I was too young to care about consequences and I was too young to know better.
I grew up in a very dysfunctional household. What a way to start this off, eh? But it’s true. My siblings and I were all adopted and some of us seemed to handle it in different ways. My parents tried to combat the lonely feeling they knew we would have some day with therapy but once we got home, nothing was reinforced. I won’t say my childhood was terrible, it just wasn’t as “normal” as it should have been. I started sneaking out and experimenting at an early age. I was the youngest and was on complete and total lock-down by my parents. I held a job after school every day and wasn’t allowed to really do anything else. My actions never led to that, those were just my parents in a nut shell. So, I’d sneak out and hang out with my friends who I couldn’t see during normal hours. It took a while before we would be drinking or using drugs. I always would stick to drinking and it wasn’t very often, maybe on a weekend. However, I always made sure to be home before my parents would wake up. I got away with it for awhile until one night.
I wanted to go out one night, I can’t remember what happened to my plans but they fell through. I ended up at my neighbors house when I got a call from a “friend” of mine telling me they were throwing a party and would come pick me up to go to their place. I was bored and really excited to just get out for a little while. My “friend” agreed to take me home later that evening as well so I knew I’d be back home in time to not get caught. When he came to pick me up, one or two other guys were in the car with him. I didn’t think too much of it still- naive. We got to my friends house and it was just us three. I was extremely uncomfortable but I trusted my “friend” and tried to relax. We were all just watching tv or some kind of movie. This was a long time ago so forgive my terrible memory. I was here for a few minutes before I was offered a drink which I happily drank to cut the awkwardness that was surrounding me. Before I knew it, I was blacked out. I remember nothing of what happened next. All I remember was vaguely drifting in and out. At some point, I think I mentioned being on my period and remembered being on the floor on a bedroom. That was all. I woke up the next morning. Birds chirping, sun up, far too late to make it home before my dad woke up. I got out of a bed in a place I didn’t even remember going to. I was in a different house with none of my belongings and no clothes of my own. I still had no idea what happened to me. I frantically woke up my “friend” who was asleep next to me and forced him to get up and take me home. At this point, I didn’t want to know what happened or how I ended up somewhere else, I just wanted to get home. So I throw on a shirt of his and head home. As I was in the car, I flipped the mirror and saw golf ball sized hickies all over my body. All I wanted to do was cry and vomit but I tried to keep my composure since I was almost home. You can probably guess how my arrival home went; not well. I didn’t go into details with my parents over what happened, I still never have and I hold a lot of regret about that. They grounded me and got me tested for STDs.
After this incident, I wasn’t me anymore. I tried to reach out to my friends to tell them what happened but nobody believed my story. My circle of friends all thought I was making it up and sided with “him”. My boyfriend at the time even took his side over mine and broke up with me. At this point, I was just over everyone and everything. I ignored everyone and just kept to myself. It took a while for me to talk to anyone after this but one person was more than willing to be a shoulder for me to cry on and they were so sweet. It was my neighbors friend who I was very familiar with. He had been dating one of the girls next door for a very long time but at this point, I was just friends with him. It was quite some time before we started talking in a serious manner. I can’t remember when things became sexual but after what had happened with me prior, I just wanted a better experience to remember. I invited him over (to sneak over since I no longer did the sneaking out) and the rest was history. I was too young to care about consequences and I was too young to know better. We continued to talk a little bit after that but we still weren’t serious in any way, shape or form. A few weeks later, I woke up to my boobs hurting like they had never hurt before. I wasn’t sure what was going on but at some point, I can’t to the conclusion that I was pregnant and bought a test. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to read those test results- “positive”.
I don’t remember who I told besides the father himself but I kept it very quiet. I cannot remember how long it was a secret until it wasn’t anymore. One day, I was in art class, when I started getting lightheaded and had a seizure. I hit my head on the concrete floor and the school called my mom to let her know what happened. I had epilepsy growing up so this wasn’t uncommon but hitting my head warranted a trip to the hospital with my mother. They asked me all of the routine questions and made me do all of the things they’d normally do- weight, blood pressure, urine sample. We went back into a room and the doctor excused my mom at one point to tell me that I was pregnant. They asked if I knew and if my parents knew. I had to explain that I did but my mom didn’t and then they asked if I wanted to be the one to tell them which I said “no” to. I can’t remember what happened next but my dad was there before I knew it and when we got home, my mom had already made an appointment for me to have an abortion. It was never discussed with me, I was told that this was going to happen, I was going to pay for it and nobody was going to ever forget my actions and the consequences. Thinking back, I just cry thinking about how awful my mother had to have felt. To lose a child then adopt three because of not being able to have more, only to have her youngest now have to have an abortion. It kills me to remember. The first appointment was the typical “first appointment” and my second wasn’t too long after. I passed all of the test with flying colors and just marked the days off the calendar until I had to go through with this. I wasn’t happy but I wasn’t sad about it either. I was only 16. This was before “16 and pregnant” and this was definitely not a typical thing back then. The day of my appointment, I remember this girl being in the waiting room with her friend. They were making jokes, laughing and just trying to stay positive. It was a weird environment in there, especially with my parents sitting next to me. I don’t remember much after getting called back besides undressing and getting an IV. After that, I woke up to it all being over. I understood why my parents made me do this. I understood that I was young and needed to finish school. None of this was the path that I wanted for myself. It took a while to come to terms with it all but I did. Many years later, THE guy, would continue to reach out to me. He felt bad that I had to go through that, felt bad that he couldn’t contribute to the procedure financially, just felt bad about it all I suppose. Not bad enough to stop having sex without protection though because he got a few other girls pregnant before and after me. We even slept together again once I was much older. I’m not sure what magic powers this guy had over me but he could make me melt just by looking at me and he knew it. As the years went on, we didn’t stay very close. He got another girl pregnant, had two kids with her and ended up somewhere alone with said two kids. I however ended up married with three little boys. The youngest, I just lost to stillbirth at full gestation. The pain of losing him outweighs anything I had ever been through in my life.
My childhood was messy. It was full of hatred for myself and everyone else. I made mistakes, got taken advantage of and got hurt more times than I could count. However, they all led me here. They led me to my amazing husband. They led me to my sweet children. They led me to a life that may not be perfect but is perfect for me.
I don’t regret it.
