Category Archives: Blog

Understanding my experience

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It all started when I went to my gynecologist and got a confirmation that I was pregnant on Thursday, March 28th 2013. I was almost 9 weeks along. The nurse congratulated me, took my blood for blood test, urine test, etc.…My HCG levels were high, and the pregnancy was confirmed.  My due date was November 2nd 2013. How exciting! I imagined telling my husband and my son.

I realized that I put my dream aside for wanting another baby when I met my current husband, as he didn’t see himself as being a father. He was already a step dad to my son, which was enough for him.

I always saw myself having 2-3 children. I was so excited. I understood that this was my truth. I imagined my husband being a dad for the first time, and how he’d experience feelings of love that he couldn’t have ever imagined, a new realization for him. His own flesh & blood, his creation! My son has wanted a baby brother or sister for years, and now I could make that happen for him. Wow, we’d be a family of four. How prefect! All these amazing emotions were running through me. Dreams coming true J

Then, I went to another room, got undressed, and put the paper covering on myself for when my doctor and nurse come in for the vaginal exam and vaginal ultrasound. The doctor walks in with the nurse and congratulates me on my pregnancy. He did a pap smear, put his hand in my vagina making sure everything is right, which is what he does at a routine check up.

He gets the transvaginal device, rolls down the big condom looking cover and puts the gel on it. He asks the nurse to turn off the lights, and he inserts the device inside of me and we’re all looking at the monitor to see the baby. He kept moving the device inside of me and had a worried look on his face. He looked closer at the monitor. I didn’t say a word. After what seemed like forever, I asked him “what do you see?” He pulled the transvaginal device out of me and asked the nurse to turn the light back on. He said, and looking sad and upset “According to the measurements of your sac, you’re 6 ½ weeks pregnant, you’re definitely pregnant, but I don’t see a fetus in there.” I asked, “What does that mean? How can I be pregnant and not have a fetus? Doesn’t it mean that when you’re pregnant, you have a fetus inside? How can I be 9 weeks and you’re saying 6 ½ weeks?” I was so confused, and in shock.

He explained that this could be something that’s called a Blighted Ovum, which happens when a fertilized egg attaches itself to the uterine wall, but the embryo does not develop. Cells develop to form the pregnancy sac, but not the embryo itself. So the sac keeps getting bigger, but nothing develops inside the sac. The doctor told me to go get a blood test every 48 hours to check that my HCG levels are going up and to come back in a week for another transvaginal ultrasound to see if there’s any change, and if there wasn’t a change that I can do a D&C which is: Dilation (D) widening of the cervix to allow instruments into the uterus. Curettage (C) is the scraping of the walls of the uterus. Or, wait till is all passes naturally – a miscarriage.

I went home and told my husband the news, of how excited I was and how confused I became with the news. He never heard of anything like it either. How can you be pregnant and not have a fetus? Am I almost 9 weeks or am I 6 ½ weeks along? So, as most of us do, we Googled this information. I read that many times women have gotten the same results as I did, that there’s a sac but no fetus and that the number of weeks of pregnancy was off by about two weeks, just like in my situation and when they come back after a week, they see the fetus. The only difference between them and me was that I was further along in my pregnancy. I saw a light of hope.

Not knowing if you’re going to have a baby or not, you’re pregnant and have pregnancy symptoms, but there’s no fetus… This was so emotionally & physically draining. A week seemed like forever!

Monday, April 1st 2013, I was still spotting some brown stuff, which the doctor said might happen after the pap smear. I called the doctor’s office, Tuesday April 2nd and was told to come in just to check what’s going on. The nurse told me that my HCG levels are going up from the blood tests, which for me interpreted as a chance of hope. If there wasn’t a fetus how would my HCG levels go up? I didn’t know anything.

I went into the room, got undressed and the doctor did the transvaginal ultrasound. This time he saw something in the sac. I saw it too. I had a second of hope. This time I was told it’s a Missed Abortion, which is a non-viable pregnancy that is destined to miscarry, if there is a fetus it has no heart beat. Some will grow for a while, with HCG in the urine and serum, but eventually will stop growing normally, and then will stop growing at all. Most of these (two-thirds) will have abnormal chromosomes.

So now the latest news is that I’m pregnant but the embryo/fetus stopped growing. My choice was to wait till it leaves my body naturally, which could be in three days or three to six weeks, while still feeling pregnant, or to have the D&C. I scheduled the D&C for Friday, April 5th 2013. Even though I scheduled this, it’s still an emotional roller coaster.

Thursday, April 4th I went in to see my doctor for the pre op blood test and questionnaire. I hate surgeries. All kinds of weird thoughts, such as, what if I don’t wake up? What if something goes wrong? All go through my mind.

Friday, April 5th 3:00AM – 7:00AM I kept waking up with bad cramps and running to the bathroom. Clots of blood were coming out of me. Took my son to school in pain, it was a difficult five minute drive. Came back home. I laid down from 7:45-9:30AM. Kept having pain and running to the bathroom, more clots and blood came out. The pain was intensifying. I called my doctor’s office and was told to come in so the doctor could take a look. I thought maybe I miscarried on my own and won’t need the D&C. At around 9:30AM I felt nauseous, and the pain got worse. I woke up my husband and told him he needs to take me to my doctor now!

The pain was so intense, I couldn’t bare it. I was screaming and crying in the car, God please make this stop. I was in so much pain. We got to my doctor’s office, I could barely walk. I was nauseous and had to throw up, but there was nothing to throw up as I haven’t eaten in preparation for the surgery. I threw up yellow liquidy stuff. I couldn’t stand. The nurse couldn’t take my blood pressure. I was screaming and crying in my doctor’s office. The doctor asked me what I wanted to do; I said, “I don’t know, just make this pain go away.”

He called the hospital next door and told them to take me to the Operating Room right away. To skip admission, and to get me a bed, an IV and meds for the pain right away. We got there, went to the second floor and about four nurses came to aid me, as they have received my doctors orders on what was going on. My husband went to park the car.

Meanwhile all the nurses helped me to the bathroom in case I was to pass something out of me. They sat me on the toilet. One nurse stayed with me, and helped me take off my underwear while I was sitting on the toilet and gave me hospital underwear and pad, and helped me get undressed and into a hospital gown. Got out of the bathroom and the nurses showed me to my bed. I was screaming and crying on the bed. I was sweating too so they gave me a wet washcloth to help me. They tried to put an IV in me but couldn’t get it right. Four nurses, four IV tries. Finally they got it in right. I was dehydrated. They got some fluids in me. I could feel something going through my whole body. It was a weird sensation. They injected something in the IV for me to stop being nauseous. They brought a paper of consent for me to sign for pain medication. I signed it while crying.

They added the morphine to the IV. It didn’t help. I’m still screaming and crying in pain. This went on for a while. They added medication 3 more times to the IV but nothing seemed to help. What kind of meds were they giving me? I’m in agonizing pain, someone please help me! I was having contractions about every five minutes. I’d be calm and then crying. Why didn’t the pain meds help? They couldn’t give me any more pain medication.

Throughout this time I was apologizing to the nurses for screaming and crying in pain. I was embarrassed, as I don’t like to get that kind of attention. I just couldn’t take this agonizing pain from the contractions anymore and the medication wasn’t working.

They moved my bed to the “Freedom” room where I could scream and cry and it wouldn’t bother all the other patients. I hated the fact that I was screaming and crying, but it felt as if I was being tortured.

1:00PM they told my husband they are taking me in for the procedure, he gave me a kiss good bye. They left me there for about 15 minutes. Then someone came, and I was asked more questions before the procedure. I’m still in pain. In the actual operating room, I told the nurse that my IV was burning me. She took a look at it and said it was because the tube wasn’t inserted in there correctly (Hmm, maybe that’s why the pain meds didn’t work), she took the IV out and I saw that my hand had a swelling the size of a golf ball.  The meds they gave me were inside my skin in this swelling of my hand. It never went through my body.

That didn’t look too good. The anesthesiologist got another IV going in my other hand. One try/needle poke and it didn’t hurt. He connected the IV tubes and my doctor came in and I told him that the pain medication that the nurses gave me earlier didn’t work that I was still in pain. He rolled his eyes, and I saw he wasn’t happy about that, and someone was going to get in trouble. He was ready for the procedure. The anesthesiologist told me he was putting the “happy” medicine in the IV. I closed my eyes and went bye bye.

I woke up in another room. Saw my doctor writing notes, the nurse checked on me to make sure I was OK. They called my husband to let him know I was out of surgery. I said thank you and good-bye to my doctor. The nurse gave me some water. I also had to go to the bathroom before they could release me. The room was spinning. I was so lightheaded. I went to the bathroom, and back to my bed. My husband went to get the car. During that time, the nurse took my vital signs before releasing me. I got dressed and they got a wheelchair for me and took me to the car.

It is now Saturday, April 6th 2013 in the afternoon as I’m writing this. I didn’t sleep well last night. The last 24 hours seem like a nightmare. So much pain, so much crying. Was this real, did this really happen? A week of an emotional and physical roller coaster. Having contractions for about 11 hours is extremely painful.

Being 10 weeks pregnant, which is 2 weeks away from the end of the first trimester, having an extremely agonizing miscarriage and then a D&C. Having hope, losing hope a few times. What a roller-coaster ride this has been.

I don’t wish this on anyone, but I know that there are other women who have been through a similar situation as mine.

Now is the time to heal and make sense of all this. Why did this happen? What do I need to learn from this experience?

 

 

 

True forgiveness

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Where does forgiveness really start? It starts with you forgiving yourself first.
No matter what has been done to you, forgiving your abuser is extremely important. It’s part of your healing. You’re doing it for you, not for the abuser.

When I was sixteen I was dating Leon (name changed for anonymity purpose.) I really cared about this boy and thought I loved him.

This wasn’t your normal two young people dating. This was different.
When I’d come over to his house, if his friends were over, he’d lock me in the bathroom because he was ashamed of me. So I’d stay in there locked for hours.

He used to put me on a scale many times and tell me how fat I was. He got mad one time because I ate an apple, and told me it would make me fatter. As a side note, I’m petite.

He’d force me to bathe him, and then he’d get dressed up and go out with his friends, while I stayed in his room awaiting his return.

Each time I wanted to break up with him, he wouldn’t allow me or make me feel guilty or bad if I would want to break up.

Another time, he came back with tissues on his wrists saying that he cut his wrists because he couldn’t stand the thought of me leaving him. How could I leave him? He was going to commit suicide if I’d leave.
Of course he didn’t cut his wrists, but made me think he did at that time.

In another incident he told me he was going to go to the train tracks (which were walking distance from his home) and have the train run him over if I left. He’d leave his home, and I’d be sitting in his room wondering if he’d ever come back.

One evening, I was sitting on the floor next to his bed, and he pulled out a knife and put it against my throat. He told me to get undressed, and as frightened as I was, I asked, why? He said; “If a rapist ever comes to you with a knife and tells you to get undressed you do it”. I replied;” but you’re my boyfriend, not a rapist”. I don’t remember what happened after that. I don’t think anything happened, but as I mentioned in a previous blog, I don’t remember my childhood since being molested by my father.

He’d say to me that in the future if I ever have a boyfriend, he’s have to put a paper bag over my head, because I was so ugly, and he’d f- – - me and dump me, because that’s all I’m worth, and I’m an ugly short midget.

When I finally broke it off with him, my mother had to get involved and get a restraining order against him, as he wouldn’t leave me alone.

When I was eighteen, I ran into him, and he seemed like he’d really changed, and became a different person. I was impressed. We started seeing each other again.

After a while, some of his stories didn’t make sense and I told him, we need to talk about it because I’m confused. So, he came over one evening at around 11:00PM to pick me up, and take me somewhere where we can talk about things.
Since it was late, I just grabbed my coat and my keys (this was in February.) I got into his car and off we went. All I remember was that we entered another city, but didn’t know where we were.

As we were driving, I thought I imagined a car was following us. It was late and I was tired, so I was imagining being followed.
He pulled into an outdoor parking lot. On the right side there were tall trees and the other side apartment buildings.

He started talking. The next thing I knew, there were two cars not so far away facing each side of Leon’s car with their bright lights on his car. People (his friends) got out of each car and approached Leon’s car, and opened my passenger door and the driver door. There were about eight males walking around the car in circles laughing at me, and saying that I am a short ugly midget, and that I’ll never have a real boyfriend, that I’m a joke, and how worthless I am. They said this over and over, while the bright lights of the two cars were on me.
My head was spinning. Was this really happening, or is this a nightmare?

I asked Leon to please take me home. He laughed and told me that I’m worthless and that I’m a short ugly midget, etc.…. He continued to say, “Remember when we were going out when we were sixteen? You meant nothing to me. All you were was a bet. I made a bet with a friend, to see who could drive a girl crazy first. And thanks to you, I won $300. I drove you crazy.” And he laughed.

I asked him again to please take me home. And he laughed as all his friends, were still walking around his car and laughing at me.

I got out of his car, and all three cars drove off. It started to drizzle. I was in a state of shock. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. It was almost 1:00AM. There were no lights in the apartment buildings. Then I saw one apartment with a light on. Luckily, this building had no security door. I walked up the stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door. A young couple opened the door and when they asked me what has happened, I was unable to speak. I was crying so hard, where I had a hard time breathing and was almost hyperventilating.
I asked them to please call me a taxi, so I could go home. The taxi arrived and took me home.
All I remember is when I got home I called my best friend, and told her what has happened.

It took me a while to actually comprehend and accept what has happened to me. This wasn’t a nightmare, or a scene from a movie, this was my life.

In my young adult life, I thought I was an ugly short midget and that I’m fat. I had very low self-esteem after the events between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. It didn’t matter if men in my life told me that I was beautiful and sexy, as my core belief was what Leon had instilled in my head over and over.

Eventually, I accepted that I am beautiful, that I am smart, that I am sexy, and that men love me for who I am, and I am not a short ugly midget. I am a petite, beautiful woman with a great big heart.

I thought to myself, when I see Leon again, I’m going to punch him in the face and tell him off, and use painful martial arts techiniques on him, and make him suffer for what he’s put me through. And he’d see how beautiful I am.

Years passed and I hadn’t seen him. I have moved to a different country, I would search him on the internet, and couldn’t find any information. I asked my friends to search him, and get me his phone number so I can at least tell him off on the phone. That never happened.

I let go of wanting to find him and “showing him” who I am. I forgave him, and forgave myself too for all that has happened. I completely let it all go.

Years later, out of the blue, I decided to search for him on Facebook, and there he was. I saw what he looked like after all these years. My heart started beating so fast. I decided to email him on Facebook and to briefly remind him what he has done to me, and to let him know that I forgive him, and that I only want the best for him in life, and that I hope that he’s well and happy. I didn’t get a response, as he wasn’t on Facebook regularly.

Seven months later, he replied. We started emailing on Facebook, and texting, trying to coordinate a day and time to a have a Skype video call, since we were on two different sides of the world.

That day finally came, we met on October 21, 2014. We spoke on Skype for about 45 minutes.
Here was the man that has abused me for so long and had caused me so much pain.
When I saw him, all I felt for him was compassion and sadness that he had to have such a low self-esteem to put another human being down and to cause another so much pain, because his lack of so many things in his own life.

He shared with me how miserable and unhappy he is. And that his life is a mess. Was I happy to hear it? No, I wasn’t, as I only wanted the best for him.

I asked him if he remembered locking me up in the bathroom. And he said: “Yes, I was ashamed of you. But how can I be ashamed of such a good-looking woman? You look great. You’re beautiful, you’re thin, and you take good care of yourself. “
Hearing this from the man who said I wouldn’t amount to anything, and put me down, meant a lot to me. In a way it gave comfort knowing this for the teenager in me.

I asked him if he remembered putting a knife against my throat, and he said he was probably joking around to see how I’d react. Just teasing me. And he remembered slapping me. Really are you effing kidding me? Joking around? He then went down memory lane with me.

I asked : “Do you remember calling me a short ugly midget?”
He replied,: “Short girls are the hottest. I love them. Do you think I was normal at that time? Are you kidding me? I had so many issues I suffered and still suffer from sever ADHD and low self-esteem. “

He asked me: “Can you do some sessions with me and help me?” In my mind, I was thinking, wow, how the tables have turned.

He added, that he’s sorry and asked me for forgiveness for how he has treated me when we were together. He admitted to making many mistakes in his life that he can never take back, and he realizes now how horrible he’s been.
I told him, to forgive himself first for all that he has done.

He said when he comes to visit here, that he wants to take me out to the best restaurant in town and make it up to me. He said, “Aviva, I’ll give you a hug and tell you that I am sorry for doing all those things to you.”

As, I’m writing this, I just received a text from him telling me that he’s in the hospital for sever abnormal pain, which may be a result of stress.

Is karma a bitch? I guess it can be.

Leon, if you somehow end up reading this blog, know that I truly forgive you, and please forgive yourself too. You didn’t know any better at that time. You were a poor soul, lost and confused. My hope for you is that one day you will feel healthy, and find life’s true happiness and joy. Sending healing light and love your way.

What I have learned from this experience is that true love and true forgiveness comes from within. Nowhere else. Always take a look at yourself first, and know that you are number one. So take good care of yourself first.

Peace, love & blessings to all. Namaste.

My father’s gift to me

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Have you had the feeling that you just can’t take it anymore? You can’t feel because the pain is unbearable? Lay there motionless and confused? Can you relate? That’s how I felt when I was seven years old.

One day my father told me to get undressed and to lay on the bed on my back. He got undressed and got on top of me in the opposite direction and started performing “69″ on me. His mouth was on my vagina. I didn’t know what was happening. He then told me to put his penis in my mouth. I remember seeing this horrible thing in front of my face as I lay there motionless on my back. I felt so scared and confused.
This was my father. The man that loves me and is supposed to protect me. What was going on here?

Later to make things better, he hugged me and spooned with me while naked. I felt numb. He stuck his fingers inside of me, and I remember feeling the pain as he did that. I think he broke my Hyman at that time.

I cannot recall if this happened that one time or several times, as I don’t have a good recollection of my childhood. My childhood and memories were stolen from me by the man who was supposed to protect me, my father.

Growing up, I got into some dysfunctional relationships. I would do anything for a man. Even if it meant being in horrible pain, to the point of almost bleeding, and having black and blue marks on my body. All I wanted was to make a man happy and to be loved. To be loved, means being in pain, just like what my father did to me. Love = Pain. I have learned since then what it means to be in a healthy and loving relationship. I had to go through all those learning experiences to finally understand.

I could have decided to play the victim card my whole life, but I chose not to. Being the victim would be an excuse not to live my life fully, and blame everything on being molested. I won’t allow that incident to define who I am as a person. I am a beautiful soul on this earth, and I deserve to thrive.

As a teenager friends always told me I should be a therapist. It seems that it’s my life’s calling. I chose to become a life coach and help people transform their lives.
In my coaching practice, I’ve worked with men, women and children. I have my certifications, but having life’s experience is much more valuable than all the certificates on the wall.
When a client who’s been abused tells me, that I’m the only person that “really gets it,” to me that’s priceless.

Having gone through verbal, mental, physical and sexual abuse is horrible. I wish it didn’t happen to me, but it did. Abuse is abuse. People who have been through a similar experience, can relate to one another on a different level than someone who hasn’t been through it. In a way it gives my clients some comfort, knowing that they are not alone, and that it is OK and safe to talk about it. There’s no need to live in shame, or think that you are “less than” just because this has happened.

We have a choice on how to look at the abuse we have endured. I chose to look at my father molesting me as a gift that he gave me so that I can help others.

If you’ve been through any type of abuse, please tell someone. There’s no shame in sharing. Let your healing begin now. You are here to enjoy life and to live it fully. Blessings.

Even though I was molested, I’m a thriving survivor

Being molested at a young age makes you wonder, what have I done? Was I a bad boy/girl? Did I deserve this? All these questions stay with you for years. Later in life you may get into dysfunctional relationships and not understand why.

It’s because there are a lot of unconscious baggage that we are carrying because of the abuse. Talking about it and reaching out to someone is the first step to healing. A huge component is forgiving yourself, loving yourself and know that this wasn’t your fault.

There’s a way to get passed this and to deal with what has happened.

It took me years of hard work on myself and forgiveness to be where I am today.

If I can help anyone that has been through something similar, then I’d consider myself to be blessed.
Feel free to reach out to me.

I hope this video can help you know that there’s no shame, you are special & loved:
My father molested me

Finally understanding myself

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When you have a problem and you’re aware of it, you are likely to work on it and fix it. But what if you have unconscious baggage? How would you know you had something that needed fixing?

A few days ago I spoke to a wonderful friend, and while we were speaking things became clear to me. The “skies opened up” and I got it. I understood something that I didn’t even know I needed to understand as I had already fixed that issue. So I thought.

Throughout most of my adult life, when it came to men, they always wanted to sleep with me. Well why not? I’m cute, I’m beautiful and blah blah…….All superficial reasons.

I don’t think I was in a relationship that the words “I love you” came before having sex. You have sex first, and then you say “I love you”…..That’s how you do it.

If I wanted to feel loved or hear those three words, I had to give my all in the bedroom, even do kinky things I wasn’t comfortable doing and that physically hurt me to the point I was crying. I kept doing it so I’d be loved. I’d get that attention that I thought I needed.

I made sure I was the best a guy ever had in the bedroom, and did things I didn’t really want to do.

It may all stem from the molestation I went through with my dad as a child. I wasn’t going to be defined by it. I wasn’t going to let it get to me. I was going to do everything in my power to be the best in the sexual department. The molestation wasn’t going to win. See, I’m OK, it didn’t affect me…I’m so good in the bedroom.
To get love and approval you must have sex first.

I was always my dad’s favorite between me and my sister and everyone knew that. To get love you must do things for the man, even if you didn’t want to. My dad loved me the most so he molested me. That’s love. It felt good to be the favorite, look how lucky I am.

In relationships that I’ve been in, sex was pretty important to me, not necessarily because of the sexual act, but because the meaning I put on it. It meant I’m loved. In many relationships, the frequency of sex lessens as time goes by, which seems to be the norm. How can this be? You don’t love me as much now? Am I doing something wrong? Am I not desirable?

Being hurt by men especially the ones that love you and are supposed to protect you equals love. I got love and I was my dad’s favorite girl. Was it because we had our secret all those years? Having things done to you that you don’t really want, means you’ll get what you want – love? Wrong!

Now I realize that all the love that I’ve been searching for, I already had inside me all along. I am whole and complete inside.

I do not need anyone or anything from outside of me to give it to me.
My whole life I’ve been looking for it but it’s been inside me all this time.

I am love, I have so much love inside that I’m about to burst.

Love is no longer associated with sex. They are two totally different things.

Now ME=LOVE. And that’s just how it is.

No more seeking love/sex from someone else to complete me. I am complete. I am whole.

No more being hurt sexually/physically to receive love.

Being molested by my father did cause me damage. Have I worked on it my whole life? Yes. Have I made progress? Yes. Have I ever resolved it? No, not until now.

It feels like this is a revelation.

True intimacy is way beyond the physical and sex. It’s a feeling that is hard to put into words.

Have I lived my life falsely till now? Have I lied to myself? Did I just wake up? The most important thing is, that I am here. I am present to what is.

Believing what I thought I wanted and knowing & desiring what I want makes a huge difference.

I now have a sense of feeling more calm and happiness in my heart, which is something I haven’t felt. As if something has been lifted off of me. I am now free. Wow.

Remember there is no shame if you’ve gone through something like this in your life. You are an amazing person because of everything you’ve been through.

You are love and you are loved.

Blessings to all.