When I Learned My Mother Was Raped at 15 and I Was The Child

Opinion   |   Claudia Marcela   |   Sep 15, 2017   |   3:01PM   |   Washington, DC

Hello, my name is Claudia Marcela and I’m Colombian. I’m the product of the rape that my mother endured at the age of 15 at the hands of a family acquaintance.

My mother still had the innocence of a girl her age and she couldn’t say anything in her house because she was afraid of the threats of the person who had defiled and left her pregnant.

She didn’t understand why her body was changing so quickly and she couldn’t find the courage to tell her mother Ana, her grandmother Mercedes, or her sister Amanda what had happened to her. It was something very painful for her.

However, the person who was most distraught by the situation was her grandmother Mercedes. My mother was her precious little girl, the apple of her eye. Her pain was so great that she became sick, and after she found out the truth that her granddaughter was pregnant by rape, she was never the same again.

With fervor, my family searched for the man who raped my mother, in order that they could turn him into the police, but they weren’t able to find him because he’d already left town.

My mother and grandmother decided to persist with the pregnancy, not only because of the advanced stage of her pregnancy, but because the innocent child she carried within had all the rights in the world to be born.

The months passed and I was born. My mother’s uncle said that my birth helped relieve some of my mother’s pain but my mother’s grandmother, my great-grandmother Mercedes, couldn’t overcome the pain and she fell into bed depressed.

Everyday she would ask that I was laid beside her so that she could cuddle me, kiss me and watch over me, but her pain didn’t let her continue doing that and she died shortly after. This caused my mother to blame herself for her grandmother’s death and she hardened herself, even with her baby.

A few months later, her sister Amanda, my aunt, married a man named Edgar who fell in love with me from the moment he laid eyes on me, and like my grandfather, he became a paternal figure for me.

My grandparents hadn’t lived together for a long time. My grandfather lived in another town with his own family, but he was a father to me during the vacations in which I went to visit him. He was loving and fun.

In everyone in my family, I found love, but in my mother, I noticed an emotional distance. Though she gave me gifts and material things, I couldn’t understand why there was this distance.

As the time passed, I asked about my father, and the answer was that he had died
before I was born. However, when I turned 13, a relative confessed the truth to me. Even though learning the truth of my origins was very hard, it made me understand the attitude of my mother. Nonetheless, I never discussed this with her, out of fear of hurting her by reminding her of such a painful moment.

The time passed by and I turned 21. I became pregnant with the child of my boyfriend, Carlos, but I didn’t realize I was pregnant. I went for a medical check up because I didn’t feel well and the doctor performed an ultrasound on me where I could see a small image the size of a grain of rice. The doctor told me, “Claudia, you’re pregnant.”

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I didn’t care if the father would be responsible for him or if my family would accept this development. My eyes filled with tears, my heart wanted to jump out of my chest with love and joy, but the doctor thought that I was crying out of fear, and he told me, “Claudia, if you want an abortion, you’re just in time for it, and I can help you.” I looked at him with wide eyes filled with anger, and a desire to hit him. I said, “Butcher, I’d give my life for my child! I’d do anything for him without caring about anything else.”

I left the doctor’s office furious, found the father of my child and told him, “I’m pregnant, and I’m having this child with or without your help.” He told me to calm down, that we would go through the pregnancy together and that the baby was as much his as he or she was mine. The words of the man who would become my husband filled me with peace and encouragement.

After that, we went to talk to my mother. And that woman who was always distant and strong like a rock became passionate because of the news! My grandmother was happy as well.

Later, a little battle unfolded within the family when my uncle Edgar found out the news. The women in my family wanted the baby to be a girl, but my uncle desired a boy so that there could be another male around to keep him company. Finally, my uncle won the war because my beautiful son was born and he won over all of the women in the family, including myself, his mother. That child has been a great blessing.

Six months after the birth of my son Mauricio, I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, Laura, and 13 years after that came my youngest daughter Ana Valeria. My children are my greatest blessings.

Years later, my mother asked for psychological help to help heal the trauma from her rape and the after effects. We did it together. Thanks to God and the therapy we received, my mother realized that the only person she could count on in her life was her daughter, and that realization, joyful if very late, filled her with serenity.

My children knew the story of my life during their adolescence. It was hard for them to accept it, but they did it with the wisdom and love from God.

The phrase “God makes roses grow where there are only stones” is very fitting and I’d like this story to get to all of the women who don’t know what to do when they find themselves in a similar situation, or any women who are thinking of aborting their children.

My whole life I was able to achieve because of the wonderful Divine being I have always called “Father”, and the wonderful, celestial being called Jesus. I always went to him, in every moment, as well as his Saint Mother, Mary.

LifeNews Note: Claudia Marcela is a wife, mother of 3, and now blogger for Salvar El 1 — the Spanish division of Save The 1.  Read her story in Spanish here.