Rape Preceding Miscarriage 5 –
He raped me before taking me to the quarry … I remember being all gunked up inside and thinking I was getting pregnant the whole time. But I am not sure whether it was that time or this time … my sense of this sequence of events is slightly confused I think because he did some of the same things two years running … finishing what he’d thought about doing but not done the year before? Anyway, this rape also feels significant as if it might have been the one where I got pregnant a 4th time. It’s also significant because my Grandma was a witness to it and granddad was completely unconcerned about that, though possibly he knew I’d told her and it gave impetus to him trying to kill me that he knew I was starting to break the secrecy he’d imposed even a little bit and look for outside help …
My Cousins' Home Town, My Second-Oldest Brother’s Wedding, 15th December –
My mum remembers me being very sad and stressed during this. I, my oldest brother, my sister and my parents all stayed in the caravan park with other wedding guests, including my sister-in-law’s family and my dad’s brother’s family. Granddad and Grandma stayed with my mum’s brother’s family in their house (they lived in
Torture Preceding Miscarriage 5 –
Oct 1 2006, 02:08 AM
Had a really tough night. Fell asleep in afternoon and woke in the dark disoriented. Called partner and got more flashbacky as we talked - not sure exactly what triggered this but I was talking about curling up in a heap on my floor and just crying the night I told him about what had happened when I was a child (the night my grandmother died, so much more of what happened's come to light now - I had no idea!). Anyway, don't know what happened but I realised on the phone I was starting to get body memories and starting to flashback a miscarriage I had when I was 16. I thought I’d "done" that one, but maybe I hadn't at enough levels. I was thinking of going and buying some wool for a burial gown for a donation to one of the hospitals that a really kind lady is going to help me make (since I can't knit) so the miscarriages ( I had 3 - one at 14 at about 5 weeks, one at 15 at 8-9 weeks and one at 16 at 13-20 weeks) were on my mind. They were all the result of being raped by my grandfather and were completely secret and without any medical attention. I started having severe physical pain (contraction-like) screaming periodically - all I’d done in the process of first remembering it (number 3). I was so scared. I asked my partner could he could he come over so I wasn't all on my own with it.
So he came and by the time he got here I was out and out screaming periodically into my pillow. I remembered a little more about how I went to the toilets after school, how I was feeling sick etc. Then flashbacked a step back to the rape that probably caused that pregnancy. I’d told my grandfather he's have to stop because even if I tried I couldl't keep it secret if I was pregnant. I’ll have to post that story some other time. But he did not stop, he got off on it, and made me tell him all the details of my second miscarriage while he masturbated then raped me again and put in a position where he described how I was getting pregnant and all the tortures he had in mind for me and for the baby ... I realised this time, which I hadn't remembered or realised before, that he knew when I was describing it I could actually see and feel the little one in my hand as I had held it - recognisable - in toilet paper in my hand. And he spat on "it" and hit my hand to "make it fly across the room with a splat" and then used his boot to squash "it" down the drain like soap - knowing all the time that to me it was completely real and in the present, even though it wasn't. He liked the extra cruelty. I thought maybe that would be why I was flashbacking and re-experiencing it - till I got a point in the the 3rd miscarriage, in the toilets after school, and just stopped remembering anything new, looping and looping till 1.30 am then from 4-7 the periodic cramps, sickness, shock and screaming and trying to muffle it somehow.
Then at about 7 am I started talking about how the toilets were different and nicer now since the renovations, the smell of fresh paint (somethingt that happened at the beginning of my final year at school) - they weren't renovated in my memory of the 3rd miscarriage, about now it was fairly quiet here before school so no one should hear me, how I had to pull myself and couldn't go home since I had a maths test that afternoon. I said April 3rd. What I remember is of a lot of bleeding and sort of dark red globby stuff - too much for a normal period - trying to staunch it with toilet paper and an extra pad - being late for my 2nd class of the day and missing the first one...being dizzy and shaky getting home that day and all pale and shocky and light green and sick all that day.
My grandfather would have come to visit in mid-late December and I remember him raping me. He also may have been there in January for a couple of weeks. My first thought was actually "you know the drill" and I meant about having miscarriages and miscarriages when I had to keep it all silent at school. Then I also thought "come on, pull yourself together, what kind of a wimp are you?" chalking it to a very bad and late period (I was stressed at the beginning of that school year for lot of reasons and my grandfather had just tried to kill me in the holidays - he's also raped me and he'd also tortured me with inserting a serrated knife and a knitting needle telling me that's how I should do it next time...
I expect I’ll post more of this sometime. But in the meantime. God! can there have been 4!!!!! What I was describing doesn't match - different place, different time of day, different people around me, maths test, date, fresh paint, the feeling that I’d dealt with that at school before - but it was very, very strongly associated with a "heavy period" - at the start of which this time I was screaming and having contractions ...
Oct 8 2006, 09:58 PM
Maybe it is not that bad? I can't tell properly. I’m still very spacey and not well but I’m feeling alone and scared and I thought maybe if I wrote it down I would feel less like I had to keep a secret still. He's gone. I don't!
Last Friday I remembered/re-experienced a 4th rape-related miscarriage which happened when I was 17 (15 yrs ago now). It’s been hard to believe it but it's been sinking in all week, and it checks out with other things, and as my partner said the flashbacks themselves are very convincing - I wouldn't be reacting like this if it wasn't true. My psychiatrist says so too. I know it is, I just don't want to accept it. Trying to but it's very hard.
All week I’ve been struggling with physical recovery from the screaming pain/contractions etc. Of last Friday - which went from 7.30-1.30, then 4.30-8.30. It was a long time to feel the sensations of a (probably late) miscarriage and I was dizzy and shocky for a while and have been in internal physical pain as well as mental pain all week ...
Yesterday my partner and I had a lovely day with his Mum for her birthday - we went and bought her a digital piano and she was so delighted and excited, then we took her out for high tea at a posh hotel and sat on a lovely broad balcony and looked out at the spring gardens and had a really nice, relaxing time. It was good. I wasn't sure I’d be able to cope with going out because I’d been feeling so sick that morning, but I did and I was OK. Then we came home and were just lying down and recovering together (he was with me last week and he's got some other serious problems so he's been very tired too) I was giving him a gentle (clothes on) backrub because he was so stiff and tense there and he said sometimes he lay on a cup to help relax his lower back. I thought that was funny and wondered how it'd work, so he pressed his thumb gently but quite deep into a point near my lower spine and it did work to relax my lower back but then I got all spacey ... And ...
I’d been lifted up and pushed up hard against the doorknobs on a cupboard, one with a venetian blind slats type door. My grandfather was raping me. I was about 11 - small body - my own body felt all wrong. I felt very disconnected. It hurt a lot. I was small and he was forceful and not gentle. He hit me when I cried. I was crying. In the present I kept rubbing my wrists as if I was tied with something and trying to untie it. A dressing gown cord. He had shoved the sleeve into my mouth to keep me quiet - it was hard to breathe around, choking, crying. I couldn't get my hand untied. Only one hand was tied I think...?
I was trailing the dressing gown belt - which was tied to my wrist - and looking for scissors. Battered. This flashback was mixing with the other. Same cupboard. Different dressing gown - mine this time - but tied to the cupboard with the belt again. And it seems like my hands were tied together. My partner asked me how I had got out of the knot. And I said I couldn't untie it. I’d cut it with some scissors - described to him how I’d cut through the corded side and then the folded over fabric and thrown the belt into the green rubbish bin outside. Very detailed. I don't know quite how I got away enough - untied enough - to go and get the scissors from another room? but one hand was tied up tightly and the other was looser.
Very focussed on getting away. I’d got one hand free and it has given me some hope. I was trying to get the other free too. Kept saying things like "he's between me and that door, but what about this way, do I have time? no, he's faster than that" etc. Then starting to cry and sob and saying in a small, wailing voice, "I wish he'd stop looking at me like that. I can't concentrate". I was trying so hard to concentrate. When I worked out something that seemed a possible but not very good escape route I told myself off, "first things first, stupid, you have to get untied". All the while I was saying that I didn't have much time and how I was getting dizzier and clumsier and starting to buckle to the floor. In the end I couldn't reach the knot at all. Pulling didn't help. I couldn't figure out how to get the door open. He'd tied it through the gap so that I had to get to the other side of the door to tackle the knot. The one loose hand was a trick - I needed two on the other side of that door to untie the knot. He was enjoying sitting there just watching me struggle, try to block him out and think ...
I think I’ve said before that my grandfather drugged me. He'd given me sleeping tablets and Valium or sleeping pills. I’d forgotten that drugs don't work straight away. He had me tied up to this cupboard in the dark in our spare room while he waited for them to work. And he was sitting in the corner enjoying me struggle. I was trying to ignore him and keep a clear head but the drugs were starting to work and I couldn't stand up anymore. I kept repeating "why won't he stop looking at me? I’ve got to think. Can't concentrate. Come on!" etc. I got to lying on the ground. And the belt was pulling my wrist painfully upwards. He came and, silently, I think, untied me and drew me up by both hands and laid me on the bed. I was still thinking how I needed to escape but my thoughts were becoming less and less clear and I was so weak and dizzy. I was terrifed. I couldn't really move. Not enough coordination.
He'd left me briefly near the start of all this. I reported some dialogue "what are you doing, ?" from my grandmother. "nothing, woman, just looking for something" - he was finding a knife in the knife drawer in the kitchen and putting it into his pocket. To wait. Some ways I couldn't go to escape - that made it a hard puzzle - were the back door because I might wake up my dad who was having an afternoon nap in the next room, through the dining/living room because I could hear my grandmother talking to my mum somewhere out there. They were so close but if they knew he would kill them - he'd said so and I had good reason to believe him. He'd tried to kill me twice this visit already. I wondered if he'd try and kill me now - no too exposed for that ... I didn't really know. I was terrifed. I was at the very least sure that he would rape me (he'd also done that a few days before, and many times). I don't know when I told him about the 3rd miscarriage. But it excited him. He wanted more. He told me then or had told me how he was getting me pregnant again when he raped me. 4 years in a row. This was what happened ...
He lifted me onto the bed and then he went to the cupboard. No, no, no, no, no please no, I said. This can't be happening. I must be making it up. I’ve remembered it already! wail. I didn't want to experience it like this as well. Please no. He unwrapped a plastic folder of knitting needles. I was pleading with him - I cared about him too - "you don't want to do this. Really. Just look at me and listen. Granddad, you don't want to do this. You know it isn't right. Please look at me. Don't do this". For his sake too I didn't want him to commit murder - because that's what I thought he would be doing, we both thought of this as a person (or he knew I did as a catholic, it might have been some anti-catholic kick he was getting too) I hope that doesn't offend anyone, I know it's a grey area but the others had felt like real people, not so early, but it was all blurring in - it was his sick fantasy, it may not have been true, but we both thought he had made me pregnant (or at least I’m pretty sure he thought so - he'd gotten off on the prospects of torturing the third one and was very angry and disappointed, though enjoying my grief and pain when I explained to him that it had died, that I’d miscarried, how ... I wish I hadn't told him any of that, I’m not sure why he did - my psych. Says to remember that he was an experienced interrogator and also my torturer, since I was younger than 2, it wasn't surprising he could get me to tell him, there wasn't anybody else that I could tell without making them unsafe ...) he wanted to get me pregnant and kill the baby. He had said so for sure.
He stuck the knitting needle deep inside. I was talking out loud in this part of the flashback still, saying, "please Granddad, please, anything you like, I’ll do anything, please just not my baby". I feel bad that I made that offer to him. I wanted him to rape me himself. Anything less damaging. Anything less sharp. I was still pleading with him not to, pleading for his soul, pleading for me. "no, I don't like it" I said. "no, no I’m not a slut" then to myself, "I’m not sure, maybe I am, offering like this but" then aloud, "please not my baby ..." he jabbed the knitting needle hard and I cried out. "shut up you stupid bitch", seconded without the insult by my calmer, adult voice, the one that was still trying to work out a way to escape and complaining desperately, telling me to think, to concentrate, to breathe, to stay hopeful - "come on, there must be a way out" and any time I started crying, "we don't have time for that. Later. Come on, think, think hard!" but I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I couldn't find any way out. Anything I said aloud to my grandfather I slurred my speech a lot. I was clearly really drugged. I needed to keep everyone safe. I wanted them to come in, to find me, to help me ... But I mustn't cry out. What if that meant I was killing them?
So I bit my lip hard and I bit my finger hard and it hurt, hurt like hell. Nerve pain going everywhere. Tearing. Blood. He stopped and I just lay there crying. I had lost it. "no, maybe you haven't. Maybe it's ok. Come on, we haven't got time for this yet". Then he got out the knife. I couldn't believe it - I had remembered this before but I hadn't felt the pain, the sensations, I hadn't been there in this detail. My partner just let me talk - it's quicker that way - but he had his arm around me and he reminded me every now and then that it was a flashback and that I was safe now. I had my eyes closed. It hardly penetrated. But I knew he was there. Safety. Love. I knew it was there somewhere. Out of reach???
My grandfather took the serrated black handled kitchen knife out of his blue shorts pocket. And I pleaded with him again and he ignored me. He used it like the knitting needle... I thought that had been all ... But then he got out a set of pliers. "oh, God, no not pliers. Please, my little one. Please granddad, believe me you don't want to do this". But he did. I was whispering. I don't know if he heard me. So much pain. He didn't just jab and hurt and cut, he got hold of me inside and pulled. I was trying not to scream. I was trying so hard. I was trying and trying and I felt the blood running down my legs. He had put me on a rolled up towel. Pliers! I started choking. I was trying to bury my face, ashamed, hurt, humiliated, terrified. He made me look into his eyes. Choking me unless I did. It was horrifying - I described it to my partner as I started to calm down - he was finding it hard to follow. My grandfather's eyes - cold, fascinated, calculating and cataloguing all I felt (I could not escape him inside my mind), excited ... Worst of all hollow. It was like looking into an abyss. I said I didn't think he knew it ... But he was worse than empty... I was scared I was too, spacing out, blank. I felt blank. I didn't know how to behave... But I have a shape, empty-feeling or not. There was a vacuum there. I was the only one who'd seen it. How could I keep my family safe? I couldn't get him out of the house. It was terrifyihg. Nothing and no one could be safe from that abyss. My partner said, "you looked into the abyss and it looked into you". Yes, exactly. Tainted, I said. So ashamed. "how can you bear to look at me?" ... Backwards and forwards, sorry ...
I came out of this eventually and lay there in shock, sobbing. My partner told me it was OK to cry now and I did a bit. I asked him if he was OK because he looked hurt. "yes I am OK", "you look upset", "I am upset because you are upset ... It breaks my heart what happened to you". Tears streaming down my face, shocky, shaking I stroked his face with one finger and tried to press his heart gently back together with my hand. I love him. He shouldn't have to suffer this. I was so grateful to him for coming there with me. I told him that this morning. Love there in the background. So much pain...
I hurt. My partner didn't know what to say to that. I should cry, I should howl in pain but I can't. I don't know how. But I don't want to lie to him either, to pretend like I used to that I am OK. So "I hurt. I hurt, through and through". He asked what he should say ... After so many repetitions. "I’m sorry. I love you. Here's a hug"? We laughed together. I can still laugh with him. We found some things that were funny. I was stuttering and he (loves me, no harshness here) couldn't help laughing, especially when I tried to call him a bastard for it ... Bbbb... He said "are you sure I’m not a bloody bastard?"
I recovered enough to go into the bathroom, to go to the toilet. This had started round 6.30 and it was now a quarter to 11. I felt bad. I knew he'd wanted to go home by 9.30. I was keeping him up late again. Why does this still keep happening? I thought I’d finished with the new stuff? why was I doing this memory again? then I fainted/lay down/dizzy/dissociating on the bathroom floor. Cold. After a while my partner came to see if I was ok. I had passed out blocking the door. My partner snaked his hand through the door and stroked my hair till I woke up/came back. My head and knee hurt. Dizzy. Rubbing my face afterwards and my forehead and head. Ouch. Tried to sit up, he opened the door, I hovered, and passed out again more briefly on his leg. Knees by knees into my bedroom and back into bed. Eventually.
The cold tiles were like the cool tiles of the bathroom downstairs at home where all this happened. A door I could lock - the only one in the house. I wasn't ready to act ok just yet. Blood running down into the drain from where I lay there. Blankness.
I got to bed with my partner again. Then started a new thing... Coughing and choking and dry retching - my throat hurts so much today. I’d remembered the 4th miscarriage before too. I don't know if I’ve written about it. At school anyway and in the staff toilets. Trying to be quiet and hide in the cubicle. I passed out then too with the pain and landed face first in the pool of blood and tissue. Woke up with it up my nose, in my mouth. I’m sorry ... This is awful ... I threw up into the toilet then. Coughing, choking, dry retching. Miscarriage on my face, up my nose. I tried to wipe it all off my face with toilet paper and I flushed that. With the 3rd miscarriage, like this in many ways, I’d seen all the pieces, recognisable, of the baby. I’d spent ages piecing it together again, separating it, straining out the cigarette butts from the school toilet floor, so I could wrap it up and ? bury it ?? I couldn't just treat it the same as all that mess. But this time I went searching, squeezing through the gellied, bloodied clots, seeing some grey-blue, tissues, veins? but finding nothing of the baby. I couldn't find it! I tried. I had lost it all together! lost - because I still did not remember being raped, being pregnant, any of this, all of this has newly come back to me - flooding in the last 16 mths, memory after memory - so painful ... I looked for you, my little one, but I couldn't find you. I was flashbacking the 3rd miscarriage while I had the 4th I think. I was flashbacking the 11 yr old rape, while I went through this other one before the 4th miscarriage.
I was so distraught. I felt sick. I couldn't tell my partner what had happened till this morning. Nothing except coughing, choking, retching, "pool of blood" - I think he had put 2 and 2 together. I thought maybe I’d passed out and swallowed the fetus and thrown it up or wiped it off my face and just flushed the toilet without thinking - because I couldn't find it. I know that doesn't make sense but that is what I thought at the time, face first in blood and pieces of tissue and shit and mess. Trying to keep my clothes tucked out of the way ... Thinking to myself "you know the drill" and "what do you expect?" my survival voice scares the hell out of me with its ruthlessness. Am I like my grandfather???
… I’ve spent today in bed resting and recovering - I feel stunned, sickened, shocked and just extremely drained. I don't know what to do with myself. It will pass. I feel very depressed. That too will pass. Better out than in we've said - my partner winced and apologised as he said it today. At least it also explains why that other incident at the picnic place [the Basin, below] when I was very small popped up again into my memory in the last few weeks. Another time I was choking/drowning in my own vomit. My grandfather had his foot on the back of my head pushing me into it that time. So horrible. This too... I am in so much pain. I feel so numb and drained. I am trying just to take it easy and be kind to myself but I hate these ongoing horror excerpts ... When will they stop? I know I grow because of them - the more I know, the more I understand, the better I see how to cope, what to do, the sooner I bounce back - I am thinking of ways to recognise the other 3 and it's helping with that sense of loss and grief, just a bit - now I need to think of something for my 4th, who I never saw. I missed it. In so many ways ...
I can't write any more now and this is so long - I feel bad about that. I will go and eat something and maybe take myself back to bed. I still hurt and can feel the physical pain of this - it was excruciating last night, today it is a little better, better than earlier in the week now I’ve remembered. But I feel so ... I don't have words ... Shamed, disgusting, ugly, hurt, horrified, terrified at the depth of horror etc.
I feel very alone and frightened. As if my voice is locked (my throat hurts so much today from all that coughing) this still feels too surreal and too horrible to share with anyone else. My family were right there. My sister and brother were out. My other brother was away. But Mum and Dad and my grandmother (willfully blind, knowing sometimes, maybe genuinely blind at others - my partner looked so angry in his eyes when he asked who had said, "what are you up to, ?") they were right there in the rooms next to me. I could hear Dad's sleeping breathing in the silences. I could hear my mum and my grandmother's voices, though I couldn't make sense - they had to be the background. I feel as if even if people care they are out of reach. I am cut off and deserve to be shunned - such a mess, so covered in crap, a person who can vomit up her own child ....
Oct 13 2006, 06:00 PM
He made me kiss the knife, he wrapped my hand around it and he shoved it up inside. Kissed like I blessed it, like it was some kind of sacred act, like I wanted it - I did kiss it, but I argued and fought, but he had drugged me and was stronger than me and once the serrated knife was inside I couldn't struggle so hard. I was pleading with him "anything, please not my baby, not my baby". I wish I had kept my mouth shut about the 3rd miscarrige - he was disappointed and angry not to have that baby to tortured and kill in front of me "when it is bigger". He wanted to cut it out of me and rape me and see if he could see his own penis through the hole. Maybe it was defiance - it's gone and you can't hurt it now? Maybe it was an attempt to appeal to his pity? Maybe it was being isolated with him in this - unable to tell anyone - and he was their father? I don't know but I feel stupid for giving him ammunition. He used it against me, to make me feel like I was colluding, like I consented to what he was doing, like it was what I wanted. I know it's a grey area. But the others I lost just do feel like little nearly-people, infinitely precious, innocent, connected, my children. I feel like I betrayed them. I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have known better. I had no choice, his hand was forcing mine - we didn't even know for sure that he had got me pregnant - I just felt a sense of doom about it after 3 years in a row and all the rapes and he was insane, he thought he could decide it himself, like God. But we both believed in those moments that a little, individual, soul-possessing person was being killed. My views are more complicated now ... But I was only 17 and at a Catholic school and I took these things seriously. …How I feel - this is so fresh. My own hand on that knife, me like a puppet, nowhere at all to go in act or thought or morality. He used my own hand to torture me and kill my child. I had already taken on the role of "bad one" - he said we were one flesh when he raped me to seal that bargain (I was tiny) - one flesh with a psychopath, with a murderer. He’d told me in detail how he'd killed a little girl and "they thought she'd gone missing in the scrub" - it was as if I was seeing through my eyes as he buried here in a shallow grave etc. I know I can't be responsible for that - it was 75 years ago! But he made me feel responsible for all of it. How will I ever get untangled???? I am appalled that I can take so much so casually, when if one of these things happened to anybody else I’d be so shocked, so sad for them. I am shocked and sad but I feel selfish and wrong about it. I feel like if I let msyelf feel that pain I will be stuck in it ...
I am hurt, hurt, hurt.
Collusion in killing my baby, the baby I looked for when I miscarried, the baby I loved ...
Oh … my … God.
Oct 13 2006, 11:48 PM
He always used my own body, my own hand, my own kindness, my own intelligence, my strength, my care for my family... He always took those things and twisted them to his own purpose, used them to manipulate and confuse me. In every way he could he messed with my head about who was really in control and whether he was helping or or hurting me. One time he tried to kill me and he put the pills into MY hand and forced MY hand to put them in my mouth, he put the knife in MY hand and forced me to hurt myself with it (and more, if you've read my other post). He used my love for my family to manipulate me into keeping everything so perfectly quiet. Not a clue, even when he wasn't there ...
I feel horrible, disgusting, used ... I feel as if I betrayed my own nearly-babies (4) by failing to protect them, though their deaths were not in my control (though 2 might have been influenced by things I did or he made me do). I am overwhelmed with the number of terrible things I have remembered, with the horror of what I saw in his eyes, with the way I adaped to cope ... With the grief and pain. With a sense of immense loneliness and horror.
It's hard to find words for how I feel but I feel like a puppet. I *know* that it was not my fault, but I was the agency through which it happened, it was MY hand. I don't know if anyone can understand this? …
I am deeply horrified by the “problem” of evil and pain in the world - I’ve always cared and been concerned but now I am feeling it so personally. It appals me! I wish I knew what to do!
Oct 15 2006, 01:33 PM
He drugged me and tied me up, in a way that made me think I could escape and untie myself when I couldn't. He watched me struggle and get weaker and more drugged and he enjoyed it. He used my own hands to hurt me with. He told me it was what I wanted. He used what I’d done with the coat-hanger before as evidence that it was what I wanted. … I didn't want him to. I tried to tell him. I was stuttering in pain and fear and my words were slurred because of the drugs but I said it so many times, aloud, I did. "No, please, no. You don't want to do this granddad, you know it isn't right. Please, no. No". And he had his hand over my mouth and he said, "sorry, couldn't hear you, you'll have to speak more clearly" and I tried again and again and each time he pretended that I wasn't making sense and he couldn't hear me. I wondered if my voice was gone. I wondered if I was already dead. Kept saying no, no, no, no, no - hoping he'd hear me. Unsure of what was inside my head and what was outside... I couldn't tell - how do you know for sure you've spoken unless someone responds? he acted as if he didn't know what I was saying. He teased me with that. "well, since you seem to want me to, then I will" but how could I make myself heard clearly with the drugs and his hand over my mouth??? Horrified. Horrified at what happened. Still feeling responsible somehow - his argument about the coathanger bites. I feel guilty. I didn't mean to do it. I can't believe it did that. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I didn't like it when he hurt me. I told him clearly at least once I’m sure of it and I was repeating it over and over. Surely he heard me? I kept trying ... I feel terrible...
Feb 2 2007, 10:52 PM
I think this might be the worst kind of torture ...
I said that to my partner and he said we weren't going to rank them
He's very right ...
For my granddad to deliberately make me, his granddaughter, pregnant (I know he couldn't control it 100% like that but he thought that was what he was doing, he told me that was what he was doing, and I believed him because I thought before that he couldn't do that and then that was what happened and the world turned upside down - he could do anything), to drug me and sit and watch as me try to get untied and not be able to, to watch and wait till I was almost unconscious and too weak to fight, to put his hands over mine and force me to use a knitting needle, then a knife, then pliers to punch and pull and tear inside myself - so much pain, I can't describe - as I pleaded with him and offered to do anything he liked "only not my baby" ... For me to lose that little one too ... So completely. I laboured in the staff toilets at school missing my classes. I passed out in pain and fell into the pool of blood and tissue. I knew what to do this time - I had taken off my clothes. I had to be completely secret, quiet enough that nobody would hear me, terrified at each sound that someone would come in and find out ... He told me he would kill anyone I told, he told me he would rape my sister, he told me he would kill my family ... He told me, in some detail, how he'd done it before, how it would be easy. He had so nearly killed me so many times - once having to give me mouth to mouth to resuscitate me after tying me up and throwing me into a pool till I blacked out, drowning... I could not let anybody hear... I woke up with my face in the mess I had produced, choking, I was sick into the toilet and flushed it. I wondered afterwards, when I could not find the baby, whether I had thrown it up and flushed it away already. Just gone. Completely lost... Was I dreaming? The last one, about this age, had been all in pieces but recognisable... I pieced it back together, I strained the cigarette butts from the student toilets at school out, I wrapped it up as neatly as I could, I held it to my heart, but I still could not take it home, I could not bury it, I could tell no one, not even a doctor... But this one wasn't there ... I don't know what happened to it, maybe it dissolved inside me, dead before it could be born... I do not know... But ...
to torture someone like this...! and to have me believe that I had murdered my own child, by my own hand ... That all I deserved or could do now was to take my own life ... To show me how and give me the means and make me promise ... To try so hard to kill me ... I have written about this elsewhere ... And this before ... But ...
It is so much pain to be unable to protect your child. To not even know if I’m allowed to call it that. To not know what ever happened. To miss it and then to forget till so many years later. To plead and cry and plead so unsuccessfully as my own hands caused me such pain and tore my child from me... To know what that pain was - this was the 4th... I don't have words.
I feel like a failure as a mother because I could not protect them. My partner says I never was a mother. Not really ... Because I could not protect them? So much loss. So much responsibility. So helpless. Nothing that I could do...
I am so tired. At least I am here now - I talked to my partner on the phone and I didn't pass out, I cried instead... We talked. He comforted me. We were together. I have missed him so much. But I don't know if I know how to do this. I hurt so much, so very much...
How could anyone do this to anyone? I couldn't protect them. I was so wrong. I don't know who to be.
Nov 22 2006, 03:14 AM
I didn't mean to do it ...
I couldn't stop him! I told him, "anything, anything you like, just not my baby" . Crying so hard. I feel so very sick …
I’m just really, really, really upset. I really never meant for any of this to happen. I tried to fight him off, I tried to do what Mum said and not be in a room alone with him ... But ... For God's sake why am I even having this argument? I was 16 mths old when he started on me! how could I protect myself. My mum said that to me when I was 4. How could I protect myself? should I have known how? but then I was older...
Margie, Margie - he had a knife to your throat what were you supposed to do?
He had nearly drowned you
He had tied you up
He had tried to push you off a cliff
He had drugged you and tried to poison you with an overdose
He had threatened to burn off your face or slice it off in little strips
He had told you he had killed before
He had threatened to rape your sister and done it once in front of you to prove his point
How could I have protected myself from this?????
Oh, my little ones ... I failed you so.
My life would be so different if you had been born and I am relieved that you weren't
What kind of mother is relieved that she miscarries??? …
His hands forced me to kiss the knife, to use it and the knitting needle, to kill my own child.
Nov 21 2006, 12:10 AM
My grandfather raped me many, many times. When I had just turned 14, I had a miscarriage at about 5-6 weeks. I was very, very sick and people noticed as I was a school, but I thought it might just be a teenage menstruation issue. When I was 15 I had a miscarriage at home, somewhere 7-9 weeks and born in the sac, so intact and visible. When I was 16 I had a 2nd trimester miscarriage, with labour pains, contractions and all, in the school toilets after school and the baby would have been anywhere between 16-20 weeks. It wasn't intact but it was recognisable. When I was 17 I had another, what feels like, a late miscarriage - because of the time of year and school being back and because, again I had labour pains, contractions etc. But there was just a lot of blood and some liver-like blood, chiefly lots and lots of blood, but also some tissue. I have very detailed and traumatic memories of each of these and feel a lot of mixed feelings but grief and love for them.
Then there is my grandfather. He raped me without any concern for whether I’d get pregnant (in fact I think he was enjoying the uncertainty….)
Nov 20 2006, 12:18 AM
My GRANDDAD raped, tortured, brainwashed, tried to make me hate myself so much I killed myself, tried to kill me directly, made me pregnant 4 times, at least twice for the pleasure of torturing me and killing or torturing the babies.
I am ANGRY!!! I know I’ve written about this already today but I think I need some more venting ... How could anybody be so cruel? How horrifying is the crime of creating a human life for the purpose of torturing and killing, out of hate, not out of love. my poor, dear, loved nearly-people. How cruel is it to rape and torture a child and convince her she is evil and a murderer, through years of carefully planting doubts, manipulation, cruelty? How cruel is it to try and kill her? How much crueller still to get her pregnant and use her mother's love as a way to get her to kill herself? how cruel to put her where she has to choose who dies - herself, her baby, her family ... I am very, very ANGRY!!! I am ... It makes me speechless (yes, me, who goes on and on!) ...
For 30 yrs I’ve though that my granddad and I were "one flesh", that I had made a deal I didn't understand and regretted but couldn't go back on (a promise was a promise and it was "too late") to "be the bad one" to take responsibility for all he did wrong, even before I was born. What kind of person would do that to a little child - not even able to speak properly yet, in one of their first make believe games and "seal the deal" with rape???
And I was RELATED to this monster, I loved him, I cared about him, even till he died, even after I understood some of what he'd done to me - not because I didn't see how it was evil but because I still cared about his soul, about his redemption, his chances at putting things right... Because - it's awful to have these things done to you, but I can't imagine how awful it would be to be the kind of person who does that sort of thing! No, not true, because for 30 yrs I’ve thought I was that evil person.
How could he do that to me?!!! AAAARRGHHHHHHH!
But he - he deliberately created a human being in order to torture it and me to death. He deliberately created a life so he could watch my pain when I lost it. He hated them, if he thought about them at all, and he hated me. I have never before felt with so much understanding how much I’ve been hurt and how deeply I’ve been violated. What he did was worse than murder. To value a precious human life so little that it was an instrument of torture and nothing more!
To then use that grief to make me feel guilty, to convince me that I was bad and a murderer, that I was naturally evil, to reinforce my responsibility for any of his actions, to GET OFF on! (really, literally, so he could rape me again) ...
I am very sad and horrified.
But I am deeply relieved that underneath my external personality is more of the same not an evil, sadistic, psychopathic, child-torturing murderer...
Seriously relieved! What a weight off my shoulders after 30 yrs!!!! YAY!!!!
But how very painful to be treated like that - I am very angry that my grandfather created my children to hurt them and me, then tried to (and maybe did succeed in) kill them. A child should be the result of love, not hate.
So the fierce, motherly anger and pain I feel is even more justified than I thought. It can be hard not to let it suck me into guilt... But I know now - it was HIM and not ME who did these very evil things...
I love those children and want their very brief lives to be remembered as something good in the world, even though I had no choice in it then...
Miscarriage 5, At School, Staff Toilets, Probably 3rd April 1991 –
Oct 1 2006, 04:31 PM
I don't really know what to say - I think I might be recovering memories of a 4th miscarriage. I hope you guys will understand - I haven't forgotten because I meant to (how could I forget my little ones! Oh, God that hurts!) I had to not know to survive - if I’d dropped any hints my grandfather really might have killed someone. Can any of you help me with some information? - I need some help with reality checking so I can understand this experience.
The pain was like contractions - muscles cramping periodically, relaxing briefly a bit, then cramping again. It felt like effort-related pain. I had to scream and yell with the effort, if that makes any sense, as well as because it hurt so much. There was a lot of blood - soaked through a pad very quickly, then another. I said "there's blood all over the floor" when I was remembering it. I had to clean blood and thicker tissue - sticky - off my shoes. I couldn't really walk, I was curled up cramping. My lower back ached sharply and my lower abdomen - lowest burnt like stretching and tearing pain and then everything came together in the effort-like expulsion pain. I could feel things coming out of me. It looked like a bloody big mess - "placenta" is what I thought - all sort of dark red, purple, spongy, plus lots of bloody sort of jelly-ish chunks. It was very hard to clean them up. But there was no sign of any baby in this one ... I’d had one at 5 weeks that was like a very heavy period - this was more than that, I had to work hard and had to scream with the pain etc., it wasn't just cramps and it was periodic - I’d rest a bit then it would come on again. It wasn't regular, though, not so regular as the last one I remembered (number 3 - any time from 13-20 weeks - I may have missed 3 periods or 4 I’m not sure).
I don't know how many periods I’d missed with this one. I was kind of relieved when it started as if I’d missed some and been a bit worried about that (not that I thought I could be pregnant because I had amnesia about the rapes etc. And I’d never slept with anyone, so that wasn't possible). Bloody chunks. That didn't seem right and I kept bleeding and it sort of came out in a rush - too much. But with the 2nd and 3rd ones I could recognise the baby (or the pieces) and with this one there was nothing - nothing I could recognise. Does that mean it wasn't a miscarriage. I wonder if the baby might have died a long time before (like when my grandfather tried to cause a miscarriage 4 mths before?) or could it have happened some time after that - I don't think my grandparents could have stayed with us later than February, but I thought very strongly of the date April 3rd - why? Doesn't that seem too long to all of you?
Sorry to bring up such a painful subject but is it possible I was having a miscarriage - is that what it would be like? It was a little like the 3rd one (late) - enough to make me wonder if I’m messing them up somehow - but there was no baby of any kind to show for it in the end, or at least nothing I’m able to remember right now ... I said something about cleaning up and it all being just gone "poof, no baby" and that feeling so very wrong. I couldn't wrap it up or anything - it was just mess. Is this possible? Does anybody know? Or must I be making stuff up or confused somehow? Can anyone tell me if I could have a late miscarriage like that and not know I was pregnant beforehand and not have a baby to see when I did and have that kind of contraction-like pain .... Does it make any sense to any of you who have been through miscarriages?
So sorry to be talking about something like this and to be so confused about what happened ... That must seem really strange to you and I feel ashamed about it ... I would have been 17 at the time ... I don't know what I feel today - washed out ...! Confused. Waiting in horrible anticipation for more of it to come back to me and wondering if I should try and prompt it somehow but not wanting to. Sorry to post here but I looked at some miscarriage sites on the web and I’m just too scared to post my questions there because how could they understand that I’m not sure what happened? That it feels like yesterday but is 15 years ago? That I can't remember all the details? Also the horrible situation - I wasn't looking forward to it or trying to get pregnant with a partner I loved, I’d been raped. I just couldn't bring myself to ask my questions there.
Anyone got any information about whether this sounds like it could have been a miscarriage - maybe late, or would it have to have been early? Whether it's possible not to be able to tell about the baby being there or not - just bloody unrecognisable jelly-like chunks - like jellified blood sort of, only with more tissue in them? Sorry to be so graphic ... I just need some help figuring out if what I’m talking about is possible and could be another miscarriage. What do you think? Do any of you know? Is the pain I’m talking about - with that kind of periodic effort and need to yell with it - something that people recognise, does it happen with a miscarriage?
I don't know what they're like and they seem so different for different people. Does anyone know if this makes sense? I just don't feel like I can ask for advice. I am feeling very isolated, shattered and panicked. Anyone? Help?
Oct 1 2006, 03:38 PM
[A description of how it was when I flashbacked this and remembered it for the first time, with my partner there.]
Confused summary of what was going on? I was screaming periodically with the pain of my muscles spasming. I felt the ripple of a contraction earlier. It was effortful sounding screaming not just pain. I’d get my breath back for a moment, then I’d have to, really have to, scream again. I said there was nothing to recognise - just lots of blood all over the floor "splat", big dark, bloody, purple spongy sort of masses. "splat" that I was in the staff toilets (special privilege in my last year at school - the normal toilets were being renovated and these had been recently too) the smell of fresh paint. Trying to get the blood of my shoes. My friends coming looking for me (I was missing a class) but me hiding in the cubicle and keeping very quiet. Cramps and feeling sick and dizzy from about 4 am that morning. Wondering if I should have gone to school, but I didn't want to miss a maths test we had that afternoon. Nothing to hold on to. Nothing to keep or say goodbye to. Just a mess this time and having to clean up and just flush everything down the loo - no discrimination, no caring moment. So much pain. Missing the first two classes and being late for the next (English) I was never late for English. I was school captain and a very good student so no one wondered or worried much if I was late to classes. I remember sitting on the steps of the town hall on the way home in the afternoon, feeling sick, feeling pale green, cold, shocky. I think I’d lost and was still losing a lot of blood. I was shaky and sick all that day. I might have gone home early. I used to get bad periods sometimes - spend the first day throwing up. I had this just as one of these but ... There was too much bloody and those other masses (clots?) and it didn't fit...
My thoughts worry me. When I was in the toilets I thought "you know the drill" - took off my underwear etc., thought ahead a bit about cleaning up and washing my face and the blood off my stomach - I only just remembered that bit - trying to do that without being caught by a teacher coming in while I did - trying to get the smears off before I buttone up my (senior school) shirt. I meant "you know the drill" about something other than having a bad period or being sick ... I’d had 3 miscarriages, one the year before in the grotty not-repainted general school toilets. I don't know how much that was mixing in with my memories - I was flashbacking to it to yesterday as well as to the rape before that and the miscarriage before that ...
But this seems different - morning not after school, different toilets (different colour paint especially and lighting), different kind of thing - matter of fact attitude from me (seriously disturbing!!! how could I be matter of fact about losing a child) but then also me thinking "well, what do you expect?" kind of harshly to myself. And that year my grandfather had raped me several times when they stayed with us (not sure if it was before or after christmas or both). Why am I thinking April 3? I was sure about that being significant somehow and I don't know how. He'd also drugged me and told me he'd show me how to do a backyard abortion properly …
All this is very recently remembered and discussed. I never knew I’d been pregnant or had a miscarriage. I forgot yesterday and my poor, dear partner had to keep explaining how it was possible. How I hadn't slept with him and forgotten it. How it wasn't our baby I was losing ... "but I’d never cheat on you!" (15 years ago, long before I met him), "but I’ve never wanted to and I wouldn't have sex with anyone but you" (he had to keep explaining it was rape) "did I get raped when I went out to town???" (no, he had to keep explaining, you were raped by your grandfather and you were a child ... I just couldn't get it, though I said it was like my grandfather and I did believe my partner because I know he'd never lie to me ... Just couldn't make it fit, make sense of it)
My grandfather had drugged me (hence my fear of taking quite similar drugs - same class, same feeling though not as extreme) …. I couldn't fight back, no coordination, I wanted to kill him briefly then, I thought he might be doing it again - fierce protective anger partly for me but mostly with the power of being perhaps a mother behind it. He's killing my child!!! So then when I’m remembering this new thing I remembered thinking "what do you expect?" Bitterly, harshly, as if I was stupid not to know what was going on (I had amnesia for all of this - I never remembered being raped by him and I didn't know that I had been at the time - I was so puzzled by this voice in me that seemed to know what to do, what was going on, when I didn't! - I don't know if that can make sense for anyone?)
There are all these little differences in detail and I was screaming my head off, looping round and round till I remembered them. I am so scared that there's more to remember and that it will involve so much pain - physical and emotional. I am feeling very shaken and battered today as if I’ve just been through the actual thing, sort of ... It felt like it totally - smells, body movements and spasms and pain and sensations as if I was bleeding and passing clots etc.
Oct 3 2006, 03:05 AM
… I feel really shocked by things I was thinking - by harsh, cool survival-[my name] voice and just physically - demands have been huge and I already have a pain syndrome, which lowers my tolerance levels. But most of all the baby was not visible this time as recognizable - maybe bits and pieces in clots.
…. I feel so guilty for "losing it" and not being aware enough (when I first cleaning up I didn't think and just threw the toilet paper and extra-soaked pads where they belonged) But a voice was saying "you know the drill" and "what do you expect?" "you haven't got time, you can't deal with it later, so lets [this rambled into incomprehensibility for a few sentences as I was flashbacking while writing]
For the 3rd one I spent ages and ages trying to fit all the pieces back together. There was no coherent little body really at the end but all the pieces were recognizable little early-person. This time I spent ages breaking open and smudging pieces of kind of jelliified blood looking for it. And I found some tissues etc. But nothing recognizable. I thought maybe I’d accidentally thrown it out before I thought about that?
It hurts so much to not have had anyone or anything to wrap up or hold and say goodbye too. I missed it so completely - had traumatic amnesia about the rapes and therefore the pregnancies too.
…I remember my grandfather saying he'd show me (how to induce a miscarriage to avoid having him torture them).
He tricked me [with the headache pills] and drugged me and then used a knitting needle and a serrated knife inside me, pushed in hard. I remember the fierce anger I felt, protective kind of what if I’m pregnant and he's killing it.… I tried to fight but was so drugged that I couldn't move properly. It didn't stop it hurting, a lot, unfortunately. I feel bad that I failed to protect my child….
(Oh my sweet little one I’m so sorry I missed you so completely, I tried to find you, you are not lost forever, and I tried to protect you. I’m so sorry that I failed!)
… My grandfather didn't care at all that they were his children too. He effectively tortured me to have a miscarriage and he succeeded. I feel violated on all possible levels straight down to me soul. But also it was not at all the baby's fault and I loved them and they were my own.
Oct 4 2006, 12:57 AM
I looked for you and looked and looked but I couldn't find you my little one. Was I wrong, was this just a heavy period... No, no way. There was never any period like that. Then where were you? Why couldn't I find you? Had I already accidentally thrown you away? God, no, please, no. I didn't even get to hold you. It was horrible to piece your older sister or brother back together again - it took so long. But I spent the same time over you. I loved you just as much. I searched for you in the wreckage on that bathroom floor and I found nothing I could recognise. I couldn't treat you any differently from all the mess and shit and blood because I couldn't find you. Lost. Lost forever. Lost inside me. Lost outside me. Gone. Before I ever met you. Oh my sweet little child - I never meant to abandon you. I didn't know what to do. I never meant to make you seem like nothing when I tried to convince myself that nothing was wrong, when I didn't have time, when I couldn't tell my friends. I denied your existence, even to myself. How did I know you were there when you were gone. But I think I know now. I am still not even sure. But I should be... I know I should be ... Oh, forgive me, little one for my ignorance and fear. Forgive me for neglecting you ... I never meant to hurt you. I wish I could have protected you from him. But he was stronger and smarter than me and less scrupulous. I thought he cared about me. I thought he might be sorry. I couldn't remember what he had just done. And so I took those pills from his hand. And so he killed you. I think he killed you... I feel like I should know these things! But I wanted you to know that I never meant to leave you behind unnoticed, unrecognised and now I remember I will not do that. I hope, like someone here said, you will hear me and look down at me from heaven and forgive. I was your mother. I should have protected you. I wanted to. I wanted to find you. Lost forever... But no, I have found you now, [my partner’s nickname] is right. I was in so much pain. My heart aches, my body aches. There is so much I can't make sense of. So much I don't know about what is or isn't possible. I don't even know how old you were. I am horrified by how deeply I was violated - right down to my DNA. Then I feel guilty, as if I were rejecting you. This is not your fault, my sweet, innocent, baby. You should never have been entangled in this mess. You were never him or me, you were you. But part of my heart is with you. Will always be with you. I want to go to sleep but I am scared. I am so uncertain. I don't know if I can share this memory with my psychiatrist tomorrow. What will he think of me? Will he think I’m wrong because I couldn't find you? Will he think I’m so very damaged because this flood of memories seems endless? How can I even care what he will think when there is you ... I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I feel so lost too ... And I shouldn't, I’m your mother. You were my responsibility. But I was helpless to help you. I always cared, even when I hardly knew ... I love you, little one ...
your mother (what a word to use, do I deserve it? it is just how it is) your mother always, [my name]
Oct 5 2006, 06:29 PM
As far as my body memory is concerned I’ve just had a possibly 20 week miscarriage, it might have been earlier, I’m not sure of the date in my head - contractions/labour-like(?)pain/screaming pain anyhow from 7.30-1.30 then 4.15-about 8.30. But I was looping - the real thing probably took about 2 hours and then I remember bleeding heavily for 15 days. I felt really sick before it too. I am so hurt, cramping, dizzy etc. now. I’ve been trying to figure out how to deal with this all week … so now I’m going to ask!
November 15 2007, 3.06 PM
Yesterday I made a new connection with something I’ve always remembered but had not thought about in a long time. One of my friends had an abortion some years ago and told me that she’d been leaking milk afterwards and it was very hard to deal with. I’d thought at the time that it must have been a very late abortion (I knew she had to travel to get the procedure done). But something reminded me of her this morning, and in the context of putting together the section here on the miscarriages … and I remembered how I’d come home from school one afternoon in my senior school uniform, I’m pretty sure in year 12, and my breasts had been hurting and I’d taken off my shirt and bra and seen some milky-crusty substance round the nipples. I squeezed and some milky substance came out ... I was puzzled. Could breasts produce milk any time like that? Was this just something that happened as you matured? I didn’t think so – I thought you needed to have given birth and then the milk came with that. But that made no sense because I hadn’t ever been pregnant (I did not remember being pregnant or the miscarriage – I think this was not long after the 4th miscarriage). Then I was worried that perhaps I was sick – my breasts were a little swollen, but how could they both get infected like that? And it didn’t look like pus or anything, and there was no redness – normal apart from being swollen and sore and producing this discharge. I thought maybe I should go to the doctor. But I didn’t want to explain this to anyone and I was embarrassed at the thought of showing him my breasts. I told myself sternly that I should be sensible about that … but then I decided I’d wait a little while and see if it just went away … that a week or so couldn’t hurt and then I’d know it was just a passing thing. I still wondered a bit whether breasts just did that and thought maybe I could look it up in the library after school or at lunch time perhaps. And, of course, it did just stop. Then I filed it away under “inexplicable mysteries” I guess and thought perhaps it was a dream – like when I was a kid and thought I really could fly because I had such vivid dreams where I could. But yesterday I thought – it was not a dream, I remember it as reality. Then I wondered if it was possible at that stage of pregnancy or as a result of a miscarriage and I looked it up on the internet and found that it was quite common after second-trimester miscarriages especially. It hurts to know that … makes it even more real somehow that I did have a baby that I lost. Anyway, I am sure now that I was lactating at the time and probably for about a week or a little more afterwards. Just another confirming connection.