When I found this online, I decided to scam the pregnancy cult for all they were worth. I went in, faking that my pregnancy was accidental. I took a simple out-of-the-box pregnancy test and was immediately taken upstairs for an ultrasound. For the uninitiated – this is the part where they try to show you the baby’s eyes, toes, lungs, heart, etc in order to convince you to keep the baby. I, of course, had no plans to abort, especially as I was at 24 weeks. My ex-husband sat there with me, uncomfortably shifting in his seat as the Christian music blared in the background. That is when and where I found out I was having a boy.I'll grant the veracity of this account just because minimizing the abuse of women is something I do not take lightly, especially as I have a daughter who turns 5 soon. I would also think that the reaction at this particular clinic is a bad exception and not the rule. The one I am involved with has a great network and offers women in these kinds of situations help. Now as to the part about sharing their faith, of course this woman is going to react negatively to being told she is a sinner and needs to repent. Some video sure would be helpful here from the feminists on this. In the end I do not think it will be as compelling as the ones exposing Planned Parenthood covering up the rape and prostitution of underage girls, and these same feminists defend Planned Parenthood. Hypocrisy anyone?
After a suitable time of oo-ing and aw-ing over the ultrasound pictures, I had a “counseling session.” They gauged my belief in God, which was confusing to them to no end. Then, I was ask – do you feel safe in your home environment. I suddenly had that moment, where I knew this was my way out. I answered honestly – “No, it’s not safe. My husband is a fucking psychopath, and I need out.” This apparently was not the usual answer. I would love to tell you that the church group whisk me away to a safe place and got me and my unborn child away from that monster, but alas, no. I was given a lecture of wifely responsibilities and duties. I was told that I obviously was at fault for not letting him lead, and I was somehow aggressively subjugating his masculinity. I felt defeated, but this still seemed like a small escape to my otherwise closed-in and closely monitored existence.
I was given a schedule. I would come back every week for a three-hour session. I would watch videos on childbirth and pregnancy for an hour and a half, then I would be cornered in a small room with two lovely Christian ladies who would then tell me what a horrible person I was for being in such a marriage where I refused to accept my husband’s ruling with an iron fist. “Spare the rod and spoil the child is meant for the wife as well in some more difficult cases,” they said. I was routinely told that if I did not accept Jesus Christ as my savior I would go to hell no matter how I had lived my life or what good deeds I did. For each session, I would get points. The points led to baby items. I was determined to get a pram (a stroller that is more for infants and kind of old fashioned).
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