I'm not sure the title is the right one, but maybe it is. I did tell ya'll I'd write this story. Bear with me. It's hard to write, think or talk about. If you see some misplaced humor, it's just me dealing with it. Lightening my mood to enable me to tell my story. In order to tell it, we must have a little history also. Telling it bareboned would not do it justice. It will be my thoughts, impressions of that time. This is my story. No one knows the full story, I don't talk about it. It does need to be told. I think it's time. Bear with me while I muddle through. It may get graphic, and I'd say that a man may not be able to 'stomach' the story. I suggest they read it anyway, but you know, whatever.
This is the story of a teenage girl. One who was lost, and had been for a long time. Almost no self-esteem due to her upbringing. Being told you are stupid and worthless your entire life does this to a girl. It will also demonstrate why it is VERY important to teach your children about sex. There is a right and a wrong way. You will see, just bear with me. While I'm writing, I'm also listing to my launchast radio, if you see bits of music thrown in, well that's why. I'd never survive without my music to speak for me at times.

Deep breath. I think first I should explain what my sex education was. Stepbitch sat down and said: When you're 16 we'll put you on birth control. That's the extent of my parental sex talk. My friends, the girl ones, simply bragged about having it, not really anything else. Health class taught me that if you get pregnant, you miss your period. Let's all remember that very important point. Pregnant=missed period. (not true) That's it, that's all I knew about sex until I was 15.
We won't talk about losing my virginity, it's not very relevant here. The only relevance it has is that I lost it because he wanted to have sex. It was painful, took 3 times to break through and well, it always hurt anyway. (It wasn't until I met my husband at age 21 that I learned a woman needed to be 'wet' before penetration for it not to hurt. That's when I learned sex was fun.)
Now to set the relevant background. At 15 I was working at the Flats, the girls know where that is. There I met Angelo. He was 20 something. The point being, he was nice to me. I was attracted and pursued him, let's remember that. Let's also remember here I never had sex with a condom until my hubby. Because: It doesn't feel good (he said, both he's). The pertinent question here is why I had sex with him. It had never been a nice expirience before. I admit, I was curious. I didn't have much self-esteem either. I don't really know why I did. Mostly because he wanted to. He had soft lips, I liked his kisses, that's what it was for me. Didn't necessarily want the sex itself. I never did like it, yet I still did it. Why? Basically, he wanted to. I'm very lucky I didn't catch any diseases from him. He had sex with a lot of women. I wasn't possessive of him, as I didn't really look at him as 'mine'. I just didn't care. If I'd have known then...You know the saying, I would have had more self respect. I broke it off in the January before I turned 16. If you're curious, it was only for a few months that winter. I know when the last time I had had sex with him was, because of the circumstances in which I broke it off. I don't want to talk about those. Anyway, it was the end of January, no later.
Anyway, on with the show. A little 'woman' talk is necessary here. My period has always been short. It has never been predictable, and my cycle is short. I can have 2 in one month, the first of the month and the last, it's about a 3 to 3 and half week cycle. Months are 4 weeks. It's important to note I never missed one. NOT ONE. I never had cramps, no PMS, no early warning. Once in a while I would have very mild cramps 2 days before. I would bleed for 3 days. The first day was a normal flow, and the next 2 were a trickle, I didn't actually need a pad. It was that light. The only reason I tell you this is it pertains to the story.
After school let out that year, I was 16 by then, in June we went to my cousin's graduation. Her parents are missionaries in Hong Kong. They would come back to the states for each child's senior year. In June, we were in Indiana. Our family was there, our grandparents and my aunt and uncle's family. I was 'on the rag' by the time we arrived. I was cramping very badly. I was bleeding a lot. I was changing my pad roughly every hour. Went to the store and got some medicine for that, may have been midol or something. It did not lessen any pain. On the day of Sara's graduation, which was to take place that night, here is what I remember:
At some point I had gone to the restroom, did my thing and changed my pad yet again. I was in a lot of pain. I went to the kitchen where grandma was cooking something. I remember saying something like grandma can I ask you something. Next thing I know I had thrown up all over the table. Everyone freaked out. Grandma looked very worried. My father said I was ghost white and had passed out. He and my uncle took me to the ER.
The ER: Of course you register and whatnot, all that I have no memory of. My father was in the room with me. Of course being a young girl one of the questions they ask is if you are pregnant. Remember, this is June, the last sex I had was January. So, count from Feb to middle of June and you get 5 months. So, my answer was no. The doc kept asking and looking at me funny. I had to pee in a cup. They sent my father out of the room and asked again, I said no it's not possible. I also said the last time I had sex was January. They did not believe me, can't really blame them as a lot of girls I'm sure are scared and lie. It did not occur to me to lie about that. Then, I got sent to get an MRI done. I remember outside of that room waiting on the hospital bed, by that time I couldn't stand so they chose to wheel the bed around, I was talking to I think the radiologist who does the MRI. They said cat-scan, I don't know if that's different. He was asking about the pain and what not. The next thing I know, I woke up and asked him what he gave me to knock me out. I was feeling no pain. It didn't hurt anymore. He didn't give me anything at all. The scans were inconclusive, so the sent me to get an ultrasound. Getting an ultrasound that quickly is not fun. There is a tube and saline involved there. They have to get liquid into your bladder. They did the ultrasound but would not tell me what they found. Back to the ER room I was in, same doc as saw me first. Remember, they did do a piss test. This is where it starts getting a little freaky. This doctor asked me if I had had an abortion. I said no, I'm not even pregnant. Apparently the miscarriage looked so bad, that they thought that's what happened. We'll note here, that I'm not even sure if there's anyone in the area I live in, even now, that does that. And let's set aside that it is something I know I would never do. So, here I am, in an ER room with a pissed off doctor accusing me of having an abortion. Here I am thinking it's not possible to be pregnant as I have been taught that when you are pregnant, you miss your period. End of story. Out comes that damn whatcha-ma-callit, speculum I think. There is nothing a woman hates more than those things and the stirrups. I was alone in that room with a pissed of doctor and a nurse who looked at me like I was some misguided child. ALONE. They didn't even bother to hide what they were doing. So that I couldn't see. I guess maybe they thought I deserved it, I don't know. Here I am, alone, absorbing that I had been pregnant and lost a baby. My whole life all I've ever really wanted to be was a mother. Remember that month count? Add in the 2 weeks on either side of your cycle that you are 'fertile'. That makes atleast 5 months. They were putting it in a jar, A JAR! It looked like a baby. This is very hard, it's seared into my brain. Alone in a hospital room, looking at what would have been my child.
When they were done, my father came back into the room. He was pissed. I got yelled at for lying to the doctor. The whole way back to my uncle's house. I got that 'look'. The girls know what that look is. Ice blue eyes. GLARE. ALONE. LOST. This is so hard to write. We got back and no one had much to say. The littler ones knew nothing. My cousins didn't know what to say. My grandmother looked at me and said I could talk to her when I was ready. My father continued to yell and glare with those ice blue eyes that always portray his RAGE. Stepbitch told me it was god's will. FUCK THAT SHIT. That night, I was left alone while everyone else went to the graduation. ALONE. Tell me, what kind of parents leave their child alone to deal with shit like that? I really want to know the answer to that one. My grandmother would have stayed, but I told her to go, she needed to be at the graduation. I wasn't allowed to go, the docs said I had to rest. I know that if not for the doctor's orders I would have been forced to go.
I will try to describe my thoughts. In a space of a couple hours, I found out I was pregnant, but not anymore. I lost a baby I never knew I had. I was ALONE. The people in my life who were supposed to be there for me were pissed off and disgusted. Guilt, so much guilt. I never missed a period, my waist didn't get bigger, my breasts weren't more sensitive, nothing to tell me I was pregnant. Now that I have 2 children, I know what it's like to be pregnant and I felt none of those things back then. I thought it was all my fault. I must have done something wrong, something to deserve it. My self-esteem was the lowest it had ever been. ALL...MY...FAULT. To top of my guilt for this, the whole way home and continuing months later, I was still getting the disgust and the 'look'.
I would never have survived if not for my job. The people I worked for and with. My bosses felt guilty because they didn't know about my 'relationship' and were supportive of me. The guys I worked with were supportive of me. Angelo went back to Denver as soon as he found out. I had to call my bosses and take an extended week vacation, so he got advance warning. I don't blame him, he probably would have paid for it with his life. No, I'm not joking. I was threatened into filing a statutory rape charge. I don't think they extradited him from Denver. Andy, who was head cook after Angelo left, had a brother I had worked with and been friends with before he moved back to Denver called me. Alma had told him the story. He called me at work, of course, and offered to go beat the shit out of him. It was unnecessary really. I still wouldn't have gotten past it, if not for the woman police officer I went to file the charges with. She shooed my stepbitch out of the room to talk to me. They wanted details, which I was embarassed to give. I told her about my guilt. I had bad allergies and was constantly taking benadryl to be able to function, I carried heavy bus tubs, filled with dishes, on my waist to support the weight. She explained that it couldn't possibly have been the benadryl as they recommend that 'drug' for pregnant women with allergies, it's safe to take. I did tell her about the doc telling me I had had an abortion, and she believed ME. She was the first person to do so. She explained that yes, it is possible to keep having your period when pregnant, it is possible to have no symptoms at all. It was not my fault. A woman miscarries if there is something wrong with the fetus. If it would not survive outside of the womb. That probably saved my life. I was very depressed and in a very dark place. The first person to tell me it was not MY fault. In reality, my family should have done that. The girls themselves, didn't really know so they don't count. My grandmother is the only one who didn't judge me for having sex before marriage. That didn't really count for a long time as she was in NE and we were in MO. Going back to school that year really helped too. My friend Billie helped alot. She had an aunt that never missed a period and out popped a cousin, no symptoms for the whole pregnancy, even an enlarged belly. Anything that got me out of my home environment helped me. I didn't get past it for a very long time. I haven't really even now. I will never forget. It still makes me cry. It is something that unless it happens to you, you don't know. You really cannot relate to it. It's different even than losing a child that has been born. You haven't even met the child.
The most painful question I was ever asked came from Oldest sister. She respected my inability to talk about it, but she did need to ask this question. I understood her need. And I did give the answer. She asked me what it felt like to have a miscarriage. You can guess why she asked that question. It is a pain like you have never known. You bleed a lot. A whole hell of a lot. Nothing can take the edge off of that pain. We've never talked about it since, but I have always assumed from her expression after I answered that it wasn't something she had had. (Just to note, she was married at the time.)
This episode in my life does still hold power over me. Mostly I just cry about it every once in a while. It no longer has the ability to take me to my very dark place. I suppose that's a good thing.
Now, you all know why it is so important to teach your kids properly. That's all I ask of you. I did not write this to have anyone say, I feel bad for you, or whatever. I don't need it, and I don't want it. I give you all the opportunity to learn from my mistakes. I don't like to point out my mistakes, I mean who does? This is a life lesson for others to learn from. Don't make my mistakes. Don't make my parents' mistakes. It's all fine and good to tell your kids not to have sex, but they really do need to know why. The don't need the usual answers, they need to know good, solid reasons. Remember, your children do listen to you. Be careful what you say to your children, you really can scar them for life. I know, I've been there.
There's really not much left to say. It'll be a while before I write again, I think. Confessions like this take a lot out of you. I'll be having a good cry later when my kids sleep. As always, I re-read my posts. My wish for ya'll is to have written well enough so that you 'see' how it felt. I hope I have written it well enough. This is something that I would never wish on anyone. This is the one thing in my life I have always been alone in. There is nothing like it. I hope it was conveyed well. I have a large vocabulary, but don't always come up with the right words. I think I may send this one to grandma too. Anyway, maybe later I might revise it after re-reading it. If I do, it will be to add more descriptive words, as my brain does not deal well with this. Ya'll have a good weekend! |