I have a handsome, smart, hardworking and well behaved 11 year old son. H e is everything a mother would want in a child and I know I should be a proud mother but I’m not. See, my son is a rape child.
I got raped by my stepdad when I was just 19! My mum took his side and of course after calling me names such as ‘prostitute’ etc kicked me out of her house.
I’ve never been as miserable as I was at that time. I remember very clearly, after a bout of morning sickness, I found my mother waiting for me outside the bathroom, venom in her eyes and all demanding to know if I was pregnant and the man responsible for the pregnancy. I had tried talking to her earlier, just to confide in her and let her know what her husband had been doing to me in the middle of every night.
I don’t know what she was going through herself or what she was afraid of but she didn’t take my side. Instead she called me names and accused me of seducing that ugly man of hers with the type of clothes I wear (Jeans and t-shirts seriously?)
When I got kicked out of home I had nowhere to go, so in my new unprepared for condition I had to fight for my life and seeked refuge at a friends house. A friend whose both folks are out of the country and just send her money for upkeep. I didn’t want to be a burden on her so I started looking for a job and got one as a cashier at a supermarket. A tough life it was because I had to work several hours a day at a job that didn’t pay well and in my condition. Abortion was out of the question as #1. I was too scared and #2. I didn’t have the money.
Fast forward to the baby who I’ve never allowed myself to have a bond with. I never breastfed him and I never did anything mothers do for their new born babies. No celebrating birthdays, no taking hundreds of photos, no treats and definitely no hugs or kisses. In fact my friend named him and helped take care of him as I was too busy being battered and bruised by life.
My son knows that I don’t like him – he even tells his friends so – therefore he chooses to live his life. I know its not his fault that he was born but I guess in his short life he is wiser than his 11 years and knows not to interfere. I keep toying with the idea of sending him somewhere, like to a children’s home, because every time I see him I’m reminded of that man..creeping inside my room, lifting my duvet, touching me inappropriately and then forcing himself on me all the while his firm hand tightly covering my mouth lest I screamed out loud.
I know I should have put an end to that torture by maybe running away from home when it just started or when mum didn’t believe me and insulted me but I don’t know what I was thinking then. Maybe I was too scared of other things like not having a home at such a tender age.
I recently heard that the man suffered a stroke and is a vegetable on a wheelchair. I guess that is his punishment. That is why I didn’t mention that I hate him. He is slowly being punished. My mother is there with him taking care of it (the vegetable) and a very sad woman she is. She once looked for me to apologize (maybe because she heard that I’m now doing so well in life and wanted funds ) but I’m just not the forgiving type.
As for my son, I just don’t know what to do as I know clearly well that nothing is his fault. He is just an innocent boy. He does deserve some love but I refuse to give it to him and my husband is not allowed to love him either!