‘I kept a secret after my first pregnancy, then my husband forced me to have our son and daughter.’

Content warning: This article contains references to domestic violence, reproductive coercion, sexual assault, and psychological abuse.

By the time she was 17, Jenny* thought she had found her person. She met him at a Christmas work function.  It was 1989, and he was just a year older. 

Jenny and Stephen* spent the next nine years working together, building a relationship, a home, and eventually a family. At least, that's what it looked like to the outside world.

But behind closed doors, there was a different world, one filled with fear, coercion and abuse that took the form of emotional, physical, sexual, and, eventually, reproductive coercion.

Watch: Heather Cornelius shares her DV story. Article continues after the video.

"I didn't know what it was at the time, or understand," Jenny tells Mamamia, explaining the early days of their relationship were filled with psychological abuse.

Then, things would take a turn.

'Too unsafe to welcome a child.'

The violence escalated when Jenny and Stephen moved into their first home in 1993.

"I was isolated from my family. He smashed furniture, broke things, used knives to threaten harm. It was constant walking on eggshells," she said.

They married in 1994.

Jenny didn't know how to escape.

"I was too scared and ashamed to not go ahead with it. I didn't want anyone to know what was really happening behind closed doors. I thought it was what I deserved."

All her life, Jenny had longed for a stable family of her own. She'd grown up in a country town, lost her father at 14, and dreamed of becoming a young mum.

"It was really important for me to have what we all think is the normal family unit of mum, dad and the kids. I believed I could heal and fix [his dysfunctional family] by having our own loving family."

Despite her desire to be a mum, Jenny knew her home environment was too unsafe to welcome a child. So when she accidentally fell pregnant, she felt there was only one option, and terminated the pregnancy.

She named her baby, Taylah. 

"I was devastated. It was all I had wanted — to be a mum — but how could I raise a child in that environment?"

"I had to make a call to save my life and my unborn baby's life. I was past 12 weeks before I had made the final decision. I lied about the possible time of conception. My family doctor wouldn't help — he said it was against his beliefs. I had to go to a stranger."

To their friends and family, Stephen played the role of supportive partner, but privately, he turned Jenny's pain into a weapon. 

"I was never allowed to grieve for her openly. I was a 'selfish, inconsiderate c***' if I did. A part of me died inside choosing to abort my baby girl."

Sex never felt safe or consensual.

After the abortion, Jenny developed deep vein thrombosis and was advised not to take hormonal contraception.

Condoms were the only option, or no sex at all.

Neither was acceptable to Stephen. 

"He would use the fact he had to use condoms to abuse me and punish me. He also demanded that he wanted children and, therefore, it wouldn't matter if he used them or not."

Sex never felt safe. Or consensual. "He knew I had been sexually abused as a child and I now understand that he would target intimacy as a way of further punishing me."

Jenny's son was conceived the night she achieved her black belt in Tae Kwon Do; a skill she pursued in an attempt to defend herself. 

"I was injured on the day with both ankles damaged, and I did not want sex, nor did I want it without a condom. He insisted and I knew I couldn't fight back."

She feared for her life and for her unborn child's. But this time, termination felt impossible.

"I was going to be punished, choose to abort again and destroy my soul, or be forced straight back to work."

After her son was born, the pressure for another child intensified. Stephen threatened to take her son from her if she didn't have another baby.

"I knew he would take him, or he would kill him to destroy me. My daughter was conceived three years later out of fear for my son's life."

The abuse continued throughout the entirety of her second pregnancy.

"On the day I was booked for my caesarean, he leaned down and told me if I squeezed his hand any tighter he would punch me in the f***ing head."

Her bladder was torn during surgery, damaged from complications with her first caesarean. Doctors told Jenny any future pregnancies would be life-threatening for both her, and the unborn baby. 

"He told me I was a selfish c*** if I never had another child."

A drastic escape.

Aware of the abuse, Jenny's obstetrician strongly recommended a hysterectomy. 

"He never visited me in hospital, yet the day he came to pick me up he drove home erratically, breaking forcefully knowing I had an abdominal wound, screaming at me all the way home."

Ten years ago, Jenny escaped thanks to the intervention of friends, including former police officers.

"They had witnessed his abuse over the years. The judge issued urgent orders and the police arrived that night when he came home from work and removed him from our home. Filling out those forms was the first time I knew what I had lived was domestic violence."

What is reproductive coercion and abuse (RCA)?

Also known as reproductive control or reproductive violence, reproductive coercion and abuse (RCA) is defined as any attempt to dictate a woman's reproductive choices or interfere with her reproductive autonomy.

Dr Nicola Sheeran, a researcher in the School of Applied Psychology at Griffith University, says RCA is the preferred term as it acknowledges that abusers may use psychological, physical, financial, and sexual violence —not just coercion — to influence, control or force compliance. 

According to Nicola, there are two main categories: pregnancy-promoting RCA and pregnancy-preventing RCA. 

"Common behaviours associated with pregnancy promoting RCA include contraceptive sabotage, forced sex to cause pregnancy, emotional pressure, threats and/or violence to become pregnant or continue a pregnancy," Nicola says. 

"Common behaviours associated with pregnancy preventing RCA include forced contraception use or sterilisation, emotional pressure, threats and/or violence to ensure a pregnancy is terminated, or physical violence to induce a miscarriage."

For some women, this abuse happens alongside other forms of control, like financial abuse, emotional abuse, or isolation. But that's not always the case.

"Some victim/survivor stories suggest that RCA is part of a broader pattern of coercive control. However, for others, there may not be other forms of violence or control outside of reproduction."

In a recent study by Laura Tarzia and Mandy MacKenzie, researchers found that perpetrators often fell into two groups: those driven by entitlement and aggression, and those using RCA as one part of a larger control strategy.

"Those who are motivated by a sense of aggressive self-interest and entitlement, and those for whom RCA is perpetrated as part of a broader context of coercive control."

In cases involving abortion, abuse can take many forms.

"We see both forced abortion but also women being locked in houses or denied finances so that they can't access abortion. Abortion laws intersect here, often assisting perpetration by increasing the difficulty of access and legitimising the claims of the perpetrator."

Pregnancy and postpartum also carry unique risks.

"When they have been forced to become mothers, many women struggle with feeling detached, resentful, and guilty towards their children — others not."

How common is RCA?

Australia is only just beginning to collect robust data, but what we know so far is deeply concerning.

In a study of people seeking pregnancy-related counselling, 15.4 per cent disclosed reproductive coercion or abuse, Nicola says.  

That included both pregnancy-promoting abuse (6 per cent) and pregnancy-preventing abuse (7.5 per cent). Another 1.9 per cent experienced both forms simultaneously.

In a larger community sample, Nicola says, 21 per cent of respondents reported having experienced RCA at some point.

"Pregnancy-promoting tactics seem more common than pregnancy-preventing in this study," she explains.

Rates were similar across age groups and cultural backgrounds, however people who identified as Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander experienced RCA that was significantly more likely to be pregnancy-promoting.

RCA is still misunderstood.

RCA is associated with higher rates of depression, anxiety, stress, PTSD, and reduced satisfaction with life, as well as lower sexual assertiveness, and increased fear of sexual encounters.

According to Nicola, GPs, obstetricians and fertility clinics must play a critical role.

"They can help by suggesting different types of contraception, ones that are less likely to be identified, when there is pregnancy promoting RCA. But also just naming it as a form of violence.

"Practitioners can help to prevent the harmful sequelae of RCA on mothering by supporting women's reproductive autonomy and safe access to contraception, abortion, and pregnancy care."

Despite the growing research, awareness of reproductive abuse remains low.

"Our study with domestic violence support workers suggested they didn't know how to recognise or respond to it, so public and policymakers have less chance," Nicola says. 

Even the surrounding language is still being debated, though experts and advocates lean towards RCA.

What's clear, though, is reproductive abuse often overlaps with other forms of control, like financial abuse or emotional manipulation.

"Massive intersections with financial abuse—like withholding money for contraception and abortion. Perpetrators will sometimes just want to control, so they will coerce or force pregnancy and then force abortion. Here, it is about the control, not the reproduction per se."

Jenny still lives with the scars from what she's endured and the fear of what may happen in the future. 

"He uses the very system designed to protect me against me. We still live in hiding 10 years later in our second location."

Jenny now uses her experience to raise awareness and advocate for others. 

Despite what she's endured, she says she will continue to fight, and speak out — for herself, for her children, and for the daughter she was never allowed to grieve.

*names have been changed.

If this has raised any issues for you, or if you just feel like you need to speak to someone, please call 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732) – the national sexual assault, domestic and family violence counselling service.

Mamamia is a charity partner of RizeUp Australia, a national organisation that helps women, children and families move on after the devastation of domestic and family violence. Their mission is to deliver life-changing and practical support to these families when they need it most. If you would like to support their mission you can donate here.

Feature image: Getty.