Rape-Related Pregnancy and Pregnancy Loss

About Me - Third Miscarriage, Age 15

Warning for distressing content and graphic details.

Home town, At Home, Rape Preceding Miscarriage 3 –

I remembered and re-experienced this through flashbacks and body memories when my partner was with me, in association with remembering this miscarriage.  But it is like so many other rapes that there is nothing really new to add here.

Home town, At Home in the Upstairs Bathroom, Miscarriage 3 –

Nov 27 2006, 11:47 PM

I had bad cramps that day and I was relieved - about time! ...  I’d missed at least one period maybe 2, about 7 weeks along I think.  There were visitors having afternoon tea in the yard, friends from my mum's church not far from the bathroom window on our green outdoor chairs - I could hear them talking and laughing.
I went to the toilet and got up but then had a really sudden and very bad cramp - sat down and pushed and it didn't come out where I expected but instead into my pad from my vagina.
It was a strange little clear jelly-like sac but inside I could see the shape of little human
I thought I was imagining things!
I held it in my hand a moment and prodded it and the little jelly-sac burst and some clear fluid drained away and the odd tiny baby-shape changed colour from pinkish-red to greyish-blue - when I remembered this later, God, I thought I had killed it, it had died in my hand.  But my doctor said, no, it would have been already dead...
And I threw it violently away towards the drain - that's partly how I know I wasn't - I was not behaving like this was just a strange bit of tissue, like I maybe had cancer, things I told myself afterwards when trying to talk myself into going to the doctors – this is a memory I’ve always had but I thought of it as that weird bit of tissue and didn’t know I’d been raped … I know that’s not what it was now, I know my reactions are different to that ...  I also know because I didn't say a thing about it to my mum, and we could talk about that kind of thing ...  No, this was different
As soon as I threw it away (I’m sorry weep.gifI’m sorry I ever rejected you, shocked and repulsed, my dear little one) it felt wrong
So I got some folded toilet paper, neatly white and I picked it up.  I didn't know what to do - just looked at it shocked for a while and tears came into my eyes but I didn't know why.  And I wrapped it carefully in the folded toilet paper - enfolded it and (reverently) put it in the loo and flushed it away
I hurt.  The cramps were bad.  My heart hurts telling this.  I hurt.
….  Oh, my little one.  I am so sorry that I ever threw you away.  I am so sorry that I could not protect you - which is wrong, I know, because you weren't there by the time I met you …
There was nothing more I could have done.  This was out of my control.  But I remember stroking out those little hands - seeing those little fingers as I held this little thing in the palm of my hand - so tenderly, wonderingly, not remembering ever being raped, so impossible a thing, and yet - so much part of my heart.  It hurts to write but I felt I had to write this tonight.
I cannot describe the heart-stopping, breath-freezing pain that this causes...
No words are adequate …
I ...  I feel my mind attempting to escape.  I will stop.  But I realised that I had never written your story, my 2nd little one, and it seemed right that I should.

I was so very, very all alone.  I tried to go to the doctor but I couldn't get further than sitting near the door of his waiting room, terrified that someone I knew would come in.  I’d gone a bus stop further than usual, still within walking distance of home.  The door was locked when I got there but then the doctor came and opened it, a family was there before me, a child (perhaps about 3 years old) playing with some toys on the floor, while his tired mother nursed a younger child.  I looked at them and I could not do it.  What could I say to him? - it was absurd!  He would have to tell my parents (I was 15).  I turned and crept out the door and then I ran all the way up the drive till, out of breath, I reached the street, and I tried to pretend nothing had happened, scared I would meet one of my family on my way home.  And I did, I met my brother at the corner in his ute, going out on another job.  He laughed at me for being so flustered and in such a hurry and for having still to walk up the hill, I laughed back tongue.gifI was terrified!  I tried to go to see the doctor after school nearer school, somewhere where my parents wouldn't know but the waiting room had signs about STDs and I thought (though I didn't know why, I was thinking it was cancer or something, some strange growth - in denial/traumatic amnesia at the time) they would think I was a slut and then also a picture "does your doctor know you're pregnant?" with a drawing of a developing baby inside a woman's uterus.  I totally freaked out, with no idea why, and had to leave, all shaking and confused and wondering why I’d gone there anyway - I was fine, it was probably just ordinary tissue and I’d imagined a shape in ...
I thought I’d killed it - I’ve already written that haven't I?
weep.gifweep.gifweep.gifweep.gifweep.gif
No more to tell tonight really.  Just needed to get that off my chest - let it be not quite so secret.  I feel so scared and horrified and bad - frozen, can't cry, can hardly breathe ...
this is pain that goes so deep...
I wonder if I treated it with enough respect - but my mum and my sister said when I told them recently that there was really nothing else I could have done ...  A baby so small, it was all they'd do in a hospital or anywhere and I had, after that first moment of horror and revulsion (God, I’m sorry) picked it up and treated it reverently and tenderly, as lovingly as possible...

Home town, At Home in the Upstairs Bathroom, Rape Preceding Miscarriage #4, Around Xmas 1989 –

 

Nov 27 2006, 11:47 PM

 

When I told my grandfather about it [the second miscarriage] - I had had nobody to tell, I had only worked out what it was when he was there again and wanting to rape me.  How can I keep this a secret granddad?, I had asked.  It was not in my control.  I couldn't hide it if he got me pregnant.  I hoped that it would make him stop.  I needed to tell someone, besides it was his child ...  Dreamy state, flashbacking, remembering I told him and he asked me for every detail and he really got off on it [masturbating as I told him and using it to get erect so he could he could rape me again] -
And he held my hand out as if he understood, knowing I could see, was seeing the baby in it, holding it tenderly, and he spat in my hand and he knocked it upwards and I saw the baby fly into the air and hit the floor near the drain-pipe and I was sobbing, sobbing, so painfully, so silently (I could not let myself be heard through the bathroom door) and he stomped on "it" with his foot and squashed "it" through the drain, disgust and hatred, when I hoped for understanding.  It was stupid of me to hope for understanding.  And he delighted in my pain and watched my face for every reaction ...
I will not write about the rape that happened then.  I think I have written it elsewhere - it was how he got me pregnant the 3rd time.

Aug 26 2006, 01:56 PM

 

… I told him about the 2nd one - pleading with him that if I was pregnant I could not keep it secret even if I wanted to.  He wanted all the details - as I cried over you, my first little one, how I’d stroked out your tiny, tiny hands and wrapped you up in toilet paper (before I flushed you don't the loo and forgot you) -
He masturbated and he raped me again, then put me in a "pregnancy-inducing position" [with me lying on the tiled floor of the bathroom and my feet on the window sill while he sat on the bath] and described graphically how he was doing it again, making me pregnant.  How he'd keep on making me "make them and break them".  [How the only way out of that was to kill myself …]

I should've known that wasn't in his power.  I told myself it wasn't.  But then it happened…. 

 

Jan 11 2007, 03:42 PM

 

…. He got off on it and raped me again, telling me that I’d have to choose, that I was a murderer like him, that anyone I told he'd kill, and when I said that wouldn't work if I told everyone, said it would not be hard to tamper with the family car, also that it was easy to kill someone and he had done it before, with details about it, just enough to be uncheckable but plausible [the story below].  He had a knife to my throat [so I couldn’t move out of the “pregnancy-position”] and cut me with it in other places, he fantasised aloud about whether it would be better to kill me then or to wait until he could torture both me and the baby ...

He said he'd cut me open and strangle the baby with it's umbilical cord in front of my own eyes, that he could take out it's eyes with a knife, that he might rape it first with his fingers, that he would dismember it in front of me and flush it away piece by piece, that it would be fun to rape me afterwards and see his own penis through the cut he'd made into my uterus ... [then watch me die slowly too].


I believed that he really could do all this - what he'd done to me made me believe he was capable.  He delighted in putting me in the position where I’d have to be "a murderer like him" - either of my baby or my family, because the secret would be bound to come out.  He planned to kill me soon because I wasn't "any good to him or anyone any more", because I was too old.

Nov 21 2006, 12:10 AM

 

…. raped me again, put me in a pregnancy position and wouldn't let me move with a knife till he was satisfied - sitting on the edge of the a bath and telling me in graphic details just what his sperm would be doing, how they'd get me all pregnant.  Then he said that it would be interesting to see which one I picked - myself, my family (who he threatened to kill if I tried to tell), he stroked a razor down from my neck and told me how he'd come back later and cut me open, when the baby was older and more fun, and wouldn't it be interesting to eat it?  And wouldn't it be interesting to see him strangle the baby in front of me with its own umblicial cord?  Or maybe he could rape me again and watch his own penis through the hole.  He got me pregnant that time with the definite intent of torturing both the child and me to death. 

 

Oct 31 2006, 11:00 PM

 

[This was the story my Granddad  told me when he was telling me that I was a murderer too – I felt responsible for all the bad things he did because he’d brainwashed me with that for a long time.  He told me this story to show “how easy it was to kill someone” and not be caught.  He said “they all thought she was lost in the scrub”.  I don’t know if any of this is true.  I checked the newspapers from Cairns for the whole year he was 15 and the couple around it, and didn’t find any stories of a missing girl.  I told the QLD Missing Persons’ Unit just in case, because I don’t know if families ever really forget or get over someone going missing.  I think he was probably just fantasizing and messing with my head … maybe he did do something but not this?  Again, just in case so I know I’ve reported all I know …]

 

He was 15, she was 8
She was wearing a light blue and white gingham dressed, slightly puffed sleeves
White shoes with frilly socks, buckle over shoes
She had a blue bag
This doesn't all make sense - his words, my imagination?
They were in a ring in the scrub
A bunch of older boys teasing her, trying to get their hands under her dress
trying to pull her pants down
trying to embarrass her
laughing
She was crying and trying to keep hold of her school bag and her dress and pants at the same time
It was mean
She had mousey blond hair in two plaits that were getting loose, getting in her way ...
He led her away to get her a drink from the tap
A Queenslander with lattice and a tap at the side
He took her under the house into the cool
He raped her
I think he strangled her
She passed out
How to get rid of the body?
He took her back into the bush
Then he borrowed an axe from the shed at the back of the house
Scary moment in case someone found her
She woke up
He hit her head over and over with a rough big stone
there was blondish hair stuck to it with her blood
She was dead, there were brains and blood on the dirt and mixed with the dust
She was limp and crumpled in her uniform
It was not clean and neat and pretty anymore
She looked so small
He cut her into pieces with the axe
He cut her head off first
He cut it up small so no one would be able to identify her if they found her
her face all mashed
Then he cut her into pieces - it was hard work, he got sweaty (picture of my grandfather sweating with the axe in his hand - I used to take him lemon cordial to drink while he worked, in his singlet)
He buried her under rocks, in bits of twigs (I can draw the shapes of the rocks)
He scattered her a long way
He walked further out into the scrub
It was dark
He came home with the axe over his shoulder
He washed it under the same tap
dried it on some of his mother's washing and
then put it away
It was time for dinner
she was lost forever, no trace ever found.  They thought she'd got lost in the scrub, but he had killed her
Was he telling me this just to frighten me?  He said it was easier to kill someone than you would think and that he'd done it before, he wasn't bluffing.  He went all sort of dreamy when he told me more details.  He told me a lot of this just before (he thought) he was going to slit my throat in the shower here in my appartment
I don't know and can never check if it is true
I can see her
I see you little girl
I wish I could do something for you
I feel haunted by the images - must have been imagination but it was vivid, feels almost real, worse because ...
I was to blame.  I’d agreed to be the bad one.  I was seeing as if I was seeing through his eyes things I was doing but had no control over (I hadn't been born yet, not by about 40 yrs if the ages are right)
I didn't do it!
I didn't mean to do it!
I see her crying but I don't know what to do ...
it was my grandfather who did it - if he did ...  I feel goose-bumps.  He at least believed he did while he was telling me, I’m pretty sure of that.  Maybe he just fantasised.  I think he could have done it, though.  I know that it was possible ...
he would have had to try to keep the secret, to keep safe himself from her telling about raping her
15, God.
I wish ...
I couldn't ...
I would never hurt a child or anyone.  I am not responsible! such horrible images, such vivid images, personal, not like a psycho drama on tv - personal.  How is that possible!!!
there are so many things that don't seem like they can be real but feel like they are ...
I feel so helpless and exhausted and weak
I am sorry little girl ...
I am sorry ...

 

Nov 29 2006, 01:18 AM

 

[This was directly after raping me and talking to me about getting me pregnant and torturing me and the baby.  I was in the upstairs bathroom at home.]

 

I promised him that I would do it so he'd leave me alone
He had raped me, he held the knife (he said it was a gift) in my hand, with his hand around it
He described in graphic detail how I would bleed to death
How it wouldn't hurt
How it would be like falling asleep in his arms
How my parents wouldn't be home until it was too late
He spoke softly, tickling my ear, gently, chillingly
I sobbed quietly
I tried to keep quiet but I could not stop my shaking and sobbing
I feel weak and ashamed writing this because I was 17 - I should have been able to deal by then (confused1.gif sorry! not right, is it?)
I took the knife, tremblingly, and held it in my hand a little while, sort of staring at it frozen
He asked me if I promised
I always keep my promises
I lied to him
I said that I would do it
I thought maybe I would
But only because I hurt so much, how could I not, it was compelling, it was tempting ...
But I just wanted him to leave
Anything to get him out of here, so you can think more clearly - said the sensible calm voice in my head
"OK, Granddad.  I promise" - very, very quietly.
He got up and left straight away.  Leaving me sitting half naked on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.  Looking at the drain where I could almost see the blood draining away - he had described it so clearly.  I had seen my blood drain into there before, when he had hurt me...
But I did not keep that promise.
I took the pearl-handled pen-knife (I think that's what it was, it may have been another time, another knife) but a pen-knife, a gift, a souvenir - I took it and buried it outside in the dirt near the carport, it took me a long time to clean up and get moving and go out there, a long time staring at the knife, wondering if he was right, if it was hopeless, if I ought to just give in, he was going to kill me anyway ...
I buried the knife and straightened up just as my parents car pulled into the drive [I remember finding that knife near the clothesline and wondering what it was doing in the dirt perhaps some months, or possibly a few years later … I think when I was home on holidays during my first year at university, actually … so just over a year later]
that night I waited, I knew he would come, I knew I’d broken my promise
I waited and watched the moonlight on the shiny pine of the bunk bed that was above the cupboards in my room - I used to hide there from him, it was harder now
I waited and waited and grew tired and watched the wind blowing my curtains just a little - a whispering sound - and stared at the moonlight to keep myself awake
But just as I fell asleep he crossed the room
and I had only enough time to wonder again whether I should cry out and tell my parents (sleeping in the room next door) - I’d been wondering it all night and not been able to decide ...
When I felt the pillow go over my mouth and he leant on it hard
I reached out in the darkness and found his chest and tried hard to push him off, but I couldn't breathe, I was going limp, my arms were losing power, I knew I would black out, I turned my head a little and there was a tiny pocket of air around my nose.  Not enough for long but something ...
And as I started to pass out I thought - hey wait, I can use this!
So I pretended to pass out before I actually did
I went all limp and quiet and stopped struggling, barely breathing - it was not that hard, it was nearly true
He took the pillow off my face but he wasn't satisfied - I felt his hand fumbling at my pyjama buttons and failing - they were that Japanese kind - hard to undo in the dark
then he put his hand on my chest and I held my breath and held it and held it till I felt that I really would die
and because my chest was perfectly still he thought he'd done what he intended and eventually he left
I faked him out.  I know he thought that I was dead....
What a surprise he must have had in the morning, huh?
This was not the end of his attempts to kill me - "now I was too old" - now I was thinking of how to fight back, not just accepting what he said ...  He told me he'd kill anyone I told And I said, but wait, I will tell everyone, then they'll all be safe ...  And he didn't really have an answer, except to say he'd tamper with my family's car and kill everyone but me, then he'd have me to himself ...
He tried again, I think the next day, but I can't write about it now ... [with pills.  I was very scared all that day and kept trying to call the police … creeping to the phone and dialing 0, then 00, then hanging up, then doing it again, and finally realizing that I couldn’t call them because of his threats to kill my family].

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