One thing that saved me during the time of my abuse 1977 was Oparah. I was sexually penetrated by my father for a year once sometimes twice a day. Then found out caught red handed by my mother who did nothing but ask me what he did to me. At the time, I was scared to say anything because father had threatened to kill me if I told anyone. The time my father molested me he had just retired from the marines, then a four year call back overseas to vietnam. He spent 24 years in the marines. His latest rank was master seargent. Even a grown-up at the time my father threatened me would of believed it. If you have ever been threatened by a marine corp master sergeant, you might know what I am talking about. My father could give you a war face that could scare superman.
I did tell mom that he tried to make me suck his peter. In which at the time thought was the grossest part of the ordeal. My mom then spent one night on a pallet in my sister’s and mine bedroom. Then went back to a shared bed with my father the next day. My father never raped me again, but it did severe damage to my emotions.
Anyways, after school my parents were never home. I would always rush home and turn the television to Oparah. My brother left in charge never wanted the television until after his homework and studies. Whom ,by the way, never knew he was dyslexic until college after the marines. Those early shows of Oparah were all I had to assure me that my parents are sick.
Later about the age of 15 my father did apologize to me. He said he raped me because I was adopted and my sister whom is six months younger is not adopted. I was the favorite child for the most six months because my mom was pregnant at the time of my adoption with my sister whom was born on Valentine’s Day 1971. My birth certificate says my birthday is August 12, 1970. I truly believe my mom had that day altered in the court so us girls could be in separate grades. For my mom is an identical twin herself. My supposedly birthday just so happens to fall one week before the cut off to start kindergarten at age 5. The reason because my mom never had sex with him after my sister was born. I lived 17 years with this sick twisted family.
The day of my highschool graduation, my father threw me to the ground, kicked me and said get out of my house you lazy bum.
My father repented when I was 8. He never did the sexual abuse to me again. I always wonder if he hurt others instead. I carry guilt in my heart not knowing. Thinking that I never did enough to make sure he did not hurt someone else. All I can do now is give it to God like I do everything else in my life. God has answered so many of my prayers. I believe he will answer this one too. Father God please do not let my father on earth hurt another child, forgive him for what he did, heal him from the guilt he feels and please make the world a better place.
I have a victim letter stating he is guilty of penetration. In 2007, the abuse hot-line opened up an investigation that I never knew I could even do until I was trying to open an investigation for my son whom at the time was living with my parents.
I grew up with a sister six month younger than me. She was the miracle love child in my mom’s eyes. My parents were not supposed to be able to conceive according to the Doctor’s of that era. My mom had been married from the age of 25 and had just one natural-born son thus far. She had been to doctors to find out why she could not conceive. My dad was diagnosed with being low sperm count. My parents adopted a baby boy six years after the first-born. Six years later my mom mourned for specifically baby girl. They applied for specifically baby girl this time. Parents continued to try to conceive on their own because they had very little hope of being able to adopt a second baby.
Well the miracle happened and mom became pregnant. I never could understand why my mom that is so highly religious never had faith enough to believe God gave her the baby girl she desired. I say she is religious because upon graduation from highschool ; she hopped a train. Her dad was a train engineer. She went to California all the way from Arkansas to bible college. It was the only four-square church bible college I believe at that time. My mom has some kind of degree in bible theology. To me she was just religious, meaning a form of Godliness denying the power there of. I came to that conclusion because when I was pregnant myself I asked God for daughter with curly brown hair with curly eyelashes like her father and skin like a porcelain doll. I believed God would not give me anything less than the desire of my heart and he did exactly everything I asked for. My mom blatantly did not trust God to even give her a girl much less anything else. I presume that given the fact that she adopted me on the premise that she wanted to be certain she gets a girl. She adopted me at a time when she was pregnant and had even forgotten all about applying for the adoption. You may ask how do I know this? Because I have asked her about this so many times. When you are adopted you have an unsatiatable curiosity about where you came from and why and whatforths that carry you throughout life to always question your existence. I don’t know how else to explain it. I presume again that anyone who does not know their roots can concur what I am talking about.
Well I was the favorite baby girl for less than six months. I was already 2 weeks old when my parents brought me home from the hospital. The youngest picture my parents have of me is 2 months? I never understood that either. How can you bring a newborn home for the first time and not take a picture? I have questioned whether I was actually 2 months rather than 2 weeks old because of this fact. My mom was a pictureaholic in those days.
Its weird the way my adoption papers read. It’s like my birthday is not even correct. It’s a mystery from day one of my life. Well after my miracle love child sister was born February 14, 1971 my mom only felt obligated to keep me. You may ask why do I say this? Because as a teenager my mom repeatedly said to me, “ Lori Ann I am obligated to provide a roof over your head, clothes on your back, food in your stomach and when you turn 18 I am no longer obligated to do those things” To me I felt clearly unwanted by her. This is why I always asked her why she adopted me why?????????? Not only that I am of mixed race and she so clearly is racist it is so ironic. I look so different from any of my cousins they all have blond hair and blue eyes the shortest of any of them is like 5’9. I am 5’2” with hair so black children would make fun of me as a child and say my hair looked blue in the sunlight, with natural tanned skin, brown eyes so dark you can barely see my pupil. Seems like to me I was actually a last desperate ditch effort to obtain a baby girl by any means possible.
This is my story of how I came to be. I have dug deeper and am trying to discover how and what were the reasons I was given away by my birth-mom. I always used to dream of her rocking me in a rocking chair, singing sweetly to me, telling me my name and how much she loves me, in her hospital room, right after birth, right before; I was snatched away.
The name given to me is one of a kind. The meaning of the name Doreen is Gift from God. It sucks that my adopting mom gave me a name shared by who knows how many? Google Lori Schreiner and lots and lots of people show up, who are not even related. I even have a facebook friend Lori Ann Schreiner. She laughs too about having german last name and dark brown hair.
Google me, just me. Doreen Van Assen googled I am the only one. I used to google these names daily even before blogging or writing in search of clues to my birth family. This one little thing that my birth mom did, makes me feel so special, in her eyes, that I have never seen.