I was raped on August 8th, 2014.
It was such a confusing time for me. I was so unsure of everything. I didn't understand what had happened to me. I had known this man for two years. We had been friends. I had stayed at his family's home many times where I would sleep on the couch and his sister would sleep on the other couch.
This particular night, I had taken Xanax for my anxiety. He watched me take the Xanax and angrily stated, "You are a hypocrite! You only take Xanax to get high." The rapist was a drug abuser who had many offenses on his record to prove it. After his unusual outburst, I went to lay on the couch to fall asleep because I was tired. His sister was asleep on the other couch and he was playing video games with his brother. I fell asleep and that is the last thing I remember...
I woke up the next morning and I could tell something was wrong. I could feel it, my body felt weird. After questioning him the that day he claimed that he had told his sister to go upstairs. That was my first inclination that something was not right here. He then continued to say that he woke me up wanting to cuddle and that I was insistent that we have sex right then. (Obviously this was not right because that was completely against my beliefs.) He continued on saying that we had "had sex" four times and he didn't use a condom. I asked if he thought it was weird that I did not remember anything and he was quick to anger with his response. Later that day he said, "I hope you are pregnant so that we can be a family forever." It was the creepiest thing that I had ever been told.
I called my mom and was hysterically crying because I couldn't understand. I thought that I had agreed to sex, but something was not adding up. My mom was the first person I told and she agreed that this was not right and something was very wrong.
I was grateful enough to have a bishop that I confided in who was helpful and supportive. I am forever grateful for him. He helped me realize the truth. That I had been raped.
Six weeks later, I found out that I was pregnant. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was on the phone with my best friend when I took the test and she didn't know. I still had not told any of my friends that I had been raped. I was ashamed, I still somehow felt at fault. When I saw the positive on the pregnancy test I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I couldn't breathe. I was so angry with God. I consistently thought, "How could he do this to me?" This was the darkest part of my life to that point. I went into a depression and drove home to California to be with my mom for two weeks.
I finally got the courage to file a police report. The investigator told me that I was just a "Mormon girl who had sex and regretted it." Of course they found no evidence because I had no proof other than my word against his. They did not consider the child I was carrying that was his to be any proof.
My baby started to be the light the kept me going. He was everything to me. Looking back, I knew I would always keep him and raise him. My plan was to get married and my future husband would adopt Miles and be the role model and father that my perfect son deserved. After 20 hours of labor, I finally got to meet my baby boy. He was so utterly perfect. He made me want to be the best mother I could. I cannot even describe the love that rushed over me when I held him for the first time. I refused to let him go. I couldn't hold back the tears with how much love I instantly felt for this little human.
Our life was so sweet and wonderful. It was hard to work full time and send my son to daycare. I wanted more than anything to stay at home with him and raise him. I wanted to be there when he said his first words, crawled, laughed. To support my little family I missed these precious moments that I can never get back.
The worst part happened in September 2015.
I had asked my rapist to stop contacting me immediately after he raped me. Did that stop him? Of course not. He had found ways to text me or email me even when his number was blocked.
I remember this day all too well. I had left my phone on my desk to run to the restroom, little did I know that was the last time that my heart would be at peace. When I returned I saw that I had a voicemail from a strange number. My heart sank to the floor and I knew who it was from. As I slowly listened to the message he stated that he knew I had a child and that the child was his. I fell to the floor. My whole body was shaking. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even stand up.
I was served papers later that month that he was suing me for custody of my 5-month-old son.
I was told by the judge that "he didn't know if this was a case of rape or regret." I was not protected by the law. I was ridiculed it felt like. Currently, I am forced to see my rapist every Saturday. I give him the most valuable thing to me in the world for four hours every Saturday. WHERE THE HELL IS THE JUSTICE IN THIS?! Every Saturday is the same. I spend the entire drive crying and then when I get there, my rapist is always late to pick my son up, so I am left there waiting with anxiety coursing through me. When he finally arrives he grabs my son and I have to "play nice" so I don't look bad the next time we go to court. I spend the next four hours doing everything I can to not think about where my son is. When it is time to go pick my son up, I am so happy to get him back and relieved when he is fine and well.
My rapist mother consistently invites me to lunch with them. I mean, that's all I want to do with my life is sit down to lunch with my rapist and my son. A dear friend of his family texted me that she "believes me about what happened." This girl is closer to him than anyone else, someone who should be on his side, and even she believes me.