So. It's not a secret to everyone, but for all practical purposes has been the deepest, darkest, sweetest secret of my life.
In the fall of 1986 at the new age of 16 years old, I was testing my wings, as I often did. I had the car for the night and there was a dance at the coliseum I was planning to attend. But first, thought I'd hook up with a few friends for drinks first. Better to get "loosened up" before the big social event. I planned to meet them at some guy's house. I didn't know him nor anything about the place, except that drinks would be available and my friends would be around. There were several cars there when I arrived, so I decided to stop.
As I approached the door, I could hear music blaring inside. I knocked. A man answered the door by grabbing me by the arm and tossing me inside. As I tried to get away, it occurred to me that no one else was there. He told me he had been watching me for "some time" and now it was time to have me. He ripped off my clothes, threw me into a dark room that appeared to be a bedroom. He had a strong hold of me saying crazy things, a wild look in his eyes as he turned a light on. When he turned the light on, he was naked and as crazy eyed as anyone I've ever seen before or seen. He proceeded to rape me. I believe at some point I quit fighting and just lay silent, begging did not help - it only made it worse. When he was finished and finally let me up, I frantically gathered my ripped clothes and shredded pride and ran out the door. I was not even totally clothed as I ran. He threw me my shoes and a Jesus medal. He said he had prayed for that night and told me maybe the medal could help me some time. He laughed as I drove away.
The tears would not stop. My mind was filled with a fog. What the hell do I do now? My parents would be very angry at me for not being where I said I'd be, I couldn't show up at the dance in this shape to even begin to look for any friends. Before cell phone age, things were different. If I went to the cops my parents would be contacted...the legal system seemed a very unjust system especially when it involved minor girls and a sexual situation. I felt alot of shame, guilt, anger, sadness....all rolled up in a ball.
This was not my first experience with sex. You see, I was used as a sex toy or whatever you want to call it, since the young age of 5. And just as before, there was so much shame, fear, confusion.
I drove around for what seemed like several hours and then went home. My parents were in asleep. I whispered I was home, threw my clothes away, showered and went to bed. This night could never be mentioned or spoke out loud.
Seems, almost immediately, I became ill. I was vomiting several times a day, every day. I figured it was nerves. I was totally sad, scared and broken down inside but was trying to put on a happy face for the outside.
The sickness did not go away soon. I kinda told my mom what had happened and asked her not to tell my dad. My dad never said anything to me, but they both accompanied me to an appointment with a dr. out of town. It was an OB/GYN. As the doctor told me the statistics that 1 in 100 rapes results in pregnancy, my heart sunk into my stomach and I knew it was true. What I had tried to avoid as the truth, I was indeed pregnant, I saw my mother's expression change into a sadness that was evident for years to come. I opened the door from her office and saw my dad sitting in the waiting room at the end of the hall. He was awaiting the verdict of this dr. Tears streamed down my face as I walked toward him....the closer I got, it seemed he got further away. When he saw my face, he knew. He didn't say anything.
So. From this appointment, my parents took me straight to my mom's sisters house. The adults visited while I was sent to the living room. Then we left. My parents informed me on the way home that I would be moving to live with these family members. I had always been very close to my aunt, staying there some in the summers. They would figure it all out and let me know what was to happen. They didn't seem angry. They didn't yell. They didn't talk. They didn't embrace me. They didn't seem joyful by any stretch. They didn't seem ANYTHING.
That was right before Christmas. I knew it was a secret. That's why I was being sent away, to hide me. They said it would be easier for me. I'm not sure how totally changing everything you know, at a time like this, could be easier...but parents know best. I didn't utter a word of it to anyone.
So, in January at mid term of my Jr. year in high school I moved from my immediate family and started a new school. The staff there knew the situation and I had gone before a board to be admitted there. The students just had rumors and whispers in the hallway. Finally, a boy told me, you know what they are saying about you, right? I told him it was true. I was pregnant. No details were ever asked from that point on. It seemed the kids just accepted that I was pregnant and embraced me, including me in all the school functions. The guy that had so awkwardly asked if I knew what was being said...well, he became a friend and was my date to Jr. Prom. We all went separate ways for the summer, and my future was in limbo. I wasn't sure where I would attend school my sr year or how the summer would turn out.
By January, I had pretty well decided that I would place this child for adoption. He was going to need a lot more than I could provide. I was a kid myself. I had no direction for the future. I had little experience for skills in the work place to support myself, much less anyone else. And quite frankly, I wasn't sure how I would feel about him. I recognized him as a person. I loved him. I felt him growing inside me and moving to the sound of my voice. I would sing to him and say prayers out loud to try to calm him and myself at times.
Seems very silly now to think that I might not have loved him, that I could ever think ill thoughts because of how he was conceived.
On June 18, 1987 at the age of 16, I gave birth to a healthy beautiful baby boy, Matthew Ross. I had bravely and strongly told the hospital staff that I did not want to see him after he was born. I was so afraid that I would not be strong enough to go through with the adoption if I saw him or held him. They respected my wishes and I was placed on another floor of the hospital until I was dismissed. He was dismissed shortly before me.
A few days after being dismissed, I was asked to accompany Matthew and his new adoptive mom and sister out of state to complete more legal paperwork. Reluncantly, I went. I held him, helped take care of him on the trip, stayed in the same hotel room with them and heard his cries. He was heart wrenching to me to leave him behind in his new home with his new family, without me. I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to board the plane. But after what seemed an eternity of walking towards the plane, I boarded and returned to my parents home for the summer.
Of course I was sad. I was very sad. I was angry. I still felt I had done the right thing.
The adventure of getting him here, was anything but sweet. But seeing his smiles and changes, to be a part of his life. Fun filled summer visits for 20 years was one of the sweetest, biggest blessings in my life!
Tonight, I celebrate him and the impact he had on my life. 5 years ago tonight, Matthew was out testing his wings. He was driving around a hilly tree lined road with five other kids. He was driving at a high rate of speed and tried to do a skid he had seen in the movies. He hit a tree and died instantly, killing four other teens in the car. I still grieve his early departure from this world. I hope he has found a peace like no other he ever experienced here.
Eternal rest grant unto him O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon him and may he rest in peace.
May his soul and all the souls of the faitfully departed through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
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