I'm sure that by writing this I'm going to get a lot of people who call me a liar, like i usually do when I look for support on the net. I got pregnant when I was just 12 years old, I'm 16 now. The pregnancy was the result of rape, as I was being actively sexually abused by a neighbor at this time. So I didn't tell anyone. I guess I just kept telling myself that if I ignored the fact that i was pregnant, and missing periods and everything, that it would just go away. But it, of course, wouldn't.
It seems like everything was going fine until I was about two and a half or three months into the pregnancy. I got beaten at school by these two girls who I didn't know (it was later found out that they were taking out revenge for their cousin whom I had gotten into an argument with before). It all started with a swift and hard punch in my face, leaving a nice sized abrasion across my eye and forehead, as they had shattered my glasses. So I ran into the crowd surrounding me, and I felt myself being grabbed by the collar of my shirt and thrown to the ground. I don't remember much after this, because i lost consciousness from being kicked in the head. They stomped on my abdomen so badly that I ended up with bruises shaped like shoe prints on my stomach the next day. The school officials wanted to blame the whole thing on me.
I walked away that afternoon with a concussion and a couple of broken ribs (so i was to find out later that week). I went to bed that night like normal, and my parents didn't make me go to the school the next day. I woke up the next morning in a great deal of pain. There was blood on my sheets and I walked out of my bedroom to an empty house. My parents must have been at their business or something. I went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet because I was in so much pain, especially in my abdominal regions. My baby and the rest came out into the toilet. I just sat there for a while, crying in pain, I knew i couldn't tell anyone. I barely looked at her before i closed the lid down and flushed it all away. I took a shower and cleaned up, and put my sheets in the wash before my parents got back. I just ate some tylenol and went back to sleep.
Until a few months ago, I told myself that that didn't count as a pregnancy, that my baby was just a cluster of cells. I told myself a lot of things. But one night, a few months ago, I finally told somone for the first time that I had been pregnant. And i cried so much. Its like all the pain is hitting me now, four years later. I'm in therapy now with PTSD from the sexual abuse and the beating, though I rarely talk about my baby in therapy. My friend suggested that maybe I name her. So I picked the name Arienete, its the title of a song I loved at the time of her death, and that I still do.
"So stay with me Arienette, until the wolves are away."
It seems like everything was going fine until I was about two and a half or three months into the pregnancy. I got beaten at school by these two girls who I didn't know (it was later found out that they were taking out revenge for their cousin whom I had gotten into an argument with before). It all started with a swift and hard punch in my face, leaving a nice sized abrasion across my eye and forehead, as they had shattered my glasses. So I ran into the crowd surrounding me, and I felt myself being grabbed by the collar of my shirt and thrown to the ground. I don't remember much after this, because i lost consciousness from being kicked in the head. They stomped on my abdomen so badly that I ended up with bruises shaped like shoe prints on my stomach the next day. The school officials wanted to blame the whole thing on me.
I walked away that afternoon with a concussion and a couple of broken ribs (so i was to find out later that week). I went to bed that night like normal, and my parents didn't make me go to the school the next day. I woke up the next morning in a great deal of pain. There was blood on my sheets and I walked out of my bedroom to an empty house. My parents must have been at their business or something. I went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet because I was in so much pain, especially in my abdominal regions. My baby and the rest came out into the toilet. I just sat there for a while, crying in pain, I knew i couldn't tell anyone. I barely looked at her before i closed the lid down and flushed it all away. I took a shower and cleaned up, and put my sheets in the wash before my parents got back. I just ate some tylenol and went back to sleep.
Until a few months ago, I told myself that that didn't count as a pregnancy, that my baby was just a cluster of cells. I told myself a lot of things. But one night, a few months ago, I finally told somone for the first time that I had been pregnant. And i cried so much. Its like all the pain is hitting me now, four years later. I'm in therapy now with PTSD from the sexual abuse and the beating, though I rarely talk about my baby in therapy. My friend suggested that maybe I name her. So I picked the name Arienete, its the title of a song I loved at the time of her death, and that I still do.
"So stay with me Arienette, until the wolves are away."
