My abortion was one of choice. There was no trickery, no misguided judgment, or coercion. It was me, a college educated 25-year old woman, about to begin graduate school, with a boyfriend of over a year who loved me and supported me in everything. My thoughts at the time were so selfish as I researched my “choices” and finally stumbled upon medical abortion. RU-486 was inexpensive and noninvasive. And, I assured myself, more humane for the baby. The process was so easy, so simple, that it hardly conveyed the gravity of the truth. Just two pills and suddenly my period would return, and life could go back to normal. It never did.
The next few days I sat in the shower, watching life stream down the drain. But it was the next few years that really brought the hurt of our decision to full fruition. The graduate degree I wanted to pursue instead of motherhood was never finished. Creation wasn’t just halted in my womb, my writing suffered as well. The boyfriend I wasn’t sure about became my husband. Our decision years earlier haunted our relationship. Neither of us ever forgot our child, and instead became vividly aware that it wasn’t just some “problem” that a procedure took away.
I am standing up here today because I believe in the healing power of the truth. And the truth is that millions have been legally killed through abortion since 1973. My daughter Isabella was one of them. And the truth is, a piece of my husband and I died that day too. But God brought us back to life. It was so easy, so simple to return to God’s grace, I could hardly believe myself deserving of it. But one of the things I am certain about is that our child’s death cannot be in vain. Our experience, our heartache cannot just go down in the history books silently, a secret hidden away never to be shared. The truth deserves more than that. Life deserves more than that. Our children deserve more than that… that’s why we are Silent No More.