Anonymous

I was 8 when I went to the children’s hospital expecting a stomach ultrasound, but to my surprise the day went entirely different. I remember stepping out of the elevator, thinking the place was not like I remembered. The hospital was constantly getting remodeled, so I disregarded it. Oh how I regret entering that floor. I remember my mother filling out some forms while we waited in the waiting area. Soon after completing it, I heard my name called. It was a nurse directing us to a room with lots of paper butterflies. At this point, I was even more confused. Nothing seemed right. Then, another nurse came in and handed me a gown to change into. I had on a shirt, jeans, underwear and a diaper ( I was so scared of having accidents and my mother didn’t know). I put on the gown and removed everything except the diaper. I remember having to lay on the metal table and was told to open my legs. I refused and tucked the gown under my body extra tight, so the nurses wouldn’t be able to get it off me. After a couple of struggles, they were able to hold me for a few seconds before realizing I had a diaper on. They were a bit annoyed at me and told me they had to remove it. I was terrified. I didn’t know what was going on. I refused once again for much longer. My mother was yelling at me to cooperate. She was getting annoyed at me too. After a couple more minutes went by, they resorted to giving me some blue and then some white medicine. After that, it’s all almost an entire blur. I remember feeling frail, lots of pain and discomfort, feeling drugged, used, lost, and violated. I remember one of the nurses saying “you’re lucky it’s all girls here, I can always call the men to do this to you.” Then my eyes went black. I was in and out. Turning to my mother in so much rage as to why she was allowing them to force my legs open and why she was helping them, why was she not stopping it. They took my power away. I hated myself and her so much. I couldn’t look at her the same anymore. The last trust I had in her was gone. Completely gone. When they were done, they told me I had to go back and put on my clothes. I felt so numb, dizzy and out of place. I remember walking into the little room to change and stumbling back and forth feeling so helpless and at the same time filled with so much rage. The rage that hasn’t gone away. The moment I was done changing, I was told to step onto a wheelchair, because it was the only way I was going to leave. I looked at my mother with the meanest eyes and gave up. That’s the day I figured, I didn’t matter. My voice, my body, my freedom was gone. I was broken and have not felt whole again.