I had one child 20 ½ months old and another 6 months old when I became pregnant for the third time. Between the first and second child I had difficulty with my left eye - histoplasmosis. Eventually a laser was used on it and for all intents and purposes I lost the central vision in the left eye. Also, I had had pneumonia during the first trimester of my second pregnancy, was given tetracycline, and when I found out I was pregnant, had some fear concerning the health of our unborn child. I am also an adult child of an alcoholic. Adding that to these other pressures, I was a basket case -- my life seemed totally out of control, so I decided to abort my third child. My husband just pretty much left it up to me, but I think he was relieved. The doctor whom I consulted in the matter was completely sympathetic and immediately agreed to perform the abortion. At the time it was a relief to have the decision and to act on it.

No thought was given whatsoever to the humanity of the unborn child. As far as I was concerned, I and everyone I knew, who knew, supported the decision. It seemed to me that no one ever suggested that a fetus was anything other than a blob of tissue awaiting some indefinable time at which to become human. Now that I think back on it, it seems as though we had some kind of power to confer humanity. The abortion to me then was simply a surgical procedure to bring me relief. I was sedated, mildly anesthetized, but was aware of the sound of the vacuum. This was done in a hospital on an outpatient basis and was over in a couple of hours. I was just glad to have it over with.

Afterwards, however, it seems to me that I became a very intolerant person, discontent with my role as homemaker and very blaming of my husband for his lack of help with my two children. My discontent was fueled by the feminist argument of the day (this was during the early 70’s). My two children were too young to know about the abortion and my husband, normally a tolerant person, was growing tired of my haranguing!

Finally, and fortunately, about 3 months after the abortion, I walked up the street to a neighbor’s house for a prayer meeting. That night I had a very dramatic conversion experience, followed by steeping myself in God’s Word. It became a living word in my heart and eventually convinced me of the fact that an unborn child is just that, an unborn child, and not a blob of tissue. This conviction of course led to great grief and sorrow. God’s love and forgiveness have healed the wound, but I will always carry the scar.

I have become a staunch advocate for the unborn in both word and deed.