Mothers Whose Babies Were Killed by Abortion
Fathers Whose Babies Were Killed by Abortion
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The loss that cannot be replaced
Today, my children would be 35 and 33.
At 15, I became pregnant.
I was afraid to face my parents’ disappointment and anger. Finding out, my mother took me to our fatherly family doctor. He scheduled a D & C; the word abortion was never mentioned. He said it was just a clump of cells, an unhealthy growth.
I was afraid to do it and afraid not to. There was no sense of being comforted, only one of necessity. I did as I was told. After the abortion, I had heavy bleeding and bad cramps. We never spoke about it again. Inside there was a new aloneness and extra emptiness.
At age 17 I got pregnant again, trying to fill the hole that the first abortion had left in me. Afraid, I waited until I was 16 weeks before telling my mother. I knew that in Ontario you couldn't have an abortion in hospital beyond 12 weeks. It never occurred to me that I could be sent somewhere else. My mom arranged for me to go to New York City. Vulnerable, I felt paralyzed to say or do anything except what I was told. I flew to NYC by myself and took a cab to a doctor's office on Park Ave. Taken into a small room and told to change into a gown, I lay on a table with my feet in stirrups, and was given a local anesthetic. I felt everything. I remember the scraping feeling; the feeling of the vacuuming; the feeling of the baby fighting against the abortion. I cried out. The doctor told me to be quiet, so the other patients wouldn’t hear me. There was nothing kind or caring about it. I flew home and my mom picked me up. It was as if nothing had happened. That night I went out with my friends and got drunk.
I felt lonely and so guilty - worthless. After all, who kills or allows to be killed not one but two of their babies? My drug and alcohol use increased dramatically. I sought love and approval from men the only way I knew how, with sex. All I had ever wanted was to be a wife and a mother. Now, who could possibly want me? I suffered and still do from depression. I had constant gynecological problems. When I finally did have a baby, I felt inadequate and unworthy as a mother. The sight of babies was hard for me. Their total helplessness and vulnerability were a constant reproach to me.
My healing began when I turned back to God and to His Holy Church. I will be Silent No More because of the loss that cannot be replaced and the violence that cannot be undone.
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