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Date Rape That Resulted in Pregnancy – Mariya’s Story

Growing up, my father was always working and since he was a transplant surgeon, he would sometimes be gone for days before coming home to his family. The family that was waiting for him consisted of a neglected daughter crying in bed and a frustrated mother with three little boys, eager to tell him what I’d done this time. We have had another bad day. Another little problem had caused a huge rip. Over several years, this tension in the family led to daily arguments and each day became more exhausting than the last. I felt guilty for making my parents’ lives complicated and guilty for their growing distance.  I will never forget the day my parents closed the door on my baby brothers to tell me in private they have chosen divorce. My father was murdered before they had a chance to go through with it.

Without having my dad as the middleman, my mom and I didn’t know how to communicate with each other. I felt so lonely and daydreamed of the day I’d be able to leave home and have a new life. When I graduated high school and went off to live at a huge university in Miami, I was not prepared for the changes I would face.

With too much freedom, I began to make some bad decisions. My grades were dropping as I partied with roommates and associated with older men. I started drinking, too. I could feel my world was shaking and I decided to call my mom for some advice, for something to hold on to. The only thing she knew how to say was what I’d done this time. Instead of the comfort and security I needed, I only felt more guilt. One day near the end of my freshman year, my 30 year old coworker suggested we take a day off and go to the beach early in the afternoon. When we got there he pulled out some drinks. I only had one.

Date-Rape-Mentality-Crop

The next time my eyes opened it was pitch black outside and all the crowds of people I remembered seconds ago were all gone. I had no idea what had happened and was simply relieved to be dropped off back at my dorm. Three months later when I was back in Orlando with my mom (transferred to a community college since I lost my scholarship), I was hanging upside down on monkey bars doing sit ups, a more rigorous workout I had created for myself. Quickly realizing I was only gaining more weight, I decided to take a pregnancy test. I had finally realized what happened that confusing day. I was afraid to tell my mom, so instead I handed her the test. Crying with me, holding me, she said, “No matter what you’ll choose, I’ll support you.” As horrible as the situation was,

I thought this would be the thing that would connect us. One mother to another. I was wrong.

More days led to more rips and I was left feeling guilty for just being pregnant. I felt disgusting and violated by that man, and it was somehow my fault. Only a month later, I was on the street. “Have a nice life.” She told me. “I’m done with you.”

Let that sink in for a moment. Imagine the person you loved most, the only person you had left, in fact, shift from looking at you with hate-filled eyes to not even looking at you at all. Left out on the cold concrete of this huge world. Luckily, an old friend of mine immediately connected me with a family from her church and I remained with them for the rest of the pregnancy. It was a completely different lifestyle. Never a door slammed or a voice raised. I can’t express to you how hard it is to trust again. After having my father murdered by his own patient. After having my coworker drug and rape me in broad daylight. After being kicked out of my own home. Somehow, these people taught me to trust again. I was connected to a Lovely Group of girls that I saw twice a week every week with phone calls in between when I needed it. Instead of yelling what I’d done this time, they’d whisper I did nothing wrong. Crying with me, holding me, they said, “No matter what you’ll choose, we’ll support you.” I dared to believe it, again. To this day, they have not shown me anything short of love. My new trust overflowed and reached yet another family to bond with. A family that would take care of my baby boy,  forever. A warm family that would support him through his darkest days and teach him all the values it took me so long to learn.

When my beautiful son was finally born, it took every whisper, every tear, every hug in my memory to remind myself what love really is, and hand him over to somebody else, forever. 

I used to be broken, but now I am Lovely.