Anonymous Mom: My Child Is A Product Of Rape

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woman-looking-out-windowAnonymous Mom is a column of motherhood confessions, indiscretions, and parental shortcomings selected by Mommyish editors. Under this anonymous byline, readers can share their own stories, secrets, and moments of weakness with complete anonymity. You can read our other Anonymous Mom submissions here.

My son has bright blonde hair and beautiful clear blue eyes. He’s smart and funny. He’s got a short temper—some people would say he gets it from me—but is kind and compassionate. He’s so many wonderful things.

He’s also a child born of rape.

I was 18. I’d been dating a guy for a few weeks when we made plans for me to stay over at his apartment. It would be our first time sleeping together, and I was excited. I even brought my own condoms—a condom that he removed after a few minutes because, as he joked then, “skin to skin or it doesn’t go in.”

I was terrified of pregnancy and STIs. That had been the bulk of my sexual education—that both of them were bound to happen if you had sex before marriage. I said, “No, no sex without a condom.” I said, “I’m not on the pill.” I said, “I don’t want to get pregnant.” I said, “Please stop.”

When he was done, he said, “Thank you.”  I rolled away and tried not to cry. Then I rolled back to him. I didn’t want to feel violated. I didn’t want to feel afraid. I wanted to feel safe. It’s a paradox, to reach for those things in the person who, up until this moment, you trusted, and who yanked it all away.

Eight weeks later, the stick had a plus sign.

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