Sheet 2/2000. WE ARE NOT ALONE!
For more information on Rebecca Kiessling, go to "Rebecca Kiessling Home".
"Conceived in Rape: From Worthless to Priceless"
DVD of Rebecca Kiessling's Story -- $14.99 (90 minutes)
Now available on Rebecca Kiessling's home page
Rebecca Kiessling's story: Author of the Heritage House '76 pamphlet "Conceived in Rape: A Story of Hope"
I was adopted nearly from birth. At 18, I learned that I was conceived out of a
brutal rape at knife-point by a serial rapist. Like most people, I'd never
considered that abortion applied to my life, but once I received this information,
all of a sudden I realized that, not only does it apply to my life, but it has to do
with my very existence. It was as if I could hear the echoes of all those people
who, with the most sympathetic of tones, would say, “Well, except in cases of
rape. . . ," or who would rather fervently exclaim in disgust: “Especially is cases
of rape!!!” All these people are out there who don’t even know me, but are
standing in judgment of my life, so quick to dismiss it just because of how I was
conceived. I felt like I was now going to have to justify my own existence, that I
would have to prove myself to the world that I shouldn’t have been aborted and
that I was worthy of living. I also remember feeling like garbage because of
people who would say that my life was like garbage -- that I was disposable.
Please understand that whenever you identify yourself as being “pro-choice,” or
whenever you make that exception for rape, what that really translates into is you
being able to stand before me, look me in the eye, and say to me, "I think your
mother should have been able to abort you.” That’s a pretty powerful statement.
I would never say anything like that to someone. I would never say to someone, “If I
had my way, you’d be dead right now.” But that is the reality with which I live. I
challenge anyone to describe for me how it's not. It’s not like people say, “Oh
well, I’m pro-choice except for that little window of opportunity in 1968/69, so that
you, Rebecca, could have been born.” No -- this is the ruthless reality of that position, and I can tell you that it hurts
and it’s mean. But I know that most people don’t put a face to this issue. For them, it’s just a concept – a quick cliché,
and they sweep it under the rug and forget about it. I do hope that, as a child of rape, I can help to put a face and a
voice to this issue.
I've often experienced those who would confront me and try to dismiss me with quick quips like, “Oh well, you were
lucky!” Be sure that my survival has nothing to do with luck. The fact that I’m alive today has to do with choices that
were made by our society at large, people who fought to ensure abortion was illegal in Michigan at the time – even in
cases of rape, people who argued to protect my life, and people who voted pro-life. I wasn’t lucky. I was protected.
And would you really rationalize that our brothers and sisters who are being aborted every day are just somehow
"unlucky"?!!
Although my birthmother was thrilled to meet me, she did tell me that she actually went to two back-alley abortionists
and I was almost aborted. After the rape, the police referred her to a counselor who basically told her that abortion was
the thing to do. She said there were no crisis pregnancy centers back then, but my birthmother assured me that if
there had been, she would have gone if at least for a little more guidance. The rape counselor is the one who set her
up with the back-alley abortionists. For the first, she said it was the typical back-alley conditions that you hear about as
to why "she should have been able to safely and legally abort" me -- blood and dirt all over the table and floor. Those
back-alley conditions and the fact that it was illegal caused her to back out, as with most women.
Then she got hooked up with a more expensive abortionist. This time she was to meet someone at night by the Detroit
Institute of Arts. Someone would approach her, say her name, blindfold her, put her in the backseat of a car, take her
and then abort me . . . , then blindfold her again and drop her back off. And do you know what I think is so pathetic? It’
s that I know there are an awful lot of people out there who would hear me describe those conditions and their
response would just be a pitiful shake of the head in disgust: “It’s just so awful that your birthmother should have had
to have gone through that in order to have been able to abort you!” Like that’s compassionate?!! I fully realize that
they think they are being compassionate, but that’s pretty cold-hearted from where I stand, don’t you think? That is my
life that they are so callously talking about and there is nothing compassionate about that position. My birthmother is
okay – her life went on and in fact, she's doing great, but I would have been killed, my life would have been ended. I
may not look the same as I did when I was four years old or four days old yet unborn in my mother’s womb, but that was
still undeniably me and I would have been killed through a brutal abortion.
According to the research of Dr. David Reardon, director of the Elliot Institute, co-editor of the book Victims and
Victors: Speaking Out About Their Pregnancies, Abortions and Children Resulting From Sexual Assault, and author of
the article "Rape, Incest and Abortion: Searching Beyond the Myths," most women who become pregnant out of sexual
assault do not want an abortion and are in fact worse-off after an abortion. http://www.afterabortion.org. So most
people's position on abortion in cases of rape is based upon faulty premises: 1) the rape victim would want an
abortion, 2) she'd be better off with an abortion and 3) that child's life just isn't worth having to put her through the
pregnancy. I hope that my story, and the other stories posted on this site, will be able to help dispel that last myth.
I wish I could say that my birthmother was with the majority of victims and that she didn't want to abort me, but she had
been convinced otherwise. However, the nasty disposition and foul mouth of this second back-alley abortionist, along
with a fear for her own safety, caused her to back out. When she told him by phone that she wasn't interested in this
risky arrangement, this abortion doctor insulted her and called her names. To her surprise, he called again the next
day to try to talk her into aborting me once again, and again she declined and was hurled insults. So that was it -- after
that she just couldn’t go through with it. My birthmother was then heading into her second trimester – far more
dangerous, far more expensive to have me aborted.
I’m so thankful my life was spared, but a lot of well-meaning Christians would say things to me like, “Well you see, God
really meant for you to be here!” Or others may say, "You were meant to be here." But I know that God intends for
every unborn child to be given the same opportunity to be born, and I can’t sit contentedly saying, “Well, at least my life
was spared.” Or, “I deserved it. Look what I’ve done with my life.” And millions of others didn’t? I can’t do that. Can
you? Can you just sit there and say, “At least I was wanted . . . at least I’m alive . . . ,” or just, “Whatever!”? Is that
really the kind of person who you want to be? Cold-hearted? A facade of compassion on the exterior, but stone-cold
and vacated from within? Do you claim to care about women but couldn't care less about me because I stand as a
reminder of something you'd rather not face and that you'd hate for others to consider either? Do I not fit your agenda?
In law school, I’d also have classmates say things to me like, “Oh well! If you’d been aborted, you wouldn’t be here
today, and you wouldn’t know the difference anyway, so what does it matter?” Believe it or not, some of the top pro-
abortion philosophers use that same kind of argument: “The fetus never knows what hits him, so there’s no such fetus
to miss his life.” So I guess as long as you stab someone in the back while he’s sleeping, then it’s okay, because he
doesn’t know what hits him?! I’d explain to my classmates how their same logic would justify “me killing you today,
because you wouldn’t be here tomorrow, and you wouldn’t know the difference anyway, so what does it matter?" And
they’d just stand their with their jaws dropped. It’s amazing what a little logic can do, when you really think this thing
through – like we were supposed to be doing in law school – and consider what we’re really talking about: there are
lives who are not here today because they were aborted. It’s like the old saying: “If a tree falls in the forest, and no
one is around to hear it, does it make a noise?” Well, yeah! And if a baby is aborted, and no one else is around to
know about it, does it matter? The answer is, “YES! Their lives matter. My life matters. Your life matters and don’t let
anyone tell you otherwise!
The world is a different place because it was illegal for my birthmother to abort me back then. Your life is different
because she could not legally abort me because you are sitting here reading my words today! But you don’t have to
have an impact on audiences for your life to matter. There is something we are all missing here today because of the
generations now who have been aborted and it matters.
One of the greatest things I’ve learned is that the rapist is NOT my creator, as some people would have me believe. My
value and identity are not established as a “product of rape,” but a child of God. Psalm 68:5,6 declares: “A father to
the fatherless . . . is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families.” And Psalm 27:10 tells us “Though my
father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” I know that there is no stigma in being adopted. We are told
in the New Testament that it is in the spirit of adoption that we are called to be God’s children through Christ our Lord.
So He must have thought pretty highly of adoption to use that as a picture of His love for us!
Most importantly, I’ve learned, I’ll be able to teach my children, and I teach others that your value is not based on the
circumstances of your conception, your parents, your siblings, your mate, your house, your clothes, your looks, your
IQ, your grades, your scores, your money, your occupation, your successes or failures, or your abilities or disabilities –
these are the lies that are perpetuated in our society. In fact, most motivational speakers tell their audiences that if
they could just make something of themselves and meet this certain societal standard, then they too could “be
somebody.” But the fact is that no one could ever meet all of these ridiculous standards, and many people will fall
incredibly short and so, does that mean that they’re not “somebody” or that they’re “nobody?” The truth is that you
don't have to prove your worth to anyone, and if you really want to know what your value is, all you have to do is look to
the Cross – because that’s the price that was paid for you life! That’s the infinite value that God placed on your life!
He thinks you are pretty valuable, and so do I. Won't you join me in affirming others' value as well, in word and in
action?
For those of you who would say, "Well, I don't believe in God and I don't believe in the Bible, so I'm pro-choice," please
read my essay, "The Right of the Unborn Child Not to be Unjustly Killed -- a philosophy of rights approach." I assure
you, it will be worth your time.
For Life,
Rebecca Kiessling
rebecca@rebeccakiessling.com
DVD of Rebecca Kiessling's Story -- $14.99 (90 minutes)
Now available on Rebecca Kiessling's home page
Rebecca Kiessling's story: Author of the Heritage House '76 pamphlet "Conceived in Rape: A Story of Hope"
I was adopted nearly from birth. At 18, I learned that I was conceived out of a
brutal rape at knife-point by a serial rapist. Like most people, I'd never
considered that abortion applied to my life, but once I received this information,
all of a sudden I realized that, not only does it apply to my life, but it has to do
with my very existence. It was as if I could hear the echoes of all those people
who, with the most sympathetic of tones, would say, “Well, except in cases of
rape. . . ," or who would rather fervently exclaim in disgust: “Especially is cases
of rape!!!” All these people are out there who don’t even know me, but are
standing in judgment of my life, so quick to dismiss it just because of how I was
conceived. I felt like I was now going to have to justify my own existence, that I
would have to prove myself to the world that I shouldn’t have been aborted and
that I was worthy of living. I also remember feeling like garbage because of
people who would say that my life was like garbage -- that I was disposable.
Please understand that whenever you identify yourself as being “pro-choice,” or
whenever you make that exception for rape, what that really translates into is you
being able to stand before me, look me in the eye, and say to me, "I think your
mother should have been able to abort you.” That’s a pretty powerful statement.
I would never say anything like that to someone. I would never say to someone, “If I
had my way, you’d be dead right now.” But that is the reality with which I live. I
challenge anyone to describe for me how it's not. It’s not like people say, “Oh
well, I’m pro-choice except for that little window of opportunity in 1968/69, so that
you, Rebecca, could have been born.” No -- this is the ruthless reality of that position, and I can tell you that it hurts
and it’s mean. But I know that most people don’t put a face to this issue. For them, it’s just a concept – a quick cliché,
and they sweep it under the rug and forget about it. I do hope that, as a child of rape, I can help to put a face and a
voice to this issue.
I've often experienced those who would confront me and try to dismiss me with quick quips like, “Oh well, you were
lucky!” Be sure that my survival has nothing to do with luck. The fact that I’m alive today has to do with choices that
were made by our society at large, people who fought to ensure abortion was illegal in Michigan at the time – even in
cases of rape, people who argued to protect my life, and people who voted pro-life. I wasn’t lucky. I was protected.
And would you really rationalize that our brothers and sisters who are being aborted every day are just somehow
"unlucky"?!!
Although my birthmother was thrilled to meet me, she did tell me that she actually went to two back-alley abortionists
and I was almost aborted. After the rape, the police referred her to a counselor who basically told her that abortion was
the thing to do. She said there were no crisis pregnancy centers back then, but my birthmother assured me that if
there had been, she would have gone if at least for a little more guidance. The rape counselor is the one who set her
up with the back-alley abortionists. For the first, she said it was the typical back-alley conditions that you hear about as
to why "she should have been able to safely and legally abort" me -- blood and dirt all over the table and floor. Those
back-alley conditions and the fact that it was illegal caused her to back out, as with most women.
Then she got hooked up with a more expensive abortionist. This time she was to meet someone at night by the Detroit
Institute of Arts. Someone would approach her, say her name, blindfold her, put her in the backseat of a car, take her
and then abort me . . . , then blindfold her again and drop her back off. And do you know what I think is so pathetic? It’
s that I know there are an awful lot of people out there who would hear me describe those conditions and their
response would just be a pitiful shake of the head in disgust: “It’s just so awful that your birthmother should have had
to have gone through that in order to have been able to abort you!” Like that’s compassionate?!! I fully realize that
they think they are being compassionate, but that’s pretty cold-hearted from where I stand, don’t you think? That is my
life that they are so callously talking about and there is nothing compassionate about that position. My birthmother is
okay – her life went on and in fact, she's doing great, but I would have been killed, my life would have been ended. I
may not look the same as I did when I was four years old or four days old yet unborn in my mother’s womb, but that was
still undeniably me and I would have been killed through a brutal abortion.
According to the research of Dr. David Reardon, director of the Elliot Institute, co-editor of the book Victims and
Victors: Speaking Out About Their Pregnancies, Abortions and Children Resulting From Sexual Assault, and author of
the article "Rape, Incest and Abortion: Searching Beyond the Myths," most women who become pregnant out of sexual
assault do not want an abortion and are in fact worse-off after an abortion. http://www.afterabortion.org. So most
people's position on abortion in cases of rape is based upon faulty premises: 1) the rape victim would want an
abortion, 2) she'd be better off with an abortion and 3) that child's life just isn't worth having to put her through the
pregnancy. I hope that my story, and the other stories posted on this site, will be able to help dispel that last myth.
I wish I could say that my birthmother was with the majority of victims and that she didn't want to abort me, but she had
been convinced otherwise. However, the nasty disposition and foul mouth of this second back-alley abortionist, along
with a fear for her own safety, caused her to back out. When she told him by phone that she wasn't interested in this
risky arrangement, this abortion doctor insulted her and called her names. To her surprise, he called again the next
day to try to talk her into aborting me once again, and again she declined and was hurled insults. So that was it -- after
that she just couldn’t go through with it. My birthmother was then heading into her second trimester – far more
dangerous, far more expensive to have me aborted.
I’m so thankful my life was spared, but a lot of well-meaning Christians would say things to me like, “Well you see, God
really meant for you to be here!” Or others may say, "You were meant to be here." But I know that God intends for
every unborn child to be given the same opportunity to be born, and I can’t sit contentedly saying, “Well, at least my life
was spared.” Or, “I deserved it. Look what I’ve done with my life.” And millions of others didn’t? I can’t do that. Can
you? Can you just sit there and say, “At least I was wanted . . . at least I’m alive . . . ,” or just, “Whatever!”? Is that
really the kind of person who you want to be? Cold-hearted? A facade of compassion on the exterior, but stone-cold
and vacated from within? Do you claim to care about women but couldn't care less about me because I stand as a
reminder of something you'd rather not face and that you'd hate for others to consider either? Do I not fit your agenda?
In law school, I’d also have classmates say things to me like, “Oh well! If you’d been aborted, you wouldn’t be here
today, and you wouldn’t know the difference anyway, so what does it matter?” Believe it or not, some of the top pro-
abortion philosophers use that same kind of argument: “The fetus never knows what hits him, so there’s no such fetus
to miss his life.” So I guess as long as you stab someone in the back while he’s sleeping, then it’s okay, because he
doesn’t know what hits him?! I’d explain to my classmates how their same logic would justify “me killing you today,
because you wouldn’t be here tomorrow, and you wouldn’t know the difference anyway, so what does it matter?" And
they’d just stand their with their jaws dropped. It’s amazing what a little logic can do, when you really think this thing
through – like we were supposed to be doing in law school – and consider what we’re really talking about: there are
lives who are not here today because they were aborted. It’s like the old saying: “If a tree falls in the forest, and no
one is around to hear it, does it make a noise?” Well, yeah! And if a baby is aborted, and no one else is around to
know about it, does it matter? The answer is, “YES! Their lives matter. My life matters. Your life matters and don’t let
anyone tell you otherwise!
The world is a different place because it was illegal for my birthmother to abort me back then. Your life is different
because she could not legally abort me because you are sitting here reading my words today! But you don’t have to
have an impact on audiences for your life to matter. There is something we are all missing here today because of the
generations now who have been aborted and it matters.
One of the greatest things I’ve learned is that the rapist is NOT my creator, as some people would have me believe. My
value and identity are not established as a “product of rape,” but a child of God. Psalm 68:5,6 declares: “A father to
the fatherless . . . is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families.” And Psalm 27:10 tells us “Though my
father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” I know that there is no stigma in being adopted. We are told
in the New Testament that it is in the spirit of adoption that we are called to be God’s children through Christ our Lord.
So He must have thought pretty highly of adoption to use that as a picture of His love for us!
Most importantly, I’ve learned, I’ll be able to teach my children, and I teach others that your value is not based on the
circumstances of your conception, your parents, your siblings, your mate, your house, your clothes, your looks, your
IQ, your grades, your scores, your money, your occupation, your successes or failures, or your abilities or disabilities –
these are the lies that are perpetuated in our society. In fact, most motivational speakers tell their audiences that if
they could just make something of themselves and meet this certain societal standard, then they too could “be
somebody.” But the fact is that no one could ever meet all of these ridiculous standards, and many people will fall
incredibly short and so, does that mean that they’re not “somebody” or that they’re “nobody?” The truth is that you
don't have to prove your worth to anyone, and if you really want to know what your value is, all you have to do is look to
the Cross – because that’s the price that was paid for you life! That’s the infinite value that God placed on your life!
He thinks you are pretty valuable, and so do I. Won't you join me in affirming others' value as well, in word and in
action?
For those of you who would say, "Well, I don't believe in God and I don't believe in the Bible, so I'm pro-choice," please
read my essay, "The Right of the Unborn Child Not to be Unjustly Killed -- a philosophy of rights approach." I assure
you, it will be worth your time.
For Life,
Rebecca Kiessling
rebecca@rebeccakiessling.com
Jennifer Bowman's Story,
Founder of Stigma, an on-line
support group for those
conceived in rape or incest and
for women who became
pregnant out of rape or incest
Founder of Stigma, an on-line
support group for those
conceived in rape or incest and
for women who became
pregnant out of rape or incest
Jaquese Gaskins, conceived in rape, from Detroit, Mi (attending
college in Redding, California) Author of "I'm the One" Breaking the
Generational Curse
Throughout the years I knew that I was different. I only had one friend
which is still my only best friend. I was just the quiet smart girl in
school. I feel in this past year I have overcome most of the
generational curses that lie deep
within my family history and I felt
that it was time to break them.
By me writing this book, I feel that
I have a closer relationship with
God. I also believe that this book
can help someone break some
of the generational curses that
they are struggling with.
My major is Biology and my
minor is Bible and Theology.
I plan on going to medical school
and becoming an OB/GYN. I do
believe that my background has
influenced my career path. I feel
that it is my duty to bring life into
this world.
-- Jaquese Gaskins
(more details to come soon)
college in Redding, California) Author of "I'm the One" Breaking the
Generational Curse
Throughout the years I knew that I was different. I only had one friend
which is still my only best friend. I was just the quiet smart girl in
school. I feel in this past year I have overcome most of the
generational curses that lie deep
within my family history and I felt
that it was time to break them.
By me writing this book, I feel that
I have a closer relationship with
God. I also believe that this book
can help someone break some
of the generational curses that
they are struggling with.
My major is Biology and my
minor is Bible and Theology.
I plan on going to medical school
and becoming an OB/GYN. I do
believe that my background has
influenced my career path. I feel
that it is my duty to bring life into
this world.
-- Jaquese Gaskins
(more details to come soon)
| "Godchaser" -- born out of rape, a teenaged young man from Mobile, Alabama What can I say -- my life is like a movie and it's definitely a "sequel drama." I have been abandoned by every father I have ever had. So I get the privilege of calling God my true father. I was born out of rape, and I have fought in spiritual warfare since I was seven. I am the lead Guitarist in a band called 4NAILS. The Lord has blessed me with the ability to write novels that He has inspired. I live fully focused on Him, praying for my family. All my life I've been proof that God does indeed exist. If it wasn't for my mother and Christ, I would be dead by now. I was what most of the world would see as a mistake, a child born out of rape with no father. In a nutshell, almost everyone I ever trusted has lied to me. I always wanted a father as a little boy. At 2-1/2, I was praying for a dad. I never got one who would always be there for me. My mom knew of my prayers and when she was asked to marry, she accepted not for love, but for me. 5 years later, the man had me bad mouthing my mom behind her back, causing me to stay 4 years younger than my actual age. My mom found some child porn one day in one of his suitcases and we figured out later that he molested my step-brothers and possibly was out for me. I have never "fit in," but I have always had friends. The Lord is still testing me and I am struggling, but He has given me one of the most precious gifts -- he filled my heart with all the fatherly love I have ever missed, and it all happened at once. Maybe if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't be alive now or later on, but I would have eventually died had it not been for that moment. No one could ever tell me God doesn't exist. My mom recently had to have her spleen removed and my "Paw Paw" has had a couple of strokes. I am currently living with my grandparents praying for patience and clarity. I have come very far in the past few years, but ultimately, it's not quite there yet, but it will be. It seems that I have finally hit an upward slope. Downhill is not my option. I am currently writing three novels -- two of those are the launch of a trilogy. These past few years have rewarded me by allowing me to work with Mobile Masters Commision at House of Horrors. It is a Christian horror house that ends up drawing people into Christ. For those who don't know Masters, it is a group you can join some time after high school that takes you all over the world ministering. During this time, you are also taken through a radical life-changing experience that not only shows you, but thousands of school kids and foreigners, that God is all powerful and we truly can do anything through Him. I myself am planning on taking this commitment after high school. My goals in life are to become a writer of novels that will save millions, to follow Christ's role and become like Him as far as sin goes,to master the guitar, to do good in school, to be the best I can be, to find peace, to get a house of my own, and to help anyone I meet who needs it. I don't support abortion, but I won't go against the people doing it by running them down. It's murder -- no two ways about it. There is a statistic that over one-third of my generation is dead because of abortion. Less than one percent of that came from rape. My views on it should be clear from that . . . I could have had a best friend that I didn't because someone wasn't willing to give the child up for adoption or something rather than kill the baby. This is not even a fraction of my whole testimony, but I pray it does help someone. To all who read this -- God bless, and you're not alone. As for my picture, I have not included one because I feel my testimony is for everyone to maybe see some of their own face in this and not mine. God bless, "Godchaser" http://www.jcfaith.com/Godchaser |
| Allison Hillaker's story, conceived in rape from a severely developmentally- disabled birthmother. Allison is from Michigan, is available for speaking, and can be reached at ashoup85@aol.com Over and over I have heard the arguments on why abortion should be legal. Even those who do not count themselves in the 'women's rights' category often agree that in tragic cases a woman has the right to dispose of her unborn baby. Among the most popular of these 'justified' reasons for abortion are rape, the potential handicap of a child, and the financial burden that the child will bring. Each time I hear these arguments, I cringe. But, instead of merely telling them the blanket statement that "all life is important," I share with them the following true story and allow them to make their decision about whether a life should be taken because of another's mistake. An older couple lived a long, hard life. Raising a daughter with a severe mental handicap brought both joys and trials. God helped them through it all, but this was just one more trial these elderly people had to bear. As they sat in the doctor's office, their worst nightmare came true; their daughter was pregnant. To make matters worse, the baby's father didn't want anything to do with the baby. He was a Native American, living on a reservation. Alcohol had enslaved him, and he was too numb to care. He just wanted the woman to have an abortion and get rid of the child altogether. After all, the mother was so severely handicapped that she didn't even know she was pregnant, and her parents were too old to raise the baby. He cared only about his addiction—alcohol. The parents were fully aware of this. They also were concerned that the child could end up with the same mental disability as their daughter. They could not bear to have the unborn child live a life like their daughter's. They also knew that there were few to no families willing to adopt a child who had or could develop a cognitive disability. Over and over, these things weighed on their minds. Time passed. It had been a very long nine months, but God's grace sustained them through it. Despite all the odds, they knew that abortion was murder. They couldn't live knowing that they had taken an innocent life. They decided to place the baby for adoption and prayed that a loving couple would be willing to accept what could be a less-than-normal child. Being Christians, they requested that the child be put in a Christian home, and they knew that the caseworker would do her best to find a great family for their precious baby girl. Little did they know what was happening only miles from where the baby was born. There was a young couple named Tim and Betty who had been married for 13 years but were unable to have children. They wanted children so badly that they applied for adoption. As they waited, they just couldn't understand why people would have abortions while knowing that there were couples out there that wanted children. It was so cruel, so unjust. They were about to give up and settle with the idea of never having children, but soon that all changed. Tim loved running local road races that supported charities, and Betty always cheered him on as he raced to the finish. July 22, 1985, was no different. That day Tim was running the Toury Mott Run, a race to raise money for Hurley Hospital's Children's Center. As Tim crossed the finish line right in front of the hospital, he walked over to Betty. He knew that she had been very discouraged about not being able to have a baby. It had been two years since they had applied for adoption, yet they still hadn't heard anything. So he pulled her aside, pointed up to the hospital window and said, "You never know. Our baby might be up there right now." Amazingly, he was right. The woman had given birth early that morning, and by that time the child was in the baby care unit. Fourteen months later, Tim and Betty brought that baby girl home to stay. That little baby that could have been aborted—that little baby whose birth father had raped her mentally handicapped birth mother; that little baby whose mother thought she was a doll; that baby whose grandparents were too old to be able to take care of her; that little baby whom everyone thought could have had a severe handicap; that little baby whom God had given life. That little baby, who is alive and healthy, is the author of this story. Let me ask you, "Was my life not worth saving? Should I have died merely because of all of these tragedies that led up to my birth?" Absolutely not! Just because a child may have a handicap or disability does not mean his or her life is worth less than anyone else's. According to the United States Declaration of Independence, "All men are created equal and are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness." These rights rang through our country until January 22, 1973. In the case, Roe vs. Wade, the Supreme Court legalized abortion -- stripping innocent children of the very first right mentioned in the Declaration of Independence. It was a ruling that allowed a saline solution to be injected into the baby for the purpose of burning it to death, and it paved the way for doctors to stick a tube in the child's head and vacuum out its tiny brain. And all this is done because two adults don't want to have to deal with the inconvenience of having a child. Nevertheless, what about that child? Why should the baby have to pay with his or her life? Many times I have heard pro-abortionists argue that abortion is the expression of a woman's rights -- to ban abortion would be to take away her rights. What about that baby girl that she is carrying inside of her? What happened to that little woman's rights? What about the little boy who never had the chance to grow up and make something of his life? Why should one person's rights be sacrificed because they are an 'inconvenience' to another? If a couple feels that they cannot provide the life that their baby deserves, abortion is never the answer. Just like my parents, many couples want to have a child and would provide a wonderful home for that baby. Instead of selfishly killing another human life, why not do the most sacrificial act and give that innocent child the chance of a wonderful life that he or she deserves? Many women have faced a tragic pregnancy. Perhaps they were raped and wish to get rid of the painful memories altogether. Sometimes women are afraid that their child will be abnormal and do not want to bring a less-than-perfect child into this brutal society. Many people are afraid that they will not be able to financially support a child. Thus, thousands of innocent children are murdered each year under the umbrella of 'freedom of choice.' However, it is time that we teach these adults that all life is equally important. Just because a couple may not want the child does not mean that child should be denied the right to 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.' -- Allison Hillaker |
Dr. Lyrica Joy Smith's story,
President, Founder and Artistic
Director of Kingdom Arts
International and an apostolic
pastor
President, Founder and Artistic
Director of Kingdom Arts
International and an apostolic
pastor
http://projectcuddleinfo.blogspot.
com/ -- adopted baby conceived
in rape
com/ -- adopted baby conceived
in rape
| This is a poem called "You" by Heather Peterson-Grech who was attacked and raped by a stranger, and then became pregnant and chose life for her daughter -- a decision she does not regret. "You" You… how dare you… Who do you think I am? Not a person? I do not have feelings? Yes I feel, I feel anger, Hate and long to see you hurt I want to push your face into the ground I want to make you feel fear so strong That you cannot make a sound I want you to cry and plead, and then tell you to shut-up! I want you to feel even the smallest amount of pain I feel To push, and pull, to make you throw up… On the ground, I will watch you lie, helpless and afraid I want to say to you all of the things you said to me To make you fear the night and hate the day I want to walk away with a laugh, feeling oh so proud of myself While you lie naked, cold, and helpless on the ground Pleading, screaming, with no sound… For help that never comes around… I want you to feel dirty, so dirty no water Can ever make you clean, scrub and scrub No matter what, the filth you leave is mean I want you to know that you did not win, I will never let this take me For what came to be from that night, you will never see You will never see her smile, or hold her in your arms You will never watch her take a step, or protect her from any harm You will never hear the words “I love you", you will never hold her on your lap You will never see a paper with a gold star; you will never see that graduation cap You will never hear wedding bells, or the cry of her newborn babe, You are not her father, out of love this child was made For this little girl is a gift from God, oh how blessed am I That he chose me to be her Mother, while on that cold dark ground I did lie He saw that she would need me and I her, and you were just a vessel Get on your knees, pray very hard, while on your way to meet the Devil I cannot forgive you yet for the pain, you caused me on that freezing night, One day it will come, one day soon enough, Until then, I hope I will be all right……… -- Heather Peterson-Grech, New Mexico mytenzie@aol.com |
| Liz Carl’s story – a 19 year old birthmom from Kentucky who became pregnant out of rape I was raped when I was 17, in my senior year of high school – a little over two years ago. I was visited friends in Lexington, KY, about 100 miles from where I live for a Halloween party. After the party, we were all naive enough to have people from the party come back and visit the house where I was staying. In the middle of the night, I was drugged and raped. Only recently have I remembered anything from that night. I met the rapist the night it happened. He gave me a different name than his real name (as I later found out when I went to the police), so I didn't really know him at all. As much as I convinced myself that nothing happened to me that night in Lexington, I know my body. I was sore, the signs were there, and I felt gross. I attempted to pretend it was a dream. I don't remember any of the actual rape. However, I do remember crawling to the bathroom at some point and being really messed up. I guess I didn't know for sure I was raped until I missed my period. I wasn't sexually active, so it didn’t take much to connect the dots and figure out what I already knew inside. I knew something was up, but I denied the rape to myself for a very long time. In this denial, I obviously didn't even think I was pregnant, even though I knew very well that I was. I never thought anything like that would happen to me in the first place, much less getting pregnant from such a disgusting, violent act. It was not only ridiculous attempting to tell my mom and family, who believed me and helped me, but it was almost funny how many people I told who told other people I was lying, "because I got caught." I can't even explain how awful everything was for me. I wanted to die -- I just couldn't find the strength to do it. My parents were not the people I went to first. My parents are great, but that was not news for them to take lightly, at all! But once I did tell them, they were in just about as much of denial as I was, there really wasn’t advice. They more wanted to take care of the legal things -- dealing with the detectives and the court proceedings -- and to get me to a doctor. Before all of this happened, I was always “pro-life.” I was raised in a Catholic family and attended Catholic schools my whole life. However, when I finally took the pregnancy test that was very clearly positive, all my values and morals went out the window and I absolutely wanted the easy fix. I was for sure getting an abortion for maybe a week before I realized what the hell I was doing. I was vulnerable and miserable and scared and I felt that was my only option. Seeing everything now, I hate myself for ever even considering it. Out of the friends who knew about me being pregnant in the very beginning, two of them supported the abortion and two did not. One from each side was proactive about it. My one friend who was supporting my decision to abort told me that she would help pay for it, drive me, etc.. She was also looking into getting a doctor friend of her sister’s to prescribe the abortion pill for me. She was just a 17 year old girl who was scared along with me. She wanted to help me get better and didn't know what else to do. I was scared and I wanted an abortion, so she stood behind me. She's told me since that she never wanted me to choose abortion, but that she just saw that it was what I wanted. She felt she was helping as a loyal friend. My pro-life friend sat me down with her mother who had several friends who had abortions in high school and several friends who gave their babies up for adoption, and she told me how that affected each one of them. She didn't persuade me, but just told me some facts. When I was still in shock and decision mode, my cousin Erin, who happens to be one of my very good friends, looked me in the eye and said, “Liz, you're smart and you know that's a baby, and you know yourself, you can't kill a baby. “ She was right. I was smart and I couldn't see the obvious through the thick layer of fog that seemed to never leave my eyes. I obviously went through with the pregnancy, mostly denying my baby’s existence, but I got through it. My pregnancy was a mess. Medically it was a perfect pregnancy, but I just couldn't seem to believe that I was pregnant. I didn't start showing at all for probably seven months, so this was easy to do. Being pregnant in school is not fun, but it’s not the worst thing ever. Finishing school was not easy, especially at an all-girl Catholic high school, but it was doable. It was not pleasant, but I survived. My mom took me to Catholic Social Services and I started counseling with them. That absolutely helped me through my pregnancy. If nothing else, my counselor made me think about it, which helped when I actually did start showing and couldn't ignore it anymore. The agency worked with pregnant mothers for parenting and adopting. They introduced me to the idea of open adoption and it seemed so perfect. It's obviously not perfect, but it’s the next-best thing. I ended up talking to a teacher at school who I was close to. She called a friend who called a friend and the next thing I knew, I was at Brian and Jen’s house talking with them. I had interviewed another couple before them, but when I met Brian and Jen, I just knew that they were the ones. They were perfect for me! They agreed on an open adoption. They had tried for many years to have a family and they had many false hopes. Brian and Jen are a part of my family now. (As I write this, I just got back from their house for a dinner and play time with Brayden.) I delivered my birth son a month before I left for college. My delivery was cake compared to some. When I actually felt like I was in labor, it was time to push and when I did, three pushes later he was here. I think I was in more shock that a human being came out of me than anything else. When I saw him, I didn't think about how he got here. I didn't think about his long lost biological father who would never ever be in his life. I only thought how perfect he was. When I first held him, it was more perfect than ever. I think I denied his existence probably up until the moment I held him. It was hard though -- the whole situation. Everything about it was hard. But the hardships just didn't seem like anything compared to the love for that little boy. Brayden is almost a year and half now and he is the love of my life! He does not remind me of the violence that happened to conceive him like many pro-choicers say. He means the world to me. Now, I am truly 100% pro-life. I have experienced many aspects of the pro-choice argument and I know that life is not only the best choice – it should be the only choice. Brayden, my birth son, is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me and to so many other people -- especially his two thrilled new parents! This is why I would do anything in the world to save every baby in this world! I was raped. Yes. But he deserves to live! It's easy to ignore something that you cannot see. But I can see him now and he deserves everything in this world. I no longer care who is biological father is, he is nothing. He is long gone. But look who came because of him. I don't care who you are, this beautiful little boy SHOULD be alive! Women should not have to face a choice that they will regret. It seems as though America is running into a dark hole, where morality is gone and foggy vision encompasses all of our known beliefs. Stand up as an American and turn you back on that black hole. Regain your vision and see the light at the end. Abortion will be illegal someday. We just have to keep fighting. Sorry if anyone thinks this is weird, but I feel like I have to keep fighting, to make people understand. And that cute face sure does get attention!! My son is bi-racial. I'm white. The rapist was black. I am a very open person, so the bi-racial thing didn't even phase me. And as far as Brayden being a boy, I know people say they would only see the rapist, but honestly anyone who is a mother would know that all you see is this perfect little baby. I think Brayden looks like me in a lot of ways, but he has brown eyes and his skin is darker than mine. But when I look at him, I see a beautiful baby boy, who I love so much. I do not see his brown eyes or tan skin, or even his nose that does not fit with mine. I see a precious gift that I am so thankful for. I guess something like that is hard to explain to someone, but I can guarantee that no mother should look at their baby and see the awful person who violated them. A mother sees her child, who she unconditionally loves. Eventually, Brayden will know that he was conceived in rape, and I don't know how that will affect him. But my thought is, that just because he was not conceived in an act of love -- or a wanted act at all -- he is still a precious human being who is deserving of life and everything in it. In fact, I can say that ultimately one thing has saved me from severe, severe depression, and that is my baby. And as to anyone who has been conceived in rape -- you should never consider them less of people. I felt like less of a person for a long time until I saw the beauty in the darkness. Precious babies that come from something as awful as rape should be considered a saving grace, a blessing in disguise. I would be nowhere without that awful pregnancy. I am not one to want to be involved in everything, but I do like to be a part of something. Honestly I had no idea that the University of Louisville had a pro-life group until one day I got a Facebook message from a girl in the group inviting me to a meeting. I seriously felt like God Facebooked me! I was obviously very pro- life after I saw how easy it was to make a decision you don't mean to make. I love the Cards for LIFE! I love the events. I love the people. I'm probably a little less conservative than them in some issues, but they don't care. They accept me for who I am, and we share a very special bond because they agree with me on the one thing that I would absolutely fight the rest of my life for, and that’s the unborn. I think that most pro-lifers are very taken back when they find out I am a birthmom from rape. I've had people cry, people I hardly knew hug me (which I never mind a hug) and I have had people who have been really awkward about it. The awkward ones are a lot of people who think that it would have been okay for me to have an abortion. It’s like they don’t know what to do with me. Most of the pro-choice people who find out I’m a birthmom “from rape” always try to dismiss me by saying I have it better than others. They try to tell me that my family was supportive and not all people have that, or they would say, “Just because you're strong doesn't mean everyone is.” To be honest, it's degrading to me as a woman when people make excuses of women’s lack of strength. I know a lot of women and every single one of them is strong. Every woman is strong enough to love her baby enough not to kill it. That last sentence may sound sort of harsh, but I am not a judging person -- I know the vulnerability of a crisis situation, but the truth is the truth, and every woman has the strength to love her baby. And Rebecca, I think the world of you, not only because you speak out and make a difference to so make people, but because I relate you to Brayden, someone who saved my life, and that's beautiful. It's so awesome that you are here in this world touching so many people. I hope to do the same. Liz Carl Liz is available for speaking and can be reached at Liz12888@yahoo.com |
Heather Gemmen, author of "A
Startling Beauty: My Journey
from Rape to Restoration" or
watch Finding Beauty After
Rape (700 Club youtube Video)
Startling Beauty: My Journey
from Rape to Restoration" or
watch Finding Beauty After
Rape (700 Club youtube Video)
| Kaylee Swanson's Story -- a birthmother who became pregnant out of rape. Kaylee is available for speaking – kaylee.swanson@yahoo.com I grew up as a "Christian," but it took a hard time in my life to make me actually have a relationship with God. After high school, I went to college in Indiana. I met a lot of great people out there, and made a lot of big mistakes as well. Up until one night, I had maintained my purity and for some reason, for one instance, I decided it wasn't that big of a deal and I let loose with someone I hardly knew. That's when I lost my sense of relationship with God. The next couple of years, I continued on the same path. Though I eventually returned to church, had a great Christian roommate, and felt God's presence, nothing changed my lifestyle. After graduating from college, I took a job in Amarillo, Texas, with great expectations of starting my new life and putting those past mistakes behind me. I had another great Christian roommate while in Texas, and a friend who invited me to her church. Things were looking up. But ultimately, I gave into temptation again, and I really cried about it this time. I was truly convicted of my sins, so I fell on my knees and begged the Lord to take over my life. I thought I had made it. I knew that this was the start of a wonderful relationship with God. So I told the guy I’d been with that I was choosing to find abstinence and that we would no longer be having intercourse. I realize now that he thought it was a joke. I told him we could be friends and I meant that we would just be friends. A few days later, he called me, and sounded really upset – I was thinking that maybe something serious had happened. Being naive at the time, I went over to console him. This proved to be an enormous mistake -- I was raped. I didn't know what was happening. In my mind, I figured it was just because he “wanted it”, or that he was upset at me and had felt rejected. I remember thinking that I just wanted it over with so he would leave me alone. It was difficult to comprehend that I was being raped, even though I kept saying over and over again “Stop. No. Quit!” Then with my arms pinned down and tears falling down my face, he asked what was wrong. I said, “I told you ‘No.’” He replied, “It's not like I raped you.” That's when I knew for certain what had just happened to me. I went back to my apartment and didn't say a word for days. I immediately asked God for guidance and told Him I was sorry and that I understood why this had happened. I just prayed so hard that nothing else would happen and I promised to be His. But I had become pregnant. The first person I told -- the person I trusted -- was a male friend. He told me it would be "taken care of." The next day, I received a text message of abortion clinics. Then I told a friend from work, and she took me to a CareNet crisis pregnancy center. Shortly after, I began participating in a foundational Bible study course for new Christians at my church. I offered my new-found life to the Lord again and this time, I knew who God was and what God could do, and I understood that He can only smack you on the wrist so many times. I decided to carry the baby. I called my mom one day after talking to my friend from work. I said I had to tell her something that was really hard and that she wouldn't believe. When I told her, she remained very calm about it. My mom later shared with me that, after we hung up, she told my step-dad and then cried her eyes out. As for my dad, I was really scared to tell him I’d become pregnant from this terrible thing, so I waited until my mom came to Texas and we called my dad while we were together. His first reaction: he just wanted to kill him (like every other male that I told.) He asked where the guy was and if he wanted me to fly down to Texas. I just simply asked him to pray about it. Before I became pregnant, I never really thought about my views on abortion because I never thought I would have to choose. I guess when I do think about it, I was pro-choice. Until I was faced with the situation and actually educated myself on the consequences of abortion, adoption, parenting, and foster care, I would have left it up to the mother to decide. Then when it came down to it, and I knew that there was a life inside of me who had no choice of how he came to be, I became steadfastly pro-life. I left my job after my boss became a complete jerk. Things got worse and worse with my boss until I started praying that the Lord would find an out for me. Then wouldn't you know -- on June 6th I was fired. I didn't ask questions nor need answers. I knew that God had provided just what I needed -- a faster way back to family. When I knew I was leaving Texas, something changed in me. I never spoke up in my Bible study class until the last Sunday I was there. We were in closing prayer. There had already been so many prayer requests -- I just figured I would leave and close the Texas door behind me. Then I felt something in me and I spoke up. I was instantly surrounded with love and care -- the kind you don't find just anywhere. I was offered phone numbers and I should've used them, but I just wanted out of Texas so badly. Once I was fired, I thought about what was next. Since I was in high school and went on my first vacation to Disney, I have been a fan of traveling, so I took this opportunity to make the most of it. It's funny -- whenever my mom talks about this part of the story, she looks at me like I'm crazy, but what I did was just what I needed. While I was pregnant, my son and I took many trips together and saw many things. It was such a great escape from reality and it gave me time to talk to my son about me. I know that he was not able to comprehend what I was telling him on our drive, but I know in my heart that he was listening. One of my dreams is to visit every major league baseball stadium in the country. We visited five -- Arizona, Colorado, Kansas City, Cleveland, and Cincinnati. We shopped, we explored and we learned to love each other. It was the voyage of a lifetime. We went to the “four corners” (where UT,NM,CO, and AZ meet) and I took a picture with my belly at the cross hairs of all four. How many people can say they've ever done that before?! We drove up to Colorado to watch the Indians (my team) play the Rockies, we drove through Rocky Mountain National Park, up into Wyoming, across Nebraska down into Kansas where we had ribs together at the Rib America Festival and later on watched the Royals beat the San Francisco Giants. We spent that night in Missouri and looked through our pictures while I tried my best to explain in detail what a lucky little boy he was. We made our way across Missouri into Illinois, Indiana and back to Kentucky where another job would fall into place. Together we saw sunsets in 13 different states and traveled to a total of 15. We've caught a foul ball, been in four states at once and spent hours upon end together, just the two of us. I feel like that special time of travel we had together with my car loaded to the top was what I needed to have that mother/child connection. Although he may not be in my sight every day (which is not entirely true because he is my computer background,) he has a box of photos of all the places we were, tickets from the 12 baseball games we watched (one being the AAA AllStar game), the foul ball we caught, and several photos of my family and I throughout the years. In due time, he will know exactly who I am and that there are many, many more people who love him. I hope that my son will understand that his life is precious and he is loved. Eventually, I moved back to Ohio -- the place I never thought I would return to. Both my mother and I placed my situation on the prayer chain at my church. I was nervous to go back, but I did, and I was blessed with a great congregation. Most of the people in my church groups would just tell me they were proud of me and they supported my decisions and that I was a strong individual. Maybe I didn't have to deal with a lot of outside things because I made sure to surround myself with good people. I really probably would have stayed quiet about everything anyway, but I went to a Christian counselor one time in Texas, she told me that keeping quiet about things was just what the devil wanted me to do. So then, slowly but surely, I spoke up and it got easier because I wasn't hiding something so difficult from my friends and family. Through my church’s prayer chain, I found a family who was looking for a baby because they were unable to have one. We met and I chose them as the parents for my son. Since placing for adoption, a lot of people have not understood how I could do it. In most cases, they don't even know the story behind how I became pregnant, but I just say it was the best for my son and for me. I will tell you honestly that at one point, even my mid-wife thought I was making a mistake. She told me I could go on Medicaid and food stamps and we would survive together. I was so frustrated by this, that if she hadn't been my fourth doctor through this pregnancy, I would have switched (she was not the one that delivered in the end anyway.) For my son, I wanted a two-parent household that was stable and comfortable. I couldn't provide what I wanted him to have. I didn't want to have men in and out of his life while I was trying to find someone to love us both. I also am not sure about where I will be month to month since I’m just now taking a new position in another state. My life is in no way a good way to raise a child, but an adoptive family is. I now have an outstanding relationship with the Lord. I attend church regularly and read devotions daily. I am reading a book about trials as seen by James, and I am an evangelist to my friends. I also volunteer at a CareNet crisis pregnancy center with a friend of mine (whose family had been a wonderful Christian influence throughout my childhood since we were in kindergarten together.) I love the Lord and He loves me. Not only did I have this current job offer, but I’d had successful interviews with several others (even in this economic crisis!) The Lord provides, and He made something beautiful from what I first thought was a tragedy. Was son was born early in the morning by C-section. Until he was born, I didn't believe the "love at first sight" saying, but I do believe there is such a thing between a mother and her child. It didn't even take seeing him -- it was as soon as I first heard his cry! He moved to his home on December 29th and is a happy, healthy, little boy. Praise be to God! Our open adoption offers me photos monthly for the first year. We have mutually decided that, until he asks questions, we will not have any type of visitation and we will be sure that it is with good timing for both of us when it does come. The family and I correspond often and they are doing a baby’s first year calendar for me. We have a great relationship. We were all together when he was baptized at the hospital, just after I signed the placement papers. My whole family sent him Christmas presents and will, on occasion, send other things. He will know about us because his adoptive mother is adopted too -- which I really liked. She said she will be open and understand more of what he is feeling. Ten months of my life changed, but a sweet, little, handsome baby came from it. Adoption was the right choice for me and for my son. I get to continue on with my life and know that he will have a life with a great family! To any woman who is now pregnant out of rape, I’d like to assure you that the Lord provides. There are positives as to why this happened. It is not at all easy and it often stopped my regular daily activity, but in reality, whether you choose to place your baby for adoption or to parent, the Lord will offer up exactly what you need if you believe. Nine or ten months of your life -- sustaining a life -- is easier to deal with than aborting for an eternity. You can find the good in every situation if you keep an open mind. You must always remember that though this was not the ideal way to conceive a child, he or she did not choose to be conceived in that way either. Every life is precious -- no matter the way of conception or the quality of life. There are reasons that each and every one of us is created, and we should all have the opportunity to find out why. To a child like my son who was conceived in rape, I offer to you that you are more special than most other children. The Lord allowed me to go through this to see how faithful I was to Him and whether I would be thankful for His gift to me. The amount of love I have for my child is surely more filling than a child who was planned in a two-parent household. It was not your choice to be conceived the way that you were, nor your mother’s to become pregnant with you. You may not have been conceived through love, but you were born through love. I now feel a tremendous sense of purpose. Since having my baby, I resolved to be abstinent, and am looking into teaching programs of abstinence education in the future. I’ve been training and volunteering at my local CareNet crisis pregnancy center, and when I move to Pennsylvania soon, I will be volunteering at the local CareNet there, helping to encourage other women who are facing unplanned pregnancies. I hope to attend many pro-life conferences and to be speaking regularly on the value of life -- even in cases of rape. Recently, I found a cheap plane ticket to San Diego, and I have a friend from college out there, so I went to the San Diego Zoo and took lots of animal pictures because I'm going to making Gabe his first book about animals. I am sooo excited! I also got him this little toy panda bear thing and a book about pandas. Oh, and I just got my two month pictures. I am in love! I feel as though with the love of the Lord, my family, friends, and this little one, my life is so blessed. I can't say enough about it. Kaylee Swanson |
| Tim’s story, conceived in rape and placed for adoption She was only seventeen, an honor student, all-state volleyball player, and a kind and compassionate spirit. Wanting badly to become a nurse, she knew she had to study hard and maintain great physical shape. Many of the boys in school thought that she was among the best looking in the class. When she received her acceptance into the local nursing school, she was ecstatic, thinking it would be the best time of her life. It did begin as such. She had no trouble gaining friends, and it seemed like her transition to college and the real world was going to be very easy. She was, despite her beauty, very naïve when it came to men. She was always too busy in her high school life to have a boyfriend, and she never thought she would have the time, too. However, when she met an older man, who, at first seemed to be a good friend, she thought that perhaps dating could play a part in her very active lifestyle. At first he treated her like a lady, and she was enthralled with his gentleman attitude. He was kind, caring, warm, and not like the other boys her friends at college dated. They seemed to have the benefit of taking it slow and seeing what the future held. This all would change for the worst. Within a few months of dating, after a very normal evening, my mother was sexually assaulted and raped by the man she was dating. It was not the violent, unexpected attack that is talked about in the media. It was perhaps worse -- a trustful bond destroyed by someone who was thought of to be her friend, confidant, and hopeful boyfriend. She was sexually assaulted, and left on a rural road in the dead winter month of February. Fortunately, another car passed soon and she was picked up and driven to the police department. But he was never arrested and charges were never formally filed. My mother was a good Christian woman and someone who took her morals very seriously. She never would have imagined that this would happen to her. She also couldn’t imagine was happening -- after a few months of questioning, she found out that she was pregnant. She was away from home for the first time, unable to talk to her parents about it because of the shame she still felt for something that was not her fault. Friends did not believe her; she would hear whispers in her dorm room. The college even thought about expelling her, or sending back home to “deal with her medical issues.” The quickest way out was to get an abortion. Having grown up in an upper class, progressive Christian home, abortion was something that was brought up, but only happened to “other families”. Sadly, her older sister would later tell her that she had had an abortion before her younger sister’s attack. The friends who were still talking to her also tried to convince her that the quickest way to “forget” about the attack was to silently terminate the offspring growing inside her. With Roe vs. Wade in its sixth year, and abortion facilities becoming more prevalent, she found it easy to find out how much the procedure would cost. After months of staggering soul-searching and tears, she had decided to give her baby the ultimate gift – life. Then, she chose to give her baby the second-best gift -- a healthy family who could provide for them. In October of that year, in a quiet hospital, far away from where she grew up and from where she attended college, my mother gave birth to a healthy baby boy. He was smaller than average, and had a very slight heart murmur, but other than that was completely healthy. A wonderful family adopted me. My mother and father provided me with everything a child could want, and more. I never had to worry about food, shelter, or wonder where my next meal was coming from. Growing up, I climbed trees, played video games, worried about girls, and went on many camping trips with my father, uncles, and cousins. I had a “Tom Sawyer” romance to my up bringing; always dreaming and imagining things that I could do with my friends and family. I shudder to think it almost didn’t happen. When the former governor signed a law stating that adopted children can view their vital records certificates -- not just their birth certificates -- I was amongst the first people to sign up for it. The biological family had no way of contacting the child they’d placed for adoption, for they did not know the name of their new baby. Through “dumb luck,” I put my birth mother’s name in a search engine on Yahoo. It came up, along with my entire family, in an obituary for a relative. I actually first contacted my maternal grandparents, and they set up a meeting with my biological mother, and themselves. I learned I was conceived in rape throughout the process of talking to my biological mother. I also found out that the rapist is dead. He was never arrested, nor were charges ever pressed. At first, I struggled with the knowledge that I have achieved, and at times, I still do. It is often extremely difficult to understand that blood is not thicker than water, and love makes a family more than one violent action could. Eventually, I realized that it really does not matter how you were conceived. You control your own destiny by your actions, and if the good Lord has given you life, it matters not how you came into this world. What it really boils down to in the end is how you live your life now. Many great men and women were conceived in violent or terrible circumstances, and sometimes the children of such do not grow up in great surroundings. Using the gifts that God gave you, realize that what matters is how you live your life, not how you were created. Life, no matter how it began, is much better than the alternative. If, God forbid, a woman is raped and considering abortion, I would like to listen to her, more than anything. Given the opportunity, I would like to emphasize the fact that how her child was created has nothing to do with what they become. It is how they are raised that really matters. I would tell her that one violent, disgusting, horrific act does not mean the life of the child should be devalued. Most importantly, I would like to tell her to pray, and talk to God . . . . He knows what’s best even if we don’t. 1979, my biological mother was assaulted, and she became pregnant. She talked to her friends about it, and they told her to abort me. She spoke to the doctors, and they told her that an abortion might be the best choice. She struggled with the “choice” for months on end. Thankfully, for both of us, she decided on life. I’ve spoken to women who have had abortions -- some were assaulted, some were pressured, and others forgot their birth control and became pregnant. Whenever they talk about what they did, I always thank my mother, and say to myself, “I’m sure glad no one killed me.” My personal view is that abortion should be illegal. However, since this is a goal that sometimes doesn’t seem likely to be realized in this world today, I would like to see the pro-life side unite under a banner and, at the very least, try to minimize the number of abortions which are taking place. While it’s true that abortion does take a life, it is crucial to remember that nothing will be done until we both stop shouting at each other. For those who say that abortion should be legal in cases of rape, I ask them this question: “Why punish the unborn child for the crimes of the father?” When they say, “A woman should not have to carry the child of the rapist,” I explain, “The child did not choose to come into this world by rape.” Please consider this: Wouldn’t it be better that the children of such a monstrous and destructive act be given the opportunity to try to make this world a little bit better -- by allowing them to survive rather than having them die by someone else’s “choice?’” -- Tim (to contact him, please e-mail rebecca -- rebecca@rebeccakiessling.com) |
Lee Ezell -- author of "The
Missing Piece," and her
daughter Julie Makimaa,
co-editor of "Victims and Victors
-- speaking out about their
pregnancies, abortions and
children from sexual assault."
Interviewed together, here is
their joint story.
Missing Piece," and her
daughter Julie Makimaa,
co-editor of "Victims and Victors
-- speaking out about their
pregnancies, abortions and
children from sexual assault."
Interviewed together, here is
their joint story.
| Sharon Isley's Story -- conceived in rape, Sharon is now a Chemist and also an assistant pastor at Debra Heights Wesleyan Church in Iowa. She is available for speaking in her area. -- s.isley@iowatelecom.net I am amazed at God’s love. The sheer delight expressed in Psalm 130 leaves me speechless. How is it possible that the Almighty God, the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe, actually cares about me?! How can He look at me, and not see me as a disappointment? I was conceived by an act of violence. From a very early age I knew the story. My father was an alcoholic, and became very violent when drunk. Apparently after my sister was born, that was pretty much constant. He was spending all the family’s money on booze, and my mother and sister lived for about a year on a single bowl of rice daily. Mom decided to leave my father, and in a drunken rage he raped her. I was conceived. Abortion was never considered by my mother. This is because it was 1964 and it was illegal, and she was Catholic. Abortion per se wasn’t considered by my father either; instead he resorted to violence. After he found out about the pregnancy, he beat mom, kicked her in the stomach, threw her down stairs – all in an attempt to force a miscarriage. My mother also was hospitalized during the pregnancy for a severe kidney infection. Doctors were sure she would have a miscarriage. Given that my mother has had 4 miscarraiges, it is clear to me that God had His hand on my life from the very beginning. He was helping me to grow, protecting me, and making sure that I was not only born, but born healthy. I know that pro-choice advocates state that every child has the right to be wanted and loved. I agree with that. However, not being wanted, and not being loved, does not mean the child should be killed. I was not wanted. My mother loved me, but her ambivalence was clear. She struggled with the emotional impact of her own abuse, in turn abusing my sisters and me. I was sexually abused by several family members, beginning at the age of 3. Despite all of these obstacles, God had a purpose for my life. This difficult beginning has been the foundation of who I am. It has developed my character – both my strengths and my weaknesses. And it has given me a passion for ministering to those who are hurting, and who need hope. If a pro-choice advocate had been able to counsel my mother, she would likely have been told to abort me. I was nothing but a living reminder of my mother’s trauma, and a financial burden on a soon to be single mother. Had that counselor been able to see into the future and know that I was to be abused, that would have confirmed it – an abortion would be more compassionate than bringing an unborn child into the world to suffer so much. But think about what this is saying! How is it an act of compassion to murder an innocent baby, to prevent it from being abused? The abuse, I lived through. I had a chance to grow up, and through the grace of God a horrible beginning has become a story of hope and inspiration. Yes, every child deserves to be loved and wanted. But first and formost, every child deserves to live! Had my father succeeded in taking my life, I would not be making a difference in the lives of people in my community through my church. My husband would not have his wife. My children would not exist – a thought that is so profoundly sad that I can’t bear to think about it! I am thankful to my mother for doing all she could to make sure I survived such a difficult beginning. She has made mistakes over the years, and has sincerely repented and is working on her own issues. But above all, I am thankful to God. He loves me. He created me. He knows everything about me. He has a plan for my life. He thinks about me all the time. I am His passion! He loves me so much, He came to earth, suffered more than I ever have, died an agonizing death, descended to Hell itself, and then arose again, just so that I could be forgiven for my sins and live in His presence for eternity. And He loves you too, much more than you can ever imagine! Sharon Isley s.isley@iowatelecom.net |
Ed Mohs' Story, conceived in rape and placed for adoption. Ed
Mohs is from Marysville, WA and is the Everett 40 Days for Life
Coordinator
For over 20 years, I had this indescribable feeling deep within my
being, aching to see my birthmother. I longed to meet her before
she passed away. This “feeling” never escaped me. I wanted to
know, touch, and hug her. I always knew God heard my prayers.
Might he also answer them?
I began searching for my birthmother in 1981. Washington Adoptee’
s Reunion Movement (WARM) was the official agency within
Washington State to unseal court records. I learned of my “non-
identifying information” through WARM.
My birthmother was 21 at the time of delivery. She had brown hair
and blue eyes. Nine siblings were in her Catholic family and she
was of German ancestry. I discovered my grandmother had
tuberculosis and died of Alzheimer’s, while my grandfather had heart
problems and died of cancer.
Lastly, I learned my conception was due to rape. The Confidential
Intermediary for WARM stated I likely would not meet my birthmother.
That “feeling” to locate my birthmother returned years later after
raising our four children. Other members of my adoptive family had
located their birth relatives. It was my turn.
I tried searching several times between 1999 and 2002. I went back
to WARM for an update on my case. Unfortunately, there was little
new information. However, I learned my birthmother’s name was
“Ann.” Additionally, I discovered both her parents and two brothers
had passed away.
Still unsatisfied, I initiated another search, paying nearly $500.00 to
an out-of-state agency. Unfortunately, it appeared the investigator
never stepped foot into Washington State. This agency provided no
new information. I felt disappointed, and angry.
On another occasion, I went directly to the Judge to plead my case.
Still, the answer was the same: “no contact with the birth family.”
Twice, I sought prayer as the emotional roller coaster was taking its
toll. I felt God’s holy presence on both occasions. He reassured
and strengthened me on my search journey.
In June 2002, I wrote a newspaper Letter to Editor pertaining to
adoption and foster-care. Surprisingly, the letter printed on July 3,
2002. Two weeks later, I received a note from another private
investigator.
“I am certified by the Court to open sealed adoption files . . . and I
would be happy to assist you,” she wrote. I went to her home to
formalize a fifth search on July 23, 2002, which was three days prior
to my birthday.
This time felt different. Within three weeks, I received an email from
the investigator, indicating she had located my birthmother and her
siblings. Excited, I quickly and prayerfully wrote introductory letters
to the seven family members, addressed and mailed them.
Within days, I received an email on August 12, 2002, from Ann’s
youngest sister. My aunt wrote in her excitement, “I‘m shaking so
bad my fingers are hitting more than one key at a time.” She, too,
had wanted to search for me, but never knew where to start.
We exchanged several e-mails while getting acquainted; we agreed
to meet three days later at my aunt’s home for dinner. I could hardly
wait!
Dinner was Thursday evening, August 15, the Feast of the
Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Following dinner, my aunt
presented me with a family tree portfolio made especially for me. It
contained a picture of my birthmother. Silent, I stared at the person
who gave birth to me: Ann.
We discussed the possibility of meeting Ann over the next several
months. Her overall mental health and welfare was a very important
family concern, making it difficult and questionable for me to meet
her. I understood and shared those same concerns.
Additionally, I learned of several stories of Ann’s most difficult
journey through life. She was born on June 21, 1934 at home in
Aberdeen, South Dakota. She hit her head on the bedpost after
passing through the birth canal. This injury caused symptoms
similar to epilepsy.
Another story: Ann fell and injured her head during school recess.
Symptoms began which suggested she was “different.” She was
also in a state mental hospital due to her condition.
At age 20, Ann was supposed to baby-sit for a family of three young
children. The father picked her up for the babysitting. Returning
her home that evening, he committed an ugly, grievous, solitary act
of rape, abusing her and taking away her most precious innocence.
Consequently, Ann became pregnant following the rape incident;
she completed her pregnancy at a local Salvation Army maternity
home. “Baby Mark” was born on July 26, 1955.
Finally, the day and time had arrived for me to meet my
birthmother. Anxious and overflowing with excitement, I met her
during a small family gathering for pizza and ice cream at her
brother’s home.
I desired to see Ann and greet her with a warm, loving hug. Instead,
I walked through the front door, quickly shook her hand, and sat
down.
It was special being in Ann’s company. She appeared simple in her
own unique way. She was quiet, tall and slender. She knew me
only as a “friend of the family.” I watched her as she ate the
delicious ice cream one spoonful after the other.
Ann lives with two other women in a comfortable group home. While
she once recalled “being pregnant,” she does not have immediate
knowledge that she is a mother, grand-mother, and great-
grandmother.
I am grateful my birth family welcomed me. I am thankful for my
“Mother,” Ann! I am also thankful for my wife, Donna, and our four
children, parents, extended family and friends; all have stood with
me in prayer and loving support.
My search journey included patience, perseverance, and prayer,
sprinkled with faith, hope, and love. Thank you, God, for the gift of
adoption!
Ed Mohs , Marysville, WA 98270
e_mohs@hotmail.com
Mohs is from Marysville, WA and is the Everett 40 Days for Life
Coordinator
For over 20 years, I had this indescribable feeling deep within my
being, aching to see my birthmother. I longed to meet her before
she passed away. This “feeling” never escaped me. I wanted to
know, touch, and hug her. I always knew God heard my prayers.
Might he also answer them?
I began searching for my birthmother in 1981. Washington Adoptee’
s Reunion Movement (WARM) was the official agency within
Washington State to unseal court records. I learned of my “non-
identifying information” through WARM.
My birthmother was 21 at the time of delivery. She had brown hair
and blue eyes. Nine siblings were in her Catholic family and she
was of German ancestry. I discovered my grandmother had
tuberculosis and died of Alzheimer’s, while my grandfather had heart
problems and died of cancer.
Lastly, I learned my conception was due to rape. The Confidential
Intermediary for WARM stated I likely would not meet my birthmother.
That “feeling” to locate my birthmother returned years later after
raising our four children. Other members of my adoptive family had
located their birth relatives. It was my turn.
I tried searching several times between 1999 and 2002. I went back
to WARM for an update on my case. Unfortunately, there was little
new information. However, I learned my birthmother’s name was
“Ann.” Additionally, I discovered both her parents and two brothers
had passed away.
Still unsatisfied, I initiated another search, paying nearly $500.00 to
an out-of-state agency. Unfortunately, it appeared the investigator
never stepped foot into Washington State. This agency provided no
new information. I felt disappointed, and angry.
On another occasion, I went directly to the Judge to plead my case.
Still, the answer was the same: “no contact with the birth family.”
Twice, I sought prayer as the emotional roller coaster was taking its
toll. I felt God’s holy presence on both occasions. He reassured
and strengthened me on my search journey.
In June 2002, I wrote a newspaper Letter to Editor pertaining to
adoption and foster-care. Surprisingly, the letter printed on July 3,
2002. Two weeks later, I received a note from another private
investigator.
“I am certified by the Court to open sealed adoption files . . . and I
would be happy to assist you,” she wrote. I went to her home to
formalize a fifth search on July 23, 2002, which was three days prior
to my birthday.
This time felt different. Within three weeks, I received an email from
the investigator, indicating she had located my birthmother and her
siblings. Excited, I quickly and prayerfully wrote introductory letters
to the seven family members, addressed and mailed them.
Within days, I received an email on August 12, 2002, from Ann’s
youngest sister. My aunt wrote in her excitement, “I‘m shaking so
bad my fingers are hitting more than one key at a time.” She, too,
had wanted to search for me, but never knew where to start.
We exchanged several e-mails while getting acquainted; we agreed
to meet three days later at my aunt’s home for dinner. I could hardly
wait!
Dinner was Thursday evening, August 15, the Feast of the
Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Following dinner, my aunt
presented me with a family tree portfolio made especially for me. It
contained a picture of my birthmother. Silent, I stared at the person
who gave birth to me: Ann.
We discussed the possibility of meeting Ann over the next several
months. Her overall mental health and welfare was a very important
family concern, making it difficult and questionable for me to meet
her. I understood and shared those same concerns.
Additionally, I learned of several stories of Ann’s most difficult
journey through life. She was born on June 21, 1934 at home in
Aberdeen, South Dakota. She hit her head on the bedpost after
passing through the birth canal. This injury caused symptoms
similar to epilepsy.
Another story: Ann fell and injured her head during school recess.
Symptoms began which suggested she was “different.” She was
also in a state mental hospital due to her condition.
At age 20, Ann was supposed to baby-sit for a family of three young
children. The father picked her up for the babysitting. Returning
her home that evening, he committed an ugly, grievous, solitary act
of rape, abusing her and taking away her most precious innocence.
Consequently, Ann became pregnant following the rape incident;
she completed her pregnancy at a local Salvation Army maternity
home. “Baby Mark” was born on July 26, 1955.
Finally, the day and time had arrived for me to meet my
birthmother. Anxious and overflowing with excitement, I met her
during a small family gathering for pizza and ice cream at her
brother’s home.
I desired to see Ann and greet her with a warm, loving hug. Instead,
I walked through the front door, quickly shook her hand, and sat
down.
It was special being in Ann’s company. She appeared simple in her
own unique way. She was quiet, tall and slender. She knew me
only as a “friend of the family.” I watched her as she ate the
delicious ice cream one spoonful after the other.
Ann lives with two other women in a comfortable group home. While
she once recalled “being pregnant,” she does not have immediate
knowledge that she is a mother, grand-mother, and great-
grandmother.
I am grateful my birth family welcomed me. I am thankful for my
“Mother,” Ann! I am also thankful for my wife, Donna, and our four
children, parents, extended family and friends; all have stood with
me in prayer and loving support.
My search journey included patience, perseverance, and prayer,
sprinkled with faith, hope, and love. Thank you, God, for the gift of
adoption!
Ed Mohs , Marysville, WA 98270
e_mohs@hotmail.com
| Brian T's Story -- conceived in rape and placed for adoption. Brian is the administrator of an abortion discussion forum, www. abortiondiscussion.com Rebecca and the others have been very articulate in discussing the many commonalities between our stories, so I will try to focus on some of the unique aspects of my experience as a person conceived from rape. I am a Minnesotan who was conceived in 1972 as a result of the stranger rape of a seventeen year old girl in Wisconsin. All I know about the rape is that a mysterious man lured my birth mother into his vehicle before transporting her to an isolated location where she was held against her will and sexually assaulted. She never reported the attack to police and the rapist was never identified. Both before and after the attack, my birth mother was- and is- very pro-life. She opposes abortion throughout pregnancy and for any reason -- including the life of the mother. In fact, before the rape, she had difficulty even understanding why anyone would consider obtaining an abortion. But when she was impregnated from rape, she did just that -- she seriously considered obtaining an abortion. She did not do so because she was lacking in respect for human life; she did so because she was almost as aghast at the idea of bearing the child of her rapist as she was at killing her own child. Fortunately, my birth mother chose a very different course of action from that of Rebecca’s birth mother. My birth mother decided that having an abortion would be wrong. She believes that God has a purpose for even my life. But the experience of bearing a child from a rapist and being reminded of the attack just by looking at me was- and is- a traumatic experience, nonetheless. And, it was worsened by her inability to provide a good home for me. The experience of adopting out a child is, itself, an agonizing experience for many women, including my birth mother. My birth mother was so distraught at having relinquished a child that she would weep every Mother’s Day. My birth mother’s story should be a lesson to both pro-choicers and pro-lifers. Pro-choicers should realize that many women who become pregnant from rape truly believe that life begins at conception and that abortion is wrong. They should also realize that many women wish to bear the child and either keep the child or put the child up for adoption. So, when presidential candidates declare that the abortion decision is about “whether to become a parent,” they fail to fully recognize the right of women to freely make decisions based on their own values. I am asking pro-choicers to support efforts to 1) aggressively enforce laws against sex offenders and domestic abusers, 2) pass laws that would require abortion providers and other health care providers to screen for sexual or domestic abuse, 3) provide adequate financial assistance to rape survivors so that they can raise the resulting child on one- or no- income, and 4) ensure that women can go to school or work while pregnant or raising a child. Right-to-lifers, on the other hand, should realize that many of the concerns that motivate rape victims to pursue abortions are legitimate. Rape is a terribly traumatic event for a woman and it is a perverted way of making her pregnant. Our response to rape impregnation cannot be limited to telling women that their doctors will be imprisoned if they choose abortion. We should also 1) push for stiff sentences being imposed against sex offenders, 2) reform adoption laws to prevent rapists from blocking the adoptions of their rape-conceived children, 3) back generous and aggressively- enforced child support laws and government assistance for mothers impregnated through rape, 4) ensure that pregnant women are safe in schools and workplaces, and 5) work so that women do not feel pressured into choosing abortion. A perfect pro-life response to rape impregnation and resulting abortion is a provision in Wisconsin law that makes pregnancy an aggravating factor in sexual assault. As a result of the provision, a man who impregnates a woman through rape is guilty of first-degree sexual assault and may be sent to prison for as long as sixty years. Please understand that while those of us who are conceived in rape or incest may have a diverse set of attitudes toward our biological fathers based on our individual circumstances, all of us deplore what they did. When I came to discover that rape conception was the genesis of my own existence, I was extremely angry at my biological father for how he treated my birth mother. I wondered in exasperation and despair how any human being -- my own biological father at that -- could be so selfish and callously disrespectful as to bring about a rape conception just for some wrongful motive. It seemed incomprehensible. His behavior particularly angered me because, even though I probably have many of the same natural tendencies that he possessed, I could not fathom attacking, threatening, violating, kidnapping, coercing, or hurting a girl. The argument that abortion should be allowed in the case of rape on the grounds of compassion is an affront to women like my birth mother. She chose to give birth to me -- not because it was right for her -- because doing otherwise would have been wrong for anyone. What the compassion argument suggests is that immoral actions can be justified based on the personal circumstances and preferences of the perpetrator. Not only does such an argument denigrate my birth mother’s courageous sacrifice on my behalf by failing to recognize her ability to identify morally wrongful behavior, it also expresses lenience for the very moral subjectivism that rapists use to justify their heinous actions. As an example, one rapist claimed that he raped because he was abused as a child by his mother and therefore was angry at women. Moral subjectivism has become rampant in our society. You can see it in religion when churches make excuses for pedophiles and the lustful, you can see it in the media when sexual violence against women is glorified, you can see it in schools when fraternities spike alcoholic drinks with date rape drugs, and you can see it in workplaces when women are harassed. The acceptance of all of these behaviors communicates to potential rapists that their behavior can be justified on subjectivist grounds. We need to counter this ideology with one that acknowledges that morality is objective and, specifically, that respects women and their personal boundaries. Thank you for reading my story. -- Brian T. http://www.abortiondiscussion.com |
| Rebecca Kiessling's Story on CBN's "The 700 Club", first aired on July 28, 2009 (just under 6 minutes) |
Heather Gemmen's story on CBN's "The 700 Club"
| Kristi Jones' Story (maiden name) -- conceived in rape/incest, Kristi is a pastor's wife from Illinois and is available for speaking. khoffer7@yahoo.com In May of 1978, God put forth the plans for my life. I was given up for adoption when I was only 3 days young. My adoptive parents were unable to have any children of their own, and were ecstatic that their dream of raising a child was about to come true. God placed me in the arms of two very loving people who took me in and provided me with unconditional love, support and opportunities that shaped the foundation of the person that I am today. I was raised in a Christian home, and attended a Christian school up to the fourth grade, which set the foundation of my faith. Although I remained active in the youth group at church, I still struggled through school, both socially and emotionally. I was not the social butterfly, and often enjoyed my time to myself. I did not make friends easily. This pattern would continue through high school and even into college. I had a few close friends, but that too was difficult. If I began to feel like I was being left out, as I often did, it would put me into a state of depression and panic. I knew deep down what the real issue was, but I did not want to admit it, even to myself. I did not know how to handle the fact that I was adopted. I did not know anyone else who was adopted who I could turn to for advice, and going to the psychologist for my behavioral outbursts with my family did not seem to be much help either. I could not open up to anyone, let alone find someone who understood my frustrations. For as long as I can remember, my parents have been open with me about being adopted. It was not something that I needed to be ashamed of, but in a way, I was. I was not ashamed of being adopted, I was ashamed of the way it made me feel. I was always angry. I felt like I did not belong in this world. As a matter of fact, I would often ask God “Why am I here?” and “Why did I have to feel like this?” My high school years were the toughest years of my life. I would cry myself to sleep almost every night, praying to God to take away the pain in my heart. Thank God that I had my faith to turn to, because I felt that I had nothing else. It was only when I was at church that I felt any semblance of peace. Something told me that I belonged there. One particular person at church made an impression on me that will last throughout my life. She is someone I will always look up to. She was my first grade teacher, and she was the one person in this world that I wanted to ask for help and guidance. If only I had had the confidence. Ironically, I now interact with her often. My husband is a minister, and is called to the same church where I grew up. God is a marvelous God! I know for a fact that God placed certain people in my life for his purpose, including my first grade teacher. I feel the same way about my husband. He and I have been married almost 10 years, and have one son. As a family, the three of us share something very special, we were all adopted. We are a family stitched together with God’s love and that was God’s plan from the very beginning. God has provided our family with unending blessings, even through the difficult times. I had a low self worth, and would often question my very existence. I cannot pinpoint exactly what brought a change to that view. I believe it was a gradual change, beginning with a speaker that I saw while attending a youth gathering in 2004. Her story moved me to the point that I felt something telling me that we had something in common, I just had no idea what it was. She was survivor of an attempted late-term abortion who fought for her life, and now brings awareness of the effects of such procedures. No, I was not an abortion survivor, or an attempted abortion. However, as I would find later, I do indeed have a story to tell! In April of 2008, I attended a mission trip to New Orleans to help rebuild homes from Hurricane Katrina. It was there that I made the decision in my life that the time had come for me to know exactly where I came from. I would be turning 30 in a little over a month, and I was going through the reality that I had dreams that were not fulfilled. The “what ifs” were weighing heavy on my mind, as well as many other unanswered questions. There was never a day in my life that went by without me thinking “Is that person related to me?” wherever I went. It was also on this trip that I met a new friend who would be a God sent support in my journey. I am eternally grateful to her for all of her support and the strength she helped me to find. I finally had the courage to face the unanswered questions that I had for a very long time. I knew my adoptive parents had always told me that they would support me if I wanted to research my adoption, but I have always told them I did not want to know. The last thing I have ever wanted was to hurt them. I did try first to get information through the legal system without telling anyone. I have always been told that I would have that option as long as I was 18 years old. However, the judge determined that the case was sealed, and would remain sealed. I was crushed, but at the same time, I knew that God wanted me to do things the right way, not my way. My parents are very important to me, and even though I thought it may bring them a bit of heartache, they deserved to know the truth that I did want the information I had denied numerous times. By mid July of 2008, I was very interested in knowing what needed to be done to begin my search. I remember picking up the phone several times with the intention of telling my parents that I wanted to know about my adoption, but I could not follow through. Finally, after a few weeks of anxiety, I brought myself to ask my mom and dad for the information. It was almost as if, in an instant, I went from having no courage, to having more than I ever knew possible. My adoptive mother almost sounded relieved that I had finally asked. She invited me over, and she and my adoptive father were very honest with me. What I would find out was something that had never and would never in a million years cross my mind. After knowing only that my biological mother was 16 when she gave birth to me, I was told that she was also a victim of incest and rape by her father, and I was likely the result of these actions. I was speechless! It took all I had to keep my composure. I went from having about a dozen questions in my mind, to having hundreds. The first question that I remember asking was, “How would you know that if my adoption records were sealed?” Ironically, my adoptive mother worked at the hospital where I was born. She is unable to remember exactly how she had my birthmother’s name, but having her name is also how she knew about the possible situation with my biological father. The incest was published in 1991 when my biological mother prosecuted her father, for not only the one pregnancy resulting in my birth and adoption, but also for six other pregnancies resulting in five abortions, and one forced miscarry by her father. Words could not begin to describe the emotions going on inside my mind at that moment. What kind of monster would do such a thing to his own daughter? Another thought going through my mind was, given the fate of the other six children, why was I spared? As a teenager going through the struggle within my mind about being adopted, I had also wondered if my birthmother had thought about aborting me. I did not, however, imagine that my very existence would be so controversial. When I was told the circumstance, I kept asking myself, “Why wasn’t I aborted also?” I thank God for showing me where to turn in times of crisis because this question could only be answered through scripture. Romans 9:20, NLV states, "But who are you, O Man, to talk back to God? Shall what is formed say to him who formed it 'Why did you make me like this?'” I do not need to ask why. I already know why I survived -- I was created intentionally by God for his purpose. He chose me! I did have heartache for the others who did not survive, but I had more concern for the true survivor, my biological mother. How could one person be put through such trauma? I also thank God that my faith was strong at the time that I asked to know about my adoption. If my relationship with Christ was not as mature, my view may have been very different. This just reinforces the fact that God’s timing is perfect! I really stewed on the information I received for about a week, praying and asking God to guide me to do His will. I felt that I was being guided to continue my search for my biological mother and the truth of my existence. I also wanted to consult with my husband before continuing with my search. It did take me a few days to tell him what I had found out also. I did not fear his reaction, but at the time, I was not even sure of my own reaction. After sharing the information with him, he expressed that he was supportive of me continuing my search if that is what I felt led to do, and that where I came from was indeed God’s doing, not man's. I could not have asked for a better man by my side. I had many things to consider as I decided how to begin a formal search. First of all, was my biological mother or father still alive? Second, would she want anything to do with me if the circumstances were in fact that I was a child of incest? Another consideration was facing the possibility that my biological father was present in his daughter’s life, and what his reaction to me would be. On the other hand, my strength lies with God and in my faith. No matter how I got here, I know I am his child. Matthew 10:30, NLV states, "And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered." I knew I had to trust in Him, especially now. Ultimately, my thought was that if she has been through so much in her life, does she know that there is someone out there who loves her unconditionally and does she also know Jesus as her Savior? After only 2 short days of searching the internet, I came across a popular website that reunites schoolmates, revealing a photo of my biological mother. At this point, I had so many emotions going on in my head that I did not know what to do. The moment that I had imagined for so long was no longer just a dream, it was finally a reality. I could not believe it! My first thought was, “Where do I go from here?” Would a picture and a small amount of information be enough to satisfy my desire to find her? Should I contact her? How do I contact her if I decide that is what I want? There were too many “what ifs” not to try to contact her, but was I really ready? After much prayer and a lot of support from my husband and a close friend, I decided to follow through with the journey I had started. I really felt that if God brought me this close, how could I stop now? I searched again on the internet in hopes of finding some way to contact her, but the only thing I found was a partial email address. At the bottom of the website where I originally found her picture, there was a note that she could be contacted at an email address, but it was only a partial email address. Now I was really confused. The address ended with ym.com. I was not familiar with this particular email, so I searched it online. After finding nothing matching ym.com, the only possibility I could think of is yahoo mail. Since this was the only information I had to go on, I had to try it. It was definitely a shot in the dark, but if I had no guts, I knew I would have no glory. I sent a blind email to a yahoo email address that I believed was the correct one with the intention of never hearing from the recipient. I simply asked if she was the correct person from the area where I grew up. What were the chances that it was really her? But that is just it, there are no chances in life. Later that night, I had a message back from her stating “Yes, Who is this?” As I read this, my jaw dropped. It was really her! Now I had to figure out how to tell her who I was, and also ask myself if I was prepared should she tell me she wanted no contact. I knew it was time to face the reality that had bothered me for so long. I brainstormed for an hour trying to decide how I would word my response. Finally, I simply let her know that I thought we had a connection, and asked that she please visit my page on the same website where I found her picture. I also stated that I wanted to honor her wishes if she chose not to contact me again. Ironically, our internet went down that evening shortly after I sent the last email so I had no way to see if she responded back. It was like sitting on pins and needles. First thing the next morning, the internet was working and I immediately checked my email. Sure enough, she had responded. Not only was that a pleasant surprise, but she wanted me to call her right away. I can still remember the feeling I had in my stomach. It is like having a hundred butterflies fluttering around uncontrollably. I quickly sent her another email letting her know our internet was not working, and that I had just gotten the message. I also told her that I was getting ready to go to work, but she was welcome to call me. She replied back that she would call me at 8:00 that morning which was in about half an hour. I was counting the seconds, as it seemed like the longest half hour of my life. At 8:10, I began to get worried because my phone still had not rung. All of the “what ifs” began to enter my mind, but I quickly reminded myself that God was in control. Patience has long been one of my weaknesses. When my phone did begin to ring at 8: 15, I was frantic. What would I say to her? What would she say to me? As I answered the phone, I could tell she was nervous, as she could tell I was also. After about the first 5 minutes of conversation, the awkwardness left, and it was smooth sailing. She and I spoke on the phone for well over an hour about some of the family’s history and my upbringing. At one point, she told me that both she and my biological father thought I had not survived when I was born. The reason that this was assumed was because of a hospital bill that she had received by accident. I was born with an infection in my body, and was very sick. I was transferred to a bigger hospital that could provide me with the intense treatment needed to recover from the infection. My biological mother received a bill from the hospital for the services I received, and at that time was told by her mother that if a child is taken to this hospital, it is likely not to survive. Not only did I survive, I also completely recovered from the infection. After our initial conversation, we both agreed that we wanted to meet, along with her younger daughter -- my half sister -- who I found out was expecting a child in a few days. My half sister was very excited, and asked if I would like to visit when she had the baby. I was thrilled! I made quick arrangements to drive there over the coming weekend, and we were all very excited. That same evening that we had talked, my half sister had her baby. What a day to remember! Three days later, I was on the road to visit. I decided it was a trip that I would take alone, even though my parents were concerned about the drive by myself. I knew that God would guide me and protect me. The drive only took about 5 or 6 hours, which went very quickly. We all met for breakfast, including my new nephew. I could not believe that the day I thought about for so long was finally here! We talked briefly at breakfast, and spent the morning together looking at pictures and getting to know each other. I was literally in awe with the resemblance between my biological mother and myself. Later that afternoon, my biological mother wanted to spend time showing me around the area where she lived. She and I took a drive around the downtown area and eventually stopped at a park to sit and talk. I will never forget this day! We sat on a bench near a beautiful lake just talking about everything. It was also at this time that she felt comfortable enough to tell me about my biological father and who he was. My half sister and biological mother’s fiancé suggested she wait to tell me because they feared I would turn and walk away from her. I had no intention of ending the relationship, and I told her that there was nothing she could tell me that would make me want to run away from her. My biological mother was unaware that I or my parents knew her name or about the prosecution of her father. As my biological mother began to explain to me who my biological father was, I let her know that I already had an idea about it. My biological mother was very surprised that I had chosen to find her even after knowing the truth about my biological father. This is when I let her know my faith and how I felt about who I was. He may share my DNA, but God created me. No matter the circumstance, it is of God’s will and purpose that I was conceived. I do not want anything from my biological father, nor will I ever. It is very hard for me to describe the feelings towards my biological father. The sinner in me wants to see him punished for his actions, considering he only served less than 18 months in prison due to lack of evidence, (which would have been me.) However, my Christian upbringing taught me different. Don't get me wrong -- in no manner what-so-ever do I agree with what he has done. It is tough to explain exactly how I feel, and I do not even understand completely how I feel toward him. If I were given the opportunity to speak to my biological father, I really would simply tell him that I pray he has asked for forgiveness in his heart. The second day of my visit with my birthmother, reality hit me. I woke up early in the morning and sat on the porch for several hours by myself, crying profusely. No matter how hard I tried, I just could not stop. It was 29 years of bottled emotions that were pouring out. All I could do besides cry at this point was pray prayers of thanksgiving that I finally got to meet the person who gave birth to me. It was truly a miracle! That evening, we drove about an hour to visit with my biological mother's brother and his family. This was something that meant a lot to my biological mother. Growing up, her brother did not believe that his father had been raping his sister, as his father wanted him to believe she had made it all up. Finally showing her brother that there was relevance to the claims was a form of closure for her. For her brother, it was a shock! He now believed her after all of this time, and this was a good feeling for me to know the truth finally brought them closer again. A few short weeks after my first visit with my biological family, my biological mother came to visit with me and my family. I was able to introduce her to my adoptive parents and to many of my close friends. Although this was a bit awkward for all of us, it was one of the most precious moments in my life! I also got to meet some of my biological mother's family who still lived within a 40 mile vicinity from where I live now, as her family is also from the area where I currently reside. It really is a small world! Her family here was also happy that the truth was finally revealed and the family was brought together again. My hope is that the family that was torn apart by secrets and lies can now be brought together and begin to heal by the truth. There is no doubt in my mind that God was in control of it all. There is no other explanation! I was finally beginning to see the pieces of my life fitting together. He turned my feelings of being broken and unworthy to that of having unending value. Through Christ, I have gained the confidence necessary to fulfill my dreams after searching for so long on my own. I am not defined by my DNA, but by the calling I have received as a child of God. No one can take that away from me. My calling in Christ Jesus is my destiny! He is my foundation, and with Him I cannot crumble. Now I am able to share my faith with someone who has had many obstacles to overcome in life, and to help her to move on. I have learned something very important in the last year. Life is about the Faith that we have in Christ, the Hope he gives us for tomorrow and spreading his Love to everyone around us! Look to Christ for strength in everything! Even in cases of rape and incest, each unborn child is created by God for a purpose. As my story reveals, God can take something bad and make it an opportunity to do something miraculous! The legalization of abortion is nothing short of playing God, and who are we to question God? -- Kristi Hofferber, khoffer7@yahoo.com |
| Patti Smith’s Story – Patti is an adoptee who was conceived in rape. She is a worship leader from Huntington, California and is available for speaking -- pattismith55@yahoo.com I believe that God has called you here today -- you are meant to be here, and I would even go on to say that I believe God has created you and sent you into this world. He says that you are fearfully and wonderfully made, and that before you were formed in your mother’s womb, He knew you! You and I are infinitely valuable to Him – and He paid the infinite price. Even many in the pro-life movement may say that abortion is wrong, but in the case of rape, maybe abortion is even justified -- as if that child is of less value because of the way this precious child was conceived. But I’m here today to tell you that every child is of infinite value to the Father . . . every child. Every child is created and sent into this world to glorify the Father. Every child! By the world’s standards, maybe I should not be here. I am 54 and adopted. When I searched and met my birthmother 20 years ago, she told about the circumstances of my conception and birth. I expected to hear a tragic love story, but instead I heard the shocking news that she had been raped and could not deal with keeping the child of a rapist, so she gave me up for adoption. She said that she knew that this man had also raped her roommate and two others. He never knew about me and she never saw him again. She didn’t go to the police -- it was the 50's and she was too ashamed. My birthmother found herself pregnant and alone. This world would say that I was disposable, of little value. Even damaged goods – bad genes they might say. But my mother knew in her heart that I was precious in His sight and that I was of infinite value. She gave me up in adoption to two loving parents and I was raised in a loving Christian home. At the age of 18, I came to know Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior. I’m here today to declare to the world that I, you and every child are of infinite value and Jesus paid the infinite price on the cross for our salvation. I thank Him every day for the wonderful life I have had and that I was sent to tell others about how much He treasures every life, no matter what the circumstances of conception. I want to make a difference in the world. I want to say that even though the circumstances of my conception were in violence and hatred, I am not my father, nor am I my mother. I am me. I was created by a loving God and my life is so valuable. And so is the life of every baby conceived -- valuable and a gift from God. Today, I am involved with His Nesting Place here where I live. It’s a Christian home for unwed mothers. I lead worship music from time to time as a guest, and have just begun sharing my story. At times, it has seemed like if I tell anyone -- they just get so shocked, and it was uncomfortable for me, but now I am sharing. I want to speak more about my story and the value of life, and I want to make a difference in this world. Patti Smith 1993, with birthmom after our reunion pattismith55@yahoo.com |
Daily Mail article -- Having My
Rapist's Baby Is The Best
Thing I Ever Did -- Miriam's
Story
Rapist's Baby Is The Best
Thing I Ever Did -- Miriam's
Story
Irene van der Wende's Story -- aborted her baby conceived in
rape, and later learned she had herself been conceived in rape.
Irene is from the Netherlands and available for speaking --
abortioninformation_eu@yahoo.com
I regret killing my baby after
rape.
His strong arms gripping tightly
around my neck, strangling me,
choking me, left me gasping for
breath. I realized death was
imminent, so in a split second I
chose to let him have his way
with my body, so that I could
stay alive. Afterwards, I
clutched my coat tightly against
me, so no one would see my
ripped clothing underneath. . . .
Although my body started to
change, and needing larger
clothes, I believed I was not
pregnant, as the initial pregnancy test came up negative (not enough
hormones yet.) But after a 6-week roadshow, a visit to my family
doctor informed me I was pregnant. “Oh no!” Shock, disbelief, fear
and turmoil gripped me. London advised me to go a clinic halfway
north in England for an abortion, mentioning that it had to be done
quickly, as it was on the verge of the time it was allowed to be done
legally. Numb, and only focusing on all the fears, I went ahead.
My abortion took place in a cold, sinister, old mansion. I felt very
uncomfortable, waiting in the hall with black-white checkered tiles,
watching the minutes on the clock tick by. It was as if death hung as
a cloud in the air above me. I did my best to stuff my emotions,
signed a paper, received my number, and joined some 8 women lying
on beds in a room, waiting a long time after inserting something and
changing into an operation garment that was to remain open. As
they spoke of their pregnancies, morning sickness, and why they
were killing their babies, I began to think. In the lift (elevator) later,
when I was going upstairs, I placed a hand over my tummy, finally
realizing I had a child inside of me, and said “I’m a mother. I have a
baby inside of me!” The nurse accompanying me reassured me,
saying “It’s okay – other women have that thought too at the last
minute. You’re doing the right thing,” after which the doors opened,
and I walked into a brightly lit operating room, where I was told to lie
down, and place my legs up high in the stirrups. But I felt terrible and
vulnerable due to the privacy, and even more so as the abortionist
became very angry and agitated when the nurse discussed
something with him, and he started to yell at me, saying I had already
signed a consent form, hadn’t I? And that I was holding up the flow of
things. He roughly grabbed my arms, which they strapped down, and
forced a needle into my arm, after which I don´t remember much . . . .
I passed out.
When I came to, I was loudly told to stand. In agony, I gripped my
tummy with one hand, doubled with pain, while with the other, I
fumbled my way along the dark corridor wall, back to my bed in the
other room. The other women were now silent and groaning with
pain. My stomach felt as if every inch had been scraped open with a
sharp razor blade. We were left alone, and after a long time -- I
believe the next day -- I was allowed to go home, but the pain was
unbearable. They offered a wheelchair, but I grit my teeth, saying to
myself: “I wanted this, so grin and bear it.” I bled profusely on the
drive home, having to stop every now and then, dizzy, and was in
absolute agony. The bleeding lasted half a year.
Looking back, I regret my abortion, and the morning after pills I took.
If I had realized then, what I now know, I would never have been able
to ask to have my baby killed. I came to this awareness after seeing
videos of an abortion, seeing a 12 week old baby react to the
instruments inside the womb, and seeing the aweful pictures of these
little humans, where we pull off their arms, break their legs and pull
them off, squash their skull, suction out (parts of their) bodies, brains,
decapitate them, etc. How can we look at these pictures, with
intestines, ribs, brains, heart, backbone, etc., and not call them a
human being? Life starts at conception – all the genes, and sex are
in the first cell, hair colour, skin colour, etc. which keeps on
expanding to 2, 4, 8, 16 cells etc., on till adolescence, when our
children are fully grown. I had immense guilt and remorse, after
realizing what I had done. I also cut myself off from my emotions, as
the guilt was too much to bear, causing problems in relationships
later. Later, I read that of women like me, who abort after sexual
abuse (=less that 1% of all abortions) that 80% of us regret our
abortions. Whereas of the 70% who chose to let their baby live, none
had regrets. I wish I hadn’t killed her.
Every mother’s day afterwards, I had to stand still at the fact that I
was a mother, even though I had no living child – mother of a dead
baby, through my own doing. Emotional trauma -- I carried this in
silence, not talking about it. I froze when shortly afterwards someone
placed their little baby in my arms – who was I to still hold a baby after
killing mine? I joined the statistics of having a miscarriage later. I
learned that scar tissue from the abortion can cause problems in later
pregnancies, and premature births from the damage of the abortion,
along with 50% more chance of breast cancer if you don’t carry your
first baby to full term, but abruptly stop the milk production process
developing by aborting. When my daughter was born later via c-
section, my arms were strapped again, just like during the abortion,
and all the fear and anxiety came flooding back, at what should have
been just a joyous moment. I also find it heart-wrenching to not be
able to say to my oldest living child, that she is my first born. And
when one day she came home from school, asking if I had ever lost a
baby, I was stuck for words – how do you tell a little girl that you
ordered her (half-) sister to be killed? How emotionally traumatic for
the family of the woman who chose to kill. How unsafe the
brother/sister feel -- “Why them, and not me?”
When I was around 35, I found out I, myself, was conceived in rape.
My whole family had known all along, except for me. My father and
mother were married, but it was brutal rape. He was totally drunk at
the time, and had violently slapped her, all around the room, threw
her on the bed, and raped her at force. I was conceived. But my
mother tried to commit suicide. When I had been growing in her
womb about 6 months, she got on her bike, having premeditated to
throw both her and me in front of a train at the railroad tracks a few
miles away. She went there, and stood at the side of the rail, but just
as the train was approaching, she couldn’t go through with it. I am so
grateful she didn’t! Life growing up wasn’t always as nice as it could
have been when you hear how some were raised in nice, warm,
loving, friendly homes. But . . . , life is not about how we were
conceived, or our upbringing, but about what we make of it. There is
healing, and I am so glad my mother didn’t have me killed through
suicide, when she had the chance. I am so glad that she gave birth
to me, and raised me, despite how I was conceived, and that I am
alive, and able to now do something for humanity. My value and right
to life does not depend on how I was conceived.
I have had to come to terms with what I, myself, did. I chose to have
someone paid to kill my innocent baby. There was a father (the
rapist), a mother (me) and a baby. But I hired a murderer (the
abortionist) to kill my baby. I stuffed it away as much as I could for 25
years, but like psychology says, eventually the cesspool of life needs
to be opened, and become honest about things we have done in our
life. I have named my babies, made a grave for them at the
cemetery, and I have found healing with YHWH (God), and His son
Yahshua (Jesus), whereby I am now able to testify of what I have
done, and the effects it has brought me, my family and loved ones,
physically, emotionally and spiritually. I deeply regret having put my
innocent little baby through such torture and painful mutilation, letting
her be cut up into pieces while still alive with a beating heart. Killing
an innocent baby is never right, even after rape. Two wrongs don’t
make a right. The father harmed me, but I harmed the baby. The
baby didn’t do anything wrong. The baby is a 3rd person. I could
have grown to love her, or have her adopted in a loving family. A
baby should not carry the burden of the sin of the parent and be
killed for it. In law, if a man kills a pregnant woman, he is punished for
the death of two people. What are we doing killing our own children?
I wish people would have told me about the beautiful development of
my little one (= foetus in Latin). That before we as mothers even
know we are pregnant, 4 days missed cycle, that the baby already
has a beating heart at 18-21 days. That at 18 days, their brains start
developing, at 20 days with mid-, fore- and hindbrain, and that their
brainwaves can be measured at 40 days. That they are sensitive to
touch, heat, light, and noise. Pain receptors begin to grow with 4-5
weeks. At 6 weeks, they respond to touch. They have their own
DNA, sex, blood type, and fingerprint, making them unique
individuals. Beautiful little hands and feet, ribs, mouth, tongue.
Sometimes the baby doesn’t die straight away when the killing starts,
and the arms and legs are pulled off. An abortionist has testified that
the babies heart then still throbs sometimes. Or that they are still
alive as they are suctioned out, going through the tube, to die later in
the jar. These are human beings, who are not brain dead, or without
feeling.
If a woman is pregnant, she needs support, not abortion. Many of us
(64%) are coerced into abortion (e.g. by boyfriend, mother, father,
schoolteacher, doctor, nurse, girlfriend, social worker) whereby we
can feel regret and shame and guilt later, when we fully realize the full
extent of what we have done. A baby says: let me live. Take my
hand, instead of my life. Love me, instead of kill me. Abortion kills a
beating heart. With embryoselection for diseases, we are saying to
brothers/sisters “you are only wanted and loved, because you don’t
have a handicap.” To the handicapped people, we are actually
saying “you are only tolerated, because the technology wasn’t there
to eliminate you when you were an embryo” -- genocide inside our
laboratories. Remember: God loves you, but also your baby. With
abortion, one heart stops beating, but another heart breaks. We
either become numb, like I did at first, or the remorse and guilt and
shame hovers over us, till we come clean, and find healing. Like
Mother Theresa said, “Abortion is the death of two: the baby, and the
mother’s conscience.” Please don’t kill your baby. Your baby needs
to be allowed to live. Find someone to help you.
Irene van der Wende
rape, and later learned she had herself been conceived in rape.
Irene is from the Netherlands and available for speaking --
abortioninformation_eu@yahoo.com
I regret killing my baby after
rape.
His strong arms gripping tightly
around my neck, strangling me,
choking me, left me gasping for
breath. I realized death was
imminent, so in a split second I
chose to let him have his way
with my body, so that I could
stay alive. Afterwards, I
clutched my coat tightly against
me, so no one would see my
ripped clothing underneath. . . .
Although my body started to
change, and needing larger
clothes, I believed I was not
pregnant, as the initial pregnancy test came up negative (not enough
hormones yet.) But after a 6-week roadshow, a visit to my family
doctor informed me I was pregnant. “Oh no!” Shock, disbelief, fear
and turmoil gripped me. London advised me to go a clinic halfway
north in England for an abortion, mentioning that it had to be done
quickly, as it was on the verge of the time it was allowed to be done
legally. Numb, and only focusing on all the fears, I went ahead.
My abortion took place in a cold, sinister, old mansion. I felt very
uncomfortable, waiting in the hall with black-white checkered tiles,
watching the minutes on the clock tick by. It was as if death hung as
a cloud in the air above me. I did my best to stuff my emotions,
signed a paper, received my number, and joined some 8 women lying
on beds in a room, waiting a long time after inserting something and
changing into an operation garment that was to remain open. As
they spoke of their pregnancies, morning sickness, and why they
were killing their babies, I began to think. In the lift (elevator) later,
when I was going upstairs, I placed a hand over my tummy, finally
realizing I had a child inside of me, and said “I’m a mother. I have a
baby inside of me!” The nurse accompanying me reassured me,
saying “It’s okay – other women have that thought too at the last
minute. You’re doing the right thing,” after which the doors opened,
and I walked into a brightly lit operating room, where I was told to lie
down, and place my legs up high in the stirrups. But I felt terrible and
vulnerable due to the privacy, and even more so as the abortionist
became very angry and agitated when the nurse discussed
something with him, and he started to yell at me, saying I had already
signed a consent form, hadn’t I? And that I was holding up the flow of
things. He roughly grabbed my arms, which they strapped down, and
forced a needle into my arm, after which I don´t remember much . . . .
I passed out.
When I came to, I was loudly told to stand. In agony, I gripped my
tummy with one hand, doubled with pain, while with the other, I
fumbled my way along the dark corridor wall, back to my bed in the
other room. The other women were now silent and groaning with
pain. My stomach felt as if every inch had been scraped open with a
sharp razor blade. We were left alone, and after a long time -- I
believe the next day -- I was allowed to go home, but the pain was
unbearable. They offered a wheelchair, but I grit my teeth, saying to
myself: “I wanted this, so grin and bear it.” I bled profusely on the
drive home, having to stop every now and then, dizzy, and was in
absolute agony. The bleeding lasted half a year.
Looking back, I regret my abortion, and the morning after pills I took.
If I had realized then, what I now know, I would never have been able
to ask to have my baby killed. I came to this awareness after seeing
videos of an abortion, seeing a 12 week old baby react to the
instruments inside the womb, and seeing the aweful pictures of these
little humans, where we pull off their arms, break their legs and pull
them off, squash their skull, suction out (parts of their) bodies, brains,
decapitate them, etc. How can we look at these pictures, with
intestines, ribs, brains, heart, backbone, etc., and not call them a
human being? Life starts at conception – all the genes, and sex are
in the first cell, hair colour, skin colour, etc. which keeps on
expanding to 2, 4, 8, 16 cells etc., on till adolescence, when our
children are fully grown. I had immense guilt and remorse, after
realizing what I had done. I also cut myself off from my emotions, as
the guilt was too much to bear, causing problems in relationships
later. Later, I read that of women like me, who abort after sexual
abuse (=less that 1% of all abortions) that 80% of us regret our
abortions. Whereas of the 70% who chose to let their baby live, none
had regrets. I wish I hadn’t killed her.
Every mother’s day afterwards, I had to stand still at the fact that I
was a mother, even though I had no living child – mother of a dead
baby, through my own doing. Emotional trauma -- I carried this in
silence, not talking about it. I froze when shortly afterwards someone
placed their little baby in my arms – who was I to still hold a baby after
killing mine? I joined the statistics of having a miscarriage later. I
learned that scar tissue from the abortion can cause problems in later
pregnancies, and premature births from the damage of the abortion,
along with 50% more chance of breast cancer if you don’t carry your
first baby to full term, but abruptly stop the milk production process
developing by aborting. When my daughter was born later via c-
section, my arms were strapped again, just like during the abortion,
and all the fear and anxiety came flooding back, at what should have
been just a joyous moment. I also find it heart-wrenching to not be
able to say to my oldest living child, that she is my first born. And
when one day she came home from school, asking if I had ever lost a
baby, I was stuck for words – how do you tell a little girl that you
ordered her (half-) sister to be killed? How emotionally traumatic for
the family of the woman who chose to kill. How unsafe the
brother/sister feel -- “Why them, and not me?”
When I was around 35, I found out I, myself, was conceived in rape.
My whole family had known all along, except for me. My father and
mother were married, but it was brutal rape. He was totally drunk at
the time, and had violently slapped her, all around the room, threw
her on the bed, and raped her at force. I was conceived. But my
mother tried to commit suicide. When I had been growing in her
womb about 6 months, she got on her bike, having premeditated to
throw both her and me in front of a train at the railroad tracks a few
miles away. She went there, and stood at the side of the rail, but just
as the train was approaching, she couldn’t go through with it. I am so
grateful she didn’t! Life growing up wasn’t always as nice as it could
have been when you hear how some were raised in nice, warm,
loving, friendly homes. But . . . , life is not about how we were
conceived, or our upbringing, but about what we make of it. There is
healing, and I am so glad my mother didn’t have me killed through
suicide, when she had the chance. I am so glad that she gave birth
to me, and raised me, despite how I was conceived, and that I am
alive, and able to now do something for humanity. My value and right
to life does not depend on how I was conceived.
I have had to come to terms with what I, myself, did. I chose to have
someone paid to kill my innocent baby. There was a father (the
rapist), a mother (me) and a baby. But I hired a murderer (the
abortionist) to kill my baby. I stuffed it away as much as I could for 25
years, but like psychology says, eventually the cesspool of life needs
to be opened, and become honest about things we have done in our
life. I have named my babies, made a grave for them at the
cemetery, and I have found healing with YHWH (God), and His son
Yahshua (Jesus), whereby I am now able to testify of what I have
done, and the effects it has brought me, my family and loved ones,
physically, emotionally and spiritually. I deeply regret having put my
innocent little baby through such torture and painful mutilation, letting
her be cut up into pieces while still alive with a beating heart. Killing
an innocent baby is never right, even after rape. Two wrongs don’t
make a right. The father harmed me, but I harmed the baby. The
baby didn’t do anything wrong. The baby is a 3rd person. I could
have grown to love her, or have her adopted in a loving family. A
baby should not carry the burden of the sin of the parent and be
killed for it. In law, if a man kills a pregnant woman, he is punished for
the death of two people. What are we doing killing our own children?
I wish people would have told me about the beautiful development of
my little one (= foetus in Latin). That before we as mothers even
know we are pregnant, 4 days missed cycle, that the baby already
has a beating heart at 18-21 days. That at 18 days, their brains start
developing, at 20 days with mid-, fore- and hindbrain, and that their
brainwaves can be measured at 40 days. That they are sensitive to
touch, heat, light, and noise. Pain receptors begin to grow with 4-5
weeks. At 6 weeks, they respond to touch. They have their own
DNA, sex, blood type, and fingerprint, making them unique
individuals. Beautiful little hands and feet, ribs, mouth, tongue.
Sometimes the baby doesn’t die straight away when the killing starts,
and the arms and legs are pulled off. An abortionist has testified that
the babies heart then still throbs sometimes. Or that they are still
alive as they are suctioned out, going through the tube, to die later in
the jar. These are human beings, who are not brain dead, or without
feeling.
If a woman is pregnant, she needs support, not abortion. Many of us
(64%) are coerced into abortion (e.g. by boyfriend, mother, father,
schoolteacher, doctor, nurse, girlfriend, social worker) whereby we
can feel regret and shame and guilt later, when we fully realize the full
extent of what we have done. A baby says: let me live. Take my
hand, instead of my life. Love me, instead of kill me. Abortion kills a
beating heart. With embryoselection for diseases, we are saying to
brothers/sisters “you are only wanted and loved, because you don’t
have a handicap.” To the handicapped people, we are actually
saying “you are only tolerated, because the technology wasn’t there
to eliminate you when you were an embryo” -- genocide inside our
laboratories. Remember: God loves you, but also your baby. With
abortion, one heart stops beating, but another heart breaks. We
either become numb, like I did at first, or the remorse and guilt and
shame hovers over us, till we come clean, and find healing. Like
Mother Theresa said, “Abortion is the death of two: the baby, and the
mother’s conscience.” Please don’t kill your baby. Your baby needs
to be allowed to live. Find someone to help you.
Irene van der Wende
Forced Abortion on Rape Victim
http://www.operationrescue.org/a
rchives/forced-abortion-rape-victi
m-comes-forward-after-abortionis
t-given-probation/
http://www.operationrescue.org/a
rchives/forced-abortion-rape-victi
m-comes-forward-after-abortionis
t-given-probation/
| Carole Roy's Story -- an adoptee, conceived in rape, Carole is from Ontario and is available for speaking -- wings@personainternet.com Before the moment of my conception, my life was already planned. Though I’ve taken some detours along the way to where I believe I was supposed to be, I know that I was always protected by the gentle Hand of a loving Father who I would come to embrace and hold on to in awe and adoration. Psalm 139 touches my life in a significant way. Knowing that the Father’s hand was upon me, forming me in my mother’s womb, and planning my life before me, these words from God reveal a special meaning and purpose for my existence. I was born to worship and glorify God. Even though it has taken me over 40 years to come to this realization, it is only through His mercy, His forgiveness and grace, and by the guidance of His Holy Spirit that I may say I am born again in spirit. When I began fervently reading the Scriptures, I was drawn to the passages that referred to adoption. The thought of being an adopted child of God was a new concept that fascinated me. I began to connect with these words, letting them envelop my mind as I pondered the fact that God really did take me as His own, as Ephesians 1 confirms. This new discovery of being adopted by God brought to me the identity my soul had been searching for all my life -- but adoption had already touched me from the moment of my birth. As a member of the adoption triangle, I would like to share some details of my life that might be helpful to other adoptees, birth parents and adoptive parents. When my birth mother was 16 years old she was raped by a 40 year old man while she was babysitting for her cousin. Even though I am the product of that incident, I have never felt ashamed of this knowledge because I knew deep inside that God wanted me here. A short time after I was born, I was put into foster care in the loving arms of Albert and Jeannette Roy. Although remaining as their foster child for a few months, God had already chosen these special parents to adopt and nurture me, the tiny newborn infant who could only be fed with a dropper. After a few months of caring for me, my mom became gravely ill with pneumonia, and I had developed Whopping Cough and needed extra care. Not being able to properly take care of me, my dad contacted the social worker to have me transferred to another foster home. I have often heard the story of how, once my mom was well again, she constantly contacted the social worker to bring me back to their home, because they wanted to adopt me. Although the social worker told her I had already been adopted, my mom was very persistent. It took many weeks of her constant calls and visits to the Children’s Aid Society, when finally on Christmas Eve in 1962, I was delivered back into their home, where I became a permanent member of their family. In those first few months of my life, my mom carried me on a pillow, because I was very tiny and needed additional care. Even though I had been carried in the arms of love during those early years, I suffered from a fear of abandonment throughout my life — even into adulthood. Being initially separated from my birth mother, and then again from my adoptive mother in the first 6 months of my life, my infant soul panicked and I was left with a great fear of being left alone. I can recall the numerous times in my childhood when I would not even let my mother go across the street to get the mail, that I would cry, terrified she would leave me. I emotionally grabbed a hold of her and would rarely want to be out of her sight. A couple years ago while I was in the midst of writing poetry to the Lord, I asked Him, “Where did I go? What happened to me during those times when I was away from both my birth and adoptive mothers?” He replied, “I was holding you.” Even in these latter years of my life, it reassured me and comforted me to know that I was never alone without His Presence. Despite these early traumatic moments, I grew up to becoming a curious young girl who grew to admire and respect the ones I called mom and dad. Though I knew it was biologically impossible, over the years, some people had commented on how I looked like my dad. But I would like to think that I inherited his quiet spirit and his love of nature. My dad enjoyed camping and fishing. He loved the outdoors. And he would sometimes take little tomboy Carole fishing with him. Those memories of catching my first fish with my dad are ones I hold dearly. Special moments like these are forever etched in my heart for I will always have a deep abiding love for the quiet man who raised me and gave me his name. After he passed away 12 years ago, I wrote a poem which I had engraved on a plaque and given to my mom. DAD Your memory will always be My tears fall in the night for you A treasure of your love for me; I pray to God to see me through; Your smile, your laugh, your loving soul I miss you more than words can say Are always in my heart to hold. It’s hard to live each passing day. I long to kiss your cheek goodnight My love for you will never die And hug you in the morning light. For yours will reach down from the sky; To sit with you and hold your hand And take me in your arms so sweet For you were such a gentle man. To hold me tight when we both meet. Although I give thanks and glory to my Heavenly Father for the creative talents He has given me, my mom has also had a creative influence on me through her various culinary, sewing and knitting, craft making and musical talents that I grew up to admire within her. But it was being together with her children for which my mom lived for, back then, as she does today. Her life has always revolved around her children. She is a true mother in the most important sense of the word. My mom has often struggled with feelings of insecurity and fears that if my birth mother were to come back into my life, I would leave them to be with my, “real mom”. I believe that adoptive parents from the closed-adoption system often struggle with these fears. And I could somehow empathize with her worries. Even though I grew up in a loving home, there were times in adolescence and adulthood when I would wonder why I didn’t seem to fit in with the world around me. Perhaps it was the normal teenage blues I was experiencing, or the young adult soul within me that was suddenly interested in finding out the answer to the question, “Why? But in my own search for autonomy mixed with wanting to reassure my mother that she would always be my mom, I wrote her a poem entitled, Heart of An Adoptee Why am I here? Why was I born? Questions that always, left me so torn. What did I do? What did I say? For “her” to reject, and throw me away. A child of abandon, never to know. A child that was chosen, love made me grow. Through year upon year, the mother I knew From your heart I came, from your love I grew. Your child to adore, to love and to care. My mom that would nurture, and always be there. But then came the years, of worry and doubt, Should “she” reappear, and turn me about. Afraid that my love, for you would just die, If “she” ever came, and I’d say goodbye. But mother it’s *you*, who gave me my life. Who carried me through, and gave me your light. How could I abandon, a mother like you? And turn away from, a love that’s so true. So rest all your fears in my heart and believe, Your daughter is here, and I will never leave. Through years upon searching, for answers unknown. Why am I here? Why was I born? To find you and love you, my mother, so dear. Our hearts joined together, with love through the years. My parents never did have any biological children, but they opened their hearts to adopt 4. I suspect had they been able to have children of their own, they might have done like most other French Canadians of their era, and had a very large family. Little did they realize that someday they would have more children in their home than they could have ever imagined. For over 50 years, my mom and dad were foster parents for the Children’s Aid Society. In those years, they fostered over 300 children of various ages, who came from abused homes (a lot of them returning to their parents), and newborns who were being given up for adoption. I saw many frightened children come through the doors of our home, sometimes in the middle of the night. Some of them had been neglected, others severally abused. They were all such precious children to us. In relinquishing so many foster children back to their parents, I believe we shared a commonality in what most birth parents have to go through — not knowing where the child will be, but trusting he will be well-taken care of. Four years ago, I met my birth mother. In my particular case, it was not hard to find her since my birth mother’s sister was married to my adoptive mom’s brother. Although my birth mother and her family knew where I was, I did not find out this information until I was almost 18. But I knew from a very young age that I had been adopted, or so chosen as my mom always told me. My birth mother has often tried to get in touch with me through the years, but I was not emotionally ready to open that door. I already had a mom, and because I was so terrified of losing her, I clung to her even more closely — even into adulthood. I have no doubt that the Lord softened my heart to welcome my birth mother back into my life, for I knew that I needed to make peace with this part of my past. But the Lord was patient with me and led me to reading adoption books and stories from other adoptees’ and birth parents’ reunions. I began to see birth parents and their circumstances in a new light, and felt a newfound compassion for them. I found myself wanting to finally reach out to my birth mother to let her know that I did not hate her. I wanted her to know that she made the right decision in giving me up for adoption. When I welcomed my birth mother into my home a few years ago, it was more of a reality check for me than a teary reunion. As I sat on my bed that first night, I realized that the woman in the next room had carried me inside her body in a most intimate way — yet I didn’t even know her. A tremendous sense of grief overwhelmed me, as I was forced to face the fact that my adoptive mom had not given birth to me. And even though it was very brief, I found myself feeling angry towards my adoptive mother for not being my birth mother. But I now realize that I had to go through these feelings of loss and grief, to be able to give my birth mother a chance to get to know me, and for me to know her. The next morning, she showed me several photo albums of all my birth relatives. But it was only when I saw a picture of her as a teenager that I truly began to connect with her. Although I had difficulties relating to her as an adult, the innocent, young girl that I saw in that picture reminded me of myself, and my heart softened to her innocent, childlike personality. Two of my three children have met my birth mother, and they immediately picked up on the similarities of our personalities — that we both have the same sense of humour and like to tell lame jokes, and that we’re both rather impulsive — in a good way. Even though I connect with her more as a distant aunt or cousin rather than as a mother, I believe in the years to come, as we continue to learn more about one another, we might be able to attain that level. But one of the first things I said to her when I met her was, “Thank you for not aborting me.” I realize that, under the circumstances and in the eyes of the secular world, many believe she would have been justified had she chosen to do so. Although I will never know who my birth father is, I ask the Lord to forgive him. And thanks be to God that He always brings good out of every bad situation. For He knew that someday I would willingly choose to give my life to Him and to follow His Son, Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour. And that I would come to worship and glorify Him through the creative gifts and talents He has given me, with the creation of my Adopt-A-Wing Devotionals. These devotionals are distributed in various parts of Ontario, including prisons, to share my love for the Lord, and especially to reach out to those who don’t know God’s abundant love, His mercy and His forgiveness. To be a vessel for the Lord’s Light is a blessing I am deeply thankful for. The gentle Hands that have guided me each day, my spirit now recognizes as those having formed me in the womb of my birth mother so many years ago. The loving arms that have cradled me and protected me under God’s wing throughout my life, I have felt through the love and care of my adoptive parents—my mom and dad. Adoption is the loving option. I also believe open adoption is the healthier alternative than to having permanently sealed records. It is an adult adoptee’s right, when they are ready to take that step, to be able to know the part of themselves that began at the beginning of their lives — if only for medical reasons. Therefore, to birth parents, I would like to say that I admire your courage and your ability to trust in doing the right thing for your child. It takes a strong and steadfast person to give up and surrender one’s own child for a better quality of life. From the deepest part of my heart, I, along with many adoptive parents, say thank you for choosing life. As God gave up His only Son to redeem humanity with Himself, He understands what you are going through. To adoptive parents, I would like to say that your devotion to taking in and loving children as your own, is a gift from God. You have been chosen by our Heavenly Father to receive these little ones and love them as He does. Do not be afraid to let them search for the part of themselves that has been hidden from them since their birth. But trust that they will always embrace and respect you as the mom and dad they have grown up to know and cherish. The birth parents of your child will always be forever grateful to you for raising that child with the love of real and true parents. To other fellow adoptees, I would like to say that, first and foremost, God is your true Creator, and He created you for a purpose. You were not unwanted. You were designed by the Master Creator for His divine will and glory. And He has a plan for your life that is beyond your greatest imaginations. When God is at the center of your lives, the adoption triangle then becomes a pyramid, with God at the apex, bringing everyone together in harmony, and a divinely created and blessed union with one another. In closing, as I was preparing for this meeting, and I re-read the poem “Heart of An Adoptee”, I suddenly realized that, even though I had written that poem for my mom several years ago, I had also subconsciously written it for my Heavenly Father, in my soul’s search for my true Love, who chose me before I was born. But Father it’s *You*, who gave me my life. Who carried me through, and gave me Your light. How could I abandon, a Father like You? And turn away from, a love that’s so true. Through years upon searching, for answers unknown. Why am I here? Why was I born? To find You and love You, my Father, so dear. Our hearts joined together, with love through the years. Thank you, Carole Roy |
| Laura Tedder's Story -- Laura was conceived in rape and survived her birthmother numerous attempts to abort her. Laura is from Warren, MI, and is available for speaking -- irishcreamlaura@aol.com "Every child a wanted child," so the Planned Parenthood slogan goes. My name is Laura Tedder and I know something about that. After all, I was conceived when my birthmother was raped at a bar. Abortion was illegal in Michigan in 1948, though that didn’t stop her from trying to abort me throughout pregnancy “every way possible.” I survived those multiple abortion attempts, and as a result, was born with cancer. She then abandoned me at my uncle and aunt’s home when I was only two days old. They subsequently adopted me. To say my life has been difficult is an understatement. The complications from the cancer, i.e., the attempted abortions, have led to dozens and dozens of surgeries since. Despite all the hardships I have endured, I am a living argument against Planned Parenthood’s slogan. I'm a walking miracle. I'm lucky to be alive. I had a will to live and struggled my way into this world. God put me here for a reason and I love life! My aunt and uncle welcomed me into their loving home two days after my birth. While my birth mother was not able to raise me and the two of us do not share a close relationship, I was indeed wanted and loved by my aunt and uncle, who are, and always have been, my mom and dad. While being adopted can have some negative consequences for a child, I have been forced to deal with a lot more. I was diagnosed with retinoblastoma, a cancer of the eye when I was two years old. Doctors had to remove my right eye before the cancer spread. I have had many surgeries since to correct the trauma left from the cancer. The treatment included radiation, which in turn caused a brain tumor and several more surgeries years later. At one point in 1998, I was given only two weeks to live because of the brain tumor. Despite my frequent visits to the operating room, my life can be described as a continuing trip through life, and hilariously funny at times. Some pro-choicers would say, “Well, you see, it probably would have been best that she would have been aborted.” But wait a second -- this is my life that you are talking about! It’s pretty rugged to say something like that to someone. It's unfeeling and unfair. I can’t see how they could say they “care” about women! I was dealt a hand of bad cards, but I kept persevering. I currently live in Warren, Michigan with my husband John of nearly 45 years, and we’ve been blessed with one son and three wonderful grandchildren. My birth mother is still alive, and although we have not made peace with each other (despite my efforts), she has made peace with herself. I don't have any hatred for her -- I'm too old for that. When you get older, you just see everything differently. I have forgiven her and harbor no resentment. After another brain surgery in 2006, I decided to write an autobiography dealing with my struggles in life and am currently working to have it published. I don’t know why I have had so many challenges, but I hope my life story will inspire others to believe they can overcome their own struggles through faith in God and believing that you are here for a purpose and in due time, you’ll see His light and know what you are here for. I wrote it for someone going through the same problems, to show him or her there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I know that part of my purpose is to be an inspiration to others. Any people in similar circumstances with a parent should let go of their resentment sooner so they can reconcile before it is too late. I hope that any woman facing a crisis pregnancy like my mother would follow the advice of the slogan, and understand that every child is a wanted child! Now matter how you get pregnant, it's a miracle baby. No matter what the circumstances, it's not the baby's fault. They were meant to live. Everyone needs a chance for life -- you don't get many shots at it. A "walking miracle" certainly knows something about that. -- Laura Tedders, Warren, Michigan |
Ildiko Curtis' Story -- conceived in rape, born in Hungary and now
residing in Texas. Ildiko is available for speaking --
lampasasildi@wildblue.net
Recently my mother confessed to me that I was conceived out of
rape. She continued the pregnancy with me since she didn’t know
about abortion at the time, and I was able to be born. When I was
only three months old, she became pregnant again, but this time she
did know about the choice of abortion and terminated that child.
After her abortion, she became sterile and could never conceive
again. I am glad she didn’t abort me, or her family line would have
ended.
The reason I want to be a face for those who have been conceived
in rape is because most countries first legalize abortion in rape
cases. The justification to kill a child for his father’s crime becomes
the door to make abortion legal. What people don’t realize is that
the trauma of rape will never be healed through the trauma of
abortion. Why should the child receive the death sentence for his
father’s crime? The Bible says, “Fathers shall not be put to death for
their children, nor children put to death for their fathers, each is to
die for his own sin.” (Duet.24: 16) I believe that children are a
blessing whether they were conceived in rape or not.
When I was little I knew somehow that I had a brother and even
played games and pretended that he was there. When I would ask
my parents if I had a brother the answer was always, no. When I was
40 years old, my mother plainly told me that she aborted my brother.
This caused me to have a lot of anger and mistrust toward her and I
cried for him. In my mind, she robbed me of the brother I always
wanted. I didn’t even want to see her or talk to her for many years.
The reason she gave me for her abortion was that they were so
poverty stricken that they couldn’t feed another mouth.
My father always wanted a son. He did not know until later that my
mother had an abortion behind his back and the child was a boy. I
believe the abortion became a wedge in my parent’s relationship that
later led to a divorce. This also made me understand why my father
often said to me that I should have been a boy. He treated me like
one, and I believed the lie that only boys were valuable. I tried to
please my father to gain his love and acted and dressed like a boy
for him. This false belief caused me a lot of problems in life,
including suicidal thoughts.
My mother could never emotionally connect with me; neither could
she express love which, to this day, causes me pain. I believe her
abortion contributed to the breakdown in her maternal bonding
instincts. Today, I have forgiven my mother and my father and God
has healed my wounds. To put closure to my grief, I erected a
symbol in a cemetery for my brother and I named him, “Attila” --
meaning, "father-like."
I also realize how the abortion policy has affected my home country
Hungary. My friend who grew up to be a pediatrician explained to me
how she was trained that the “defective born” children were not to be
kept alive in the hospital. One day when I was hospitalized there, I
heard desperate cries all night long. I discovered that the old people
in the ward who didn’t have relatives were denied care, food and
water by the staff. This was the policy at the time.
It is clear that once the door is opened to legalized abortion, it
doesn't stop there. I believe that everybody has a purpose in life;
therefore, the killing of any innocent human is very wrong. If one is
vulnerable, all of us are vulnerable. Any one of us could be next.
-- Ildiko Curtis, lampasasildi@wildblue.net
Ildiko was born in Budapest, Hungary. In 1963 she moved to
Germany where she met her husband. She immigrated to the US in
1975. Ildiko studied Administration of Justice and holds a nursing
license. Today she lives with her husband and three children in
Texas. The couple’s ranch serves as a ministry to youth. She
travels with Pro-life organizations as a pro-life spokeswoman. Her
work has extended to Western Africa and Eastern Europe. She also
appeared on radio and television.
residing in Texas. Ildiko is available for speaking --
lampasasildi@wildblue.net
Recently my mother confessed to me that I was conceived out of
rape. She continued the pregnancy with me since she didn’t know
about abortion at the time, and I was able to be born. When I was
only three months old, she became pregnant again, but this time she
did know about the choice of abortion and terminated that child.
After her abortion, she became sterile and could never conceive
again. I am glad she didn’t abort me, or her family line would have
ended.
The reason I want to be a face for those who have been conceived
in rape is because most countries first legalize abortion in rape
cases. The justification to kill a child for his father’s crime becomes
the door to make abortion legal. What people don’t realize is that
the trauma of rape will never be healed through the trauma of
abortion. Why should the child receive the death sentence for his
father’s crime? The Bible says, “Fathers shall not be put to death for
their children, nor children put to death for their fathers, each is to
die for his own sin.” (Duet.24: 16) I believe that children are a
blessing whether they were conceived in rape or not.
When I was little I knew somehow that I had a brother and even
played games and pretended that he was there. When I would ask
my parents if I had a brother the answer was always, no. When I was
40 years old, my mother plainly told me that she aborted my brother.
This caused me to have a lot of anger and mistrust toward her and I
cried for him. In my mind, she robbed me of the brother I always
wanted. I didn’t even want to see her or talk to her for many years.
The reason she gave me for her abortion was that they were so
poverty stricken that they couldn’t feed another mouth.
My father always wanted a son. He did not know until later that my
mother had an abortion behind his back and the child was a boy. I
believe the abortion became a wedge in my parent’s relationship that
later led to a divorce. This also made me understand why my father
often said to me that I should have been a boy. He treated me like
one, and I believed the lie that only boys were valuable. I tried to
please my father to gain his love and acted and dressed like a boy
for him. This false belief caused me a lot of problems in life,
including suicidal thoughts.
My mother could never emotionally connect with me; neither could
she express love which, to this day, causes me pain. I believe her
abortion contributed to the breakdown in her maternal bonding
instincts. Today, I have forgiven my mother and my father and God
has healed my wounds. To put closure to my grief, I erected a
symbol in a cemetery for my brother and I named him, “Attila” --
meaning, "father-like."
I also realize how the abortion policy has affected my home country
Hungary. My friend who grew up to be a pediatrician explained to me
how she was trained that the “defective born” children were not to be
kept alive in the hospital. One day when I was hospitalized there, I
heard desperate cries all night long. I discovered that the old people
in the ward who didn’t have relatives were denied care, food and
water by the staff. This was the policy at the time.
It is clear that once the door is opened to legalized abortion, it
doesn't stop there. I believe that everybody has a purpose in life;
therefore, the killing of any innocent human is very wrong. If one is
vulnerable, all of us are vulnerable. Any one of us could be next.
-- Ildiko Curtis, lampasasildi@wildblue.net
Ildiko was born in Budapest, Hungary. In 1963 she moved to
Germany where she met her husband. She immigrated to the US in
1975. Ildiko studied Administration of Justice and holds a nursing
license. Today she lives with her husband and three children in
Texas. The couple’s ranch serves as a ministry to youth. She
travels with Pro-life organizations as a pro-life spokeswoman. Her
work has extended to Western Africa and Eastern Europe. She also
appeared on radio and television.
| "Grace Hope"'s Story -- a rape victim who declined the Morning After Pill In September 2009 I was raped. It wasn’t at all how I expected to spend that weekend -- first in urgent care, and then at the hospital to have the rape kit performed. I couldn't believe this was happening to me! -- that I was lying on the hospital bed in the SART room as the SART nurse performed the rape kit on me. How did I get here? I was terrified and an emotional wreck. I couldn't help but sob! I felt so alone! I've been Pro-Life all my life ,but as the rape kit was performed on me the only thing that went through my mind was that I finally understood why some rape victims would decide to have an abortion! And that thought saddened me . . . because there was no way I would want to be pregnant with the child of my rapist. Just the SART nurse asking me the question, "Do you think you could be pregnant?" made me want to scream!! I hated my rapist and wished he could experience the same pain I was going through, because the rape kit is very painful. But I realized how wrong I was to even think about abortion when every life is a gift . . . no matter how that life comes packaged to us! I was embarrassed for thinking about destroying an innocent life just because my pain was too difficult for me to endure. How selfish of me to think my needs were more important than the "Life” of another human being! I immediately repented to God and asked His forgiveness for even thinking of murdering another by thinking of aborting my unborn baby. And no unborn child deserves capital punishment for the sins of his/her father. So I knew as I sobbed and as they took the most graphic pictures of my injuries that I could never take a life that wasn't mine to take! Only GOD is the Author and Creator of Life, and Life should be revered as a gift from conception until natural death. So when I was presented with the Morning After Pill I told the SART nurse, “No," that I wouldn’t take it "because I’m pro-Life!” I knew the purpose of the pill is to “terminate a pregnancy” to ultimately “destroy" the "life of another human being.” There are three ways the Morning After Pill operates: 1) If you have not yet ovulated, it prevents ovulation. 2) If you have ovulated, but have not yet conceived, it prevents conception. 3) If you have conceived a child, it prevents the unborn child from implanting in the uterine wall (referred to as "blastocyst" by the time the unborn child would be ready to implant), by creating a hostile environment, thereby killing that unborn child because you've cut off his or her ability to receive the nutrients he or she needs to continue developing. The SART team will tell you that the pill won't "terminate a pregnancy." But the SART team would be deceiving you because the "Morning After Pill" does "terminate a pregnancy." Fortunately, I wasn't pregnant, but if I had been, I know I can say without any reservations that I would have chosen "LIFE" for my baby! Because that child would have been my baby ~ my gift from GOD! Since my rape, I have forgiven my rapist and have recently started a Facebook page www.facebook.com/pages/A-Victims-Journey-to-Finding-Peace-Healing- Hope-and-Forgiveness/233835134423?ref=ts#/pages/A-Victims-Journey-to- Finding-Peace-Healing-Hope-and-Forgiveness/233835134423?ref=mf to help other’s heal. Yours for Life, "Grace Hope " |
| Julie Savage's Story -- rape victim who became pregnant and is raising her child. She also started a ministry for rape victims -- http://www.peacehopeandhealing.co.uk/ Julie is from the United Kingdom and is available for speaking -- jsavage641@btinternet.com My story ultimately spans many years, but here I present some of the main points. I was twenty-four years old. I was happy, in a relationship, healthy and confident. It was what today would be called an ‘acquaintance rape’. The man was old enough to be my father, a friend/employer of my own partner and father to a friend at work. He was somewhat of the ‘big man’ of the village I lived in, the one who owned most land and whose family had dominated the place for generations. But he was friendly enough and we had got on well over the two years that I had known him. He was, however, a drinker and regularly got into fights with non locals due to his Welsh nationalist fervent beliefs. He was a 'ladies man', but always with those of his own age and we had all heard the rumours of his use of prostitutes since his marriage had ended. But he wasn’t alone in this. Others in the community were similar -- it just seemed part of the way of life amongst this small insular village. I thought he was alright. He was always kind to me and my partner and accepted me, despite my ‘Englishness’, because my partner, also Welsh, had accepted me as part of the community. A group of us went out one night, not a group of drunken youngsters, but a group of people from the same village, including this man and a dear seventy year old. We had a lot to drink and it resulted in my having a massive argument with my partner. I walked out and began to walk back to the village with him threatening to take the lamb that I had hand-reared to the slaughter house with the rest of his flock the following day. Later that evening, I visited this man who had always told both my partner and I that he would always help us out -- he had even offered to pay for the wedding if we ‘just got on with it and got married.’ And so, I went to see him. He was kind and understanding. He promised to sort things out with my partner and, if necessary, to buy the lamb and keep it at his farm until my partner had ‘calmed down.’ I had a cup of coffee and some soup. I lost the next three days. The passage of time and place over those days is completely distorted, even to this day. I remember times of joking and feeling fine and times of fear and physical pain; which came when I couldn’t say. I can recall him raping me at least four times and seemingly passing out throughout since I can still not recall the ‘end’ as it were. I remember sometimes putting up a fight and getting hit and other times freezing with fear and just wanting it to end. The first time I became truly lucid, I was sitting on a couch in front of a television and the news was on. I felt sick, dizzy, and shocked. But still, at that time, not really sure what had happened. I didn’t even know what day it was. He just looked over at me and said it was the best sex he had ever had. My first thought was that he must be playing a joke, and so I just said, "Well I hope you took precautions." No, he assumed I would be on the pill because of my being in a relationship. I simply stood up and went home. When I got home, I went into the shower and only then did I see the state of my body, the cuts, bruises and massive bite marks -- one of which left a scar which took over five years to disappear -- and it was only then that the internal pain hit me. Flashbacks occurred over a period of a year. He admitted what he had done to some. but said that it didn’t matter because ‘she was out of it.’ My partner still blamed me for going up there in the first place, and despite numerous attempts to restore our relationship, I eventually returned to live in the town I was brought up in as a child. When I found out I was pregnant, my partner immediately suspected that it wasn’t his and so did I. A scan at the hospital originally suggested that it could be my partner's. So despite having moments when I felt I not only wanted, but needed an abortion, I decided not to abort. However, when I became seriously ill with pre- eclampsia, which left me in a critical condition, a scan changed the original date making the baby very likely to be the man who raped me. After three months in the hospital with a sick baby who I couldn't bond with, and after the trauma of a HIV test because of his past with prostitutes, I suffered from what they called a psychotic episode brought on by severe reactive depression. I was considered a suicide risk and a threat to the life of my baby. I was sectioned and locked up away from my baby. Eventually released, I was determined to crawl my way back. Fourteen years on, I love my daughter and have recently sought a DNA test from the man who raped me who is now in his late 60's. He refused. I had thought of police action, but then I remembered the response of people. Some didn’t believe. Some thought little of it. I wasn’t a virgin. This wasn’t rape in a dark alley by a stranger. Somehow it didn’t ‘fit the picture’ of the typical rape and yet, having had sexual partners, I was very aware of the difference between consent and rape. The marks on my body testified to what my mind and heart knew and what my memory -- though distorted in many ways -- recalled. I spent eight years angry, struggling to bring up my child, and seeking the bloodiest of revenge, but ultimately always being too scared. I spent eight years feeling ashamed and also so angry that I was not believed and that I was blamed in some way for what had happened. I worked hard to get my life back, and whilst on the outside I seemed to do so successfully, inside the trauma of the rape, my serious pregnancy illness, baby’s birth, and being sectioned away, haunted me. It was my anger with what the Bible seemed to say about rape that was the means God used to open my eyes to the fact of His existence through Jesus Christ. The story of my conversion is below, but for now I want to share that only He has helped me to understand and to be at peace. He has taken my anger and grief and used it to show me things about who I am and about who He is. I can still get upset to this day, though never as deep as before. I can still get angry, but never as deep as before. The deepness hasn’t dissipated with the passage of time, since after eight years, it was still as raw as that first lucid day. The deepness has dissipated since He has begun the healing process. I will never have justice in this world. But I know that my God will avenge. I also know, however, that He could save that man and forgive him. I initially found solace in the former, but now am beginning to accept the latter. If you are a sexual abuse victim, then I’m sure that will make you angry. I cannot convince you of the reality of Christ and how peace and hope are possible. I can only tell my story and pray that Christ uses it as a means through which to whisper to you, ‘I am here and with me there is peace with God and hope and healing.’ Before I became a Christian, I would have been offended at being associated with what I had considered to be a human construction, sold as some ‘truth,’ taken up by those gutless enough not to live according to their own sense of morality. I was polite to Christians, but inside, they made me angry. They promoted an absolute: God. I didn’t believe in absolutes. I equated that with the denial of true human freedom. Christianity was simply an oppressive system of thought. and the sooner the world was free from its ‘taint,’ the better. If my criticism of Christianity had once been rooted in primarily academic thought, it also soon became one emotionally motivated by the personal experience of rape. If I could find, or create, opportunities in my teaching position to undermine some of its basic tenets, I would. I took witchcraft as a symbolic contestation of the patriarchal content of Christianity; lesbianism in the same way. I believed the personal to be political -- so I took the latter into my personal life. I wanted to show Christianity as both ‘mad,’ but more importantly ‘bad,’ and to be rightfully challenged. My Will, (despite having had occasion to confront my mortality and that of my daughters’), stated the absolute need for me to have a humanist burial. I wanted to take my challenge even to the point of my death. What began as a range of hostile e-mails to various Christian anti- abortion groups, led to my participating on Christian discussion forums. I enjoyed the challenge of this, often boasting to my students of my ‘victories’ in arguments. I read the Bible in order to challenge it. After some months, I began to be more than intellectually curious, and found I was battling against a heart which wanted to ask, ‘Are you there God?’ I was angry with myself for wanting to even ask this question. As the curiosity grew, so did the conflict. Partly in response to a challenge, and partly as an attempt to just end a journey that I had never imagined finding myself on, I decided to go to a church. Apart from a couple of marriages and funerals, I had never been to a church service. I sat for three weeks outside Grace. I watched. My pride hurt. When I finally made it through the doors, on the way in and out ensuring that nobody I knew would see me, it was less with a truly seeking heart and more with the hope of confirming my original criticism. Then life would return to normal. For months I listened, and the conflict and frustration grew. For some reason, I couldn’t just quit and ‘walk.’ I could only walk with the ammunition needed to justify my original position. So I decided to create a situation (an argument) which could justify my leaving in a self-righteous manner. The problem was that those involved were not playing the game the way I had hoped. Not enough ammunition. I tried to engage the visiting pastor. He wasn’t having any of it either. I was left very angry and frustrated -- and still needing an excuse to quit and walk. Whilst in the car driving home, God became a reality. I knew He was there. It was a simple knowingness -- as I know the reality of the air I breathe. For over thirty hours, I struggled with God -- no sleep and no work. I tried to ignore Him by desperately convincing myself that His reality was in fact just some psychological phenomenon. If I ignored Him, stopped going to church, and stopped reading the Bible, I would soon recover. I went to bed early, quite at peace with this. I had a strategy to deal with His seeming reality. In fact, I was quite chuffed with myself. I had a story to share: how Christianity had even half-indoctrinated me! At one o’clock in the morning, I found myself wide awake. I walked downstairs. I just sat there. Through what seemed like an eternity, a sense of nothingness just grew and grew -- beyond a mere negative emotion -- beyond depression. Absolute nothingness. And then I was made aware of the presence of Christ. I did not see or hear anything, but my very being knew His reality and His presence. And I knew what He was saying: "That’s enough now." He was right. It was enough. During the moments that followed, I did not decide to adopt some man-made principles. I did not reach out in human desperation to some therapeutic humanly constructed knowledge form. I did not even become ‘all religious.’ I entered into a relationship with my God who had hung on a cross for me so that, at that moment, I could finally be made right with Him -- so that I could finally know Him. On reflection, I believe that the nothingness I experienced during those early hours of the morning was but a tiny glimpse of what it is to be separated from God. It is only due to His grace that I will not face such a thing for eternity after my death. That happened October 30th, 2002. I was baptised seven months later. Today, I remain convinced of the reality of Christ. Through the many physical, spiritual and emotional trials that followed my conversion, I have known more than ever that October 30, 2002, was indeed no illusion. With trials have come great blessings, the greatest one being the constant affirmation of Christ as indeed real, alive today, still calling people to know Him, and still remaining the closest and wisest friend I will ever know who guides me daily through this life and eventually into eternity. I know I remain far from what I should be. But I know with absolute certainty that I am no longer what I was. That is the power of the God that I had once declared ‘dead.’ Julie Savage -- jsavage641@btinternet.com |
