My name is Carol Marie, and I’ve had two abortions.
My first abortion was during my senior year in High School and I aborted my child to hide the fact that I was not a virgin. It was the 70’s, a time when the “Hip” culture told us it was modern to experience love through sex without marriage, and yet the so called “vestiges of a day gone by” told us that “nice girls” didn’t do these things. I wanted to be seen as a nice girl and my child paid the price of my refusal to be honest about my situation.
I remember very little about the actual procedure. I went to Kaiser in Santa Clara and was sedated, so I didn’t consciously feel the speculum or hear the suction.
What I do remember is telling Craig, the father that I was pregnant and waiting to see his reaction. We’d already broken-up before I knew I was pregnant and I knew I didn’t love him, but I also knew that it was his child and that he needed to be part of the decision making process.
I think I was relieved at the time that he didn’t encourage me to spare our child. I now wish more than anything that he’d stepped up to protect our baby, as any father should. I remember my best friend Janet telling me to go to Planned Parenthood and that they’d help me “take care of it”.
I remember the dingy waiting room and the so called “counseling” that simply confirmed me in my focus on abortion, never offering me information on CHOICES. Only one choice mattered there.
I remember after the procedure was done that the father of the kids I babysat, who was a Kaiser doctor, called my name as I walked away from the recovery ward and I told my boyfriend to ignore him, as though he had the wrong person.
I’ve often wondered if he was my abortionist.
You see, when you get an abortion, you most likely never talk to the doctor who kills your child. There is no Doctor / Patient relationship. He does his business and moves on, paying little attention to his so called patient.
My second abortion was several years later when in college. This time I knew I did not want an abortion, but my fiancé and my doctor, who had ordered an xray that had exposed my child to radiation, both pressured me until I caved to their insistence and once again I experienced the lie that is called a “CHOICE”.
I never had the large family I’d always wanted and I can’t help but know that God had twice offered me a better path towards fulfillment.
My memories of the days my child are vague, most likely as a defense mechanism of a trauma I’d rather not remember.
I was sold abortion as a solution to my problem, a means to an end. I now know, without a doubt, that I was sold a pack of lies.
I am now ready to RECALL ABORTION.