With me it was a rerun of the abortion every day
I was taken into a separate room where the $150 in cash was taken from me. A
check could not be accepted as it would be traceable and thereby make the
confidentiality null and void. Then into a third room. It was pelvic exam time.
"Twelve weeks", the doctor said. Prior to that I had no idea of fetal age or of
when I was due. Nothing! So just imagine how those words still haunt me. I'll go
to my grave knowing only that about my baby. Ah, but then we will meet again in
Room number four. At this point, it dawned on me that we were being herded
like cattle from one pen to another. Two woman in particular I remember there.
One was possibly mid 40's. She already had 6 kids she said. If her husband knew
about this, he'd kill her but she felt she couldn't handle another. The other
girl, dressed like a street hooker, bragged that this was her 4th
abortion. I tried to keep my eyes from bugging out. There was a sense of bonding
with one another out of desperation more than anything else. We all wanted to
believe that what we were doing was the right thing.
Room number four was the holding pen for those awaiting the required
counseling. Counseling? All I remember was her asking me why I needed this
abortion. I gave her my reasons thinking, "Oh no, she's going to try to talk me
out of it", when to my surprise, she did nothing of the kind. She did proceed to
tell me in detail about the procedure but the only thing I recall was the long
needle she said would numb my cervix and the length of the abortion which would
be approximately 5 minutes. She advised me as to what I could expect afterward
and if I experienced any persistent fever or profuse bleeding that I was to call
the clinic. Next, she gave me the contraceptive lesson. My mind was made up on
the IUD, but thank God, I never did get one.
I can see myself in a hospital gown on a table with my feet in stirrups. I
was clutching some woman's hand very tightly and talking a mile a minute to her
so that I could take my mind off the pain. It was gut-wrenching pain. When it
was over, the woman whose hand I had gripped said, "What a crackerjack patient.
I wish they could all be like you!"
R-E-L-I-E-F! I wasn’t pregnant anymore. I went into the rest room and had a
horrible diarrhea-type bowel movement. I put on my pad and got dressed. In the
recovery room, all the aborted woman were seated for a brief time and then were
allowed to go. Juices and soft drinks were available.
Feeling very queasy I figured a pop would settle my stomach. As I got up to
get the drink I suddenly felt as if I were going to black out. A couple of
so-called nurses put me in a recliner. Next I remember being taken back into
another tiny operating room similar to the one I'd been in for the abortion.
Some unfamiliar man, supposedly a doctor, examined me to see, I guess, whether
or not the entire contents of my womb had been evacuated.
This time I cried as I clutched a strange woman's hand. I remember saying
repeatedly, "Is it over yet? Is he done yet?" It hurt so badly, worse than the
initial abortion. When finished with his exam which turned up nothing unusual,
the unfeeling doctor said something like, "She's fine, get her out of here" He
looked extremely annoyed.
I was given Darvon to ease the pain. As I laid back in the recliner, the
medication began to take effect. The blanket they draped over me helped to ease
the chills that I was experiencing too. Sleep enveloped me for a time. Imagine
how worried my girl friend had been out in the waiting room all this time. It
was approximately 2 p.m. when we left the clinic.
The days immediately following were complication-free. I suffered no physical
side effects. But it wasn't long before I began to realize that I had played
God. I had changed the whole course of my life. That I had done it when it
should've been no one else but God. It was a start.
Reportedly aborted women become self-destructive. They drink, do drugs,
become suicidal, etc. With me it was a rerun of the abortion every day. I would
also fixate on what age my baby would be now, what color eyes, what color hair,
what sex - just a million unanswered questions. To this day I suffer from low
self -esteem attributed to the abortion.
I surrendered my life to Jesus Christ in 1983, the year before I was married.
During our engagement, I shared with my fiancé about the sin which I committed.
He was so sure that he could never marry a woman who had had an abortion. He had
been affected by my abortion in that, as he put it, "The first child in your
womb is not going to be mine." I had not thought of it in that way before. I
could feel his hurt. It took the better part of two years after my conversion
before I could actually bring myself to accept God's forgiveness for what I had
done. Having done that, I joined the local pro-life organization where I have
been an active participant since that time. Like so many aborted women I say,
"If only I'd known then what I know now."
In 1986 I suffered a miscarriage. This being my first pregnancy after the
abortion, imagine my horror that perhaps I couldn't have children now. I did
give birth, though, two times. Praise the Lord! My living daughter and son will
never know their older sibling. My brothers will never know what joy their
long-departed niece/nephew could've imparted to them.
I will always feel a certain ache inside because of what I did. The tears can
still come easily. God has blessed me with two beautiful children. I can bring
them up to revere life. I can help to make a difference in this war with my
active participation. And in so doing, my aborted child will not have died in
Thank you for allowing me the vehicle through which to get all this down on
paper. It has been great therapy.