When I was 20, I faced a reality no one should have to navigate. I had been raped, and I was trying to process it while still figuring out how to take care of myself.

I remember using a code language with my mom—my way of signaling what had happened without fully exposing myself to judgment or disbelief. It was my attempt to create a bridge to safety, to find someone who could understand the gravity of what I was experiencing without shaming me or ignoring me.

One of the ways I tried to regain control was by seeking prenatal care. On the surface, it was a medical step—but underneath, it was much more. It was me trying to find a safe space, someone who could care for me, someone who could help me navigate a world that suddenly felt overwhelming. I was advocating for myself in a system that often doesn’t prioritize the needs of survivors, even as a young adult.

Looking back, I realize how much courage it took to take those steps—to speak in code, to ask for help, and to push for care. That moment taught me early lessons about resilience, self-advocacy, and the human need to be seen and protected.

Even now, remembering that time brings a mix of pain and awe. Pain for what I went through, and awe for the strength I had to find within myself to take steps toward safety. It’s a reminder of the importance of supportive people, understanding systems, and the safe spaces that everyone deserves when facing trauma.