Trigger Advisory: This story is graphic and is not recommended for some readers.

When I was five years old, my mama went away. One week later I remember my Gram dressing me in black and taking me to church; I saw my mama there, laying in a box, skin cold as ice. I thought she was sleeping, but Gram told me mama was dead. “What’s dead?” I asked as I crawled up onto the church pew beside Gram. She pulled me onto her lap and said, “Honey, dead is when a person’s heart stops beating and their love goes somewhere else to live.” I looked into Gram’s eyes and asked, “Why is mama dead?” Tears started rolling down Gram’s face as she answered, “Because some bad people hurt her.” I picked at a mole on Gram’s arm, “How did they hurt mama?”, I asked. This time Gram’s only answer was a breath catching in her throat, a shake of her head and more tears.

That day was nearly 41 years ago now, but I still remember it just like it was yesterday. Sometimes the memories take me by surprise. I can be waiting in the parking lot to pick up my kids from school and then, suddenly there I am, five years old again and trembling in my grandma’s arms after a night terror, calling for my mama but getting no reply. It took me a long time to learn the truth about what really happened in the weeks preceding Mama’s death, some of it I just had to piece together from old memories and long past conversations with my aunties, but most of it I learned from Mama herself, from the words she left in her diary. This, is Mama’s story.

I was fifteen when I found Mama’s old diary, hidden in a dark corner of the basement with a box of her old things. It was mouse eaten and water stained, but it was hers! It was the very book that I remembered seeing Mama write in so often when I was a little girl; and when I opened it I was thrilled, there was her writing. Mama had touched this book, she had written her beautiful words on these darkening pages, there was still a little part of her there in front of me where I could touch it and see it. As the days went by I trespassed on my mama’s life more and more, I shared her small triumphs and her everyday sorrows; it wasn’t long before I began to hear the words she wrote in the same voice I remember hearing when I was little. A voice, soft and sweet, but still firm and strong. I felt that I was growing to know my mother as I might have known her if she had not died those ten years earlier.

10/17/1971: I just had the best weekend! Ms. Diary, it was an amazing two days, I really needed it too! Friday after work I went to my parent’s house for a few hours, spent some time in the garden with papa and Donna. Turns out my papa has been making quite the little gardener out of Donna.. this spring he gave her her own little corner in the garden and has helped her tend some tomatoes, a pumpkin plant (so she can carve her own pumpkin in a few days) and a few carrots. She is so proud of herself! So is her grandpapa! If only her own father loved us like that…. but I’m trying not to let that bring us down too much anymore, think I’m doing ok. Anyway, it was a good night… spent most of it with mother and papa in front of the fire, just talking and laughing. It was very comfortable and happy. Papa wants Donna and I to move back home, I’m seriously thinking about it. Donna is so happy there and it gets so lonely at home these days, just the two of us…

Saturday was great too! My two best friends and I took our kids to the lake for the day. Donna got to play with the other kids, catching minnows and swimming, think she had a really good day too! It was so nice to lay in the sun for awhile, just soaked it up, and was so nice to catch up with the girls! Donna calls them her “aunties” and they really are the closest thing she’s got to aunties. I’m lucky to have such great friends, they’re both married, but they understand what I’m going through raising Donna on my own. They know it wasn’t my fault John left… and they haven’t shunned me like some of my old friends did, I guess that’s why Joan and Stella are my best friends, because they’re real friends.

Today…. was spent doing some much needed housework. Made Donna clean her room, which was a chore in and of itself, would be easier to just do it myself, but then she wouldn’t learn responsibility. Finally made it into a game, challenged her to see who could get their room cleaned the fastest, her or me… I let her win and it worked! Thank God! Still, by the time I finally got her to finish cleaning her room I was about ready to pull my hair out! It does feel so nice to have a clean house again! I made some sun tea today too, so we sipped on some iced tea this afternoon after we were done cleaning and I taught Donna how to play the card game “crazy eights”, the little bugger beat me four times out of the five we played, but it made her feel good to win and I was able to make a point about her pouting when she lost. All in all today was actually pretty great too. Tomorrow is going to be a long day though, Monday’s always are, and Mr. Robertson is so much worse on Monday’s than he is normally… and that’s saying something. I miss getting to stay at home with Donna, I feel like I’m missing out on her childhood… but someone has to pay the bills. Goodnight Ms. Diary, I need to get some sleep or I’ll never survive tomorrow..

10/21/1971: Donna is finally asleep! Had to read my baby three stories before she finally drifted off somewhere near the end of, “The Fox and The Crow”, she sure does love that little story! I shouldn’t complain though, she is growing so fast, won’t be long before I don’t get to snuggle her like this anymore. She is the star of my life, the bright spot that I live for. The feel of her soft skin on my cheek as she melts into her mama’s arms for a bedtime story, is something that I will miss someday soon I am sure.

I am just gonna take a bit more of a break right now, finish unwinding. It was a really long day, for sure! My boss, Mr. Robertson, was rather cranky today; never could tell if it was my fault or not, but he kept yelling at me for typing too slow and accusing me of losing the letter he dictated yesterday, the letter that I handed to him as soon it was done being typed. I swear that man has a period just like a woman!! All I can say is, for a man, he sure does have mood swings! All day long, the only thought that kept me going was imaging the smile Donna was going to give me when I picked her up from her gram’s house.

Felt so good to get home! Mother treated Donna and I to dinner, she could see how tired I was. She made fried chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. I hate green beans, but it felt so good not to have to cook that I actually ate double helpings of them! Mother has been so good to Donna and I since John left; I really am a lucky girl to have such a mother. Was great to see Papa too, his hugs make me feel safe, like I’m still his baby girl… just what I needed after today.

Well, Ms. Diary, I am going to say goodbye for today, already spent too much time venting to you. I have to run sweep the kitchen and take out the trash before I head to bed. Oh, and I need to put up Donna’s new drawing on the wall, she’ll never forgive me if I don’t! I love my silly baby girl! Goodnight Diary.

10/22/1971: I don’t even know where to start, what to say, I haven’t even told Mother yet. What can I say, will she even believe me? I just wanna cry, forever. I feel so dirty!! So filthy, I must be disgusting. I hurt so bad… can’t sit, or lay down… it just hurts. I don’t know what to do. I have only just now stopped shaking. Don’t know where to go, who to ask. When people find out they will blame me… but it wasn’t my fault!! Was it? Help me, someone help me! If it weren’t for my Donna, I would go die, but my baby needs me. I have to keep reminding myself, Donna needs me, Donna needs me, I gotta make myself wake up tomorrow, I’ll concentrate on tomorrow… and Donna. I’m so scared.

10/23/1971: Still don’t know what to do. Numb right now. I want to tell you, but I don’t know how or if I even can.

Later today, almost tomorrow… Mother came over today after I didn’t answer her calls. I had to explain once she saw my face, the tears and the bruise. It was so hard, I had to leave out lots of what happened, I just can’t make my mouth form those words. She held me while I cried, and she believed me. She called Papa and he took me to the sheriff’s office, they didn’t believe me. I’m going between numb and wanting to kill someone… How dare they not believe me!! They say they know Mr. Robertson, that he’s a good, upstanding family man. Excuse my language, but BULLSHIT! I know for a fact that he has hit his wife, I’ve seen the bruises when she comes to visit… not to mention, I was there last night, I know what he did to me. I am just so mad right now though, how dare they call me a liar!? I have the bruises to prove it, but they said that because I didn’t report it yesterday that it must not have been a real rape, that I must just feel guilty for having consensual sex with a married man and now I want to call it rape. I think Papa nearly punched the cop…. and I nearly cried, but I wasn’t going to give the cop that satisfaction.

I’m too exhausted to sleep, so I’ll write. I need to get this out before it kills me, before I chicken out and just keep, keeping it inside…

Yesterday was Friday, I had to work late to finish filing the papers for the new business deal that HE is working on and by the time I was done it was just me and HIM in the office… I went into his office to tell him I was done and that I was leaving, I could tell he had been drinking from the scotch he keeps in his bottom desk drawer. He told me to sit down, that he had one more task for me to do before going home…. I did as I was told… I sat down, I was so stupid… I should have just left, there are other jobs… he came and stood in front of me and he… he, unzipped his pants, I tried to get up to leave, but he pushed me back down. He told me that I was going to suck “it” and that I was going to like it. I tried again to get up, but he pushed me down hard, again. So, I did it… I tried, but I choked and that made him really mad, that’s when he pulled me out of my chair and punched me full in the face. I fell, and… that’s when it got worse, he fell/knelt down on top of me, and he put his arm on my neck to hold me down and he ripped off my panty hose… and he raped me. I couldn’t stop him. I tried to bite him but I couldn’t reach him. Now they say it’s my fault, and I feel so guilty. Sometimes I believe they are right, that I am guilty; even though I know in my heart that I was not at fault.

So much of it is missing, I can’t even make myself write it, not even to you Ms. Diary, it hurts too much, makes me feel guilty, ashamed and dirty to even think of those things; I simply can’t say it. Just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach, had dry heaves several times today. I am so afraid to go to sleep, but I need to sleep… it’s just that I’m afraid I’ll live it again in my dreams.

10/24/1971: Mother spent the night with me, holding me. She is taking care of Donna for me today, she knows I’m not getting out of bed and that I have a lot of thinking to do.

I am broken. I can’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do. I feel dead inside, so dead. I have a decision to make today, I have to decide if I will go back to work. The thought of seeing that man, especially all day, every day, is excruciating… just the thought makes me feel dirty again, er still. I have to think of Donna though, if I quit my job how am I going to feed her? My parents can’t support us. Whenever I think of him though, my first instinct is to jump out whatever window is nearest me and run as fast as I can, away from him… and away from these memories.

Later today: I’m going to talk to papa, ask him if we can take him up on that offer to move back home. That will give me some time to think and to heal before I have to get a new job. I have decided that I CANNOT go back to work for him, I’d rather die a thousand deaths than see HIM again.

10/26/1971: Got all of our stuff moved into my parents house, didn’t bother with anything at work, don’t need anything I left there bad enough to get it. Donna is happy here, she doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t realize why we moved and I plan to keep it that way for a very long time. It’s nice being nurtured a bit, I just want to be me again.

10/31/1971: It’s Halloween today. Mother dressed Donna up as a witch, she looks very precious and innocent. Papa is going trick-or-treating with her. Mother says I should bathe, but I’m going back to bed.

11/23/1971: I have been too tired to write, I’m sorry. All I want to do is sleep, nothing is worth getting out of bed anymore. I just needed to talk to you Ms. Diary, because I’m even more scared than I was. I should have had my period two weeks ago, nothing. Keep puking, can’t be from the trauma anymore, can it? Terrified. What if I’m pregnant? Feel like hanging myself, just want to die. I love Donna too much though. Thanksgiving is in two days, that is my goal. Mother made me a doctor’s appointment for the week after, she says they have a new 2 hr pregnancy test, not sure I believe it, but I guess we’ll see.

11/25/1971: Thanksgiving was today, had to be up because a lot of family came over. Pretended I was ok, went and cried in my room after dessert though. Can’t wait for them all to leave, I want to sleep so badly. They just keep eating pie and drinking coffee, can’t they just leave?! Right now I hate them.

11/30/1971: Today is the doctor’s visit, scared out of my skin. I feel so dirty and this visit will just make it worse; no way I am telling the doctor why I could be pregnant. Hope they just give me the test and don’t ask any questions, it’s none of their business anyway!

Later today: Saw the doctor, peed in a cup. The receptionist said they would call in two hours with the results. So anxious, they need to call already! Even if I’m not sure if I trust the test, they say it is pretty accurate, but…

Still later: They said it was positive, that I am pregnant. I won’t have HIS baby, no matter what.

12/02/1971: Talked to Stella, she said that she knows a woman who had an abortion and is going to introduce us. I know it’s illegal, but rape is supposed to be too and I CAN’T have his baby, I can’t let that thing grow inside me for nine more months. I just want to rip it out, cut open my stomach and pull the thing in there out. It is evil and dirty, I can’t have it inside me.

12/04/1971: Met Stella’s friend today, we talked. She said that she did her own abortion since it’s so hard to find anyone who can do it. She said it hurts a lot and that there is a lot of blood. It sounds really scary, and I know it’s dangerous, but it’s either kill the baby and maybe myself or kill myself and definitely the baby. I can’t have that baby, it’s not even a baby, it’s a monster. I can’t have it, it would kill me, I could never live again. Every day that that thing is inside me I relive what happened and I see his face. Everyday I am hurt again. I can’t even stand for Donna to touch me anymore, let alone anyone else. I want to be able to cuddle her again, but I won’t be able to as long as the thing inside me lives, because it is a part of him. I’m going to follow her instructions and do it tomorrow. I hope that if that thing is gone I won’t see his face everytime I close my eyes, even if I die, that is still better than living with reminders of him everywhere. I can’t bear to relive it one more time, either way this will fix it, I know it. I know Donna is safe too, if I die trying to get his baby out of me, I know her gram and grandpapa will take care of her.

Later that day: I want to say goodbye to Donna, just in case this doesn’t go right, but I hope to God that I get to hold her tonight.

Dear Donna,

If you are reading this, I am dead. I am sorry I left you, I tried to live for you. I know by the time you are reading this you will have grown into a beautiful young lady. I want you to know that I am very proud of you, of all of your accomplishments and your dreams. I hope the world is a better place for you than it was for me. Work hard and play hard, live like everyday is your last day on Earth but plan like you are going to live forever. It may be different for you, but please be careful of men, they aren’t all like your grandpapa, don’t trust them. Protect yourself at all costs. And always remember, you are my baby girl, I love you so much!! I’ll always be with you, in your heart.

I love you so, so much!!

Mama

The diary entries ended there. The day I read those pages, was easily worse than the day of Mama’s funeral; as I read about what happened to her, in her words, my heart was broken all over again. I cried when she cried, adding my tears to hers on those pages, and I was angry when she was angry, I wanted someone to pay for what they did to her. I wish Mama had never met that man, or even if this still had to happen that it had happened even just two years later after Roe v. Wade made abortion legal. You see, Mama died on the day of her last diary entry. She bled to death when the coat hanger she was using to abort the baby pierced through her uterine wall. No one knew what she was trying, Gram found her about several hours after the accident; she was crumpled up on the bathroom floor, covered in blood and barely breathing, it was too late for her.

For a lot of years I had blamed Mama for leaving me, but now I understood and I couldn’t be mad at her anymore. Now I just hurt for her and missed her. She was raped once by a horrible man, a man she should have been able to trust; she was raped again by a system that didn’t believe her, that didn’t give her justice or a way out. It should not have happened the way it did.

I may be a middle aged woman now, but those memories still haunt me every single day. My oldest daughter is heading off to college in a few days now. My biggest fear, at this point, isn’t that I won’t get to see her as often, but that something will happen to her. I am terrified to think of the dangers out there in this world, the world that she is greeting face to face for the first time. If anything happens to her, will she have access to the health care that she needs to keep going forward in life? Or will the religious beliefs of a doctor, pharmacist or politician keep her from getting life saving contraception? I can’t lose her too… I’m a mom, it’s my job to worry, but those are legitimate worries, are they not?

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