Jenni Maas' Story: Conceived in Rape, reprinted with permission from
Human Life International
http://www.humanlife.org/abortion_jenni_story.php

I first began to recognize that I had a
story to tell when I was attending a
public Junior High school in Forest
Lake, MN.  Frequently the abortion
topic would come up with friends and
on occasion teachers would talk about
why abortion should remain legal.  I
would always cringe a little when they
would say, "I  don't like abortion.  I
think it is wrong . . .  except in cases
of rape and incest," or "We really have
to keep abortion legal for cases of
rape and incest."

My mom had slowly been revealing the circumstances of my conception to
me over the years and by the time I was 13, I understood and had come
to grips with the reality that my father was, essentially, a rapist. He was 18,
as was my mother, at the time of my conception. Though he had most
likely acted out of a dare by his friends, he had violated my mother
against her will.

When my mom found out she was pregnant with me, the only advice she
was given was to discard the "products of conception." She explains how
she was never offered support to keep me, though this is where her heart
was leading her. Needless to say, I am eternally grateful that she heeded
that still, small voice in her heart that told her the life growing within her
had a purpose and did not deserve death.

When the topic of rape and incest came up throughout junior high and
high school, I would usually first try to appeal to reason saying: "Why don't
you like abortion? What is wrong with it?" When they would answer
"Because, it's a life" some would immediately recognize the double
standard and relent. Most of the time, however, even when faced with
their own illogical statements, they would still persist with emotional
arguments: "You can't make a woman go through with a pregnancy like
that." Though it is an unjust and heart wrenching scenario to consider, it
must be dealt with, and so I would tell them our story. Only once in high
school did a person who heard this story turn away cold-faced. Every
other person who was confronted with "a face" allowed their heart to melt
at the truth of the matter-God has a plan for everyone!

As my husband and I anticipate the birth of our own baby soon, I am
continually discovering God's magnificent plan, not only for my life, but
also for every life that he calls into existence. It is crucial that every citizen
realize that a person's dignity is not founded in whether or not one is
wanted, as abortion peddlers and legislators would like them to believe. A
person's dignity is founded in the reality that persons are created in the
image and likeness of God. The circumstance of my conception or yours
does not determine the quality of our lives.

Young people across the nation and around the world are increasingly
recognizing the double standards of abortion rhetoric. They see that all
the promises of the so-called "sexual revolution" are coming up empty.
Young people are renewing the pro-life movement with an enthusiastic
determination to bring about a "Culture of Life."

By the grace of God, my mom (and I) were spared the life-long, direct
agony that abortion brings. However, when you consider Planned
Parenthood's grisly statistic that 40% of all women in the U.S. will have an
abortion by the age of 40 (mothers, daughters, aunts, grandmothers,
granddaughters, cousins, wives) every American citizen has been
touched by the grief of abortion directly or indirectly. Therefore, every one
of us has an obligation to stand up! I am thrilled to be a part of the
generation that WILL turn the cultural tide so that following generations
will be spared this unjust suffering.

For Life,
Jenni Maas
Russell Saltzman's Story  Conceived in step-sibling incest, Russell lives
in the Kansas City area and is available for speaking --
russell.e.saltzman@gmail.com

Summary Remarks of Russell
E. Saltzman, Pastor of Ruskin
Heights Lutheran Church,
Kansas City, MO

Before the U.S. Senate
Appropriations Subcommittee
on Labor, Health and Human
Services, and Education,
September 14, 2000

Thank you, Mr. Chairman and
Senators, for the opportunity to
appear before this subcommittee
this morning.  I count it as a
privilege.  I once worked for a
Member of Congress and I know
the energy and the time you
bring to this work and how difficult
your decisions sometimes are, and
you are to be thanked for your efforts.

I am here as a person with diabetes to testify against the use of human
embryonic stem cell research.  But I shall first reveal something of myself.  
I am the adopted child of Harry and Lola Saltzman, my parents who live
yet in the home where I was raised in Olathe, Kansas.

Since I am an adopted child, you might guess, accurately, that the
circumstances of my conception were not ideal.  In the summer of 1946, I
was an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy.  My birth parents were members
of the same family.  In fact they were step-siblings.  Very possibly my
conception was the result not only of step-sibling incest, but step-sibling
rape.

There is no question in my mind - given the circumstances current these
days - that my birth mother would have been urged to accept abortion
and very likely would have sought one as the means of solving the
dilemma I represented.  I am unable to look at abortion in any light except
those of my origin.  When I say that appearing here is a privilege, I hope I
also convey my sense of the miraculous, for had my conception occurred
after 1972, I would not be here at all.

And suddenly it comes to mind that - having been aborted - the fetal parts
that were once me might have become research material for somebody's
investigation into the very disease I have come here to discuss.

So at the outset, I say it is a terrible thing we undertake in these
discussions, not only because the matter touches me so personally, but
also because I know our common origin, the base humanity that links us
one to another, whatever our stage of development or maturity.  We all
once sprang from an act of union between egg and sperm.  We all once
were human embryos. We all once were fetuses quickening in our
mothers' wombs.  We are all, each, human life.  We may hope that all of
us were conceived in love, but in my case that matters not at all.  Whether
I was conceived in love or in violence, what is important for me is the fact
that I am here in the first place.  My existence by itself has some
considerable consequence for other people, not least for my seven
children, two of whom are adopted.

I suffer from diabetes.  Since my diagnosis in 1995, I have learned that
the burden of a chronic illness is a real burden.  I have experienced the
progression of this illness from a time when simple diet alterations
controlled it, to the point now where I am completely insulin-dependent.  It
is the chronic part that constitutes the real burden, knowing I shall never
be rid of it, knowing my life will always be governed by diet and injection
schedules, and knowing, too, that my death probably will be the result of
some diabetic complication.  When I say I wish I did not have it, I am
saying there is almost anything I would do to get rid of it.  Almost.

The prospect of stem cell therapy derived from human embryonic
research - involving the destruction of a human embryo - touches me in a
most profound way.  I would never consent to any treatment for my
diabetes that directly or indirectly came about as the result of destroying
a human embryo.  What I find disturbing about this incessant rush to
harvest stem cells from embryos is the fact that no researcher to date has
been able to develop a pancreatic cell from the techniques presently
used, this while there are several promising avenues of research that do
not involve destruction of a human embryo.  

Most recently, I have learned about investigations by Canadian
researchers that employed pancreatic islet cells from cadavers.  The
technique successfully eliminated insulin-dependence of several diabetics
who received the procedure.  The procedure is subject to further trials
and it must be nuanced in application.  But this holds greater promise for
a diabetic cure than anything else I have heard about - and islet cell
transplant is ethically neutral.  It has no moral implications associated with
it.  Yet, we here in the United States seem in a rush to use what is
arguably the most ethically objectionable method available, while other
morally neutral medical technologies virtually are at hand.  The
President's own National Bioethics Advisory Commission has said that
because human embryos deserve respect as a developing form of human
life, destroying them "is justifiable only if no less morally problematic
alternatives are available for advancing research."  The fact is, those
alternatives exist.

It comes to a question.  Is the human embryo human life, or is it a mere bit
of research material?  If it is mere research material, then why should any
human life at any stage of development - yours or mine - carry any
special privilege?  But if the embryo is human life, then we should have in
place some restraint that cautions the strong against using the weak for
their own purposes.

I would commend to your reading Aldous Huxley's Brave New World.  
Written in 1933 Huxley, with astonishing prophetic foresight, created a
world of genetic clones and what he called "decanted babies."  All this
arose because in the world of his novel, the human embryo was merely
research material.  He worried that science was being twisted all around.  
Where once, as with the sabbath, science was made for Man, he foresaw
a time when Man would be made for science.  In Huxley's fictionalized
world the process that turned science around was methodical and
deliberate, and without moral regard.  In our own world, the process going
on is less tidy but no less deliberate, and, I fear, with equally little moral
regard.

If a cure for diabetes and a host of other ailments require the production
and destruction of human embryos, then I beg you to consider the
possibility that some diseases are better than their cure.
-- Russell E. Saltzman
rhlcpastor@sbcglobal.net
Conceived in Rape Personal Stories and Pro-Life Speakers
Rebecca Kiessling
Conceived in rape / Pro-life speaker
Mary Payne's Story  Conceived in rape, Mary lives in Oklahoma City.  
She is an advocate for adoptees and is the current moderator for www.
stigmatized.org's e-mail support group.  Mary is available for speaking --
marpayne@siriusnet.net

Ladies and Gentlemen and Friends of Life,
my name is Mary Payne.  I am grateful for the
opportunity to share with you today.  I have
written this piece because I want to share with
you that all life is important and children born
from rape or incest are no different from you.  
I can say this because I was born as the result
of a conception, which occurred after a
rape/assault.  Although I came from a criminal
act, does not define who I am.  I am a loving
daughter, faithful wife, nurturing mother, and
doting grandmother.  I am very sorry for the pain and anguish that my
birthmother endured on my behalf.  I wish I had the power to wipe away all
her suffering, but I can't.  I love her even more now, because I know the
details of my conception. She certainly did not deserve the
events that occurred in her life.

She made the best of a tragic situation.  And the only thing I can do at
this point is to pray for her every day and to work toward being the best
and most loving person I can be, breaking the cycle of abuse.    

Our two-year-old granddaughter lives in California.  When her mom or
dad puts her on the phone and she says, “I love you, Gramma!”  My heart
just melts.  All babies are so special.  

I’d like for you to close your eyes for a minute and picture in your mind
the first time you held a newborn baby.  Think about how it felt to have the
baby nuzzle your neck.  Look at the baby’s hair, her little toes, her
fingers, and her skin.  Visualize the baby’s eyes.  At that moment in time
when you looked into her eyes, did you stop and ask yourself, “Gee, I
wonder what the parents were saying to each other when this little person
was formed?  Did the mother consent?  Is it OK for this baby to be
here?”    Absolutely not!   And that is what I want to impart to you today.   
Life is life.  And life in the womb -- no matter how he or she was
precipitated -- is still a developing human being and should be
constitutionally protected.    What if great statesmen like Thomas
Jefferson, or George Washington, or honored poets like Maya Angelou
had been aborted?  We will never know what great individuals are missing
from our society because we have condoned abortion for 33 years.

I am so grateful that my birthmother chose life for me.    I found her in
1991, but I didn’t learn the circumstances surrounding my conception until
1993.  My birthmother wanted to spare me the details of knowing I was
conceived from rape.  I cannot deny that it was difficult.  I felt dirty, guilty,
and less-than-a-human-being for a period of time. To be perfectly honest,
because our society looks down on violence, illegitimacy, and factors
associated with unwed motherhood, I was unprepared for the news.  My
self-esteem plummeted.  I had always been told that my birthparents were
just two kids in love who were too young to get married.  Naturally, it was
a blow to learn the truth. The floor could have swallowed me.  My brain
cells shattered and for a time, I had difficulty thinking about anything
other than my conception.  I bought a 6,000-piece jigsaw puzzle, because
working jig-saw puzzles helps the brain to overcome trauma.  I reasoned
that for the kind of trauma I had, it would take 6,000 pieces!  We lost our
dining room table to the puzzle.  It took 10 months to complete.  My
husband bought a microwave so he wouldn’t miss any meals.  Well, you
gotta’ do what you gotta’ do!  As I worked the puzzle with my husband’s
and sons’ support, faith gave me the power to sort through my thoughts
and feelings about conception.  My conclusion is that I am okay.  I didn’t
cause the rape, I can’t cure it, and I couldn’t control the result.  I can just
be me.  When the egg and the sperm meet, the egg actually surrounds
and envelopes the sperm, rather than the sperm penetrating the egg.  At
the moment of conception, God’s creative energy flows through the newly
created cell.  Because God has a purpose for everyone, his energy flows
through the cell, giving it life.  If God did not have a Divine plan for the
embryo, the mother would perhaps miscarry the child naturally.  

Even children who are miscarried can be a blessing and a child whose life
ended early is still a soul who exists in Heaven.  The time that a mother
spends with an unborn child in her womb is a blessing, even if it is for a
short time. So many women rejoice just finding out that they are
pregnant.  That’s the way God planned it to be — that the knowledge of a
conception would be a cause for joy, but He gave us free will and our
choices have interfered with His plan.

When Roe v. Wade was argued in 1972, one of the reasons given was
that society had to protect women who were raped.  It was supposed to
apply to a narrow segment of embryos, sometimes called “Castaway
Souls.”  But if people are given an inch, they will take a mile and the
number of Castaway Souls ballooned into football stadiums full of
"unwanted" baby humans, who were not allowed to be born.   What
legalized abortion actually does is to pre-empt God.  It gives man control
over who lives and who dies — not God.   Too bad we have been so ego-
centered and materialistic that we have thought we knew better than
God.   

I am grateful to each one of you who has the inner intuition of knowing
the value of every human life.   Thank you from the bottom of my heart for
all you are doing.  You are standing for life and those of us who were in
danger of being aborted salute you for all you do; for being here; for
phoning your legislators; for passing out flyers; raising money; talking to
your friends and neighbors about the meaning of life. And, last but
certainly not least, for voting for life.   YOU are our advocates.  You honor
us with your efforts and so I honor you.  

We must prevail to give even the tiniest victim a voice for life.   In a
democracy, every life is important.   Our society cannot afford to lose
even one statesman or stateswoman to help guide us through the twenty-
first century and beyond.  

Thank you.  -- Mary Payne
Other famous people
conceived in rape:

Eartha Kitt, actress ("Cat
Woman") and singer ("Santa
Baby.")

John Cox, 2008 Republican
Presidential Candidate:
"Conceived in rape, John was
brought into this world by a
mother who refused to abort
her pre-born possible future
President."
www.cox2008.com/cox/south_car
olina_straw_polls_confound_exp
erts/

Angelina Jolie's adopted
daughter Zahara "Result of
Rape."  Link to Article

Faith Daniels -- talk show host
of the TV show Dateline, A
Closer Look, and Today
(among others).  She describes
coming to terms with the fact
that her conception resulted
from rape in a People Magazine
article.

Layne Beachley -- Australian
surfing champion, contestant on
Australia's Dancing With the
Stars, she shares in her
autobiography, "Beneath the
Waves," about learning she was
conceived in rape and striving
to show her value.

Fredrick Douglass -- former
slave and abolitionist. He details
his conception by rape in his
writing, Narrative of the Life of
Fredrick Douglass, available
online at
http://pd.sparknotes.com/lit/narr
ative/section5.html

Jesse Jackson -- Reverend
whose mother was 16 when he
was conceived and whose
father was a 30-year old next
door neighbor who was already
married

Tracy Carter Jennieve --
daughter of actress Nell Carter,
who was conceived when Nell
was raped at 16 years old.

Traci Lords (Nora Kuzma) --
conceived in rape and exploited
as a teen, she shares in her
autobiography, "Underneath It
All"

Lemm Sissay -- famed
international poet from Great
Britain, of Ethiopian descent
Dr. Bethaney Tessitore's Story -- Bethaney resides in Decatur,
Alabama, and is available for speaking.  nittanneey96@yahoo.com

Thank you very much for reading my
story here today.   For the past two
years I have gone to Zambia, Africa.  
Due to the high rate of AIDS in sub-
Saharan Africa, there are more
orphans in Zambia than in any other
country of the world.  Last year when
I was there, I felt compelled to share
my testimony of foster care and
adoption. I knew that the Zambians
would be able to relate to the feeling
of being unwanted, unloved, and
orphaned.  They needed to know that
there is more to them as individuals
than the circumstances surrounding
their conception or who they have in
their family unit.  There is purpose in their life above and beyond anything
that they could ever imagine and unconditional love that can only come
from God.     

Six days after returning to the states, I was asked to be the keynote
speaker at a Right To Life Rally.  Imagine that…only six days later and
God showed Himself to be faithful.  He showed me that not only can I
impact Zambians on the other side of the world, but I can also have an
impact on Americans in my own community as well.  

So, today I want to share with you some of my experiences and how those
issues have impacted my life.  

I was an only child until I was ten years old.  One day my mom said to me
that I was going to have a baby brother or sister.  I asked her if she was
pregnant.  She said no, that we were going to adopt a child because she
couldn’t have babies anymore.  The way she said it led me to believe that
she had me and then could not have any more children after me.  Finally
in December, my brother, Josh came to us.  

When Josh was a few months old my family was driving through a mall
parking lot.  I asked my parents when we were going to tell my brother he
was adopted.  My dad slammed the car into park, took off his seatbelt,
and leaned over me, telling me sternly never to bring the subject up
again.  He is our child now so he never needs to know that he is adopted.  
It was that night that I learned from my parents that adoption was taboo
and never to be brought up again.  My brother’s adoption, and unknown
to me at the time my adoption as well, was our family secret.  

During these times, it never occurred to me that I might also be adopted.  
That was until I found an obituary for a stillborn baby girl that my mother
had.  The date was April 7th 1974.  My birthday is March 30th 1974.  As a
result of this discovery as well as others, thus began the process of
acceptance into the reality that I was adopted.  
I didn’t tell my parents any of this because I was afraid of what their
reaction would be.  My family made it clear that there was a shame and
stigma attached to adoption.  As a result, I withdrew and never told any of
my friends either.  

When I was in college, I finally told my best friend that I was adopted.  
When she still accepted me for who I was and was not ashamed of me, I
began to realize that adoption is not necessarily a bad thing.  With her
support, I called my mom during my senior year at Penn State to tell her
everything that I had discovered.  When I finally told my mother, she
denied it, got upset, and told me I was lying.  She woke up my father and
put him on the phone.  My dad was very supportive and told me that if I
ever wanted to search for my birthmother, he would help me.  

At that point in time, I had no desire to look for my birthparents.  I knew
that eventually that time would come when I would want more answers but
this was not yet the time.    

A few years later my mother died.  It was one of the most difficult things I
have ever had to deal with.  She was 44, I was 23, and my brother was
only 12.  Even though she had concealed my adoption and even lied
about it, I still loved her more than anyone.  I moved out shortly thereafter
to attend graduate school.  In 2000 following graduation, it was then that I
was finally ready to start searching for my birthparents.  I definitely did not
want to replace my own parents; however, I just needed answers.     

In December of 2000, I received a letter of non-identifying information.  
Reading that letter for the first time was incredible.  In a period of five
minutes I found out so many things about me; my given name at birth was
Stephanie, I found out my birth weight and length, the time of my birth,
and my maternal family history.  Finding out so many things about yourself
at one time really is indescribable.  I could not take my eyes off that
paper.  I just sat there for the rest of the evening, holding that paper in my
hands and staring at it.   

Two weeks later, I contacted Catholic Charities and started the search for
my birthmother.  Now all I could do was sit back, be patient, and wait.  And
wait I did.  For over four years I did not hear anything from them.  

By May of 2005, I was now residing in Florida.  It was then that I received a
phone call by Catholic Charities.  The case worker who was working on my
search said “Bethaney, we found your birthmother.  I will give you her
phone number and you can call her.”  She started by saying “813.”  “813,
I interrupted!  That is Tampa!”  “Yes,” my caseworker said.  “She lives in
FL near you.”  What are the chances of that?  I lived in Florida for less
than one year and within those few months, I find my birthmother living
only 20 miles from me!  I called her and we met on Memorial Day.  

It was amazing to meet her and see what she looked like.  She brought
pictures of her family and I showed her pictures of me growing up.  
Finding out some things were incredible.  She was in the medical field just
like me.  She told me that she thought about me every day, especially on
my birthday and mother’s day.  She had always wanted to look for me but
decided not to interfere with my life.  She respected me enough to wait
until I was ready to contact her.  So many of the things she told me were
positive.  However, others were not quite so uplifting.  My birthmother
remained single and had a tough life.  She grew up without her mother
around and still has no communication with her.  She got pregnant with
me at age 19, placed me up for adoption, and one year later had a
hysterectomy.  This was difficult on her because she had always wanted
many children.  She just was not ready to be a single mother to a child
while she was still a teenager.  The following year, her older brother and
sister, whom she was very close with, died in a car accident.  Later on she
almost killed herself and another person in a terrible car accident where
she was at fault.  

In addition to finding out about her difficult life, I also found out many
things that no one would really want to hear about their genetic heritage.  
She told me that she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, as was her
father.  Almost all of her family dealt with severe depression and took anti-
depressants, and my first cousin, who was seven days older than me,
committed suicide a few years before.

In the midst of finding out all of these things about her and her family, I still
had a burning desire to find out who the father was.  Catholic Charities
reported that the birthfather was unknown.  My hope was that my
birthmother knew who the birthfather was but just didn’t divulge that
information to Catholic Charities.  When I asked her who the father was,
she responded, “I knew you were going to ask me this.  I don’t know.”  She
told me she was dating a black man at the time so it may have been him.  
Unbeknownst to her, I had already found out that I had genetic testing
completed at birth at Children’s Hospital to see if her boyfriend may have
been my birthfather.  Testing revealed that there was no black parentage
present.  I shared this information with her and said “So, if it wasn’t him,
then who else could it have been.”  She was slow to answer.  Then she
told me that she left Pittsburgh and moved to Tampa for six months in
1973.  It was during that time that she started using drugs and drinking
heavily.  She would go clubbing in downtown Tampa and after those late
evening she got involved with many men.  As a result, she had no idea
who the father could be and could not even begin to guess on names.  
Although this is the answer I had been expecting, I was still disappointed
that I would never be able to find out where half of my DNA came from.  I
am never going to be able to look my father in his eyes.  I am never going
to be able to see what traits we share.  What made it even stranger for me
is that I was conceived in Tampa.  My birthfather and his family might be
living right next door to me and I would never know it!

After realizing that more conversation on this topic would do nothing to
gain more information, we moved on.  However, later on in the evening
when I was telling a story, my birthmother abruptly interrupted me and said
“By the way, I was raped by gunpoint.”  For a second I just sat there.  I
was prepared for her to tell me that I was conceived through a one night
stand.  And I was prepared for her to tell me she was a prostitute.  
However, I never thought about the fact that rape could have resulted in
my conception.  All I could think to ask her was “So, that could be my
father.”  She responded by saying “Yes, It could be.  But that doesn’t
matter.”  

I was so shocked to hear that I might be alive because of someone else’s
anger, lack of self-control, and need for dominance, that I had no idea
what to say back to her.  I had always assumed that my conception was
my birthmother’s fault for not being responsible.  But, finding out that I
might have been conceived by rape; that is a whole new ball game.  Now
the birthfather’s selfish behavior led to my birthmother having to endure
nine months of horror and a more or less a lifetime of pain and regret.  

Months after I moved to Alabama, the idea of me being a product of rape
still haunted me.  I emailed my birthmother to obtain more details.  Two
months later she responded to my email saying “Yes, I was raped, but that
was not how you were conceived.  I was already pregnant with you during
the time of the rape.  I remember telling the man not to hurt me because I
was pregnant.”  

After talking to some other people well-versed in the area of rape and
incest with experience in counseling birthmothers, I am told that I am likely
a product of rape.  Birthmothers do not necessarily want their child to find
out that they were conceived in rape but the internal desire to express
that causes the birthmother to quickly state that they were raped and get
that out into the open.  Then if the birthmother sees a backing away by
the child, the birthmother may perceive that the child is backing away due
to the rape and then the she rescinds her first statement and changes her
story to promote a better relationship. So, even today, I still do not know
the real answer regarding my conception.  All I know is that in any case, I
was unplanned and unwanted.  

Knowing that I was a possible product of rape, I asked the big question
that many adoptees want to know.   “Did you want to abort me?”  The
answer was one that I expected, but one that stung never-the-less.  “Yes”
she responded.  “I did.”  In 1974, although abortion was legal at the time,
it still it wasn’t as accepted as it is today.  So, as a result of that and her
Roman Catholic upbringing, she chose to give me life.   

In the midst of finding out all of this new information from my birthmother, I
also spoke with my adoptive grandmother to figure out some of the other
missing pieces of my adoption story.  One day I found a calendar from
1974.  Under June 19th, it read “Bethaney came to us.”  I always
wondered where I was from March 30th until June 19th, almost two and a
half months.  Being a healthy, white baby girl, I should have been adopted
out by Catholic Charities as soon as I left the hospital.  Since there is a
long waiting list for white adoptions, I could not figure out how my family
got through the entire process so quickly considering that they planned
on having their own child up until April 7th.  After years of wondering, I
finally asked my grandma about that situation.  She told me that my mom
was devastated by the news of her stillborn baby and no hope of having
any more.  My grandfather knew someone who worked for Catholic
Charities.  When my grandpa met with that person, the man said that in
fact there was a baby girl in foster care waiting to be adopted.  That baby
girl was me.  

All of the prospective parents on the list to adopt were told about me…a
healthy, white baby girl.  However, due to the negative maternal history
and lack of paternal history, no one wanted to take a chance on raising
me.  Everyone thought that I would turn out like my birthparents, a
promiscuous drug addict and alcoholic, with very little education and no
hope for the future.  My parents on the other hand had a different
opinion.  My mom didn’t care anything about my birthparents and they
were willing to give me an opportunity to have a product live life.  My
parents chose me despite the rejection I faced from the rest of the world.

So the process of meeting my birthmother enlightened me to many things
about my negative genetic history, possible traumatic conception by rape,
and the unimaginable pain and loss felt by my adoptive mother as she
gave birth to a stillborn baby.  The awareness that not only was I
unwanted by my birthmother, but that I was also unwanted by the entire
Catholic Charities adoption list, hit me hard.  I had no strong connections
while in Florida that year – no family, no network of friends, and no church
home.  I began to question why I even existed.  I was taken to the lowest
point that I have ever been in my life.  

Then in September of 2005, without any prospective jobs available and
not enough money to get me through two months, I quit my current job in
Florida and I moved to Decatur, Alabama.  I needed to get connected into
a good church home and decided on one that I had visited several times
where my best friend’s husband was one of the pastors.  It was during that
first year in Alabama that I began to take a step back to the basic
foundation of my life and rediscover who I really was.  

I got saved in August of 2003 and baptized shortly thereafter.  For the
next eleven months I was planted in a strong Bible believing church where
my spiritual life grew tremendously.  I learned more about the Bible in
those eleven months than I have the entire 29 years prior.  Having
learned so many new and troubling details about my life, I realized that in
order to experience healing, I would have to go back and apply those
Biblical principles that I learned to the overall picture of my life.  

I already acknowledged the basic foundation that God created the heaven
and the earth.  As I began to search the Bible for answers, I slowly
realized the magnitude of God’s love and plan for each one of us.  In Acts
Chapter 17, it states that God made the world and all things therein.  It
continues on to say that not only did he create us, but he created each of
us to live in a specific time period and a specific locale.  God has a reason
for me living here in the south in 2007.  If God plans for us to live in
specific regions in certain decades, then that shows me that I am definitely
not a mistake.  God wants me here for a purpose and planned out my
birth, life, and death to accomplish that purpose long before I was ever
born.   

Earlier on in Matthew, it states that God knows the number of hairs on my
head.  I have heard and read that verse many times before.  However, this
time that verse meant something different to me.  For God to know the
number of hairs on my head, a number that is constantly changing, that
must mean that He cares about me.  That He thinks I am important.  That I
matter.  That I have value and purpose.    

While I was now understanding that God created everyone no matter what
the circumstance of their conception, I still needed to process why being
adopted had to be part of my life.  Essentially adoptees are not wanted by
their birthmother and in most situations adoption is not the first choice that
couples use to have children.  It is a “plan B” scenario when “plan A” does
not work.  

By opening my eyes and allowing God to show me His divine plan for each
of us, I found many verses describing how adoption is the method that
God chooses to bring us into His family.  I learned that adoption is God’s
way of picturing His love for us.  

After reading the prevalence of adoption in the Bible and internalizing
that, I have realized many things.  Since God used the spirit of adoption to
call us to be children of God through Jesus Christ, I definitely know there
is no stigma in being adopted.  Look at the life God chose for Moses, one
of the most famous adoptees in all of history.  Through being raised in the
midst of his enemies, Moses learned the tools and skills that were needed
to make him a leader in order to take his own people, the Israelites, out of
Egypt.

By acknowledging the power of God in my life and the truth that He has a
purpose for me and loves me for who I am, I have accepted the fact that I
am an adoptee.  I no longer feel the need to keep that fact a secret.  I am
just as important and can make as much impact here on earth as any
planned human being.    

Through acquiring knowledge and regaining a close relationship with God,
I began to see my life in a whole new way.  A life with purpose.  A life made
through love; the opposite of what most people would say, but it’s true!  A
life made through His love, which is so much more powerful than any
human parents love could ever be!  

I began to internalize that the rapist is not my creator.  Neither is a
promiscuous mother my creator.  I am not of child of either one but rather I
am a child of God.  That is all that matters.  Genetics and environment
both play a role in who a person grows up to be.  But ultimately, a person
who allows Jesus Christ to be their savior and turns over the control of
their life to Him can become anything that God intends for them to be.  

America, however, lost that sense of purpose and love of human life when
on January 22, 1973, a landmark decision by the United States Supreme
Court put all unwanted children’s lives in jeopardy.  On that date, Roe vs.
Wade legalized abortion.  Since that ruling, over 47 million abortions have
been performed.  That equals approximately 1.5 million abortions every
year or one abortion every 20 seconds.  

Norma McCorvey who is “Jane Roe” from Roe vs. Wade, announced to
the world that she has since changed her mind about abortion.  Ms.
McCorvey, the woman who is the foundation behind legalization of
abortion, is now an active pro-life advocate.  

Right now with abortion being legal, approximately 75% of women who
conceive a child as a result of rape choose to give life to their baby.  
Those who choose to abort are four times more likely to die within the next
year due to murder, suicide and drug overdose.  These women have a
much higher rate of divorce, alcoholism, abusive relationships, lowered
self-esteem, guilt, and depression.  

And as far as incest goes, the story is no different.  Giving birth to the
baby will help the woman heal.  Choosing life also serves to keep more
incest from occurring.  However, most victims of incest are not given a
choice and are coerced into having abortions by their families.  Abortion
protects the perpetrator by keeping consequences of their immoral
behavior hidden.  This scenario also makes the woman be not only a
victim during the act of incest but also makes her victimized for a second
time as she kills the baby within her.  

In cases of conception resulting from sexual assault, abortion not only kills
an unborn human being, but it also has long-term negative ramifications
for the mother as well.  Banning abortions with no exceptions to that rule,
in reality, protects the physical health and the mental well-being of women
who are too emotionally traumatized to make rational decisions that will
affect the rest of their lives.  On the superficial level, abortion appears to
be a good way out of a bad situation.  However, only the physical severing
of mother/child bond takes place.  Abortion never erases the memory and
emotional bond between the mother and child.  According to many
testimonies of victims of sexual assault and incest, giving birth to their
baby enabled healing to take place by helping the woman regain a sense
of self-worth.  Those women who were sexually assaulted and had
abortions report that the pain and anguish experienced as a result of
abortion was much worse than that associated with the rape.  So if you
really care about what is best for the well-being of the women, if you really
care about victims of sexual assault, you should be 100% pro-life…totally
against abortion no matter what the scenario.  

My life can be summarized by some lyrics  written by Avalon.  

There are no strangers
There are no outcasts
There are no orphans of God
So many fallen, but hallelujah
There are no orphans of God

I was unwanted.  I was unloved.  I was orphaned.  But God has no
orphans.  He gives us that promise when he says in Hebrews 13:5 when
God tells us that he will NEVER leave us!  He will NEVER forsake us!  
Listen to the magnitude of those versus.  God will NEVER abandon us.  
He will NEVER deny that we are His children.  Once we are children of
God, we are Children of God forever!   

I want to live.  I am thankful that my birthmother gave me that right to live.  
Please, give other children like me, children who may be a product of
rape, children who may be a product of incest, children who just weren’t
planned or wanted, give them the right to live just like what I had.  GIVE
THEM A RIGHT TO LIFE.  

Dr. Bethaney Tessitore, Au.D.
nittanneey96@yahoo.com
www.myspace.com/bethaneytessitore

Congratulations to Bethaney on her recent adoption of two foster girls!
Tony Kiessling's Story, conceived by "acquaintance rape" (no relation to
Rebecca Kiessling).  Tony is from Pennsylvania and is available for
speaking -- dockiessling@yahoo.com

from the other kids.  I grew up fatherless,
being raised by a single mom who lived
with her older sister and mother.  I have
no brothers or sisters.  These circum-
stances were not common in suburbia
in the 1960's.  All my friends had fathers.  
All my cousins too.  I didn't have an explan-
ation for it.  I think most of my friends
assumed my father had died somehow.  I
guess I came to believe that too.  As I got
into my teenage years, I knew some things
didn't add up -- like why my mom still had
her maiden name.  Why she had never
married?

Then one day, when I was 18, I found out the truth -- my mother had been
raped. Raped by a man that she knew.  The circumstances under which my
mom told me the truth are vague to me today.  I do remember that she told
me the truth in a letter and that it was always very difficult for her to talk
about.  There were only about three times that we actually talked about it
but never at length.  One thing I know for sure is that I was about the most
important person to her.  She gave up a lot to raise me as her own.  As for
what happened to my mom well she had been working in a diner at the time
and there was a regular customer that winter.  She talked to him and even
knew his name.  And then one night in February, somehow he got her into
his car, drove to a park, and raped her.  He left her there in the park and my
mom was found a couple hours later by the police.  Nothing ever came of
the police report.

Wow!  That news hit me hard.  So, I was one of "those people."  I didn't
know what to do, so I buried that information.  I ignored the truth of my
conception and hid it from my consciousness.  I rebelled.  I rebelled against
family and against God.  Suddenly, I wasn't too sure about God either.  Oh, I
knew about God.  From my earliest years, I knew that there had to be a
God.  For two summers, I had attended vacation Bible school when I was
about 10/11 years old.  That second year, I remember reading the tract and
saying the "sinners prayer" at the end, asking Jesus into my life.  And when
I was 18, right before I found out the truth of my conception, I had watched a
Billy Graham Crusade on TV and became convinced again of the reality of
the cross.  But that news of my conception just didn't fit into my notion of
things at the time, and I turned away from the cross and the church -- and
my family to a lesser degree.  I went on a journey to explore what I believed
to be "the pleasurable side of life" in order to try to forget the rest.

That journey lasted about five years, and one day, I realized how miserable I
was.  I remember surfing the TV one night (this is back in the day when
surfing the TV meant seeing what was on each of the 7 channels available)
and stumbling upon a Billy Graham Crusade.  He talked that night about
Jesus' parable of the Prodigal Son.  I felt as though he was really talking
straight to me.  I had not gone off to a foreign land, but I was just as far
away as I could be spiritually and mentally.  And much like that son in the
parable, I was worn out by all that riotous living I had been doing.  And, the
answer to my problem was the same -- repent, get up, and go home.  I
rediscovered my relationship with God that night through the death and
resurrection of Christ.  Since that time nearly 25 years ago, I came to know
more about the relationship I have with God.  One of the most important
things I have learned is God's promise in Psalm 68 to be a father to the
fatherless.  I came to own this verse as God's personal promise to me.  He
cared enough about me to tell me he would be my father.  I also see how
God provided father-like men who taught me things at different times in my
life.  One of the most important was a man named Len who was an elder in
the first church I joined.  Len taught me a great deal about being a Christian
man with flaws.

I would like to say that my life has been a nice, easy, uphill walk, but it
hasn't.  I never had an easy time talking about my conception.  For a long
time the truth was something only my mom and I knew.  I made every effort
to avoid having to talk about my father's side of the family.  Even when my
wife was pregnant with our first child and the pediatrician' s assistant asked
about family history, I avoided any information about my father.  Of course, I
really do not know very much about him anyway.  The only thing I know
about him for certain is that he had brown eyes.  My mom told me once that
she could see his face in mine, so I guess that's why I keep part of my face
hidden behind a beard.  Then one day shortly after my first child was born, I
told my wife the truth.  My wife never really pressed for any information
about my father.  She waited until I was ready to talk about it and then I told
her everything I knew.  My wife has been very supportive of my life in every
way possible.

For 45 years, I had never met another person who was conceived in rape.  
Then one day while driving, I had heard a radio broadcast of Dr. James
Dobson -- Focus on the Family, with two women who each were
accompanied by their adult children who had been conceived in rape.  This
was the very first time I ever heard of another person conceived in rape!  I
knew there had to be other people out there like me, but I had not met any.  
Then about a year ago, I was searching the internet for information
regarding my maternal family's history, and I stumbled upon Rebecca's
website (because of the Kiessling name.)  As I read her story, I was shocked
to find another person like me, and with the same last name!  I had to find
out more, so I contacted Rebecca.  My wife and I went to meet her when she
gave a talk an hour from where we live.  It was oddly liberating to finally meet
someone who had a history similar to mine.  Since then, I have met a host of
other people on the Stigma group who all share the same conception story
as me!

Some wonder if I am pro-life.  Absolutely!  Some have wondered if my mom
was prolife.  Absolutely!  I know from our few conversations on the subject
that she would not change a thing regarding giving birth to me and raising
me.  She could not imagine a world that did not include me and, in time, her
three grandchildren.  She had no issue with adoption -- it just wasn't the
path she wanted.  But abortion?  She often said, "Two wrongs do not make
a right, and it is wrong to end one life because it inconveniences your own."  
And she also said that, for all the pain that was involved, it was worth it in the
end.  She died a few years ago at the end of a life-long battle with type 1
diabetes and its various complications.  As for my mom's spiritual journey, I
know that the rape caused her some real doubts that stayed with her.  She
believed in God and Christ, and for a very long time, she was Catholic.  In
fact, I bear a testimony to her Catholic faith as I am named after two saints.

For most of my life, I hid the truth of my conception from everyone -- even
myself.  It may seem strange now to put this testimony out on the web.  But I
have come to the place in my life where I know there are other people like
me out there and other people like my mom as well.  Now I want to join
Rebecca and the others represented here and say that our lives have value
and purpose.  People conceived in rape do not have to hide and be
ashamed.  We were uniquely created by God, though the circumstances
were extreme.  And I personally want to say that God is indeed still fulfilling
his promise to be a father to the fatherless.

-- Tony Kiessling, university chemistry professor
Pam Stenzel's Story -- Pam is a professional pro-life/abstinence speaker and
author of the book Sex Has A Price Tag.  Her website is www.pamstenzel.com.

In 1964, a fifteen year old girl was raped,
became pregnant, and decided to carry
her unborn child to term.  Five months
after the baby girl was born, in an act of
courage and love the young mother
provided her child a better environment
by giving her to an adoptive family.  That
child was Pam Stenzel.  She is the oldest
of 8 children…7 adopted…1 biological,
and her extended family includes 38
adopted children in all.

Following her graduation from Liberty University with a degree in psychology,
Pam moved to Minneapolis, MN where she began to work with New Life
Family Services, and young girls who were planning to place their children
for adoption.

Pam was approached by a group of concerned parents, to develop a two-
hour program for the Rally for Life 1992, a conference on sexual
abstinence.  She developed the program mixing media and music, her own
talk and the testimonies of young girls.  The response of students, parents
and the community was so
overwhelming that Pam began to speaking full-time across the United States.

In 1993, Pam’s talk, “Sex has a Price Tag”, was produced as a video.  No
one was prepared for the explosive response.  The video has since been
translated into 11 languages, won the Charleston Film Festival Award in
1995 and is currently used in the US, Canada, Mexico, Central and South
America, Australia, Ireland, Europe, the Ukraine, Romania, Poland and
throughout Africa.  

In 1998 Vision Video and Gateway films produced the film series, “Sex, Love
and Relationships” in Santa Monica, California.  It won the Crown Award for
Curriculum of the Year in November 1999.

Pam’s current videography includes:  “Time to Wait for Sex”, “Sex Has a
Price Tag 2000”, “Character Matters”, “Sex, Love and Relationships” and
“Take a Look in the Mirror”.

She is also the founder of Enlighten Communications, Inc. which is an
organization focused and committed to the betterment of children and
families in America and around the world.  Enlighten offers a broad new
model approach for those desiring to embrace strong character in today’s
youth.  Enlighten empower parents, youth leaders and educators to lead
informed discussions on sexual abstinence and the benefits it produces.

Pam now travels both domestically and internationally, speaking to over
500,000 teens a year.  Surprisingly many of her requests to speak come
from teens themselves.  She has been a guest on numerous national TV and
radio programs, including:  “Hannity and Combs”, “ABC Radio’s Sean Hannity
Show”, “The Dr. Laura Show”, “700 Club” (CBN), “Politically Incorrect”.

Pam is a dynamic, charismatic and educated expert on Sex, Love and
Relationships.  She understands the perils that young people face as they
make adult choices, and is dedicated to reviving the character and integrity
of today’s youth.
This page is a compilation of life-affirming personal stories of men and women who were conceived in rape and/or
incest, including the following:

Rebecca Kiessling from Michigan, Allison Hillaker from Michigan, Russell Saltzman from Missouri, Irene van der
Wende from the Netherlands, Sharon Isley from Iowa, Carole Roy from Ontario, Canada, Bethaney Tessitore from
Alabama, Jenni Maas with Human Life International, Tony Kiessling, Pam Stenzel with Enlighten Communications,
Mary Payne from Oklahoma, Sherrie Eldridge from Indiana, Tim, Ed Mohs from Washington, Kristi Hofferber from
Illinois, Brian T. from Minnesota, Patti Smith from California, Jaquese Gaskins from Michigan (attending college in
California), "Godchaser" from Alabama, Ildiko Curis from Texas (born in Hungary), Mark Allen Taylor from Texas,  
Dahn Batchelor from Ontario, Laura Tedders from Michigan, Kay Golden, Patty Holt from Texas. On the right, you'll
also find links to other children born of rape stories.  "The adult pregnancy rate associated with rape is estimated to be
4.7%. This information, in conjunction with estimates based on the U.S. Census, suggest that there may be 32,101
annual rape-related pregnancies among American women over the age of 18." -- Center for Diseases Control Rape
Fact Sheet 2/2000.  WE ARE NOT ALONE!

For more information on Rebecca Kiessling, go to "Rebecca Kiessling Home".
"Conceived in Rape:  From Worthless to Priceless"
DVD of Rebecca Kiessling's Story -- $14.99 (90 minutes)
Now available on Rebecca Kiessling's home page

Rebecca Kiessling's story:  Author of the Heritage House '76 pamphlet "Conceived in Rape:  A Story of Hope"

I was adopted nearly from birth.  At 18, I learned that I was conceived out of a
brutal rape at knife-point by a serial rapist.  Like most people, I'd never
considered that abortion applied to my life, but once I received this information,
all of a sudden I realized that, not only does it apply to my life, but it has to do
with my very existence.  It was as if I could hear the echoes of all those people
who, with the most sympathetic of tones, would say, “Well, except in cases of
rape. . .  ," or who would rather fervently exclaim in disgust: “Especially is cases
of rape!!!”  All these people are out there who don’t even know me, but are
standing in judgment of my life, so quick to dismiss it just because of how I was
conceived.  I felt like I was now going to have to justify my own existence, that I
would have to prove myself to the world that I shouldn’t have been aborted and
that I was worthy of living.  I also remember feeling like garbage because of
people who would say that my life was like garbage -- that I was disposable.

Please understand that whenever you identify yourself as being “pro-choice,” or
whenever you make that exception for rape, what that really translates into is you
being able to stand before me, look me in the eye, and say to me, "I think your
mother should have been able to abort you.”  That’s a pretty powerful statement.  
I would never say anything like that to someone.  I would never say to someone,
“If I had my way, you’d be dead right now.”  But that is the reality with which I live.
I challenge anyone to describe for me how it's not.  It’s not like people say, “Oh
well, I’m pro-choice except for that little window of opportunity in 1968/69, so that
you, Rebecca, could have been born.”  No -- this is the ruthless reality of that position, and I can tell you that it hurts
and it’s mean.  But I know that most people don’t put a face to this issue.  For them, it’s just a concept – a quick cliché,
and they sweep it under the rug and forget about it.  I do hope that, as a child of rape, I can help to put a face and a
voice to this issue.

I've often experienced those who would confront me and try to dismiss me with quick quips like, “Oh well, you were
lucky!”  Be sure that my survival has nothing to do with luck.  The fact that I’m alive today has to do with choices that
were made by our society at large, people who fought to ensure abortion was illegal in Michigan at the time – even in
cases of rape, people who argued to protect my life, and people who voted pro-life.  I wasn’t lucky.  I was protected.  
And would you really rationalize that our brothers and sisters who are being aborted every day are just somehow
"unlucky"?!!

Although my birthmother was thrilled to meet me, she did tell me that she actually went to two back-alley abortionists
and I was almost aborted.  After the rape, the police referred her to a counselor who basically told her that abortion was
the thing to do.  She said there were no crisis pregnancy centers back then, but my birthmother assured me that if
there had been, she would have gone if at least for a little more guidance.  The rape counselor is the one who set her
up with the back-alley abortionists.  For the first, she said it was the typical back-alley conditions that you hear about as
to why "she should have been able to safely and legally abort" me -- blood and dirt all over the table and floor.  Those
back-alley conditions and the fact that it was illegal caused her to back out, as with most women.  

Then she got hooked up with a more expensive abortionist.  This time she was to meet someone at night by the Detroit
Institute of Arts.  Someone would approach her, say her name, blindfold her, put her in the backseat of a car, take her
and then abort me . . . , then blindfold her again and drop her back off.  And do you know what I think is so pathetic?  It’
s that I know there are an awful lot of people out there who would hear me describe those conditions and their
response would just be a pitiful shake of the head in disgust:  “It’s just so awful that your birthmother should have had
to have gone through that in order to have been able to abort you!”  Like that’s compassionate?!!  I fully realize that
they think they are being compassionate, but that’s pretty cold-hearted from where I stand, don’t you think?  That is my
life that they are so callously talking about and there is nothing compassionate about that position.  My birthmother is
okay – her life went on and in fact, she's doing great, but I would have been killed, my life would have been ended.  I
may not look the same as I did when I was four years old or four days old yet unborn in my mother’s womb, but that was
still undeniably me and I would have been killed through a brutal abortion.

According to the research of Dr. David Reardon, director of the Elliot Institute, co-editor of the book Victims and
Victors:  Speaking Out About Their Pregnancies, Abortions and Children Resulting From Sexual Assault, and author of
the article "Rape, Incest and Abortion:  Searching Beyond the Myths," most women who become pregnant out of sexual
assault do not want an abortion and are in fact worse-off after an abortion.  http://www.afterabortion.org.  So most
people's position on abortion in cases of rape is based upon faulty premises:  1) the rape victim would want an
abortion, 2) she'd be better off with an abortion and 3) that child's life just isn't worth having to put her through the
pregnancy.  I hope that my story, and the other stories posted on this site, will be able to help dispel that last myth.

I wish I could say that my birthmother was with the majority of victims and that she didn't want to abort me, but she had
been convinced otherwise.  However, the nasty disposition and foul mouth of this second back-alley abortionist, along
with a fear for her own safety, caused her to back out.  When she told him by phone that she wasn't interested in this
risky arrangement, this abortion doctor insulted her and called her names.  To her surprise, he called again the next
day to try to talk her into aborting me once again, and again she declined and was hurled insults.  So that was it -- after
that she just couldn’t go through with it.  My birthmother was then heading into her second trimester – far more
dangerous, far more expensive to have me aborted.  

I’m so thankful my life was spared, but a lot of well-meaning Christians would say things to me like, “Well you see, God
really meant for you to be here!”  Or others may say, "You were meant to be here."  But I know that God intends for
every unborn child to be given the same opportunity to be born, and I can’t sit contentedly saying, “Well, at least my life
was spared.”  Or, “I deserved it.  Look what I’ve done with my life.”  And millions of others didn’t?  I can’t do that.  Can
you?  Can you just sit there and say, “At least I was wanted . . .  at least I’m alive . . . ,”  or just, “Whatever!”?  Is that
really the kind of person who you want to be?  Cold-hearted?  A facade of compassion on the exterior, but stone-cold
and vacated from within?  Do you claim to care about women but couldn't care less about me because I stand as a
reminder of something you'd rather not face and that you'd hate for others to consider either?  Do I not fit your agenda?

In law school, I’d also have classmates say things to me like, “Oh well!  If you’d been aborted, you wouldn’t be here
today, and you wouldn’t know the difference anyway, so what does it matter?”  Believe it or not, some of the top pro-
abortion philosophers use that same kind of argument:  “The fetus never knows what hits him, so there’s no such fetus
to miss his life.”  So I guess as long as you stab someone in the back while he’s sleeping, then it’s okay, because he
doesn’t know what hits him?!  I’d explain to my classmates how their same logic would justify “me killing you today,
because you wouldn’t be here tomorrow, and you wouldn’t know the difference anyway, so what does it matter?"  And
they’d just stand their with their jaws dropped.  It’s amazing what a little logic can do, when you really think this thing
through – like we were supposed to be doing in law school – and consider what we’re really talking about:  there are
lives who are not here today because they were aborted.  It’s like the old saying:  “If a tree falls in the forest, and no
one is around to hear it, does it make a noise?”  Well, yeah!  And if a baby is aborted, and no one else is around to
know about it, does it matter?  The answer is, “YES!  Their lives matter.  My life matters.  Your life matters and don’t let
anyone tell you otherwise!

The world is a different place because it was illegal for my birthmother to abort me back then.  Your life is different
because she could not legally abort me because you are sitting here reading my words today!  But you don’t have to
have an impact on audiences for your life to matter.  There is something we are all missing here today because of the
generations now who have been aborted and it matters.

One of the greatest things I’ve learned is that the rapist is NOT my creator, as some people would have me believe.  My
value and identity are not established as a “product of rape,” but a child of God. Psalm 68:5,6 declares:  “A father to
the fatherless . . . is God in his holy dwelling.  God sets the lonely in families.”  And Psalm 27:10 tells us “Though my
father and mother forsake me,  the Lord will receive me.”  I know that there is no stigma in being adopted.  We are told
in the New Testament that it is in the spirit of adoption that we are called to be God’s children through Christ our Lord.  
So He must have thought pretty highly of adoption to use that as a picture of His love for us!

Most importantly, I’ve learned, I’ll be able to teach my children, and I teach others that your value is not based on the
circumstances of your conception, your parents, your siblings, your mate, your house, your clothes, your looks, your
IQ, your grades, your scores, your money, your occupation, your successes or failures, or your abilities or disabilities –
these are the lies that are perpetuated in our society.  In fact, most motivational speakers tell their audiences that if
they could just make something of themselves and meet this certain societal standard, then they too could “be
somebody.”  But the fact is that no one could ever meet all of these ridiculous standards, and many people will fall
incredibly short and so, does that mean that they’re not “somebody” or that they’re “nobody?”  The truth is that you
don't have to prove your worth to anyone, and if you really want to know what your value is, all you have to do is look to
the Cross – because that’s the price that was paid for you life!  That’s the infinite value that God placed on your life!  
He thinks you are pretty valuable, and so do I.  Won't you join me in affirming others' value as well, in word and in
action?

For those of you who would say, "Well, I don't believe in God and I don't believe in the Bible, so I'm pro-choice," please
read my essay, "The Right of the Unborn Child Not to be Unjustly Killed -- a philosophy of rights approach."  I assure
you, it will be worth your time.

For Life,
Rebecca Kiessling
rebecca@rebeccakiessling.com
Jaquese Gaskins, conceived in rape, from Detroit, Mi (attending college
in Redding, California) Author of "I'm the One" Breaking the Generational
Curse

Throughout the years I knew that I was different. I only had one friend
which is still my only best friend. I was just the quiet smart girl in school.  I
feel in this past year I have overcome most of the generational curses that
lie deep
within my family history and I felt
that it was time to break them.  
By me writing this book, I feel that
I have a closer relationship with
God.  I also believe that this book
can help someone break some
of the generational curses that
they are struggling with.

My major is Biology and my
minor is Bible and Theology.  
I plan on going to medical school
and becoming an OB/GYN.  I do
believe that my background has
influenced my career path. I feel
that it is my duty to bring life into
this world.

-- Jaquese Gaskins
(more details to come soon)
"Godchaser" -- born out of rape, a teenaged young man from Mobile,
Alabama

What can I say --  my life is like a movie and it's definitely a "sequel
drama."  I have been abandoned by every father I have ever had. So I
get the privilege of calling God my true father.  I was born out of rape,
and I have fought in spiritual warfare since I was seven.  I am the lead
Guitarist in a band called 4NAILS.  The Lord has blessed me with the
ability to write novels that He has inspired.  I live fully focused on Him,
praying for my family.

All my life I've been proof that God does indeed exist.  If it wasn't for my
mother and Christ, I would be dead by now.  I was what most of the world
would see as a mistake, a child born out of rape with no father.  In a
nutshell, almost everyone I ever trusted has lied to me.  

I always wanted a father as a little boy.  At 2-1/2, I was praying for a dad.  
I never got one who would always be there for me.  My mom knew of my
prayers and when she was asked to marry, she accepted not for love,
but for me.  5 years later, the man had me bad mouthing my mom behind
her back, causing me to stay 4 years younger than my actual age.  My
mom found some child porn one day in one of his suitcases and we
figured out later that he molested my step-brothers and possibly was out
for me.

I have never "fit in," but I have always had friends.  The Lord is still
testing me and I am struggling, but He has given me one of the most
precious gifts -- he filled my heart with all the fatherly love I have ever
missed, and it all happened at once.  Maybe if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't
be alive now or later on, but I would have eventually died had it not been
for that moment.  

No one could ever tell me God doesn't exist.  My mom recently had to
have her spleen removed and my "Paw Paw" has had a couple of
strokes.  I am currently living with my grandparents praying for patience
and clarity.  

I have come very far in the past few years, but ultimately, it's not quite
there yet, but it will be.  It seems that I have finally hit an upward slope.  
Downhill is not my option.  I am currently writing three novels -- two of
those are the launch of a trilogy.

These past few years have rewarded me by allowing me to work with
Mobile Masters Commision at House of Horrors.  It is a Christian horror
house that ends up drawing people into Christ.  For those who don't
know Masters,  it is a group you can join some time after high school that
takes you all over the world ministering.  During this time, you are also
taken through a radical life-changing experience that not only shows you,
but thousands of school kids and foreigners, that God is all powerful and
we truly can do anything through Him.  I myself am planning on taking this
commitment after high school.  

My goals in life are to become a writer of novels that will save millions, to
follow Christ's role and become like Him as far as sin goes,to master the
guitar, to do good in school, to be the best I can be, to find peace, to get
a house of my own, and to help anyone I meet who needs it.

I don't support abortion, but I won't go against the people doing it by
running them down.  It's murder -- no two ways about it.  There is a
statistic that over one-third of my generation is dead because of
abortion.  Less than one percent of that came from rape.  My views on it
should be clear from that . . .  I could have had a best friend that I didn't
because someone wasn't willing to give the child up for adoption or
something rather than kill the baby.  

This is not even a fraction of my whole testimony, but I pray it does help
someone.  To all who read this -- God bless, and you're not alone.  As
for my picture, I have not included one because I feel my testimony is for
everyone to maybe see some of their own face in this and not mine.

God bless,
"Godchaser"
http://www.jcfaith.com/Godchaser
Allison Hillaker's story, conceived in rape from a severely
developmentally-disabled birthmother. Allison is from Michigan, is
available for speaking, and can be reached at ashoup85@aol.com

Over and over I have heard the arguments on
why abortion should be legal. Even those who
do not  count themselves in the 'women's rights'
category often agree that in tragic cases a woman
has the right to dispose of her unborn baby.  
Among the most popular of these 'justified' reasons
for abortion are rape, the potential handicap of a
child, and the financial burden that the child will
bring. Each time I hear these arguments, I cringe.
But, instead of merely telling them the blanket
statement that "all life is important," I share with them
the following true story and allow them to make their
decision about whether a life should be taken because of another's
mistake.

An older couple lived a long, hard life. Raising a daughter with a severe
mental handicap brought both joys and trials. God helped them through it
all, but this was just one more trial these elderly people had to bear. As
they sat in the doctor's office, their worst nightmare came true; their
daughter was pregnant.

To make matters worse, the baby's father didn't want anything to do with
the baby. He was a Native American, living on a reservation. Alcohol had
enslaved him, and he was too numb to care. He just wanted the woman to
have an abortion and get rid of the child altogether. After all, the mother
was so severely handicapped that she didn't even know she was
pregnant, and her parents were too old to raise the baby. He cared only
about his addiction—alcohol.

The parents were fully aware of this. They also were concerned that the
child could end up with the same mental disability as their daughter. They
could not bear to have the unborn child live a life like their daughter's.
They also knew that there were few to no families willing to adopt a child
who had or could develop a cognitive disability. Over and over, these
things weighed on their minds.

Time passed. It had been a very long nine months, but God's grace
sustained them through it. Despite all the odds, they knew that abortion
was murder. They couldn't live knowing that they had taken an innocent
life. They decided to place the baby for adoption and prayed that a loving
couple would be willing to accept what could be a less-than-normal child.
Being Christians, they requested that the child be put in a Christian home,
and they knew that the caseworker would do her best to find a great
family for their precious baby girl. Little did they know what was happening
only miles from where the baby was born.

There was a young couple named Tim and Betty who had been married
for 13 years but were unable to have children. They wanted children so
badly that they applied for adoption. As they waited, they just couldn't
understand why people would have abortions while knowing that there
were couples out there that wanted children. It was so cruel, so unjust.
They were about to give up and settle with the idea of never having
children, but soon that all changed.

Tim loved running local road races that supported charities, and Betty
always cheered him on as he raced to the finish. July 22, 1985, was no
different. That day Tim was running the Toury Mott Run, a race to raise
money for Hurley Hospital's Children's Center. As Tim crossed the finish
line right in front of the hospital, he walked over to Betty. He knew that she
had been very discouraged about not being able to have a baby. It had
been two years since they had applied for adoption, yet they still hadn't
heard anything. So he pulled her aside, pointed up to the hospital window
and said, "You never know. Our baby might be up there right now."

Amazingly, he was right. The woman had given birth early that morning,
and by that time the child was in the baby care unit. Fourteen months
later, Tim and Betty brought that baby girl home to stay.

That little baby that could have been aborted—that little baby whose birth
father had raped her mentally handicapped birth mother; that little baby
whose mother thought she was a doll; that baby whose grandparents
were too old to be able to take care of her; that little baby whom everyone
thought could have had a severe handicap; that little baby whom God had
given life. That little baby, who is alive and healthy, is the author of this
story.

Let me ask you, "Was my life not worth saving? Should I have died merely
because of all of these tragedies that led up to my birth?" Absolutely not!
Just because a child may have a handicap or disability does not mean his
or her life is worth less than anyone else's. According to the United States
Declaration of Independence, "All men are created equal and are
endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among
these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness." These rights rang
through our country until January 22, 1973. In the case, Roe vs. Wade,
the Supreme Court legalized abortion -- stripping innocent children of the
very first right mentioned in the Declaration of Independence. It was a
ruling that allowed a saline solution to be injected into the baby for the
purpose of burning it to death, and it paved the way for doctors to stick a
tube in the child's head and vacuum out its tiny brain. And all this is done
because two adults don't want to have to deal with the inconvenience of
having a child. Nevertheless, what about that child? Why should the baby
have to pay with his or her life?

Many times I have heard pro-abortionists argue that abortion is the
expression of a woman's rights -- to ban abortion would be to take away
her rights. What about that baby girl that she is carrying inside of her?
What happened to that little woman's rights? What about the little boy who
never had the chance to grow up and make something of his life? Why
should one person's rights be sacrificed because they are an
'inconvenience' to another?

If a couple feels that they cannot provide the life that their baby deserves,
abortion is never the answer. Just like my parents, many couples want to
have a child and would provide a wonderful home for that baby. Instead of
selfishly killing another human life, why not do the most sacrificial act and
give that innocent child the chance of a wonderful life that he or she
deserves?

Many women have faced a tragic pregnancy. Perhaps they were raped
and wish to get rid of the painful memories altogether. Sometimes women
are afraid that their child will be abnormal and do not want to bring a less-
than-perfect child into this brutal society. Many people are afraid that they
will not be able to financially support a child. Thus, thousands of innocent
children are murdered each year under the umbrella of 'freedom of
choice.' However, it is time that we teach these adults that all life is equally
important. Just because a couple may not want the child does not mean
that child should be denied the right to 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness.'

-- Allison Hillaker
http://projectcuddleinfo.blogspot
.com/ -- adopted baby
conceived in rape
Tim’s story, conceived in rape and placed for adoption

She was only seventeen, an honor student, all-state volleyball player, and
a kind and compassionate spirit.  Wanting badly to become a nurse, she
knew she had to study hard and maintain great physical shape.  Many of
the boys in school thought that she was among the best looking in the
class. When she received her acceptance into the local nursing school,
she was ecstatic, thinking it would be the best time of her life.  It did begin
as such.  She had no trouble gaining friends, and it seemed like her
transition to college and the real world was going to be very easy.  She
was, despite her beauty, very naïve when it came to men.  She was always
too busy in her high school life to have a boyfriend, and she never
thought she would have the time, too.  However, when she met an older
man, who, at first seemed to be a good friend, she thought that perhaps
dating could play a part in her very active lifestyle.

At first he treated her like a lady, and she was enthralled with his
gentleman attitude.  He was kind, caring, warm, and not like the other
boys her friends at college dated.  They seemed to have the benefit of
taking it slow and seeing what the future held.  This all would change for
the worst.

Within a few months of dating, after a very normal evening, my mother
was sexually assaulted and raped by the man she was dating.  It was not
the violent, unexpected attack that is talked about in the media.  It was
perhaps worse -- a trustful bond destroyed by someone who was thought
of to be her friend, confidant, and hopeful boyfriend.  She was sexually
assaulted, and left on a rural road in the dead winter month of February.  
Fortunately, another car passed soon and she was picked up and driven
to the police department.  But he was never arrested and charges were
never formally filed.

My mother was a good Christian woman and someone who took her
morals very seriously.  She never would have imagined that this would
happen to her.  She also couldn’t imagine was happening -- after a few
months of questioning, she found out that she was pregnant.  She was
away from home for the first time, unable to talk to her parents about it
because of the shame she still felt for something that was not her fault.  
Friends did not believe her; she would hear whispers in her dorm room.  
The college even thought about expelling her, or sending back home to
“deal with her medical issues.”

The quickest way out was to get an abortion.  Having grown up in an
upper class, progressive Christian home, abortion was something that was
brought up, but only happened to “other families”.  Sadly, her older sister
would later tell her that she had had an abortion before her younger sister’
s attack.  The friends who were still talking to her also tried to convince
her that the quickest way to “forget” about the attack was to silently
terminate the offspring growing inside her.  With Roe vs. Wade in its sixth
year, and abortion facilities becoming more prevalent, she found it easy to
find out how much the procedure would cost.   After months of staggering
soul-searching and tears, she had decided to give her baby the ultimate
gift – life.   Then, she chose to give her baby the second-best gift -- a
healthy family who could provide for them.

In October of that year, in a quiet hospital, far away from where she grew
up and from where she attended college, my mother gave birth to a
healthy baby boy.  He was smaller than average, and had a very slight
heart murmur, but other than that was completely healthy.  A wonderful
family adopted me.  My mother and father provided me with everything a
child could want, and more.  I never had to worry about food, shelter, or
wonder where my next meal was coming from.  Growing up, I climbed
trees, played video games, worried about girls, and went on many
camping trips with my father, uncles, and cousins.  I had a “Tom Sawyer”
romance to my up bringing; always dreaming and imagining things that I
could do with my friends and family.  I shudder to think it almost didn’t
happen.

When the former governor signed a law stating that adopted children can
view their vital records certificates -- not just their birth certificates -- I was
amongst the first people to sign up for it.  The biological family had no way
of contacting the child they’d placed for adoption, for they did not know
the name of their new baby.  Through “dumb luck,” I put my birth mother’s
name in a search engine on Yahoo.  It came up, along with my entire
family, in an obituary for a relative.  I actually first contacted my maternal
grandparents, and they set up a meeting with my biological mother, and
themselves.

I learned I was conceived in rape throughout the process of talking to my
biological mother.  I also found out that the rapist is dead.  He was never
arrested, nor were charges ever pressed.  At first, I struggled with the
knowledge that I have achieved, and at times, I still do.  It is often
extremely difficult to understand that blood is not thicker than water, and
love makes a family more than one violent action could.

Eventually, I realized that it really does not matter how you were
conceived.  You control your own destiny by your actions, and if the good
Lord has given you life, it matters not how you came into this world.  What
it really boils down to in the end is how you live your life now.  Many great
men and women were conceived in violent or terrible circumstances, and
sometimes the children of such do not grow up in great surroundings.  
Using the gifts that God gave you, realize that what matters is how you live
your life, not how you were created.  Life, no matter how it began, is much
better than the alternative.

If, God forbid, a woman is raped and considering abortion, I would like to
listen to her, more than anything.  Given the opportunity, I would like to
emphasize the fact that how her child was created has nothing to do with
what they become.  It is how they are raised that really matters.  I would
tell her that one violent, disgusting, horrific act does not mean the life of
the child should be devalued.  Most importantly, I would like to tell her to
pray, and talk to God . . . .   He knows what’s best even if we don’t.

1979, my biological mother was assaulted, and she became pregnant.  
She talked to her friends about it, and they told her to abort me.  She
spoke to the doctors, and they told her that an abortion might be the best
choice.  She struggled with the “choice” for months on end.  Thankfully,
for both of us, she decided on life.

I’ve spoken to women who have had abortions -- some were assaulted,
some were pressured, and others forgot their birth control and became
pregnant.  Whenever they talk about what they did, I always thank my
mother, and say to myself, “I’m sure glad no one killed me.”

My personal view is that abortion should be illegal.  However, since this is
a goal that sometimes doesn’t seem likely to be realized in this world
today, I would like to see the pro-life side unite under a banner and, at the
very least, try to minimize the number of abortions which are taking place.  
While it’s true that abortion does take a life, it is crucial to remember that
nothing will be done until we both stop shouting at each other.

For those who say that abortion should be legal in cases of rape, I ask
them this question: “Why punish the unborn child for the crimes of the
father?”  When they say, “A woman should not have to carry the child of
the rapist,” I explain, “The child did not choose to come into this world by
rape.”  

Please consider this:  Wouldn’t it be better that the children of such a
monstrous and destructive act be given the opportunity to try to make this
world a little bit better -- by allowing them to survive rather than having
them die by someone else’s “choice?’”

-- Tim  (to contact him, please e-mail rebecca --
rebecca@rebeccakiessling.com)
Sharon Isley's Story -- conceived in rape, Sharon is now a Chemist and
also an assistant pastor at Debra Heights Wesleyan Church in Iowa.  She
is available for speaking in her area.  --
sharonaisley@gmail.com

I am amazed at God’s
love.  The sheer delight
expressed in Psalm 130
leaves me speechless.  
How is it possible that the
Almighty God, the Creator
and Sustainer of the
Universe, actually cares
about me?!

How can He look at me,
and not see me as a
disappointment?  I was
conceived by an act of
violence.  From a very
early age I knew the story.  
My father was an alcoholic, and became very violent when drunk.  
Apparently after my sister was born, that was pretty much constant.  He
was spending all the family’s money on booze, and my mother and sister
lived for about a year on a single bowl of rice daily.

Mom decided to leave my father, and in a drunken rage he raped her.  I
was conceived.  Abortion was never considered by my mother.  This is
because it was 1964 and it was illegal, and she was Catholic.  Abortion per
se wasn’t considered by my father either; instead he resorted to violence.  
After he found out about the pregnancy, he beat mom, kicked her in the
stomach, threw her down stairs – all in an attempt to force a miscarriage.  

My mother also was hospitalized during the pregnancy for a severe kidney
infection.  Doctors were sure she would have a miscarriage.  Given that
my mother has had 4 miscarraiges, it is clear to me that God had His hand
on my life from the very beginning.  He was helping me to grow, protecting
me, and making sure that I was not only born, but born healthy.  

I know that pro-choice advocates state that every child has the right to be
wanted and loved.  I agree with that.  However, not being wanted, and not
being loved, does not mean the child should be killed.  I was not wanted.  
My mother loved me, but her ambivalence was clear.  She struggled with
the emotional impact of her own abuse, in turn abusing my sisters and
me.  I was sexually abused by several family members, beginning at the
age of 3.  

Despite all of these obstacles, God had a purpose for my life.  This difficult
beginning has been the foundation of who I am.  It has developed my
character – both my strengths and my weaknesses.  And it has given me a
passion for ministering to those who are hurting, and who need hope.

If a pro-choice advocate had been able to counsel my mother, she would
likely have been told to abort me.  I was nothing but a living reminder of
my mother’s trauma, and a financial burden on a soon to be single
mother.  Had that counselor been able to see into the future and know
that I was to be abused, that would have confirmed it – an abortion would
be more compassionate than bringing an unborn child into the world to
suffer so much.

But think about what this is saying!  How is it an act of compassion to
murder an innocent baby, to prevent it from being abused?  The abuse, I
lived through.  I had a chance to grow up, and through the grace of God a
horrible beginning has become a story of hope and inspiration.  

Yes, every child deserves to be loved and wanted.  But first and formost,
every child deserves to live!  Had my father succeeded in taking my life, I
would not be making a difference in the lives of people in my community
through my church.  My husband would not have his wife.  My children
would not exist – a thought that is so profoundly sad that I can’t bear to
think about it!

I am thankful to my mother for doing all she could to make sure I survived
such a difficult beginning.  She has made mistakes over the years, and
has sincerely repented and is working on her own issues.  But above all, I
am thankful to God.  He loves me.  He created me.  He knows everything
about me.  He has a plan for my life.  He thinks about me all the time.  I am
His passion!  He loves me so much, He came to earth, suffered more than
I ever have, died an agonizing death, descended to Hell itself, and then
arose again, just so that I could be forgiven for my sins and live in His
presence for eternity.

And He loves you too, much more than you can ever imagine!

Sharon Isley
s.isley@iowatelecom.net
Ed Mohs' Story, conceived in rape and placed for adoption.  Ed Mohs is
from Marysville, WA and is the Everett 40 Days for Life Coordinator

For over 20 years, I had this indescribable feeling deep within my being,
aching to see my birthmother.  I longed to meet her before she passed
away.   This “feeling” never escaped me.  I wanted to know, touch, and
hug her.  I always knew God heard my prayers.  Might he also answer
them?

I began searching for my birthmother in 1981.  Washington Adoptee’s
Reunion Movement (WARM) was the official agency within Washington
State to unseal court records.  I learned of my “non-identifying information”
through WARM.

My birthmother was 21 at the time of delivery.  She had brown hair and
blue eyes.  Nine siblings were in her Catholic family and she was of
German ancestry.  I discovered my grandmother had tuberculosis and
died of Alzheimer’s, while my grandfather had heart problems and died of
cancer.  

Lastly, I learned my conception was due to rape.  The Confidential
Intermediary for WARM stated I likely would not meet my birthmother.

That “feeling” to locate my birthmother returned years later after raising
our four children.  Other members of my adoptive family had located their
birth relatives.  It was my turn.

I tried searching several times between 1999 and 2002.  I went back to
WARM for an update on my case.  Unfortunately, there was little new
information.  However, I learned my birthmother’s name was “Ann.”  
Additionally, I discovered both her parents and two brothers had passed
away.

Still unsatisfied, I initiated another search, paying nearly $500.00 to an out-
of-state agency.  Unfortunately, it appeared the investigator never stepped
foot into Washington State.  This agency provided no new information.  I
felt disappointed, and angry.

On another occasion, I went directly to the Judge to plead my case.  Still,
the answer was the same: “no contact with the birth family.”

Twice, I sought prayer as the emotional roller coaster was taking its toll.  I
felt God’s holy presence on both occasions.  He reassured and
strengthened me on my search journey.

In June 2002, I wrote a newspaper Letter to Editor pertaining to adoption
and foster-care.  Surprisingly, the letter printed on July 3, 2002.  Two
weeks later, I received a note from another private investigator.

“I am certified by the Court to open sealed adoption files . . . and I would
be happy to assist you,” she wrote.  I went to her home to formalize a fifth
search on July 23, 2002, which was three days prior to my birthday.

This time felt different.  Within three weeks, I received an email from the
investigator, indicating she had located my birthmother and her siblings.  
Excited, I quickly and prayerfully wrote introductory letters to the seven
family members, addressed and mailed them.  

Within days, I received an email on August 12, 2002, from Ann’s youngest
sister.  My aunt wrote in her excitement, “I‘m shaking so bad my fingers are
hitting more than one key at a time.”  She, too, had wanted to search for
me, but never knew where to start.

We exchanged several e-mails while getting acquainted; we agreed to
meet three days later at my aunt’s home for dinner.  I could hardly wait!

Dinner was Thursday evening, August 15, the Feast of the Assumption of
the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Following dinner, my aunt presented me with a
family tree portfolio made especially for me.  It contained a picture of my
birthmother.  Silent, I stared at the person who gave birth to me: Ann.

We discussed the possibility of meeting Ann over the next several months.  
Her overall mental health and welfare was a very important family concern,
making it difficult and questionable for me to meet her.  I understood and
shared those same concerns.

Additionally, I learned of several stories of Ann’s most difficult journey
through life.  She was born on June 21, 1934 at home in Aberdeen, South
Dakota.  She hit her head on the bedpost after passing through the birth
canal.  This injury caused symptoms similar to epilepsy.

Another story: Ann fell and injured her head during school recess.  
Symptoms began which suggested she was “different.”  She was also in a
state mental hospital due to her condition.

At age 20, Ann was supposed to baby-sit for a family of three young
children.  The father picked her up for the babysitting.  Returning her
home that evening, he committed an ugly, grievous, solitary act of rape,
abusing her and taking away her most precious innocence.

Consequently, Ann became pregnant following the rape incident; she
completed her pregnancy at a local Salvation Army maternity home.  “Baby
Mark” was born on July 26, 1955.

Finally, the day and time had arrived for me to meet my birthmother.  
Anxious and overflowing with excitement, I met her during a small family
gathering for pizza and ice cream at her brother’s home.

I desired to see Ann and greet her with a warm, loving hug.  Instead, I
walked through the front door, quickly shook her hand, and sat down.

It was special being in Ann’s company.  She appeared simple in her own
unique way.  She was quiet, tall and slender.  She knew me only as a
“friend of the family.”  I watched her as she ate the delicious ice cream one
spoonful after the other.

Ann lives with two other women in a comfortable group home.  While she
once recalled “being pregnant,” she does not have immediate knowledge
that she is a mother, grand-mother, and great-grandmother.

I am grateful my birth family welcomed me.  I am thankful for my “Mother,”
Ann!  I am also thankful for my wife, Donna, and our four children, parents,
extended family and friends; all have stood with me in prayer and loving
support.

My search journey included patience, perseverance, and prayer, sprinkled
with faith, hope, and love.  Thank you, God, for the gift of adoption!

Ed Mohs , Marysville, WA 98270
e_mohs@hotmail.com
Brian T's Story -- conceived in rape and placed for adoption.

Rebecca and the others have
been very articulate in discussing
the many commonalities between
our stories, so I will try to focus on
some of the unique aspects of my
experience as a person conceived
from rape.

I am a Minnesotan who was
conceived in 1972 as a result of
the stranger rape of a seventeen
year old girl in Wisconsin.  All I
know about the rape is that a
mysterious man lured my birth
mother into his vehicle before transporting her to an isolated location
where she was held against her will and sexually assaulted.  She never
reported the attack to police and the rapist was never identified.

Both before and after the attack, my birth mother was- and is- very
pro-life.  She opposes abortion throughout pregnancy and for any reason
-- including the life of the mother.  In fact, before the rape, she had
difficulty even understanding why anyone would consider obtaining an
abortion.  But when she was impregnated from rape, she did just that --
she seriously considered obtaining an abortion.  She did not do so
because she was lacking in respect for human life; she did so because
she was almost as aghast at the idea of bearing the child of her rapist as
she was at killing her own child.  Fortunately, my birth mother chose a very
different course of action from that of Rebecca’s birth mother.  My birth
mother decided that having an abortion would be wrong.  She believes
that God has a purpose for even my life.  But the experience of bearing a
child from a rapist and being reminded of the attack just by looking at me
was- and is- a traumatic experience, nonetheless.  And, it was worsened
by her inability to provide a good home for me.  The experience of
adopting out a child is, itself, an agonizing experience for many women,
including my birth mother.  My birth mother was so distraught at having
relinquished a child that she would weep every Mother’s Day.

My birth mother's story shows that not all women impregnated by rape
want an abortion. It also warns us against questioning the factual
assertion that women are greatly harmed by rape impregnation.

Unfortunately, the vast majority of rapes- including that of my birth mother-
do not result in commensurate punishment for the perpetrator. A
resulting child is far more likely to receive the death penalty than the
rapist is to see the inside of a jail for the crime. The inability to
enforce the rape laws may have been an unfortunate reality as recently
as a couple of decades ago, but such is no longer the case. As a result
of the development of technologies like DNA analysis and other forensic
techniques, security cameras, electronic monitoring systems, and
computer technologies, prosecutors could obtain far more rape
convictions than are being secured under our current policies. We know
what is preventing greater incarceration rates of rapists -- the anonymity
of offenders, the inability to prove lack of consent, lenient sentences
for offenders, inattentive surveillance of offenders, and easy access to
victims are some of the causes that could be rectified through
innovative use of technology. If our states and nations employed those
technologies more aggressively and rape convictions became far more
common, rapes would inevitably decrease. Such a result would lead to
fewer abortions, as well as benefit women and the rest of society.

Being male, my experiences as a person conceived from rape probably
differ somewhat from those of most of the other authors on this page.
Not only did I face the suspicions of family members about whether I
would turn out like my biological father, I struggled with my own fears
that I harbored the same violent tendencies of my biological father.
Those fears magnified the regret I would feel whenever I did something
that I wish I had not done. While I have not resolved the issue of
whether men conceived in rape are more instinctually driven to engage in
sex without obtaining consent, I do know of two important and relevant
facts. First, the science on criminality does not support the notion
that the tendency to commit crimes against persons is inheritable.
Second, auditing theory has long held that employees need to have
attitudes that rationalize crime before they will steal or embezzle from
their employers. In the context of rape, someone who might commit rape
will hold beliefs that help him justify the act in his mind. For
example, one man argued that a sex act is not rape if the victim does
not report the crime to the police or had been drinking alcohol. For my
part, I fully accept the legal definition of consent -- that it is "words
or overt actions by a person indicating a freely given present agreement
to perform a particular sexual act with the actor " and do not accept
that rape can be justified. Moreover, I am -- and always have been --
outraged by my biological father's behavior.

Thank you for reading my story.

-- Brian T.
Rebecca Kiessling's Story on CBN's "The 700 Club", first aired on July 28, 2009
(just under 6 minutes)
Kristi Jones' Story (maiden name) -- conceived in rape/incest, Kristi is a
pastor's wife from Illinois and is available for speaking.  khoffer7@yahoo.com

In May of 1978, God put forth the plans for
my life.  I was given up for adoption when
I was only 3 days young.  My adoptive
parentswere unable to have any children of
their own, and were ecstatic that their dream
of raising a child was about to come true.  
God placed me in the arms of two very loving
people who took me in and provided me with
unconditional love, support and opportunities
that shaped the foundation of the person that
I am today.

I was raised in a Christian home, and
attended a Christian school up to the fourth
grade, which set the foundation of my faith.  
Although I remained active in the youth
group at church, I still struggled through
school, both socially and emotionally.  I was
not the social butterfly, and often enjoyed my time to myself.  I did not make
friends easily.  This pattern would continue through high school and even into
college.  I had a few close friends, but that too was difficult.  If I began to feel
like I was being left out, as I often did, it would put me into a state of
depression and panic.  I knew deep down what the real issue was, but I did
not want to admit it, even to myself.  I did not know how to handle the fact
that I was adopted.  I did not know anyone else who was adopted who I could
turn to for advice, and going to the psychologist for my behavioral outbursts
with my family did not seem to be much help either.  I could not open up to
anyone, let alone find someone who understood my frustrations.

For as long as I can remember, my parents have been open with me about
being adopted.  It was not something that I needed to be ashamed of, but in
a way, I was.  I was not ashamed of being adopted, I was ashamed of the way
it made me feel.  I was always angry.  I felt like I did not belong in this world.  
As a matter of fact, I would often ask God “Why am I here?”  and “Why did I
have to feel like this?”   My high school years were the toughest years of my
life.  I would cry myself to sleep almost every night, praying to God to take
away the pain in my heart.  Thank God that I had my faith to turn to, because
I felt that I had nothing else.  It was only when I was at church that I felt any
semblance of peace.   Something told me that I belonged there.  

One particular person at church made an impression on me that will last
throughout my life.  She is someone I will always look up to.  She was my first
grade teacher, and she was the one person in this world that I wanted to ask
for help and guidance. If only I had had the confidence.  Ironically, I now
interact with her often.  

My husband is a minister, and is called to the same church where I grew up.
God is a marvelous God!  I know for a fact that God placed certain people in
my life for his purpose, including my first grade teacher.  I feel the same way
about my husband.  He and I have been married almost 10 years, and have
one son.  As a family, the three of us share something very special, we were
all adopted.  We are a family stitched together with God’s love and that was
God’s plan from the very beginning.  God has provided our family with
unending blessings, even through the difficult times.  

I had a low self worth, and would often question my very existence.  I cannot
pinpoint exactly what brought a change to that view.  I believe it was a
gradual change, beginning with a speaker that I saw while attending a youth
gathering in 2004.  Her story moved me to the point that I felt something
telling me that we had something in common, I just had no idea what it was.  
She was survivor of an attempted late-term abortion who fought for her life,
and now brings awareness of the effects of such procedures.  No, I was not
an abortion survivor, or an attempted abortion.  However, as I would find
later, I do indeed have a story to tell!

In April of 2008, I attended a mission trip to New Orleans to help rebuild
homes from Hurricane Katrina.  It was there that I made the decision in my life
that the time had come for me to know exactly where I came from.  I would be
turning 30 in a little over a month, and I was going through the reality that I
had dreams that were not fulfilled.  The “what ifs” were weighing heavy on my
mind, as well as many other unanswered questions.  There was never a day
in my life that went by without me thinking “Is that person related to me?”
wherever I went.  It was also on this trip that I met a new friend who would be
a God sent support in my journey.  I am eternally grateful to her for all of her
support and the strength she helped me to find.  I finally had the courage to
face the unanswered questions that I had for a very long time.  I knew my
adoptive parents had always told me that they would support me if I wanted
to research my adoption, but I have always told them I did not want to know.  
The last thing I have ever wanted was to hurt them.  I did try first to get
information through the legal system without telling anyone.  I have always
been told that I would have that option as long as I was 18 years old.  
However, the judge determined that the case was sealed, and would remain
sealed.  I was crushed, but at the same time, I knew that God wanted me to
do things the right way, not my way.  My parents are very important to me,
and even though I thought it may bring them a bit of heartache, they
deserved to know the truth that I did want the information I had denied
numerous times.  

By mid July of 2008, I was very interested in knowing what needed to be
done to begin my search.  I remember picking up the phone several times
with the intention of telling my parents that I wanted to know about my
adoption, but I could not follow through.  Finally, after a few weeks of anxiety,
I brought myself to ask my mom and dad for the information.  It was almost as
if, in an instant, I went from having no courage, to having more than I ever
knew possible.  My adoptive mother almost sounded relieved that I had finally
asked.  She invited me over, and she and my adoptive father were very
honest with me.  What I would find out was something that had never and
would never in a million years cross my mind.  After knowing only that my
biological mother was 16 when she gave birth to me, I was told that she was
also a victim of incest and rape by her father, and I was likely the result of
these actions.  I was speechless!  It took all I had to keep my composure.  I
went from having about a dozen questions in my mind, to having hundreds.  

The first question that I remember asking was, “How would you know that if
my adoption records were sealed?”   Ironically, my adoptive mother worked
at the hospital where I was born.  She is unable to remember exactly how she
had my birthmother’s name, but having her name is also how she knew about
the possible situation with my biological father.  The incest was published in
1991 when my biological mother prosecuted her father, for not only the one
pregnancy  resulting in my birth and adoption, but also for six other
pregnancies resulting in five abortions, and one forced miscarry by her
father.   Words could not begin to describe the emotions going on inside my
mind at that moment.  What kind of monster would do such a thing to his own
daughter?  Another thought going through my mind was, given the fate of the
other six children, why was I spared?    

As a teenager going through the struggle within my mind about being
adopted, I had also wondered if my birthmother had thought about aborting
me.  I did not, however, imagine that my very existence would be so
controversial.  When I was told the circumstance, I kept asking myself, “Why
wasn’t I aborted also?”  I thank God for showing me where to turn in times of
crisis because this question could only be answered through scripture.  
Romans 9:20, NLV states, "But who are you, O Man, to talk back to God?  
Shall what is formed say to him who formed it 'Why did you make me like
this?'”  I do not need to ask why.  I already know why I survived -- I was
created intentionally by God for his purpose.  He chose me!  

I did have heartache for the others who did not survive, but I had more
concern for the true survivor, my biological mother.  How could one person
be put through such trauma?  I also thank God that my faith was strong at
the time that I asked to know about my adoption.  If my relationship with
Christ was not as mature, my view may have been very different.  This just
reinforces the fact that God’s timing is perfect!

I really stewed on the information I received for about a week, praying and
asking God to guide me to do His will.  I felt that I was being guided to
continue my search for my biological mother and the truth of my existence.  I
also wanted to consult with my husband before continuing with my search.  It
did take me a few days to tell him what I had found out also.  I did not fear his
reaction, but at the time, I was not even sure of my own reaction.  After
sharing the information with him, he expressed that he was supportive of me
continuing my search if that is what I felt led to do, and that where I came
from was indeed God’s doing, not man's.  I could not have asked for a better
man by my side.

I had many things to consider as I decided how to begin a formal search.  
First of all, was my biological mother or father still alive?  Second, would she
want anything to do with me if the circumstances were in fact that I was a
child of incest?  Another consideration was facing the possibility that my
biological father was present in his daughter’s life, and what his reaction to
me would be.  On the other hand, my strength lies with God and in my faith.  
No matter how I got here, I know I am his child.  Matthew 10:30, NLV states,
"And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered."  I knew I had to
trust in Him, especially now.  Ultimately, my thought was that if she has been
through so much in her life, does she know that there is someone out there
who loves her unconditionally and does she also know Jesus as her Savior?

After only 2 short days of searching the internet, I came across a popular
website that reunites schoolmates, revealing a photo of my biological
mother.  At this point, I had so many emotions going on in my head that I did
not know what to do.  The moment that I had imagined for so long was no
longer just a dream, it was finally a reality.  I could not believe it!  My first
thought was, “Where do I go from here?”  Would a picture and a small
amount of information be enough to satisfy my desire to find her?  Should I
contact her?  How do I contact her if I decide that is what I want?  There were
too many “what ifs” not to try to contact her, but was I really ready?  After
much prayer and a lot of support from my husband and a close friend, I
decided to follow through with the journey I had started.  I really felt that if
God brought me this close, how could I stop now?  I searched again on the
internet in hopes of finding some way to contact her, but the only thing I
found was a partial email address.  At the bottom of the website where I
originally found her picture, there was a note that she could be contacted at
an email address, but it was only a partial email address.  Now I was really
confused.  The address ended with ym.com.  I was not familiar with this
particular email, so I searched it online.  After finding nothing matching ym.
com, the only possibility I could think of is yahoo mail.  Since this was the only
information I had to go on, I had to try it.  It was definitely a shot in the dark,
but if I had no guts, I knew I would have no glory.  I sent a blind email to a
yahoo email address that I believed was the correct one with the intention of
never hearing from the recipient.  I simply asked if she was the correct
person from the area where I grew up.  What were the chances that it was
really her?  But that is just it, there are no chances in life.   

Later that night, I had a message back from her stating “Yes, Who is this?”   
As I read this, my jaw dropped.  It was really her!  Now I had to figure out how
to tell her who I was, and also ask myself if I was prepared should she tell me
she wanted no contact.  I knew it was time to face the reality that had
bothered me for so long.  I brainstormed for an hour trying to decide how I
would word my response.  Finally, I simply let her know that I thought we had
a connection, and asked that she please visit my page on the same website
where I found her picture.  I also stated that I wanted to honor her wishes if
she chose not to contact me again.  Ironically, our internet went down that
evening shortly after I sent the last email so I had no way to see if she
responded back.  It was like sitting on pins and needles.  First thing the next
morning, the internet was working and I immediately checked my email.  Sure
enough, she had responded.  Not only was that a pleasant surprise, but she
wanted me to call her right away.  I can still remember the feeling I had in my
stomach.

It is like having a hundred butterflies fluttering around uncontrollably.  I
quickly sent her another email letting her know our internet was not working,
and that I had just gotten the message.  I also told her that I was getting
ready to go to work, but she was welcome to call me.  She replied back that
she would call me at 8:00 that morning which was in about half an hour.  I
was counting the seconds, as it seemed like the longest half hour of my life.  
At 8:10, I began to get worried because my phone still had not rung.  All of
the “what ifs” began to enter my mind, but I quickly reminded myself that God
was in control.  Patience has long been one of my weaknesses.  When my
phone did begin to ring at 8:15, I was frantic.  What would I say to her?  What
would she say to me?  As I answered the phone, I could tell she was nervous,
as she could tell I was also.  After about the first 5 minutes of conversation,
the awkwardness left, and it was smooth sailing.  She and I spoke on the
phone for well over an hour about some of the family’s history and my
upbringing.  

At one point, she told me that both she and my biological father thought I had
not survived when I was born.  The reason that this was assumed was
because of a hospital bill that she had received by accident.  I was born with
an infection in my body, and was very sick.  I was transferred to a bigger
hospital that could provide me with the intense treatment needed to recover
from the infection.  My biological mother received a bill from the hospital for
the services I received, and at that time was told by her mother that if a child
is taken to this hospital, it is likely not to survive.  Not only did I survive, I also
completely recovered from the infection.

After our initial conversation, we both agreed that we wanted to meet, along
with her younger daughter -- my half sister -- who I found out was expecting a
child in a few days.  My half sister was very excited, and asked if I would like
to visit when she had the baby.  I was thrilled!  I made quick arrangements to
drive there over the coming weekend, and we were all very excited.  That
same evening that we had talked, my half sister had her baby.  What a day
to remember!  Three days later, I was on the road to visit.  I decided it was a
trip that I would take alone, even though my parents were concerned about
the drive by myself.  I knew that God would guide me and protect me.  

The drive only took about 5 or 6 hours, which went very quickly.  We all met
for breakfast, including my new nephew.  I could not believe that the day I
thought about for so long was finally here!  We talked briefly at breakfast,
and spent the morning together looking at pictures and getting to know each
other.  I was literally in awe with the resemblance between my biological
mother and myself.  Later that afternoon, my biological mother wanted to
spend time showing me around the area where she lived.  She and I took a
drive around the downtown area and eventually stopped at a park to sit and
talk.  I will never forget this day!  We sat on a bench near a beautiful lake just
talking about everything.  

It was also at this time that she felt comfortable enough to tell me about my
biological father and who he was.  My half sister and biological mother’s
fiancé suggested she wait to tell me because they feared I would turn and
walk away from her.  I had no intention of ending the relationship, and I told
her that there was nothing she could tell me that would make me want to run
away from her.  My biological mother was unaware that I or my parents knew
her name or about the prosecution of her father.  As my biological mother
began to explain to me who my biological father was, I let her know that I
already had an idea about it.  My biological mother was very surprised that I
had chosen to find her even after knowing the truth about my biological
father.  This is when I let her know my faith and how I felt about who I was.  
He may share my DNA, but God created me.  No matter the circumstance, it
is of God’s will and purpose that I was conceived.   I do not want anything
from my biological father, nor will I ever.  

It is very hard for me to describe the feelings towards my biological father.  
The sinner in me wants to see him punished for his actions, considering he
only served less than 18 months in prison due to lack of evidence, (which
would have been me.)  However, my Christian upbringing taught me
different.  Don't get me wrong -- in no manner what-so-ever do I agree with
what he has done.  It is tough to explain exactly how I feel, and I do not even
understand completely how I feel toward him.  If I were given the opportunity
to speak to my biological father, I really would simply tell him that I pray he
has asked for forgiveness in his heart.

The second day of my visit with my birthmother, reality hit me.  I woke up
early in the morning and sat on the porch for several hours by myself, crying
profusely.  No matter how hard I tried, I just could not stop.  It was 29 years of
bottled emotions that were pouring out.  All I could do besides cry at this
point was pray prayers of thanksgiving that I finally got to meet the person
who gave birth to me.  It was truly a miracle!  

That evening, we drove about an hour to visit with my biological mother's
brother and his family.  This was something that meant a lot to my biological
mother.  Growing up, her brother did not believe that his father had been
raping his sister, as his father wanted him to believe she had made it all up.  
Finally showing her brother that there was relevance to the claims was a form
of closure for her.  For her brother, it was a shock!  He now believed her
after all of this time, and this was a good feeling for me to know the truth
finally brought them closer again.   

A few short weeks after my first visit with my biological family, my biological
mother came to visit with me and my family.  I was able to introduce her to my
adoptive parents and to many of my close friends.  Although this was a bit
awkward for all of us, it was one of the most precious moments in my life!  I
also got to meet some of my biological mother's family who still lived within a
40 mile vicinity from where I live now, as her family is also from the area
where I currently reside.  It really is a small world!  Her family here was also
happy that the truth was finally revealed and the family was brought together
again.  My hope is that the family that was torn apart by secrets and lies can
now be brought together and begin to heal by the truth.

There is no doubt in my mind that God was in control of it all.  There is no
other explanation!  I was finally beginning to see the pieces of my life fitting
together.  He turned my feelings of being broken and unworthy to that of
having unending value. Through Christ, I have gained the confidence
necessary to fulfill my dreams after searching for so long on my own.  I am
not defined by my DNA, but by the calling I have received as a child of God.  
No one can take that away from me.  My calling in Christ Jesus is my
destiny!   He is my foundation, and with Him I cannot crumble.  Now I am able
to share my faith with someone who has had many obstacles to overcome in
life, and to help her to move on.  

I have learned something very important in the last year.  Life is about the
Faith that we have in Christ, the Hope he gives us for tomorrow and
spreading his Love to everyone around us!   Look to Christ for strength in
everything!  Even in cases of rape and incest, each unborn child is created
by God for a purpose.  As my story reveals, God can take something bad
and make it an opportunity to do something miraculous!  The legalization of
abortion is nothing short of playing God, and who are we to question God?   

-- Kristi Hofferber, khoffer7@yahoo.com
Patti Smith’s Story – Patti is an adoptee who was conceived in rape.  
She is a worship leader from Huntington, California and is available for
speaking -- pattismith55@yahoo.com

I believe that God has called you here
today -- you are meant to be here, and
I would even go on to say that I believe
God has created you and sent you into
this world.   He says that you are
fearfully and wonderfully made, and that
before you were formed in your mother’s
womb, He knew you!  You and I are
infinitely valuable to Him – and He paid
the infinite price.

Even many in the pro-life movement
may say that abortion is wrong, but in
the case of rape, maybe abortion is
even justified -- as if that child is of less value because of the way this
precious child was conceived.   But I’m here
today to tell you that every child is of infinite value to the Father . . . every
child.  Every child is created and sent into this world to glorify the Father.  
Every child!

By the world’s standards, maybe I should not be here.  I am 54 and
adopted.  When I searched and met my birthmother 20 years ago, she told
about the circumstances of my conception and birth.   I expected to hear a
tragic love story, but instead I heard the shocking news that she had been
raped and could not deal with keeping the child of a rapist, so she gave
me up for adoption.  She said that she knew that this man had also raped
her roommate and two others.  He never knew about me and she never
saw him again.  She didn’t go to the police -- it was the 50's and she was
too ashamed.

My birthmother found herself pregnant and alone.  This world would say
that I was disposable, of little value.  Even damaged goods – bad genes
they might say.   But my mother knew in her heart that I was precious in
His sight and that I was of infinite value.  She gave me up in adoption to
two loving parents and I was raised in a loving Christian home.  At the age
of 18, I came to know Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior.  

I’m here today to declare to the world that I, you and every child are of
infinite value and Jesus paid the infinite price on the cross for our
salvation.  I thank Him every day for the wonderful life I have had and that I
was sent to tell others about how much He treasures every life, no matter
what the circumstances of conception.   I want to make a difference in the
world.   I want to say that even though the circumstances of my conception
were in violence and hatred, I am not my father, nor am I my mother.  I am
me.  I was created by a loving God and my life is so valuable.  And so is
the life of every baby conceived -- valuable and a gift from God.

Today, I am involved with His Nesting Place here where I live.  It’s a
Christian home for unwed
mothers.   I lead worship music
from time to time as a guest,
and have just begun sharing
my story.   At times, it has
seemed like if I tell anyone --
they just get so shocked, and
it was uncomfortable for me,
but now I am sharing.  I want to
speak more about my story and
the value of life, and I want to
make a difference in this world.

Patti Smith                                  1993, with birthmom after our reunion
pattismith55@yahoo.com
Daily Mail article -- Having My
Rapist's Baby Is The Best
Thing I Ever Did  -- Miriam's
Story
Irene van der Wende's Story -- aborted her baby conceived in rape, and
later learned she had herself been conceived in rape.  Irene is from the
Netherlands and available for speaking -- abortioninformation_eu@yahoo.
com

I regret killing my baby after
rape.

His strong arms gripping tightly
around my neck, strangling me,
choking me, left me gasping for
breath.  I realized death was
imminent, so in a split second I
chose to let him have his way
with my body, so that I could
stay alive.  Afterwards, I
clutched my coat tightly against
me, so no one would see my
ripped clothing underneath. . . .

Although my body started to
change, and needing larger
clothes, I believed I was not
pregnant, as the initial pregnancy test came up negative (not enough
hormones yet.)  But after a 6-week roadshow, a visit to my family doctor
informed me I was pregnant. “Oh no!”  Shock, disbelief, fear and turmoil
gripped me.  London advised me to go a clinic halfway north in England for
an abortion, mentioning that it had to be done quickly, as it was on the
verge of the time it was allowed to be done legally.  Numb, and only
focusing on all the fears, I went ahead.

My abortion took place in a cold, sinister, old mansion. I felt very
uncomfortable, waiting in the hall with black-white checkered tiles, watching
the minutes on the clock tick by.  It was as if death hung as a cloud in the air
above me.  I did my best to stuff my emotions, signed a paper, received my
number, and joined some 8 women lying on beds in a room, waiting a long
time after inserting something and changing into an operation garment that
was to remain open.  As they spoke of their pregnancies, morning sickness,
and why they were killing their babies, I began to think.  In the lift (elevator)
later, when I was going upstairs, I placed a hand over my tummy, finally
realizing I had a child inside of me, and said “I’m a mother.  I have a baby
inside of me!”  The nurse accompanying me reassured me, saying  “It’s
okay – other women have that thought too at the last minute.  You’re doing
the right thing,” after which the doors opened, and I walked into a brightly lit
operating room, where I was told to lie down, and place my legs up high in
the stirrups.  But I felt terrible and vulnerable due to the privacy, and even
more so as the abortionist became very angry and agitated when the nurse
discussed something with him, and he started to yell at me, saying I had
already signed a consent form, hadn’t I?  And that I was holding up the flow
of things.  He roughly grabbed my arms, which they strapped down, and
forced a needle into my arm, after which I don´t remember much . . . . I
passed out.

When I came to, I was loudly told to stand.  In agony, I gripped my tummy
with one hand, doubled with pain, while with the other, I fumbled my way
along the dark corridor wall, back to my bed in the other room.  The other
women were now silent and groaning with pain.  My stomach felt as if every
inch had been scraped open with a sharp razor blade.  We were left alone,
and after a long time -- I believe the next day -- I was allowed to go home,
but the pain was unbearable. They offered a wheelchair, but I grit my teeth,
saying to myself:  “I wanted this, so grin and bear it.”  I bled profusely on the
drive home, having to stop every now and then, dizzy, and was in absolute
agony.  The bleeding lasted half a year.

Looking back, I regret my abortion, and the morning after pills I took.  If I
had realized then, what I now know, I would never have been able to ask to
have my baby killed. I came to this awareness after seeing videos of an
abortion, seeing a 12 week old baby react to the instruments inside the
womb, and seeing the aweful pictures of these little humans, where we pull
off their arms, break their legs and pull them off, squash their skull, suction
out (parts of their) bodies, brains, decapitate them, etc. How can we look at
these pictures, with intestines, ribs, brains, heart, backbone, etc., and not
call them a human being?  Life starts at conception – all the genes, and sex
are in the first cell, hair colour, skin colour, etc. which keeps on expanding
to 2, 4, 8, 16 cells etc., on till adolescence, when our children are fully
grown.  I had immense guilt and remorse, after realizing what I had done. I
also cut myself off from my emotions, as the guilt was too much to bear,
causing problems in relationships later.  Later, I read that of women like me,
who abort after sexual abuse (=less that 1% of all abortions) that 80% of us
regret our abortions.  Whereas of the 70% who chose to let their baby live,
none had regrets.  I wish I hadn’t killed her.

Every mother’s day afterwards, I had to stand still at the fact that I was a
mother, even though I had no living child – mother of a dead baby, through
my own doing.  Emotional trauma -- I carried this in silence, not talking
about it.  I froze when shortly afterwards someone placed their little baby in
my arms – who was I to still hold a baby after killing mine?  I joined the
statistics of having a miscarriage later.  I learned that scar tissue from the
abortion can cause problems in later pregnancies, and premature births
from the damage of the abortion, along with 50% more chance of breast
cancer if you don’t carry your first baby to full term, but abruptly stop the
milk production process developing by aborting.  When my daughter was
born later via c-section, my arms were strapped again, just like during the
abortion, and all the fear and anxiety came flooding back, at what should
have been just a joyous moment.  I also find it heart-wrenching to not be
able to say to my oldest living child, that she is my first born.  And when one
day she came home from school, asking if I had ever lost a baby, I was
stuck for words – how do you tell a little girl that you ordered her (half-)
sister to be killed?  How emotionally traumatic for the family of the woman
who chose to kill.  How unsafe the brother/sister feel --  “Why them, and not
me?”

When I was around 35, I found out I, myself, was conceived in rape.  My
whole family had known all along, except for me.  My father and mother
were married, but it was brutal rape.  He was totally drunk at the time, and
had violently slapped her, all around the room, threw her on the bed, and
raped her at force.  I was conceived.  But my mother tried to commit
suicide.  When I had been growing in her womb about 6 months, she got on
her bike, having premeditated to throw both her and me in front of a train at
the railroad tracks a few miles away.  She went there, and stood at the side
of the rail, but just as the train was approaching, she couldn’t go through
with it.  I am so grateful she didn’t!  Life growing up wasn’t always as nice as
it could have been when you hear how some were raised in nice, warm,
loving, friendly homes.  But . . . , life is not about how we were conceived, or
our upbringing, but about what we make of it.  There is healing, and I am so
glad my mother didn’t have me killed through suicide, when she had the
chance.  I am so glad that she gave birth to me, and raised me, despite how
I was conceived, and that I am alive, and able to now do something for
humanity.  My value and right to life does not depend on how I was
conceived.

I have had to come to terms with what I, myself, did.  I chose to have
someone paid to kill my innocent baby.  There was a father (the rapist), a
mother (me) and a baby.  But I hired a murderer (the abortionist) to kill my
baby.  I stuffed it away as much as I could for 25 years, but like psychology
says, eventually the cesspool of life needs to be opened, and become
honest about things we have done in our life.  I have named my babies,
made a grave for them at the cemetery, and I have found healing with
YHWH (God), and His son Yahshua (Jesus), whereby I am now able to
testify of what I have done, and the effects it has brought me, my family and
loved ones, physically, emotionally and spiritually.  I deeply regret having
put my innocent little baby through such torture and painful mutilation,
letting her be cut up into pieces while still alive with a beating heart.  Killing
an innocent baby is never right, even after rape.  Two wrongs don’t make a
right.  The father harmed me, but I harmed the baby.  The baby didn’t do
anything wrong.  The baby is a 3rd person.  I could have grown to love her,
or have her adopted in a loving family.  A baby should not carry the burden
of the sin of the parent and be killed for it.  In law, if a man kills a pregnant
woman, he is punished for the death of two people.  What are we doing
killing our own children?

I wish people would have told me about the beautiful development of my
little one (= foetus in Latin).  That before we as mothers even know we are
pregnant, 4 days missed cycle, that the baby already has a beating heart at
18-21 days.  That at 18 days, their brains start developing, at 20 days with
mid-, fore- and hindbrain, and that their brainwaves can be measured at 40
days.  That they are sensitive to touch, heat, light, and noise.  Pain
receptors begin to grow with 4-5 weeks.  At 6 weeks, they respond to
touch.  They have their own DNA, sex, blood type, and fingerprint, making
them unique individuals.  Beautiful little hands and feet, ribs, mouth,
tongue.  Sometimes the baby doesn’t die straight away when the killing
starts, and the arms and legs are pulled off.  An abortionist has testified that
the babies heart then still throbs sometimes.  Or that they are still alive as
they are suctioned out, going through the tube, to die later in the jar.  
These are human beings, who are not brain dead, or without feeling.

If a woman is pregnant, she needs support, not abortion.  Many of us (64%)
are coerced into abortion (e.g. by boyfriend, mother, father, schoolteacher,
doctor, nurse, girlfriend, social worker) whereby we can feel regret and
shame and guilt later, when we fully realize the full extent of what we have
done.  A baby says: let me live. Take my hand, instead of my life.  Love me,
instead of kill me.   Abortion kills a beating heart.  With embryoselection for
diseases, we are saying to brothers/sisters “you are only wanted and loved,
because you don’t have a handicap.” To the handicapped people, we are
actually saying “you are only tolerated, because the technology wasn’t
there to eliminate you when you were an embryo” -- genocide inside our
laboratories.  Remember: God loves you, but also your baby.  With
abortion, one heart stops beating, but another heart breaks.  We either
become numb, like I did at first, or the remorse and guilt and shame hovers
over us, till we come clean, and find healing.  Like Mother Theresa said,
“Abortion is the death of two: the baby, and the mother’s conscience.”  
Please don’t kill your baby.  Your baby needs to be allowed to live.  Find
someone to help you.

Irene van der Wende
Carole Roy's Story -- an adoptee, conceived in rape, Carole is from Ontario
and is available for speaking -- wings@personainternet.com

Before the moment of my conception, my
life was already planned.  Though I’ve taken
some detours along the way to where I
believe I was supposed to be, I know that I
was always protected by the gentle Hand of
a loving Father who I would come to
embrace and hold on to in awe and
adoration.  

Psalm 139 touches my life in a significant
way.  Knowing that the Father’s hand was
upon me, forming me in my mother’s womb,
and planning my life before me, these words
from God reveal a special meaning and
purpose for my existence.

I was born to worship and glorify God.  Even
though it has taken me over 40 years to come to this realization, it is only
through His mercy, His forgiveness and grace, and by the guidance of His
Holy Spirit that I may say I am born again in spirit.

When I began fervently reading the Scriptures, I was drawn to the passages
that referred to adoption.  The thought of being an adopted child of God was
a new concept that fascinated me.  I began to connect with these words,
letting them envelop my mind as I pondered the fact that God really did take
me as His own, as Ephesians 1 confirms.

This new discovery of being adopted by God brought to me the identity my
soul had been searching for all my life -- but adoption had already touched
me from the moment of my birth.  As a member of the adoption triangle, I
would like to share some details of my life that might be helpful to other
adoptees, birth parents and adoptive parents.

When my birth mother was 16 years old she was raped by a 40 year old man
while she was babysitting for her cousin.  Even though I am the product of
that incident, I have never felt ashamed of this knowledge because I knew
deep inside that God wanted me here.

A short time after I was born, I was put into foster care in the loving arms of
Albert and Jeannette Roy.  Although remaining as their foster child for a few
months, God had already chosen these special parents to adopt and nurture
me, the tiny newborn infant who could only be fed with a dropper.

After a few months of caring for me, my mom became gravely ill with
pneumonia, and I had developed Whopping Cough and needed extra care.  
Not being able to properly take care of me, my dad contacted the social
worker to have me transferred to another foster home.  I have often heard
the story of how, once my mom was well again, she constantly contacted the
social worker to bring me back to their home, because they wanted to adopt
me.  Although the social worker told her I had already been adopted, my
mom was very persistent.  It took many weeks of her constant calls and visits
to the Children’s Aid Society, when finally on Christmas Eve in 1962, I was
delivered back into their home, where I became a permanent member of their
family.

In those first few months of my life, my mom carried me on a pillow, because I
was very tiny and needed additional care.  Even though I had been carried in
the arms of love during those early years, I suffered from a fear of
abandonment throughout my life — even into adulthood.  Being initially
separated from my birth mother, and then again from my adoptive mother in
the first 6 months of my life, my infant soul panicked and I was left with a
great fear of being left alone.

I can recall the numerous times in my childhood when I would not even let my
mother go across the street to get the mail, that I would cry, terrified she
would leave me.  I emotionally grabbed a hold of her and would rarely want to
be out of her sight.

A couple years ago while I was in the midst of writing poetry to the Lord, I
asked Him, “Where did I go?  What happened to me during those times when
I was away from both my birth and adoptive mothers?” He replied, “I was
holding you.”  Even in these latter years of my life, it reassured me and
comforted me to know that I was never alone without His Presence.

Despite these early traumatic moments, I grew up to becoming a curious
young girl who grew to admire and respect the ones I called mom and dad.  
Though I knew it was biologically impossible, over the years, some people
had commented on how I looked like my dad.  But I would like to think that I
inherited his quiet spirit and his love of nature.  My dad enjoyed camping and
fishing.  He loved the outdoors.  And he would sometimes take little tomboy
Carole fishing with him.  Those memories of catching my first fish with my dad
are ones I hold dearly.  Special moments like these are forever etched in my
heart for I will always have a deep abiding love for the quiet man who raised
me and gave me his name.

After he passed away 12 years ago, I wrote a poem which I had engraved on
a plaque and given to my mom.

                            DAD

Your memory will always be                        My tears fall in the night for you
A treasure of your love for me;                   I pray to God to see me through;
Your smile, your laugh, your loving soul     I miss you more than words can
say
Are always in my heart to hold.                   It’s hard to live each passing day.

I long to kiss your cheek goodnight             My love for you will never die
And hug you in the morning light.                For yours will reach down from
the sky;
To sit with you and hold your hand              And take me in your arms so
sweet
For you were such a gentle man.                 To hold me tight when we both
meet.

Although I give thanks and glory to my Heavenly Father for the creative
talents He has given me, my mom has also had a creative influence on me
through her various culinary, sewing and knitting, craft making and musical
talents that I grew up to admire within her.  But it was being together with her
children for which my mom lived for, back then, as she does today.  Her life
has always revolved around her children.  She is a true mother in the most
important sense of the word.

My mom has often struggled with feelings of insecurity and fears that if my
birth mother were to come back into my life, I would leave them to be with my,
“real mom”.  I believe that adoptive parents from the closed-adoption system
often struggle with these fears.  And I could somehow empathize with her
worries.

Even though I grew up in a loving home, there were times in adolescence
and adulthood when I would wonder why I didn’t seem to fit in with the world
around me.  Perhaps it was the normal teenage blues I was experiencing, or
the young adult soul within me that was suddenly interested in finding out the
answer to the question, “Why?  But in my own search for autonomy mixed
with wanting to reassure my mother that she would always be my mom, I
wrote her a poem entitled,

        Heart of An Adoptee

Why am I here? Why was I born?
Questions that always, left me so torn.
What did I do? What did I say?
For “her” to reject, and throw me away.

A child of abandon, never to know.
A child that was chosen, love made me grow.
Through year upon year, the mother I knew
From your heart I came, from your love I grew.

Your child to adore, to love and to care.
My mom that would nurture, and always be there.
But then came the years, of worry and doubt,
Should “she” reappear, and turn me about.

Afraid that my love, for you would just die,
If “she” ever came, and I’d say goodbye.
But mother it’s *you*, who gave me my life.
Who carried me through, and gave me your light.

How could I abandon, a mother like you?
And turn away from, a love that’s so true.
So rest all your fears in my heart and believe,
Your daughter is here, and I will never leave.

Through years upon searching, for answers unknown.
Why am I here? Why was I born?
To find you and love you, my mother, so dear.
Our hearts joined together, with love through the years.

My parents never did have any biological children, but they opened their
hearts to adopt 4.  I suspect had they been able to have children of their
own, they might have done like most other French Canadians of their era,
and had a very large family.  Little did they realize that someday they would
have more children in their home than they could have ever imagined.

For over 50 years, my mom and dad were foster parents for the Children’s
Aid Society.  In those years, they fostered over 300 children of various ages,
who came from abused homes (a lot of them returning to their parents), and
newborns who were being given up for adoption.  I saw many frightened
children come through the doors of our home, sometimes in the middle of the
night. Some of them had been neglected, others severally abused.  They
were all such precious children to us.  In relinquishing so many foster
children back to their parents, I believe we shared a commonality in what
most birth parents have to go through — not knowing where the child will be,
but trusting he will be well-taken care of.

Four years ago, I met my birth mother. In my particular case, it was not hard
to find her since my birth mother’s sister was married to my adoptive mom’s
brother.  Although my birth mother and her family knew where I was, I did not
find out this information until I was almost 18.  But I knew from a very young
age that I had been adopted, or so chosen as my mom always told me.

My birth mother has often tried to get in touch with me through the years, but
I was not emotionally ready to open that door.  I already had a mom, and
because I was so terrified of losing her, I clung to her even more closely —
even into adulthood.  I have no doubt that the Lord softened my heart to
welcome my birth mother back into my life, for I knew that I needed to make
peace with this part of my past.  But the Lord was patient with me and led me
to reading adoption books and stories from other adoptees’ and birth
parents’ reunions. I began to see birth parents and their circumstances in a
new light, and felt a newfound compassion for them.  I found myself wanting
to finally reach out to my birth mother to let her know that I did not hate her.  I
wanted her to know that she made the right decision in giving me up for
adoption.

When I welcomed my birth mother into my home a few years ago, it was more
of a
reality check for me than a teary reunion.  As I sat on my bed that first night, I
realized that the woman in the next room had carried me inside her body in a
most intimate way — yet I didn’t even know her.  A tremendous sense of grief
overwhelmed me, as I was forced to face the fact that my adoptive mom had
not given birth to me.  And even though it was very brief, I found myself
feeling angry towards my adoptive mother for not being my birth mother.  But
I now realize that I had to go through these feelings of loss and grief, to be
able to give my birth mother a chance to get to know me, and for me to know
her.

The next morning, she showed me several photo albums of all my birth
relatives.  But it was only when I saw a picture of her as a teenager that I truly
began to connect with her.  Although I had difficulties relating to her as an
adult, the innocent, young girl that I saw in that picture reminded me of
myself, and my heart softened to her innocent, childlike personality.

Two of my three children have met my birth mother, and they immediately
picked up on the similarities of our personalities — that we both have the
same sense of humour and like to tell lame jokes, and that we’re both rather
impulsive — in a good way.

Even though I connect with her more as a distant aunt or cousin rather than
as a
mother, I believe in the years to come, as we continue to learn more about
one another, we might be able to attain that level.  But one of the first things I
said to her when I met her was, “Thank you for not aborting me.”  I realize
that, under the circumstances and in the eyes of the secular world, many
believe she would have been justified had she chosen to do so.

Although I will never know who my birth father is, I ask the Lord to forgive
him.  And thanks be to God that He always brings good out of every bad
situation.  For He knew that someday I would willingly choose to give my life
to Him and to follow His Son, Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour.   And that
I would come to worship and glorify Him through the creative gifts and talents
He has given me, with the creation of my Adopt-A-Wing Devotionals.  These
devotionals are distributed in various parts of Ontario, including prisons, to
share my love for the Lord, and especially to reach out to those who don’t
know God’s abundant love, His mercy and His forgiveness.  To be a vessel
for the Lord’s Light is a blessing I am deeply thankful for.  The gentle Hands
that have guided me each day, my spirit now recognizes as those having
formed me in the womb of my birth mother so many years ago.  The loving
arms that have cradled me and protected me under God’s wing throughout
my life, I have felt through the love and care of my adoptive parents—my
mom and dad.

Adoption is the loving option.  I also believe open adoption is the healthier
alternative than to having permanently sealed records.  It is an adult adoptee’
s right, when they are ready to take that step, to be able to know the part of
themselves that began at the beginning of their lives — if only for medical
reasons.

Therefore, to birth parents, I would like to say that I admire your courage and
your ability to trust in doing the right thing for your child.  It takes a strong
and steadfast person to give up and surrender one’s own child for a better
quality of life.  From the deepest part of my heart, I, along with many adoptive
parents, say thank you for choosing life.  As God gave up His only Son to
redeem humanity with Himself, He understands what you are going through.

To adoptive parents, I would like to say that your devotion to taking in and
loving children as your own, is a gift from God.  You have been chosen by
our Heavenly Father to receive these little ones and love them as He does.  
Do not be afraid to let them search for the part of themselves that has been
hidden from them since their birth.  But trust that they will always embrace
and respect you as the mom and dad they have grown up to know and
cherish.  The birth parents of your child will always be forever grateful to you
for raising that child with the love of real and true parents.

To other fellow adoptees, I would like to say that, first and foremost, God is
your true Creator, and He created you for a purpose.  You were not
unwanted.  You were designed by the Master Creator for His divine will and
glory.  And He has a plan for your life that is beyond your greatest
imaginations.  When God is at the center of your lives, the adoption triangle
then becomes a pyramid, with God at the apex, bringing everyone together
in harmony, and a divinely created and blessed union with one another.

In closing, as I was preparing for this meeting, and I re-read the poem “Heart
of An Adoptee”, I suddenly realized that, even though I had written that poem
for my mom several years ago, I had also subconsciously written it for my
Heavenly Father, in my soul’s search for my true Love, who chose me before
I was born.

But Father it’s *You*, who gave me my life.
Who carried me through, and gave me Your light.
How could I abandon, a Father like You?
And turn away from, a love that’s so true.

Through years upon searching, for answers unknown.
Why am I here? Why was I born?
To find You and love You, my Father, so dear.
Our hearts joined together, with love through the years.

Thank you,
Carole Roy
Laura Tedder's Story -- Laura was conceived in rape and survived her
birthmother numerous attempts to abort her.  Her autobiography, "Trip Into A
Miracle?" is now avaiable.  Laura is from Warren, MI, and is available for
speaking -- irishcreamlaura@aol.com

"Every child a wanted child," so the Planned
Parenthood slogan goes.  My name is Laura
Tedder and I know something about that.  After
all, I was conceived when my birthmother was
raped at a bar.  Abortion was illegal in Michigan
in 1948, though that didn’t stop her from trying
to abort me throughout pregnancy “every way
possible.”  I survived those multiple abortion
attempts, and as a result, was born with cancer.  
She then abandoned me at my uncle and aunt’s
home when I was only two days old.  They
subsequently adopted me.  

To say my life has been difficult is an under-
statement.  The complications from the cancer,
i.e., the attempted abortions, have led to dozens and dozens of surgeries
since.  Despite all the hardships I have endured, I am a living argument
against Planned Parenthood’s slogan.  I'm a walking miracle.  I'm lucky to be
alive.  I had a will to live and struggled my way into this world.  God put me
here for a reason and I love life!

My aunt and uncle welcomed me into their loving home two days after my
birth. While my birth mother was not able to raise me and the two of us do
not share a close relationship, I was indeed wanted and loved by my aunt
and uncle, who are, and always have been, my mom and dad.

While being adopted can have some negative consequences for a child, I
have been forced to deal with a lot more.  I was diagnosed with
retinoblastoma, a cancer of the eye when I was two years old.  Doctors had
to remove my right eye before the cancer spread. I have had many surgeries
since to correct the trauma left from the cancer. The treatment included
radiation, which in turn caused a brain tumor and several more surgeries
years later.  At one point in 1998, I was given only two weeks to live because
of the brain tumor.  Despite my frequent visits to the operating room, my life
can be described as a continuing trip through life, and hilariously funny at
times.  Some pro-choicers would say, “Well, you see, it probably would have
been best that she would have been aborted.”  But wait a second -- this is
my life that you are talking about!  It’s pretty rugged to say something like
that to someone.  It's unfeeling and unfair.  I can’t see how they could say
they “care” about women!

I was dealt a hand of bad cards, but I kept persevering.  I currently live in
Warren, Michigan with my husband John of nearly 45 years, and we’ve been
blessed with one son and three wonderful grandchildren.  My birth mother is
still alive, and although we have not made peace with each other (despite my
efforts), she has made peace with herself.  I don't have any hatred for her --
I'm too old for that.  When you get older, you just see everything differently.  I
have forgiven her and harbor no resentment.

After another brain surgery in 2006, I decided to write an autobiography
dealing with my struggles in life and am currently working to have it
published.  I don’t know why I have had so many challenges, but I hope my
life story will inspire others to believe they can overcome their own struggles
through faith in God and believing that you are here for a purpose and in
due time, you’ll see His light and know what you are here for.  I wrote it for
someone going through the same problems, to show him or her there is a
light at the end of the tunnel.  I know that part of my purpose is to be an
inspiration to others.

Any people in similar circumstances with a parent should let go of their
resentment sooner so they can reconcile before it is too late.  I hope that any
woman facing a crisis pregnancy like my mother would follow the advice of
the slogan, and understand that every child is a wanted child!

Now matter how you get pregnant, it's a miracle baby.  No matter what the
circumstances, it's not the baby's fault.  They were meant to live.  Everyone
needs a chance for life -- you don't get many shots at it.  A "walking miracle"
certainly knows something about that.

-- Laura Tedders, Warren, Michigan
Ildiko Curtis' Story -- conceived in rape, born in Hungary and now residing
in Texas.  Ildiko is available for speaking -- lampasasildi@wildblue.net


Recently my mother confessed to me that I was conceived out of rape. She
continued the pregnancy with me since she didn’t know about abortion at
the time, and I was able to be born.  When I was only three months old, she
became pregnant again, but this time she did know about the choice of
abortion and terminated that child.  After her abortion, she became sterile
and could never conceive again.  I am glad she didn’t abort me, or her family
line would have ended.

The reason I want to be a face for those who have been conceived in rape
is because most countries first legalize abortion in rape cases. The
justification to kill a child for his father’s crime becomes the door to make
abortion legal.  What people don’t realize is that the trauma of rape will
never be healed through the trauma of abortion.  Why should the child
receive the death sentence for his father’s crime?  The Bible says, “Fathers
shall not be put to death for their children, nor children put to death for their
fathers, each is to die for his own sin.” (Duet.24: 16)  I believe that children
are a blessing whether they were conceived in rape or not.

When I was little I knew somehow that I had a brother and even played
games and pretended that he was there.  When I would ask my parents if I
had a brother the answer was always, no.  When I was 40 years old, my
mother plainly told me that she aborted my brother.  This caused me to have
a lot of anger and mistrust toward her and I cried for him.  In my mind, she
robbed me of the brother I always wanted.  I didn’t even want to see her or
talk to her for many years.  The reason she gave me for her abortion was
that they were so poverty stricken that they couldn’t feed another mouth.

My father always wanted a son.  He did not know until later that my mother
had an abortion behind his back and the child was a boy.  I believe the
abortion became a wedge in my parent’s relationship that later led to a
divorce.  This also made me understand why my father often said to me that
I should have been a boy.  He treated me like one, and I believed the lie that
only boys were valuable.  I tried to please my father to gain his love and
acted and dressed like a boy for him.  This false belief caused me a lot of
problems in life, including suicidal thoughts.

My mother could never emotionally connect with me; neither could she
express love which, to this day, causes me pain.  I believe her abortion
contributed to the breakdown in her maternal bonding instincts.  Today, I
have forgiven my mother and my father and God has healed my wounds.  
To put closure to my grief, I erected a symbol in a cemetery for my brother
and I named him, “Attila” -- meaning, "father-like."

I also realize how the abortion policy has affected my home country
Hungary.  My friend who grew up to be a pediatrician explained to me how
she was trained that the “defective born” children were not to be kept alive
in the hospital.  One day when I was hospitalized there, I heard desperate
cries all night long.  I discovered that the old people in the ward who didn’t
have relatives were denied care, food and water by the staff.  This was the
policy at the time.

It is clear that once the door is opened to legalized abortion, it doesn't stop
there.  I believe that everybody has a purpose in life; therefore, the killing of
any innocent human is very wrong.  If one is vulnerable, all of us are
vulnerable.  Any one of us could be next.

-- Ildiko Curtis, lampasasildi@wildblue.net

Ildiko was born in Budapest, Hungary.  In 1963 she moved to Germany
where she met her husband.  She immigrated to the US in 1975.  Ildiko
studied Administration of Justice and holds a nursing license.  Today she
lives with her husband and three children in Texas.  The couple’s ranch
serves as a ministry to youth.  She travels with Pro-life organizations as a
pro-life spokeswoman.  Her work has extended to Western Africa and
Eastern Europe.  She also appeared on radio and television.
This program is from RealCatholicTV.com
Speaking together in NYC at Expectant Mother Care's
fundraiser in March, 2010.  Left to right -- Rebecca Kiessling,
Tony Kiessilng, Irene van der Wende, Liz Carl, and Kristi
Hofferber
After being filmed at Priests for Life on Staten
Island.  Left to right -- Liz Carl, Rebecca Kiessling,
Kristi Hofferber, Irene van der Wende and Tony
Kiessling
Rebecca Kiessling's full speech, as aired on Real Catholic TV
Rebecca Kiessling speaking at Expectant Mother Care's fundraiser in NYC in March 2010
Irene van der Wende speaking at Expectant Mother Care's fundraiser in NYC
in March 2010
Tony Kiessling speaking at Expectant Mother Care's fundraiser in NYC in
March 2010
Pam Stenzel speaking at Expectant Mother Care's fundraiser in NYC in
March 2010
Sherrie Eldridge's Story -- conceived in rape and placed for adoption.  
Sherrie is an acclaimed adoption author and adoption speaker from
Indiana.  This is an excerpt from her latest book, Twenty Things Adoptive
Parents Need to Succeed, posted here with permission.  Sherrie's website is
www.sherrieeldridge.com

When I found my birth mother after
a 15 year search, at first she
refused to talk with me. However,
she changed her mind, requesting
that I never ask about the identity
of my birth father. Why? She said
she was raped. How did I react?
Like an ice-skater who suddenly
fell on the ice and had the wind
knocked out of her. I never
imagined in my wildest dreams
that rape would be the reason
she placed me for adoption.

This first conversation with my birthmother was when I was 47, and she
informed me that she had been raped.  When she said the words, it was as
if a black cloud en-shrouded me.  Any time I told my reunion story, which
was often, I said, “I was conceived in rape.”  I can’t tell you the depth of
shame I felt.  Without my spiritual perspective already in place, I would have
concluded that my life was a mistake. I didn’t go down that path, but I did
take responsibility.  One day, I realized that I didn’t have anything to do with
my birth mother’s rape.  It happened to her, not me.  I also learned a
profound life lesson — that good can come from evil.  The good was me.  I
also learned that my life began not at conception, not on my birthday, not on
adoption day, but in eternity past — in the Heart of God the Father.  My life
is His idea!

For those of you with children whose birthmothers were raped, perhaps my
experience may help. Parents, if your child’s birthmother experienced rape,
the news won’t send your child to the psychiatric hospital.  Remember, we
adopted people are strong survivors.  Give your child a chance to grow by
hearing the truth.  You’ll know the proper time to tell that part of his story, for
you know your child better than anyone.  Listen to your heart.  You will do
fine, and your child will grow stronger.  Follow me on my blog and my
YouTube videos on how to share painful birth history with your adopted
child. Don’t be afraid, parents and adoptees! Yes, it’s hard to do, but you will
all grow. I promise you! When truth is told, we are all set free to choose and
grow.

(From Sherrie's blog and an excerpt from Sherrie’s latest book: Twenty
Things Adoptive Parents Need to Succeed (Random House Publishing,
2009© Copyright. For more information: www.sherrieeldridge.com)
Dr. Dahn Batchelor's Story -- conceived in rape, a retired attorney and a
blogger from Missisauga, Ontario.

My mother was raped in January 1933
and as a result, I was born in October
of that year.  I wasn’t aborted and I
didn’t end up dead on a rubbish heap
and my mother didn’t abandon me.  
Had I been disposed of as a dead
infant like thousands of infants who
had mothers around the world who
had unwanted pregnancies, certain
events in history would not have
occurred.  For example, it was I that
proposed in a UN crime conference in
1980 that a bill of rights for young
offenders be created.  That bill of
rights was adopted by the UN five
years later and has an effect on the
lives of millions of children world-wide.  
It was I that suggested at a crime
conference in Canada that Legal Aid
should have 24-hour duty counsel on
call so that anyone arrested in Canada at any time of the day or night has
access to free legal advice while in the police station.  I am mentioning these
two events to point out that all human beings have some role to play in our
society and shouldn’t be killed as infants simply because they are unwanted.

It’s ironic when you think about it.  Many years ago, I was driving home on a
motor scooter early in the morning.  I was on a highway heading south
towards Toronto and the moon was out so I turned off my headlight as the
moon lit up the countryside.  Up ahead, I saw about a mile away, a turn in
the highway.  I remembered that turn when I was heading northward days
earlier.  There was a cliff at the beginning of the turn.  Suddenly, I saw a
bright light in my face and heard the blaring of a loud horn.  I stopped my
motor scooter and much to my horror, I discovered that I had driven the mile
towards the cliff while I was asleep.  My eyes were open while I was driving
towards the cliff but I was totally unconscious as to where I was or what I was
doing.  It was no different than sleepwalking.

A truck driver stopped his rig and he called out and asked me if I was
alright.  I told him I was, so he climbed back into his rig and drove away.  I
realized that it was his headlights that flashed before me and his horn that I
heard.  He obviously saw me heading towards the cliff rather than continuing
on the turn.  If he hadn’t been at that location at that precise moment and
warned me of what I was doing, I would have driven off the cliff and been
killed.  If that had happened, none of what I had accomplished after that
would have come about.  What is ironic about this event is that the truck
driver has no idea that his actions had an effect on the lives of millions of
children around the world who are protected by the UN bill of rights for
young offenders.  Had he been aborted or killed as an unwanted baby and
discarded onto a garbage heap, I would have been killed that fateful night
and nothing I did after that would have occurred.

I have said it before and I will continue saying.  Everyone’s life has an effect
on the lives of other people.  If you doubt that, then ask yourself this
rhetorical question;  “Would I exist today if my mother or my father were
killed as an infant because they were unwanted?”
Mark Allen Taylor's Story -- Mark is an adoptee, conceived in rape.  He's
from Texas and available for speaking -- jwales726@live.com

I, like many adopted children at sometime in their lives, yearned to find my
biological mother and father.  My yearning began when I, as a young child,
was told the man and woman I was calling mom and dad wasn’t real.  That
has resonated in my soul to this very day.  What was real were the feelings
and emotions I had throughout my life and they ranged from emptiness to
shame.

As I went through life and all the ups and downs associated with it, the
yearning I had in my heart for my biological mother and father never waned
and kept growing.  Many times, I couldn’t pretend anymore that I was happy-
go-lucky -- as the face I put on showed. There were times I cried a river of
tears.  I tried to put it out of my mind as people suggested, but it didn’t
work.  My feeling and emotions would soon again come bubbling to the
surface.

As a human being, I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that my mother
and father was somewhere on the face of this earth.  But where?  And why
was I here?  It has possessed my thoughts each and every day of my life.  
As a teenager, I went to a church one night and accepted Jesus Christ as
my Lord and Savior.  From that night, it seemed that the hole in my life and
soul just kept getting bigger.  One would think His love for my life would
suffice my yearning, but it didn’t.

My adoptive parents didn’t attend church and my faith in God waned as my
want for my mother and father increased a million fold.  At the age of 23, my
first wife and I moved to Nashville, Tennessee so she could mend her life
with her father, and we started attending Faith is the Victory church . The
pastor’s name was Charles Cowan.  I rededicated my life to Jesus Christ,
and was baptized soon after.

I was at church every time the doors were open.  I went to Bible study and
kept my nose in the word of God.  It still didn’t fill the void in my life.  My wife
and I divorced in 1989, and I soon moved back to Texas with a even bigger
hole in my soul, but with some  understanding of God’s word in my heart.  I
still thank Carolyn Morrow for the Bible she gave me that I still carry to this
day.

My life back in Texas was a rocky one because the desire to find my mother
and father had still grown even more, and it showed.  I met my second wife
and she supported my desire to find my real mother and father.  And then it
happened!  Texas changed the law regarding adoption records.  This was
1998.  It was still another 11 years before throwing my hands up in despair.  
My second marriage had failed, my business had failed, I had failed in many
ways before God and Man.

I gave my adoption file to a lady who has been a Godsend to me.  Her name
is Nancy.  Taking the file, she began her search for my biological family.  
First she found my two-half brothers from a short marriage in 1960-1963.  
Less than a month later, she found  what I will describe as the most
heartbreaking information any person could hear -- she had found a social
security death index in my mother’s name.

I always dreamed of hugging my mother’s neck and looking into her eyes as
any son would, but I knew beyond any doubt that would not happen.  For
just a while, my world collapsed.  My tears could fill any ocean to its brim.  I
could only find where she was buried and that led me out of state.  That
information was obtained through the coroner’s office and the funeral home.

I found my mother’s grave and during my stay, I was informed my mother
was raped.  This knowledge changed everything except for my true undying
love for my mother, for she carried me in her womb and God knew me
before I was there.  Even though I’ll never get to see my mother on earth, I
know beyond any shadow of a doubt that there will be a day when I will look
into my mother’s eyes and hug her neck and we will both know God had a
plan for us.

As I stood at her grave with tears in my eyes, I experienced a rebirth as I felt
the love and warmth of both her and God.  I can’t say that my life will be
perfect in any perspective of the world, but undoubtedly perfect in God’s
eyes because my mother did not abort my life.  It has purpose and resolve
-- for both my mother and for me, the unborn child who was conceived in
rape.  I will work tirelessly with others as I am to see that each and every
child conceived has that right to life as my mother and God gave me, no
matter the circumstances of their conception.  There are still matters to take
care of and only God knows the end from the beginning.

Mark Allen Taylor
Kay Golden's Story -- conceived in rape and raised by her mother, then
later became pregnant out of rape herself.  Kay started a Facebook
group, Protecting Children Conceived In Rape

When I was in my mid twenties I was
raped. It was an acquaintance rape.
This is the first time that I am “going
public” with the accounts. I was married
with children. The rape happened at a
time when I was just beginning to
develop confidence in my personal
appearance. I was just beginning to
develop confidence period. It was not
long before I became ill. I knew intuitively that I was pregnant. A trip to the
clinic (and the only place where I found true kindness at the time)
confirmed my suspicions.

I not only had to worry about the long three to six month wait to find out if
my rape would result in a death sentence by H.I.V/A.I.D’s; but I also had to
go through the traumatic experience of revealing my pregnancy to my
husband and deciding if I would keep it or not. I was in shock. Not just
from the rape, but from the pregnancy. I was so sick I felt like I would die. I
wanted to die. I wanted to disappear.

Rape does not just take away your sense of security. It also scars the
relationships you have with others. My husband and I were already going
through a rocky time. I felt so ashamed whenever I looked at him. I felt like
I had betrayed him by being rape. I was no longer “his” wife.

I had been touched by other men and that meant I was no longer of
“value” to him in my mind. I felt unclean. I took a million showers it
seemed, but even to this day-I never feel clean.

I contemplated suicide. I almost attempted to take my life twice. Every time
I looked at my children I questioned how I would protect them. I became
distant from them. I think I can say with all honestly that I went insane. I
could not concentrate. The rapes replayed themselves over and over
again in my mind like a horror film with no end.

I walked into traffic during times when the light was green and did not
even know it until an angry driver screamed me back into reality. I was
extremely defensive. I was quick tempered and ready to fight at a
moment's notice. I would burst into tears easily and without good reason. I
slept very little and could not eat much at all.

My body was not my own. But then again it had never been. You see I was
not only a rape victim pregnant with a child conceived by a rape -- I was a
child conceived by a rape. I will never forget the day I found out the
disturbing facts of my conception. I was fifteen. I had always felt that there
was something different about me. Whatever it was -- it was something
that separated me from being truly connected to my family.

When my mother told me that she had been raped by a serial rapist --
and that I could find out information about him at the library -- I felt like
trash.  I was certain I was no longer human. The way I had been treated
all my life seemed to make sense. I was an abomination. I was the devil's
spawn. I was a parasite who had -- along with the person who sired me --
forced my way into existence at another human being's expense.

I will never forget the day I made the long walk from my home to the local
library in the small town I spent my teen years in.  It was a rotten walk.  I
did not believe I would really find information about a rapist with the name
my mother had given me. I could not allow myself to believe it. I believed
her. I just did not believe a newspaper clipping from the early 70’s would
be still filed away -- waiting to give backing to my mother’s nightmare.

And yet, it was there. That was how I was introduced to the first picture of
the man who raped my mother and impregnated her with me. He was in a
fact a serial rapist. What do you tell the world when you are a child of
rape? How do you justify your existence? Why would you choose to be
born from such an evil act? Those were the questions that plagued my
mind that long ago day. Childhood was over for me. Being human was
also over. I was a monster in my own eyes. From that moment -- until I was
in my thirties -- I wanted to die.

I tried to commit suicide several times. I survived. God was merciful.  I
attracted friends who I could not trust, but clung to them anyway. I had
boyfriends who mistreated me verbally, physically and emotionally, but I
felt they were justified because my “biological male parent” was/is a rapist.

I had survived so many things in my short life. I was sexually abused
several times as a kid. I was physically abused, all the times as a kid. In
fact, by the time I was fourteen years old, I had already endured two
“breakdowns.”

What gets me is how women who are raped and conceive children by
rapists are treated. The weight of the world is on their shoulders. They
must not only prove they were raped, but they are also persecuted for not
wanting to have children by rapist. Don’t get me wrong -- I am anti-
abortion. I don’t believe a baby should ever be punished for something his
or her “biological male parent” did.

But why is there not more effort put into creating a world where mothers
and children can bond with one another in these kinds of circumstances,
without ever having to worry about the “rapist” having access to harm
their lives further? Rapists, in my opinion, are the worst kind of criminal.
They should be locked behind bars forever with no possibility of ever
harming society again.

Yet you want to know what? My “biological male parent” only spent eight
years in prison. He got married in prison (on a conjugal visit no less). Still
had contact with family.  Now, I know we should forgive. My mother has
always told me that. I agree. Forgiveness is a cleansing power that frees
us from negative energy and brings us closer to God.

But forgiveness has nothing to do with pardoning behavior. When we
allow rapists/molesters to walk free after they have been convicted of their
crimes, we are not forgiving -- we are sanctioning their behavior and
leaving their victims to eternally live in fear of these monsters among men.

As for me, I lost my baby.  It was a mercy for me and the little one. One of
the men who raped me swore that he would fight to take my child if I kept
it. Rape is a nightmare, even after it’s over. I was lucky not to be H.I.V
positive either.  My marriage ended. My life was threatened. I spent years
living away from my children because I did not feel “sane” enough to care
for them. I am still recovering. I will always be.

But the sun shines on us eventually. I have my children with me. I have
remarried.  I am editing a novel on rape and pregnancy.  That is my story.
It continues. Thank God. I have my dear mother to thank for that. She, like
all mothers who give birth to rape conceived children are the unsung
heroes of the world. May God bless them all forever. They deserve
nothing but the best.

Rebecca asked me to talk about my faith. What can I say? God is my best
friend. God is my father. God is my light. Every step of the way, I was
carried by God. God was not the cause of me being raped. God was not
the cause of my mother being raped either. That evil was in the heart and
mind of that person already. We always have a choice to choose the
wicked side or the good side. Rapists make a choice to separate
themselves from humanity by choosing the bad side.

This story would not be complete if I did not mention my grandparents.
The first few years of my life were spent with them.  Everyone says that
my grandmother doted on me. All I remember is that she was gentle, yet
firm; sweet, yet wise. My grandfather was a quiet man who worked
tirelessly alongside my grandmother to raise ten children and then to co-
raise a host of grandchildren and greatgrand's.  Grandmama and
Granddaddy are both gone now. But what I remember the most about
them was a big leather-back bible and family prayer. I think I became a
writer during those moments. I would sit and weave my own made-up
stories -- complete with moral -- and my poor grandparents, Uncles and
Aunts would listen patiently. Occasionally, they would be unable to resist a
round of contagious laughter as I added song to my little sermons, using
whatever I could see in front of me to create the chorus.

It was God's love and my grandparent's influence on my upbringing that
helped me find my way back to the right path when I was lost. Even now,
when some sadness tugs at me and makes me want to give up and give
in, I see my grandmother in my mind. rocking slowly in her old wooden
rocking chair. "Get up gal!" Grandmama says, "When you sit down too
long. it's time to die. God's not finished with you yet!"

Those words are my advice to women and girls who must endure after
being raped by men of savage minds and wicked hearts. Only God can
judge your actions. No human being has the right to. Still, remember this,
that little person you are carrying is (as my mother recently told me)
YOUR spiritual baby. That child is the rainbow after the storm and a gift
from God. You did nothing wrong by being raped. You are a hero. A real
hero. If you choose to keep and raise your baby -- which I hope you will --
know that you are raising your greatest ally and dearest friend. It is not a
spawn of the Devil. He or she does not belong to their father. And it is not
a child of bad memories. That child will be the second hero in the story if
you allow it to be. That child will be your testament to the devil that you
God brings us power, even in the midst of demons.

Kay Golden
Cry for Mercy  -- by Lewis E. Thomas, a poem dedicated to Patty Holt, who
was conceived in rape.  Her story is posted below.

My conception began thru rape that was a heinous crime
But I have a case to make as you read this rhyme.
I never broke any laws or did anyone any harm
I am an innocent child to be held within your arms.

I have been part of you since the beginning of my life
I am sorry if my existence adds to your pain and strife.
I share your genetic code and the blood in your veins
My love can heal your scars and take away your pain.

God designed me to deliver kisses from Heaven up above
Will you allow me the chance to give you all my love?
Mommy; “Don’t think of me as a horrible thing!”
I am a Special Gift blessed by Jesus the King!

I was conceived thru violence of which I played no part!
Can you find a place for me somewhere in your heart?
If you decide you must abort me I will understand
Just know that killing me… is not part of God’s plan.

In your womb I wait and hope I will live to get my name
I’m sorry for all the trouble but I’m not the one to blame.

“BORN BY RAPE, ALLOWED TO LIVE”
Patty Holt's story, as written by Nicole C. Brambila, posted with permission

Once upon a time, a 15-year-old girl was raped by a 40-year-old man.

Patty Holt says her blunt language often startles her listeners.

She always starts with a Cinderella-like beginning, she says, when she’s
invited to speak to youth organizations about abortion and abstinence. Her
narrative, though, is far from a fairy tale.

As a result of the real-life rape, she says, the girl got pregnant.

At this point in her lectures, Holt says she has a good idea what the
audience is thinking: She’s telling her own story; she was raped, became
pregnant and had an abortion.

Holt says she likes to let the anticipation build.

Everyone knows it wasn’t the girl’s fault she got pregnant, Holt tells her
audience before ending the suspense:

“Well, I’m here to tell you it wasn’t my fault either; because I was the baby
that resulted from the rape.”

Holt says she enjoys this part, when the room usually falls silent.

Her lectures typically run about 15 minutes. That gives her 900 seconds to
persuade people that even in the case of rape, the life of the unborn should
be protected.

Holt’s birth mother could have aborted her; she was born in 1977 when that
option was legal and protected. Instead, Holt’s mother carried her baby full-
term, then gave her up for adoption. “God gave me life,” she says. “But my
mom gave me a chance.” Holt, 27, knows she brings a rare viewpoint to the
abortion debate. She sees herself as living proof that abortion is a life-and-
death decision.

In junior high, Holt says, when teachers would give assignments on
controversial projects, she jumped at the chance to defend her anti-abortion
stance. Even then, she took the hard-line perspective that rape didn’t make
abortion OK.

She grew up knowing she was adopted and feeling special for being
“picked.”

Five years ago, she tracked down her birth mother using the Internet. Holt
sought her out partly out of curiosity, partly just to say thanks.

They met at a Korean restaurant in Dallas. Holt’s biological mother brought
along Holt’s two half-sisters. Holt says she and her sisters spent much of the
meal giggling and staring at each other.

The curiosities were innocent enough.

Who do I look like? she asked.

She has dark hair, an olive complexion and lives in a family of blondes. Her
birth mother tells her she’s one-quarter Korean. She looks like her.

Where did my talents come from? she asked.

Holt is artistic and likes to sing, something no one else in her adoptive family
can claim. Her birth mother tells her she draws. In fact, Holt’s birth mom drew
a picture of her in the hospital just before giving her away.

Then she asks about her biological father. She has a gut feeling something
isn’t right, that the story isn’t going to be normal.

Her birth mother hesitates. Then she tells Holt about the time she was hired
to baby-sit. She was raped by the fiancé of the woman who hired her. He
was in the military. A report was filed. That’s all she knows.

The awkwardness of the moment came and went, as did the pleasantries,
she says. They don’t keep in regular contact, although they’ve spoken
recently about Holt’s new baby boy. Holt says she thinks her mother looks at
her and relives the rape, the hurt. Holt doesn’t want to be that constant
reminder.

People often wonder what happens when a raped girl gives birth to the
attacker’s baby, she says. A rape, she says, doesn’t change a baby’s DNA.

Holt doesn’t worry that her father was a rapist. Sharing his genes, she says,
doesn’t make her bad.

“I feel like, by me living the life that I have as a Christian, that I can take the
bad in him and make it something good.” she says.

Scripture, she says, also gives her comfort.

She quotes Psalms 139:13-14: “For you created my inmost being; you knit
me together in my mother’s womb, I praise you because I am fearfully and
wonderfully made.”

Because God created her, she says, the circumstance of her conception
doesn’t change her value as a person. Besides, she says, she knows God
can take something terrible and turn it into something wonderful.

Holt, who keeps the books for a Midland company she runs with her
husband, says she’s occasionally invited to speak to youth groups.

In her talks to students, she says she most enjoys when they come up and
say how much her story has changed their minds about abortion. The tears,
she says, mean the change is real.

Holt carries a folded-up poem by Roy Lessin. It reminds Holt she’s special,
she says, and that sharing her story is a part of God’s purpose for her life.

She’ll read it out loud before leaving the stage. The words she lives by. She
hopes, she says, the teens will, too.

“You are here not by chance, but by God’s choosing. His hand formed you
and made you the person you are . . .

“You are one of a kind. You lack nothing that His grace can’t give you.

“He has allowed you to be here at this time in history to fulfill His special
purpose to this generation.”

Patty is a stay at home mom who lives in Midland, Texas with her husband,
Rusty and their two children, Huston (bio son) who is four years old and Mia
(their Dillon Korean daughter) who turned one in November.