What Anti-abortion Activists Don’t Talk About : It Is So Hard Raising Children Conceived By Rape

I have two amazing, beautiful, wonderful, lovely 5 year old twin boys. The are so fantastic, but I feel bad for them. Always, I feel so bad for them.

Rewind just about 6 years.

I’m in the worst relationship I’ve ever been in. She’s physically abused me, and she’s fucked with my head far more than I would know until several years later. Luckily, she isn’t cruel in the bedroom, because she’s been through that she says. Well… I was wrong to think that she wouldn’t do anything.

She’s obsessed over a baby for a while now. She really wants one, and says she will do anything to get one. I don’t, but I nod along in agreement, because I don’t want to get hurt. This is bad news. I already have two kids, what am I going to do if this works. Luckily, I’m on my hormones, and she doesn’t know that as long as I’m on them, I’m infertile, and so it won’t happen.

Then we move to her stomping grounds and I run out of hormones.

Things start going downhill. I don’t want to have sex anymore. My dysphoria is too bad. I’m super uncomfortable, I don’t even want to sleep in the nude. She’s not having any of it. She wants a baby dammit, and she will do anything she needs to to get it. So she threatens to harm herself, and nearly makes good on the threat.

What else could I do? I was making her harm herself by not giving her what she wanted. I begged, I cried, I told her I really didn’t want to do anything anymore, but it didn’t matter, I had to do it. So… we did, time after agonizing time. Multiple times daily, for months (we had to stay active you know, so that there were better chances of it, she kept reminding me) I stopped begging her not to do it after the first couple of weeks… I just couldn’t put the energy into fighting anymore, so I let happen what happened, and she eventually got what she want.

She ended up pregnant.

Seeing as she was the one carrying them, I had no say in the choice of abortion, but I tried to talk about adoption, especially after we found out it was twins. I wanted them away from the situation. I wanted them away from her. I wanted them away from me.

It almost succeeded too. She nearly adopted them out. They were so close to a better life, but then she retracted the offer and decided to keep them. I was out of options. Even if I managed to get them away, I would never get her to sign the adoption paperwork. I still had to get them away though, I had to get them out of there.

I became the sole passage to their protection, and I wanted nothing to do with them.

They were children though, and I couldn’t let any children stay in a situation like that. I couldn’t let them stay with her. I had to figure out something, and fast. They were born a month early, with complications, one of them didn’t breathe for several minutes. They both lived, and came home from the NICU a month later. I finally snapped over my need to stay with her when she tried to use the kids against me. I spent the next four months planning. I had to involve family, and that was incredibly difficult, because my every move, my every call was monitored. I managed my ways around it, mostly in the very few times she wasn’t around and I wasn’t at school.

It took a lot, but I succeeded, and got them and me out of the state with her blessing. Of course the situation might have been just a little (see: a lot) different then she thought it was. We were away from the abuse though! It was grand! They were just almost six months old when we got back.

And these children, these poor children, conceived by rape, had a long road ahead of them. I was broken when I came back. I didn’t take care of the kids much then, none of the four that were around at that point. I would talk with them occassionally, but mostly, I just holed up in my room, crying, sleeping, or contemplating suicide. My best friend (now husband) took care of all of them. I will always be grateful.

I started coming out of my shell, being able to get out more, be around people more, and I played alot with my daughters, but… not with the twins. In fact, I actively avoided them. I couldn’t look at them without seeing her. I couldn’t touch them without thinking of what happened. They were nothing more than reminders of what happened and I hated it. I could go so far as to say that I may have hated them.

These twins had one parent who was abusive, and another that wanted nothing to do with them, and kind of hated them.

It was horrible. All I could talk about was finding a way to adopt them. I needed to get them out of there, for my sake and theirs. I didn’t want the reminder, I couldn’t have the reminder. It hurt to gaze upon them.

And looking on the whole situation from the outside put a knife in my heart and twisted. I felt so bad for them. I could see them, as children. I could see their situation. Children should never have a mother that doesn’t want them…

Fast forward to age two. I’ve been with R for 1 1/2 years now. We’ve moved twice. My relationship with the twins is still no better. I avoid interaction with them. I’m pretty sure it’s obvious that I do a lot more with my daughters. I wonder if they’re old enough to notice. There is still continuing talk about adopting them, but it’s fruitless at this point. My state won’t let me get sole custody, and she has to sign the adoption paperwork, and we are in hiding.

I come to the terrifying and sad conclusion that they are going to have to stay.

I start working on trying to get past the past, but I can’t. I see her in them. I see what happened in them. I can’t shake it, and I feel horrible. These kids shouldn’t have a mommy that doesn’t want them. No kids should. They didn’t choose this.

Fast forward. Year 3 and another move.

We’re in our own house now. The twins and I are on a rocky, but semi-functional relationship. They just started talking not too long ago. Of all things, they are absolutely enamored with…


Why? I don’t understand, it makes no sense to me. I haven’t been around, I’ve actively avoided them. I don’t play with them, and yet all it is is mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy.

Fast forward. Year 5.

They’re talking so well now. They’re in school, and they are such big kids. I still think about adoption, especially now that R and I are married and he’s adopted them. He could sign the papers. I don’t think of it seriously though. Regretablly the only reason I won’t do it is because I don’t want to tear apart the family as a whole. I would still rather them be somewhere else, but that’s never going to happen. I’ve mostly leveled with that realization.

We’re doing better. I feel like I’m starting to form a real relationship with them. They really are cool kids, even if they are tough to handle. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop feeling the shame of how I’ve thought of them though. It hurts that they have to go through what they’ve went through. No child should have a mommy that doesn’t want them.

But hey… They’re safe right?…

Thank you so much for reading and have a beautiful day sunshine.


6 thoughts on “What Anti-abortion Activists Don’t Talk About : It Is So Hard Raising Children Conceived By Rape

  1. Wow, yeah. All Focus on the Family publishes are the positive stories of children conceived through rape, how awful it was but how much they love their children now. Which may happen eventually, as it sort of has for you, but it’s not that way for /everyone/.

    This is something we need to be talking about. ^^

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s absolutely something that needs to be talked about, because there isn’t always, I would hazard to say that it’s not the majority, when things smooth out and everything is fantastic.
      It’s happened a little bit, but things aren’t nearly as wonderful as I try to keep it seeming. I can’t let them know, so I put on a smile each day, and do what I can.


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