The last night I can remember laying my head on my pillow, hearing the crickets chirp outside my window, and feel the warm summer breeze, I was a child..a child until the age of 17. From that point on, my father would never look at me quite the same way ever again. He lost respect for me, never looking into my eyes ever again. My father chose his highest regard in our very religious family by stepping down as a deacon & as a Sunday school teacher due to my shame. My big swollen belly, that on my first sexual encounter impregnated me. Despite the popular sexually promiscuous girls who years earlier chose different fates, I bore the undeniable mark of sin(that I call my miracle ) in a small Christian town. The stares, comments, glares, offers of adoption, I faced, alone. The hardest thing for me was to walk the church isle, turn & face my church family shaking & crying admitting I'd done wrong. Instead of feeling loved, I felt ostracized and evil. I was forced out of my school by my guidance counselors & principle, afraid I would start an epidemic. I was swept under the rug, but there was no rug big enough to hide me. It took me longer and it was harder but I finished school and have two degrees. I am also halfway through my bachelor's studies program. While I've hit a major set back in my future. I'm working on my trauma, because one day I hope to lie down in my bed, window open, feeling a slight breeze and hear the chirp of the crickets lulling me off to sleep.