From the eyes of a victim of rape by Libbie Peters

2 07 2016

libbie peters

In the wake of this landmark decision by the Supreme Court in favor of “women’s rights” I’ve decided to “come out” so to speak, so that maybe those who are convinced that this decision is a huge victory for our country and women in this country will finally see abortion how I see it. From the eyes of a victim of rape, and a mother to a “product” of rape.

Other than myself, my attacker, and 2 very close friends no one knows this secret I’ve been hiding for over a year. Not my parents, not my siblings, and I will probably never tell my beautiful, and perfect 9 month old “product”. I decided to stay silent for fear of this man coming back to try and hurt me again in vengeance of me seeking justice. Although, I would not call him a “man”, he was a coward.

I’m not going to sugar-coat this. I’m going to be 100% truthful and real, not because I want your pity, but because I want you to be educated.

It was just a normal night out with friends, 2 beers with the girls and 1 shot bought by some random guys at the bar. But then it wasn’t so normal.

Now being a not-so-Kardashian-sized individual (I’ve got curves y’all), and being 1/2 German, that small amount of alcohol over the course of the 4.5 hours we were at the bar should not have affected me the way it did.

The rest was a blur.

When I finally “came to” I was in the back of some car, completely un-dresssed and there he was- a guy I had met in the bar, and the man I still fear to this day.

I drove home (somehow) and immediately got into the shower and noticed the bruises all over my body. From being held down and pushed around in order for this “man” to get what he wanted- against my will.

Two months later I discovered what I feared- I was pregnant with my attacker’s child. And from that moment on I created a string of lies so that if someone asked me who it was I’d have an answer, a made up answer, but an answer so that no one would ask any questions that would reveal the truth. But the truth has been eating at me since that night.

I was forced to make a decision- adoption or keep the baby.

You notice how abortion isn’t on that list? That is because it was never, and should NEVER be an option. This precious baby was the result of a horrible, and terrifying circumstance, but this baby was not to blame for that. I knew that regardless of my decision my life was going to change.

So before you preach to me about “well, what if…?” or “it is the Woman’s right to choose”, just don’t. Because here I am, the perfect answer to the example I’ve heard time and time again “well, what if the woman was raped? She should get to choose!”.

And you’re right, she should get to choose. But not whether or not that baby should live, whether or not she wants this tremendous blessing in her life, or if she’d like to bless another family with this precious gift.

So that brings me to today. This landmark decision by the Supreme Court striking down Texas’s HB2 which would cause 75% of abortion clinics here, in Texas, to close.

Obviously, I was hoping, and praying for this bill to be upheld so that the closing of these clinics would allow women to research other options than abortion but, we know how that ended.

So here I am, out loud and proud (how fitting following “Pride weekend”). I want people to know that this victim survivor is done being silent. I’m here telling those who have never gone through something like this that abortion is not a “woman’s right”, LIFE is every human’s right- including that unborn HUMAN, whether that human is male, female, straight, gay, black, white, etc. They deserve their chance to choose.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I prayed every night that my child came out looking like me and not having any resemblance to this “man”. And I’d be lying that some days when I look at her I am reminded of that night, and I am reminded of how I tracked him down to tell him I was pregnant, and how he acted like he wanted to be a part of her life at first, and then the next day threw me against a wall and threatened to kill me and my child. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’ve considered going “after him” for child support, or seeking other assistance from the government because being a single mom that is also a full-time college student isn’t easy, or very lucrative. But I didn’t. And I won’t. I CHOOSE to do it on my own and not be another streotype “living off of the government”.

I CHOSE life for my precious little “product”. Even though I had every grounds to terminate the pregnancy. Hell, I could have killed my baby, told my story and been deemed a hero.

But here I am, a year and a half later, stressed out of my mind, constantly tired, feeling like I’m always failing at life, or motherhood, but I will never regret my decision to CHOOSE to give this precious angel life. One little smile and I’m reminded that after every storm, comes the sun. And my little ray of sunshine is worth every sleepless night where I cry myself to sleep wondering if I’ll ever be able to give this little one the life and the “normal” family she deserves. I wonder if she’ll ever have an actual dad who loves her like his own. Because obviously, her real dad isn’t an option.

But regardless, I am speaking up so that those of you who think this decision was “brave” and “amazing” and was a “victory for women in Texas and across America” (quote from Hilary Clinton), and I’m telling you that it’s a very sad day in this country. Abortion is not about women’s rights, it takes away human rights from the innocent and defenseless.

So take a good look. Here’s the face of a survivor and a “product” of rape. Happy, healthy, and loved by each other. I’m happy to know that she and I both have the right to choose, but I’m glad that I CHOSE LIFE.





The Little Girl Who Will Give Up Her Pearls: A Story

10 05 2014

The Little Girl Who Will Give Up Her Pearls: A Story

Jenny was a bright-eyed, pretty five-year-old girl. One day when she and her mother were checking out at the grocery store, Jenny saw a plastic pearl necklace priced at $2.50. How she wanted that necklace, and when she asked her mother if she would buy it for her, her mother said, “Well, it is a pretty necklace, but it costs an awful lot of money. I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy you the necklace, and when we get home we can make up a list of chores that you can do to pay for the necklace. And don’t forget that for your birthday Grandma just might give you a whole dollar bill, too. Okay?”
Jenny agreed, and her mother bought the pearl necklace for her. Jenny worked on her chores very hard every day, and sure enough, her grandma gave her a brand new dollar bill for her birthday. Soon Jenny had paid off the pearls. How Jenny loved those pearls. She wore them everywhere-to kindergarten, bed and when she went out with her mother to run errands. The only time she didn’t wear them was in the shower-her mother had told her that they would turn her neck green!
Now Jenny had a very loving daddy. When Jenny went to bed, he would get up from his favorite chair every night and read Jenny her favorite story. One night when he finished the story, he said, “Jenny, do you love me?”
“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you,” the little girl said.
“Well, then, give me your pearls.”
“Oh! Daddy, not my pearls!” Jenny said. “But you can have Rosie, my favorite doll. Remember her? You gave her to me last year for my birthday. And you can have her tea party outfit, too. Okay?”
“Oh no, darling, that’s okay.” Her father brushed her cheek with a kiss. “Good night, little one.”
A week later, her father once again asked Jenny
after her story, “Do you love me?”
“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you.”
“Well, then, give me your pearls.”
“Oh, Daddy, not my pearls! But you can have Ribbons, my toy horse. Do you remember her? She’s my favorite. Her hair is so soft, and you can play with it and braid it and everything. You can have Ribbons if you want her, Daddy,” the little girl said to her father.
“No, that’s okay,” her father said and brushed her cheek again with a kiss. “God bless you, little one. Sweet dreams.”
Several days later, when Jenny’s father came in to read her a story, Jenny was sitting on her bed and her lip was trembling. “Here, Daddy,” she said, and held out her hand. She opened it and her beloved pearl necklace was inside. She let it slip into her father’s hand.
With one hand her father held the plastic pearls and with the other he pulled out of his pocket a blue velvet box. Inside of the box were real, genuine, beautiful pearls.
He had them all along. He was waiting for Jenny to give up the cheap stuff so he could give her the real thing.
So it is with our Heavenly Father. He is waiting for us to give up the cheap things in our lives so that he can give us beautiful treasure.
Are you holding onto things which Lord wants you to let go of? Are you holding on to harmful or unnecessary partners, relationships, habits and activities which you have come so attached to that it seems impossible to let go? Sometimes, it is so hard to see what is in the other hand but do believe this one thing…..
Lord will never take away something without giving you something better in its place.





Why does God make me suffer? by C.S Lewis

17 05 2013

2Why does God make us suffer? I am sure you have asked yourself this question sometimes. Well,  A man tames a dog primarily that he may love it, not that it may love him, and that it may serve him, not that he may serve it. Yet at the same time, the dog’s interests are not sacrificed to the man’s. The one end (that he may love it) cannot be fully attained unless it also, in its fashion, loves him, nor can it serve him unless he, in a different fashion, serves it. Thus, man interferes with the dog and makes it more lovable than it was in mere nature. In its state of nature it has a smell, and habits which frustrate man’s love: he washes it, house-trains it, teaches it not to steal; and is so enabled to love it completely. To the dog, the whole proceeding would seem, if it were a theologian, to cast grave doubts on the “goodness” of man: but the full-grown and full-trained dog, larger, healthier, and longer-lived than the wild dog, and admitted, as it were by Grace, to a whole world of affections, loyalties, interests, and comforts entirely beyond its animal destiny, would have no such doubts. It will be noted that the man (I am speaking throughout of the good man) takes all these pains with the dog, and gives all these pains to the dog, only because it is an animal high in the scale ­because it is so nearly lovable that it is worth his while to make it fully lovable. He does not house-train the earwig or give baths to centipedes.

Now, the distance between us and God (who is infinite) is more than the distance between man and dog. We may wish, indeed, that we were of so little account to God that He left us alone to follow our natural impulses – that He would give over trying to train us into something so unlike our natural selves: but once again, we are asking not for more Love, but for less. …

The problem of reconciling human suffering with the existence of a God who loves, is only insoluble so long as we attach a trivial meaning to the word “love”, and look on things as if man were the centre of them. Man is not the centre. God does not exist for the sake of man. Man does not exist for his own sake. “Thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.” We were made not primarily that we may love God (though we were made for that too) but that God may love us, that we may become objects in which the Divine love may rest “well pleased”. To ask that God’s love should be content with us as we are is to ask that God should cease to be God: because He is what He is, His love must, in the nature of things, be impeded and repelled, by certain stains in our present character, and because He already loves us He must labour to make us lovable. We cannot even wish, in our better moments, that He could reconcile Himself to our present impurities -no more than the beggar maid could wish that King Cophetua should be content with her rags and dirt, or a dog, once having learned to love man, could wish that man were such as to tolerate in his house the snapping, verminous, polluting creature of the wild pack. What we would here and now call our “happiness” is not the end God chiefly has in view: but when we are such as He can love without impediment, we shall in fact be happy. (This story is adapted from the book, the “Problem of pain” by C.S Lewis)








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