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testimony
As I sat at my computer at work and answered phones I could barely concentrate. My friends and co-workers began to wonder what was wrong. At this point I had only spoken to my mother about the pregnancy. I tried to pretend I was not pregnant. I tried to push the thoughts away. I believed that if I threw myself into school and work I could forget it all.
Finally my supervisor Peggy pulled me into her office. "Gina, what's wrong?" With a look of concern she handed me a tissue. "I'm really worried about you." Peggy was the best. She had a heart of gold.
For the first time, I uttered the words to someone other than my mother. "I'm pregnant." Her jaw dropped and I began to sob so loudly that I lost all control.
She held me and then said, "Why are you so sad about being pregnant?"
I could barely speak in between breaths, but I managed to get it out, "I didn't want this."
"What do you mean?" Peggy said. She looked at me as if I were her daughter. "Is it alright if I have someone come talk to you? He is an old friend of mine and he can point you in the right direction."
Making a Decision
I agreed and an older gentleman came in to see me. After questioning me for what felt like hours, he proceeded to give me information about a therapist, one that would help me make a better decision about my unborn child's future. I knew that abortion was wrong, but I was so angry. I was tempted to just have the child removed from inside of me. I did not want any part of the child's father. The baby was a reminder of that man, and I did not want to remember him. I hated him for what he had done to me. The victim in me refused to let me think of the unborn child as a human being.
Shortly after this meeting I went downstairs to eat lunch with my mother. Our relationship was strained. We tried so hard to make it work. By this time I was barely myself and my mother noticed my reddened face. She asked, "Are you okay?"
I whispered a yes, but my mother's co-worker confronted me with what I was putting my mother through: "So, you're pregnant? You should marry that boy. It's bad enough you are pregnant out of wed-lock. You obviously liked the boy when you slept with him."
Losing Control
In that moment I became infuriated. I lost complete control. I reached across her desk and began to hit her. All my pent up anger was unleashed to the point where three people had to pull me off of her. That same day, my mother had me placed in protective services for a mental health evaluation. She was afraid that I might hurt myself or someone else. My mother did not understand why I was so angry, and she was terrified that I had lost my mind.
For years I had bottled up the molestation, sexual, physical and verbal abuse that I had suffered from the man that had married my mother. I could not tell her the countless times that he had hurt me. I knew that if I told her she wouldn't believe me. My perception of love between a man and a woman was warped and corrupted by these haunting events.
How badly I wanted to be free. How badly I wanted to understand what it meant to love someone and have a normal family. I never intended on having a baby this way.
While in a cold isolation room I began to think about God. I prayed, "Father, I feel so alone. I want to be free. Please help me."
He heard that prayer.
Finally my supervisor Peggy pulled me into her office. "Gina, what's wrong?" With a look of concern she handed me a tissue. "I'm really worried about you." Peggy was the best. She had a heart of gold.
For the first time, I uttered the words to someone other than my mother. "I'm pregnant." Her jaw dropped and I began to sob so loudly that I lost all control.
She held me and then said, "Why are you so sad about being pregnant?"
I could barely speak in between breaths, but I managed to get it out, "I didn't want this."
"What do you mean?" Peggy said. She looked at me as if I were her daughter. "Is it alright if I have someone come talk to you? He is an old friend of mine and he can point you in the right direction."
Making a Decision
I agreed and an older gentleman came in to see me. After questioning me for what felt like hours, he proceeded to give me information about a therapist, one that would help me make a better decision about my unborn child's future. I knew that abortion was wrong, but I was so angry. I was tempted to just have the child removed from inside of me. I did not want any part of the child's father. The baby was a reminder of that man, and I did not want to remember him. I hated him for what he had done to me. The victim in me refused to let me think of the unborn child as a human being.
Shortly after this meeting I went downstairs to eat lunch with my mother. Our relationship was strained. We tried so hard to make it work. By this time I was barely myself and my mother noticed my reddened face. She asked, "Are you okay?"
I whispered a yes, but my mother's co-worker confronted me with what I was putting my mother through: "So, you're pregnant? You should marry that boy. It's bad enough you are pregnant out of wed-lock. You obviously liked the boy when you slept with him."
Losing Control
In that moment I became infuriated. I lost complete control. I reached across her desk and began to hit her. All my pent up anger was unleashed to the point where three people had to pull me off of her. That same day, my mother had me placed in protective services for a mental health evaluation. She was afraid that I might hurt myself or someone else. My mother did not understand why I was so angry, and she was terrified that I had lost my mind.
For years I had bottled up the molestation, sexual, physical and verbal abuse that I had suffered from the man that had married my mother. I could not tell her the countless times that he had hurt me. I knew that if I told her she wouldn't believe me. My perception of love between a man and a woman was warped and corrupted by these haunting events.
How badly I wanted to be free. How badly I wanted to understand what it meant to love someone and have a normal family. I never intended on having a baby this way.
While in a cold isolation room I began to think about God. I prayed, "Father, I feel so alone. I want to be free. Please help me."
He heard that prayer.
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foreverHis
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