A Difficult Return

After coming home from a sorrowful event, I sat down on the couch, still feeling the weight of sadness. He walked over, exposed himself, and forced himself into my personal space. I pushed him away and told him I was not in the mood. Seeking comfort, I went to the bathroom to change into pajamas and then lay on the bed in the bedroom.

Repeated Boundaries and Brokenness

He crawled into bed next to me, began touching me, and once again I pushed him away, repeating that I was not in the mood. Wanting to escape, I returned to the couch, but he followed and again exposed himself, forcing himself into my space. I pushed him away and firmly said no. Desperate for peace, I made a bed on the bedroom floor and lay down.

He got on top of me. Every part of me screamed to resist, to push him off, to say no, to fight back—but I did none of these things. I felt broken. I lay there, unmoving and silent, until it was over. Afterward, I walked to the bathroom and cried quietly on the floor.

Giving Up and Losing Connection

From that moment forward, I stopped saying no. I no longer pushed him away. I simply gave him what he wanted. It no longer seemed to matter to him that there was no connection, that I never engaged or showed any enjoyment. I gradually accepted that, as a woman, it was supposedly my role to please him, that because he was my boyfriend and we had been intimate before, I felt I had no right to refuse. He had to have what he wanted when he wanted it. So, I did what was expected of me.

Physical and Emotional Changes

But something changed. After sex, I started to bleed—something that had never happened before, and I didn’t understand why. Eventually, I confided in my best friend, who was also family. I wasn’t sure if I wanted reassurance that I was doing the right thing, fulfilling my “duty” as a woman, or if I needed confirmation that my feelings of discomfort were valid. He told me I needed to talk to my mom.

A Difficult Conversation and Unexpected News

That night, I called my mom and asked her to take me to the store. The store wasn’t really important; I just needed an excuse to spend time alone with her. We sat together in a parking lot, and I finally told her, “Mom, I’m pregnant.” After the first time he broke me, I started feeling sick and took a home pregnancy test, which confirmed I was pregnant. My mom was excited at first, thrilled at the idea of becoming a grandma. But then I told her everything else—how it happened, what was happening to me, and that I was now bleeding. Her excitement turned to sadness as she realized what her daughter was experiencing.

Seeking Safety and Medical Help

My mom quickly made a plan to get me out of the house. We followed through the next day. She scheduled a doctor’s appointment for me, explained the situation, and mentioned that I was bleeding. At the appointment, I learned that the reason for the spotting was because the act was being forced on me.

Coming to Terms and Finding Light

Even when I talked about what had happened, I never called it by its real name. It wasn’t until someone told me that it was, in fact, that—simply because I had said no. Looking back, I sometimes wish things had happened differently, but in truth, I have no regrets. My reason is simple: this man broke me and crushed my soul, but he also gave me a reason for life—my oldest child. This baby brought so much light and life back into me, and began to repair some of the brokenness inside. How could I regret the gift of life? These are my silent cries behind a broken smile.