The Pregnancy Test

I have mentioned in a previous post that I was married at age 17 in the August prior to my senior year of high school, I did not go into detail about that time and would like to share a little more. Surprisingly although my husband and I were not using any birth control it was a year before I became pregnant with our first child. Why didn't we use birth control, well the only way to really compound the sin of having sex outside of marriage would have been to use birth control, I already was sure I was the spawn of evil and didn't want to cause any more sin to fall upon the head of my partner.

When I first missed my period we waited for the required few days before you could use a home pregnancy test, back then the test took 45 minutes to process and it was done in a test tube that you had to read by looking for a circle at the bottom of the tube. We drove far out of the area close to our homes to furtively purchase a kit, we then had to wait until everyone was gone from my home before we could begin the process of testing. We carefully followed the directions and waited impatiently for the required time to pass, once it was done the conversation went something like this. "It's positive, I can see the ring at the bottom of the tube" I said. "Are you sure it doesn't look like the picture on the instruction sheet", said Lee in a shaky voice. "Yes I'm sure, look see the ring, you can see it in the mirror" I replied. This went back and forth until I finally suggested we get it followed up by a blood test.

I was sure we would have the same results with a blood test, this was one determined little being and I was already having symptoms of "morning" sickness. We went the next day and had the results by that afternoon, I was definitely and without a doubt pregnant. Now what, we knew we wanted to get married and had been planning to marry sometime after I graduated from high school but how on earth were we going to tell our parents. We had visions of my father with a shot gun, we needn't have feared my father it was my mother we should have been afraid of. Before I was able to tell my parents a sibling had gone into my room to use my phone and found the papers from the clinic we had gone to. I was confronted by a very disappointed, angry parent and I won't go into the details but sometimes when parents are hurt and angry they say things that they later regret. We nearly ran away that night after the confrontation, but decided to wait it out for a few days. That night my boyfriend told his father and was told any decision we made would be supported.

A few days later my mother talked to me again, expressing her love for me and her disappointment because she had wanted so much more for me than to be a young mother, she said if we wanted to marry that she would allow it only if Lee came to her and asked. When he came to her later that day and asked for permission she looked at him and said he had her permission but that she wanted to make clear to him that he was Never to say he had to marry me because he didn't. I could stay home and keep the baby, place the baby for adoption, or we could marry and raise the child but marrying was a choice not a requirement and she would never want me dishonored by his ever saying we married not by choice but because of this baby.

I would have been content to marry in front of a justice of the peace, to go quietly and spare my parents any more upset, but my mother stepped in and said I would have a wedding. She had been married by a justice of the peace and she wanted me to have a real wedding, a memory to cherish, with all that came with it, so we set about to plan a wedding.

We were married on a sunny August day, my mother and sister provided all the food and family served in the kitchen, we had the ceremony and reception in an LDS ward house. My sister made my wedding cake and it was decorated with fresh roses. It was wonderful and more than I expected, more than I felt I deserved, I am so grateful to my mother for seeing that having this start was important, I have beautiful pictures and a lovely memory.

Enough For Now.

Four Footed Furry Children

I want to step away from the more serious side of myself for a change and talk about my three dogs, it never ceases to amaze me that three animals can be as diverse in personality as three children in the same family. We currently have three, all three are rescues although the one dog doesn't count officially as a rescue since she was not part of an official rescue organization.


Fat Dog or Escape Artist is a Smooth Haired Fox terrier and Jack Russell mix dog who has decided I am her human, she follows me everywhere I go when I am home and cries for me when I am not. She is the alpha after me and rules the other two dogs, she is also the mother and thinks that she needs to take care of everyone, if you are sick or sad that means you need to have a grooming session, and she is very attentive, unless you can hide under the covers any exposed skin must be cleaned thoroughly. She loves everyone and has yet to meet a person she would not allow to steal us blind as long as none of her humans were threatened and they gave her attention and a treat. As fat as she is you would think she would not be able to fit through small places but we have found that if she can fit her head through a spot she will squeeze the rest of her chubby body through and take herself for a walk. She is our unofficial rescue since it was not an official rescue group that rescued her mother.


Snort, or pig, is a terrier mix of unknown parentage, he is a sweet dog who was abused before being dumped in the desert to die and has some airway damage that makes him have a snort. Fortunately for him he was found and taken to a rescue. He has made great progress and now barks at you while begging to be loved and petted, rather than barking from the basement. He always looks either guilty or pathetic and you can't help but love him. He isn't really named Snort, or Pig but snorts louder the happier he is and sounds a bit like a pig when he does.


The last of the crew is a pure bred German Short haired Pointer who is the smartest stupid dog I have ever seen and I call her the hoarder. She is so skinny that you would think she is half starved except for the fact that Hoarder takes food constantly, she will grab food from the kitchen in the wrapper, take it down to her kennel and either stash it for later under her bedding or she will carefully opens said package and devours the contents before stashing the incriminating evidence under the bedding. This is the same dog who can't find a treat under a glass after you have shown it to her before placing it under the glass. Go figure!

Enough for now.

Screw Up

I don't try to be a screw up but seem to always find myself on the losing side of my choices on a constant basis. I want to be something wonderful but can't seem to maintain that normal that everyone else seems to hold to, I get too comfortable and I mess up those things I value the most, friendships, my family, at work I am described as quirky, I mess up all of it. Some would say it is because I hold myself to too high of a standard, everything I do must be perfect and when it isn't I lose all sense of perspective. Sometimes I think it is something inside of me that messes up on purpose because I don't think I deserve anything good in my life. I really think I don't deserve anything good, I am bad, evil, not worth redemption and so I make it my reality. Sometimes I fight against that belief but when I am tired or depressed, I hate myself, if I make a mistake I cannot forgive myself. I am too flawed to remain alive and not capable of removing myself from this life. Black and white thinking, all good, all bad, no room for errors.

Hopeful But Unbelieving

I have been told that when a child is molested they tend to get stuck in their emotional development at the age they were molested. For me being the age I was it meant that I see everything as black and white, right or wrong, good or evil, there is nothing gray in my world, nothing in between the extremes. I have worked very hard for many years to change my view of myself and my world, at times I see that I have progressed and yet it is an issue I still struggle with, others can make mistakes, but if I do I cannot forgive myself, I fall apart and want desperately to hide myself, to cease existing, it is not enough to die because I believed that I would live in my shame for eternity.

 Mormons believe that after our life here and after the second coming of Jesus Christ we will be assigned to one of three kingdoms of Heaven based on how good of a person we were here, grace is also involved because no matter how good we are here without the sacrifice of the Savior we still would fall short of even the lowest kingdom. Being a child of abuse and believing myself to be evil I was/am convinced that no amount of my being a "good" Mormon is going to make up for who I am, for my fallen state. Somehow I think if I can "save" everyone around me then just maybe I might be allowed to be in the lowest levels of heaven. There is a part of me that realizes this is faulty thinking but I still go around in a state of anxiety because I still have a bigger part that believes it to be true.

I was still in many ways a typical child and teenager, I had my rebellious moments, I drank alcohol a couple of times, stayed out too late, dated before I was sixteen, smoked pot once and took pain meds I wasn't prescribed. I had friends but wasn't overly outgoing, I attended church meetings, got bullied, I still cried easily though not as much as I had as a younger child. I both loved and hated school, the perfection thing invaded here, if I couldn't do it perfect then I just didn't do it at all, so my grades often suffered.

When I was thirteen I was given a pamphlet by my church leaders called simply "Chastity" in its pages were the words of a talk given by a General Authority of my church, in it I read words that cemented my belief that I was evil. While I hope these words were not meant the way I took them, what I remember went something like this, "it would be better for you to die than to allow anyone to steal your virtue", I interpreted them to mean that I should have fought to the death rather than let my virtue be taken. Not only was I evil, I was without virtue, I had let a man steal my virtue and should have died at eight but even Jesus hadn't wanted me.

I Am a Child of Abuse

I have been told that when a child is molested they tend to get stuck in their emotional development at the age they were molested. For me being the age I was it meant that I see everything as black and white, right or wrong, good or evil, there is nothing gray in my world, nothing in between the extremes. I have worked very hard for many years to change my view of myself and my world, at times I see that I have progressed and yet it is an issue I still struggle with, others can make mistakes, but if I do I cannot forgive myself, I fall apart and want desperately to hide myself, to cease existing, it is not enough to die because I believed that I would live in my shame for eternity.

 Mormons believe that after our life here and after the second coming of Jesus Christ we will be assigned to one of three kingdoms of Heaven based on how good of a person we were here, grace is also involved because no matter how good we are here without the sacrifice of the Savior we still would fall short of even the lowest kingdom. Being a child of abuse and believing myself to be evil I was/am convinced that no amount of my being a "good" Mormon is going to make up for who I am, for my fallen state. Somehow I think if I can "save" everyone around me then just maybe I might be allowed to be in the lowest levels of heaven. There is a part of me that realizes this is faulty thinking but I still go around in a state of anxiety because I still have a bigger part that believes it to be true.

I was still in many ways a typical child and teenager, I had my rebellious moments, I drank alcohol a couple of times, stayed out too late, dated before I was sixteen, smoked pot once and took pain meds I wasn't prescribed. I had friends but wasn't overly outgoing, I attended church meetings, got bullied, I still cried easily though not as much as I had as a younger child. I both loved and hated school, the perfection thing invaded here, if I couldn't do it perfect then I just didn't do it at all, so my grades often suffered.

When I was thirteen I was given a pamphlet by my church leaders called simply "Chastity" in its pages were the words of a talk given by a General Authority of my church, in it I read words that cemented my belief that I was evil. While I hope these words were not meant the way I took them, what I remember went something like this, "it would be better for you to die than to allow anyone to steal your virtue", I interpreted them to mean that I should have fought to the death rather than let my virtue be taken. Not only was I evil, I was without virtue, I had let a man steal my virtue and should have died at eight but even Jesus hadn't wanted me.

Jesus Please Take Me To Heaven

Statistics state that one in four girls will be sexually abused, what that doesn't tell you is how much planning and careful selection a predator goes through to groom his victim prior to the ultimate act of betrayal.

First they will ingratiate themselves with the adults in the child's life. In my case he came over and spoke with my parents about our home, at that time my father was excavating a hole in our backyard to build an extension to our basement, literally shovel full by shovel full.

He flattered them, he was new to the neighborhood, he and his wife had just bought the home  around the corner from ours. He was intelligent and articulate, well dressed, he seemed like a kind, normal older man, husband, neighbor, a grandpa. Adults taken in, check.

The next step is to casually arrange for the intended victim to be invited over, I wasn't the only little girl going over to visit, he asked one of his other potential victims if they knew me and then suggested she bring me over the next time she came over. I was happy to have a "grandpa" I didn't have one and over at "grandpa Bills" I was treated to things I rarely got at home, soda, cookies and I was allowed to watch whatever I wanted on TV. Child visiting the predator, check, check.

The real abuse starts so slowly you don't even know that's what it is. I was eight years old and as naive as an eight year old should be. I knew about strangers, I had learned about them in school but this wasn't a stranger this was my grandpa. The movements were slow, not alarming and seemed accidental. I loved him with a child's trust. Child taken in check, check, check.

The last is to make the final move, I can tell you what I wore that day, I can tell you what the temperature was like, the time of year, where we were. I won't go into details, at least he didn't rape me, as he was molesting me, he asked me if it felt good, I told him it didn't. Liar he laughed, I know it feels good,he told me, he knew that bodies respond even when the mind screams in fear, knowing the wrongness. Shame or threaten your victim so they won't tell, check, check, check, check.

I cannot begin to describe the shame I felt, the fear, I went home, and cried, and hid, and never told a soul. I was sure they would blame me, I had been baptized, I was now dirty, soiled, I almost expected to have the mark of Satan on me visible to all.

To say this act has had an effect on my life from that point on is like saying the tsunami in Japan caused minor damage. I went through what I would describe as a bought of depression at the age of nine. I had read a story about a boy who hurt so badly after being hit by a car that he wanted to go to heaven, another child in the hospital told him Jesus walked the halls at night and that if he would prop up his hand Jesus would lead him to heaven. I wanted to stop hurting, so I slept with my hand propped up for weeks hoping Jesus would take me to heaven. Needless to say it didn't work, so I decided I had to get hit by a car, I started running in front of cars trying to get hit, but I knew it would really hurt so I never did succeed, and Jesus left me here.

Introductions

I am going to tell a little about myself, those who know me may recognize me in these words but that is not why I am writing, this is my alter ego my true self.

 I was born in the great state of Utah with all that entails, I am a descendant of the pioneers, those incredibly hardy souls who came into the valley and laid down firm foundation in their homes and in their religion. I am a Mormon, I was raised not to question God too much, all things are for our good, we are never given more than we can handle, He has a purpose for all things, and with enough faith I would have all I ever needed,but maybe not what I wanted.

 I am the youngest of seven children, all of us living and all with children of our own. We were raised in a home our parents built with their own hands, every shovel of dirt, every brick and shingle, placed in the perfection that only my father could imagine. I didn't doubt my parents loved me, I was oblivious to the abusive nature of our father's interactions with us, I just knew that when he got mad it didn't do to be too close since often it meant the belt for whoever was unlucky enough to be in range. I rarely was the target I was a softhearted child and cried if I thought someone was mad at me so crying or hiding kept me safe.

Being softhearted had its drawbacks, while I was safe at home I was forever a target once I left the front door of my home. I was teased and bullied by many of the area kids, this lasted throughout my childhood and adolescence. I wasn't without friends, I had some very good friends, but it was rough when there were so few kids my age in the area and most viewed me as entertainment.

 I suppose my growing up was much the same as any other child, we weren't rich but I never went without, I both loved and loathed my siblings, I went to church, and was as sheltered as my parents and location could keep me. Sometimes being sheltered and softhearted leaves you vulnerable and predators pray on those who they know can be manipulated, I was such a child and evil has a way of finding you.