My Boyfriend Let His Parents Kidnap Me for My Own Pregnancy

She connected me with a victim advocate who would help me through the court proceedings. I had to make a decision about the pregnancy and it took weeks of counseling before I felt ready to choose.

The therapist they connected me with helped me work through all the complicated feelings about carrying a baby that was connected to such a horrible experience. Part of me wanted to end the pregnancy and try to move on from everything that had happened.

But another part of me felt like the baby wasn’t responsible for what his family had done. After a lot of thinking and talking with the therapist, I decided to continue the pregnancy with proper medical care and support.

I wanted to reclaim this experience and do it on my own terms with doctors I chose and in a place where I felt safe. The victim services program helped me find an obstetrician who specialized in working with trauma survivors.

I started going to regular appointments where I could ask questions and make my own choices about my care. It felt completely different from the forced exams in that basement.

Slowly I started to feel like my body and my pregnancy belong to me again instead of to his family. Four months later I was living in a small apartment three states away under a name that wasn’t mine.

The victim services program helped me move and get set up with everything I needed. I went to therapy twice a week with a woman who worked with people who’d been through bad things.

She helped me talk about what happened without feeling like I was going to break apart. Kira moved to the same city two months after I did because she said she couldn’t stand being so far away when I needed help.

She came over almost every day to help me get ready for the baby. We bought a crib together and she helped me put it together in the nursery.

She picked out tiny clothes and blankets and made sure I had everything on the list the doctor gave me. The obstetrician I saw now let me ask questions and never touched me without asking first.

Every appointment felt different because I could leave whenever I wanted. The baby came on a Tuesday morning in my seventh month of freedom.

The contractions started at home and Kira drove me to the hospital. The nurses were kind and let me make all my own choices about the birth.

When they put my daughter in my arms for the first time, I looked at the hospital room door standing open. I could walk through it whenever I wanted.

Nobody would stop me or lock me in. The baby was healthy and perfect.

I felt the weight of everything that happened pressing down on me, but I also felt something else starting to grow. The prosecutor called two days later to update me on the court cases.

The trials would take years to finish completely. His parents might spend decades in prison.

My boyfriend would be locked up for a long time too. I was building a life where every choice about my body and my baby and my future belonged only to me.

That was enough for right now. That wraps things up; I like when stories carry small lessons you can actually use.