The next month passed quickly, but was full of morning sickness. Just as I was starting to feel better, it was time for the retreat. You could feel the excitement and anticipation in the air as we drove two hours to Tucson and the church that was holding the retreat. Out we piled from the van, luggage in hand, ready for action.
After unpacking, we were led into a huge sanctuary where the weekend itinerary was unfolded and staff introductions were made. The first part of the retreat consisted of group activities which left me feeling disappointed. I was expecting more. I wanted a miracle; I needed answers. Getting to know a group of girls, which I would probably never see again in my lifetime, was not what I had been looking for out of this retreat. So with doubt grabbing hold, I headed to that first evenings service.
The Reverend from the host church was the special speaker that night. I honestly don’t remember the details of that service. What I do remember is the feeling that came over me while I sat there. After the service ended and everyone left, I continued to sit there in the pew. I sat there with tears rolling down my face as I swam in questions. What was I going to do with this baby? Should I put it up for adoption? Should I try to raise it on my own?
Seeing my plight, the Reverend quietly joined me and asked if I wanted to talk. It was at this point that the dam finally broke. All my emotions and fears came bursting out in waves of pain. I hunched over and wailed in agony. Quietly the Reverend sat there, holding me as I rocked back and forth in uncontrollable sobs. As the waves of my emotional release slowed, I began to unfold my story to the Reverend.
He listened intently as I spoke of my broken home life, the rapes I had gone through, and my current condition. Like a scared child, I spilled out my torments, but my heart grew heavier and heavier. I knew what I had to do. It wasn’t what I necessarily wanted to do, but it was what I needed to do. I couldn’t raise a child. I was in no shape to be parent and love unconditionally when I had no example of it myself.
That weekend ended up being more than a spiritual retreat for me. It was a life focusing implosion. I had finally determined to put the baby up for adoption.
Your story was hard for me to read. I too come from an abusive, "religious", conditional love family. I was on my own at 17 and I too was raped, twice. Thankfully, neither of those led to pregnancy. Now, I'm almost 30, happily married and a parent. I'm healthy and whole. The road will continue to be hard but you can make it. You will be an amazing person because of it. I'll be watching for your next post. (((HUGS)))
ReplyDeleteNot to rain on your parade, we're like twins of sorts. There are eerie similarities. But I envy you. I envy you because you are able to lay out and write your life story in a straightforward manner. Me? It will take a Sherlock Holmes to get what I am really trying to say in my blog. I don't know when and where in my blog will my story unfold.
ReplyDeleteYou said in your introduction that you're sharing your story thinking that it will help someone who has gone or is going thru the same experience. I hope that by us reading your blog, we are able to return the gesture. I second Krystan. The way you sound, you are bound to make it! Just keep faith!
it's strange, how people so alike, have a lifelong tendency to 'stumble' upon each other.
ReplyDeleteeven more so in the vast world of the internet
i will join the party and say i too come from a similar background, but also like Sam, it's a big deal to talk about it. I've only done so twice in my life thus far
But life is good now, and i make the most of that every day
Look forward to the next post