Author: Tech

“I am speaking up to those considering or who have had an abortion. By the time I was 24 I had a troubled past – a child I had placed for adoption, one divorce, a growing alcohol problem and many sexual affairs under my belt. Now, I was on my way to an abortion. I had, once again, found myself pregnant and abandoned for the second time.

I regretted giving up my first child and did not want to do it again, so I decided to keep the baby this time. So I packed up and moved to Los Angeles from the Bay Area to continue my singing and acting career and become a mother.

Once I arrived in L.A., the lady I was staying with convinced me to go and talk with someone at Planned Parenthood so I would be able to make an “informed choice” about this very important decision I thought I had already made. My meeting with Planned Parenthood went on for a grueling three hours. After many tears were shed, I finally relinquished myself to the fact that I had come to Los Angeles to pursue a career, not to become a mother and abortion was the only answer. I scheduled my appointment for the following week for I was closing in on the crucial 10-week deadline.

I arrived at Planned Parenthood with a man I had just met at an audition the previous day who insisted upon taking me. I recall being extremely nervous and scared so they decided to put me to sleep during the procedure. When I woke up, I was crying and thanking the doctor all at the same time for I thought that my dilemma had been resolved. Little did I know that I would continue to careen down a 10-year path of deeper self-destruction. As I pursued my show business career, I buried my pain by continuing on in my quest to fill the hole left in my heart. I continued to have more affairs leaving me with a total of 3 marriages, and a need to anesthetize myself with alcohol, and drugs. This madness brought 10 years of numerous diagnoses and medication for bi-polar disease, chronic depression, hypomania, and borderline manic-depression, several psychological counselors and psychiatrists, and an inpatient treatment center. I also suffered from emotional outbursts, fits of rage, paranoia and an inability to understand or embrace God’s love for me. A miscarriage during my third marriage and severe depression eventually left me with such a sense of hopelessness, guilt and shame that suicidal thoughts became a regular occurrence. When I finally gave birth to our first child in my third marriage, I spent the whole pregnancy anticipating yet another loss of another child and was unable to bond with him for the first year of his life.”

Julie then goes on to say that she had a religious conversion which helped her deal with her issues.

From Priests for Life. Used with permission.

 

 

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I have a story to tell…. In my teens I had 2 late abortions and was totally unaware of the murder I had committed. I was told that my children were not really children. What a lie. To cut a long story short I have had terrible emotional problems and a day does not pass with out me remembering and repenting for my deplorable act of killing my own children.

I have also had a total of 9 miscarriages with two of them at 23 and 24 weeks and both babies died.

I believe there are just as many believers as unbelievers aborting their babies. I would love it if my story would steer people away from aborting their babies. I also feel strongly that in educating people not to abort their babies we should also make provision for people who have found themselves pregnant. I know that in my case if some one had told me and also helped me through the pregnancy I might have my two children here with me today. So let’s not only make public our voice against taking the life of innocent children, we should also make it known that for those who find themselves in that position there is practical help and emotional support available.

From Priests for Life. Used with permission.

 

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I had my abortion when I was 15 years old. My mother gave me no option but abortion. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about it; my mother and I were the only ones that knew until recently.

The father’s family and mine had been friends for a long time when we started dating and got pregnant. He and his family would have been supportive, but my mother chose not to tell them about it.

It was 1976 in Dallas. They used different sized rods to dilate me; the glass jar was beside me at the end with the contents. There was a lot of physical pain. My mother was in the waiting room and I was all alone. I felt abandoned and alone. I really wanted to see the father of the baby. I knew he loved me and still does to this day. I broke up him with a little while later. I couldn’t stand him not knowing and I wasn’t allowed to tell him. The pain became unbearable and I turned to drugs and alcohol. I think I experienced every drug during this time.

I finally married when I was 19 years old, but it lasted three boys and seven years. He was physically abusive. I stayed single for five years and remarried after an emotionally abusive marriage, three boys and 15 years it ended. During my divorce I started seeking counseling and over the period of the last 2 1/2 years I have faced my unwanted abortion. I have bought my baby a headstone and placed it next to my father. I have been In touch with the baby’s father and he knows everything and has forgiven me. I’m still In the process of forgiving my mother. I wanted my baby and think about and miss her daily.

Rest In Peace My Angel

 

 

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I had an abortion because I thought I wasn’t ready for a child as a college student. I felt if I kept the baby, I wouldn’t be able to finish my schooling. More so, I felt some pressure by my husband to have the abortion considering we were not financially stable.

I recall making an appointment in Atlanta and once we got there, I couldn’t do it and walked out of the clinic. My husband got mad that we drove all the way there and I didn’t go through with it. The second time we made an appointment, it was at another abortion clinic, and once again I walked out after seeing the ultrasound. This caused fighting between my husband and me because he kept saying we needed to do this because we aren’t financially stable. I hated fighting and I felt so alone and like I had no other choice, so I finally scheduled my last appointment. I told the ultrasound tech I didn’t want to see the ultrasound because I knew I would walk out again.

I remember the day I aborted my child very clearly, as if it happened yesterday. I was looking at all the other girls sitting next to me in the waiting room in long gowns. Most of them looked distressed and upset and I remember all of their faces very clearly to this day. Every process in the clinic was just another step to murdering a baby and scarring women. I was the last patient in the waiting room to get an abortion. About a half hour before the nurse called me into the procedure room, I started crying violently and once again wanted to just get up and leave. I felt like I HAD to do this, however, and stayed. I will never forget the procedure room. It was dark and gloomy. I could just tell this was not right. The doctor barely said anything to me and just told me not to move and that it won’t be painful if I stay still. I was crying and shaking because I was so scared and felt so violated. I felt every single stroke of the suction machine and thought, “What am I doing? I’m letting this doctor dismember my child.” I was screaming in pain because it hurt so bad, I wanted to throw up. Moderate period like cramping? I think not. My procedure felt like I was being dismembered too. I kept telling the nurse I feel like I’m gonna faint and she just kept telling me that it will be OK.

Immediately following the procedure, the nurse told me to go to the bathroom and change into my regular clothes and afterward, I laid in the recovery room for a few minutes and then the nurse took my blood pressure, gave me my meds and told me to go home. I felt like I was being rushed out of there because I was the last patient. It didn’t seem like they cared at all.

Immediately after the abortion, I felt empty and forever scarred. I wanted to be alone and felt like no one understood what I just want through. I felt guilt, remorse and shame for killing my child and wanted to die. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want people to judge me. There was no one to talk to and I felt so alone and so empty wishing I could turn back time and put that tiny baby back into my uterus. As time went on after the abortion, I found out I had an infection and some remaining tissue in my uterus I also later found out that the doctor who performed the abortion had two malpractice settlements. I just hoped that I will be able to have kids in the future.

Emotionally, I felt like this was my punishment for undergoing an abortion. I think about this child every day and cry every day.

There won’t be a day that I won’t think about my aborted baby. It’s something I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I hope no woman has to go through what I went through. I found help and forgiveness through meeting with this wonderful lady, Melissa Howard for post abortion counseling. I’m actually still in the process of being forgiven and set free. I am currently a pre-med student and hope to become an obstetrician/gynecologist and help bring babies into this world. Likewise, I would like to help women in my situation make the right choice. My dream is to become a physician for life.

From Priests for Life

 

 

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I had an abortion because…well there were so many pressing reasons. I was in Nursing School, living on my own, working weekends, attending school with a long commute and hours of homework resulting in 18-hour days and night shift work on the weekends. I grew up in poverty and securing an education and profession was my only way out.

I had very little financial resources… some days not eating all day while student nurses had a warm breakfast, lunch and dinner at the hospital cafeteria….I had to choose between bus fare to get to and from school and food.

Early in the pregnancy I had terrible morning sickness which lasted all day. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t work. I wanted to sleep all the time. It seemed to go on for weeks, months, a long time. I had to make a choice….to give up school or have an abortion. I couldn’t continue.

My boyfriend, who later became my husband, was the same coward then that he is now. He did not stand by me, he did not honor me as the mother of his child, he didn’t care about the baby or me; he only cared about carnal pleasures and I was the piece of flesh that he used for his sexual desires. He was a grammar school teacher at a Catholic school.

He went to school the day of my abortion. I went alone. I entered the abortion clinic filled with fear and ambivalence. I look back and recall…no one talked in the waiting room, no one made eye contact, and our heads were all looking down…doom and despair. There was a couple sitting next to me. She was wearing beautiful clothing, a big diamond ring; her husband was dressed well also, looking affluent. They were reaffirming their decision to ‘not have any more kids….just couldn’t afford it.’ I remember thinking, Oh my God, I have nothing and you have everything…why? I guess I was judging that couple. I didn’t realize it then.

During the abortion procedure, I was a sleep, anesthetized, it was painless…but only for that brief time, because, the pain would come, every day, every moment some days, and it would follow me like a shadow every day of my life.

Immediately after the abortion, I felt a great sense of relief, like a burden had been lifted. The morning sickness was gone, the extreme tiredness had waned and I was back to my old self. As time went on I felt empty, sad, angry, depressed, filled with regret and separation from God. I finally was able to lay my abortion at the feet of Our Savior, Jesus Christ with the help of a tender, loving Catholic priest, Father Curley, a Project Rachael priest as part of the Project Rachael Ministry. It has been 36 years since my abortion. There has not been a day that I didn’t think about the child that was meant to be….to love and be loved, to live her life, a life that I ended on 3/12/1974.

 

 

 

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It was the first time that I saw my father drunk. He was filled with rage and anger and made it clear that I would no longer be welcome in his home if I had this child.

I spent a day in downtown Seattle in a phone booth looking through a phone book…crying and calling crisis lines, searching for help. No one had a place…a safe haven for me and my child. A few days later I sat in the doctor’s office, she pointed to a chart to show me the size of my baby…no bigger than the tip of a pen she said…very quick and simple procedure.

I hated the morning of my abortion. Everything seemed cold and removed from life. I was in a room with several other girls who also had their mothers with them. One by one we were wheeled into this room and I remember seeing this machine and hearing a loud humming sound. I wanted to leave, but all I could see was my father’s anger.

I went home and cried in my own silence for days. I hated that I couldn’t have had the same option that my birth mother gave me…for I was adopted…and I felt deep confusion over the man that was thankful for my adoption giving him and my mother a child and the father who looked down on me now for the very same situation.

Two lives died that day.

About two years later, I found myself pregnant again with the same boyfriend. We married and our son was born in the early part of 1977. It was through his pregnancy that I really felt the heaviest burden because I knew then that Life was much more than the tip of a pen… and for the first time I wept for the child I lost and not the illusion.

Healing came only after I went into counseling and understood that my child rests and waits for me in the arms of the Lord. Without that vision and belief…I would have relived this nightmare for the rest of my life. I talk as openly as I can about this loss and have tried on several occasions to encourage others to choose life.

Recently I lost a grandchild to this decision. A deep and penetrating sadness has filled our home…we were all planning for this child and supported our daughter with joy in the anticipation of this child’s birth. Without warning, life changed for her and she made the choice to end her child’s life. Now we face a different kind of grief and worry for our daughter when her emotional train wreck hits, because we know it will come. People want to use the word respect as a ploy to convince a woman it is her right to choose…but I believe that the better word is accept and that the word respect should only be used for the living.

 

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I had an abortion because my husband and I were going through difficult times, living separately, and I was raped by a man that I went to lunch with. My husband said that he wanted to make amends with me, but would not raise another man’s child. Reluctantly, I went to the abortion clinic – paid $600- and endured the procedure. The sound of the machine was horrific. It is a large “vacuum” that sucks the life from your body. I bawled the entire time. It didn’t matter to me that the child was the product of a rape – it was MY child- a gift from God. My husband did not share my faith background. He didn’t believe in God. I believe that when you give birth, or are pregnant, you give a part of yourself to that child. A part of me died that day as a result of what I did. I saw a flash of my son’s face when I closed my eyes during the procedure. God revealed it to me. The child would have been a boy, with deep blue eyes and sandy brown hair. I know his face well. I see it almost nightly in my dreams. After the procedure, I felt horrible. My entire body felt like it was dying. It’s a shock to your system to go through something like an abortion, because your system has prepared to be pregnant and, in a moment, you’re telling it not to be. It’s not the same as a miscarriage, which your body can prepare for. I collapsed on the floor of my apartment and was found by my mother-in-law, bleeding and in need of medical attention. She drove me to the hospital. Apparently, a piece of the sac was left in my uterus and caused bleeding and a tear in the uterine wall. It was very serious. I recovered, but still feel the pain of what I did every day.

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“Looking back now, I realize how little self-worth I had. From the time I was 14, I was always looking for the boy who would love me. I was 19 when I met Alex. He somehow convinced me I was lucky to have him as a boyfriend and I better appreciate it. Somehow I did. For three and a half years, my life became about him. My friends and family became obsolete.

It was the winter of 1989 when I realized my period was late; a quick stop to Planned Parenthood confirmed what I already knew. Pregnant! Going to my parents was out of the question. They were already disappointed in all my recent decisions. The only thing I could think of was I had to end this and fast. I wanted no part of raising a baby and I could not bring a baby into the abuse I was suffering at the hands of my boyfriend.

The counselors at Planned Parenthood quickly scheduled an appointment and ultra-sound. While doing the ultrasound, I was told it was best to not look at the monitor, so I didn’t. I was scheduled for an abortion the beginning of January.

I arrived at the clinic early in the morning I was given a brown paper bag with antibiotics and pain medication. I was ushered into a room with about 10 other women and that is where I remained until my name was called. I was quickly ushered into a room given an IV of something to make me
drowsy. All I remember is the sound of sucking and talking. The next thing I know, I am in a room with the same women laying on beds some crying some throwing up. I myself began to vomit. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

As I sat on the curb of the clinic waiting for Alex to bring the car around I remember looking up and seeing a bunch of people holding signs and rosaries. I thought, you have no idea what I just went through. The months after my abortion the pain and guilt ate away at me. I was always looking at babies that would be the same age as mine. It became an obsession.

I pray for the day when women no longer have to endure the pain and agony of abortion.”

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It wasn’t until years later that Karen realized how having an abortion hurt those around her-especially her family…

I came from a very abusive household, with alcoholic parents. I was sexually abused by my brothers, father, and molested by an uncle. My father was also very physically abusive, and mentally abusive.

When I was thirteen, I got what I refer to as my first real boyfriend. I had two or three quick boyfriends before him. They all seemed to want the same thing. I developed very early and at eleven looked sixteen. I always stopped their advances and they always left me.

When I met Gerard, I didn’t want him to leave me. I was looking for someone to love me and rescue me. When he made his first sexual attempt, I was very stiff and extremely scared, but was afraid if I didn’t let him, he too, would leave. I came to believe sex equaled love.

Needless to say I got pregnant. I was very afraid to tell anyone other than Gerard. I had no idea what I was going to do. I couldn’t tell my parents. (Mind you, I went to church every Saturday and was attending catholic school at the time)I just figured if I didn’t say anything, no one would know and I’d figure the rest out later.

One day I was standing in the kitchen dressed in my uniform for school when my mother asked me if I was pregnant. I just started crying. She said she knew it. I told her I was sorry; I just didn’t know how to tell her. She then informed… NO, Told me, I was having an abortion. I just stood there. I didn’t know what to say. She told me my father would kill me and the baby if he found out I was pregnant. I believed he would.

My mother just went about making all the decisions, and I sat quietly by and let her. I knew in my head, and my heart that I wanted this baby. I had no courage to say so. I knew I could do a better job than my parents had done. I wanted someone to love me that I could love back. I really did want my baby.

My mother brought me to the clinic where they discovered I was about three months pregnant. At three months, you needed both parents consent. If you couldn’t get that then you had to go before a judge to sign some piece of paper saying it was okay to perform the “procedure” with only one parents’ permission. I remember sitting there and her asking me why I couldn’t tell my father. I told her he would beat me. He would beat me so bad that neither I nor the baby would survive. I also remember thinking in my head please say no. Well, she didn’t say no, she signed the paper and we went back to the clinic.

They were then able to make the appointment for the “procedure”. I’m not sure how many days it was till I went back. I know it wasn’t many. I remember the doctor asking me why I waited so long to say anything. I told him I was scared. He then informed me if I waited any longer it would have been too late (all said with irritation in his voice.) I remember that very well, it was as if he assumed I wanted the “procedure” and almost “blew it.” I then got changed into my scrubs and was told to lie on the table which was a metal, flat, uncomfortable, cold, and uncaring table. Everything was done without any concerns about me or my baby. I was informed that it wasn’t going to hurt. I was going to feel some pulling and that it would be uncomfortable, but not painful. They told me that the machine was loud, but not to get scared. I remember looking up at the nurse at my side, she asked if I was okay and I just nodded. I was still hoping that someone would stop this from happening.

Then he turned on the machine. I clenched my hands together, turned my head to stare at the wall and just laid there. It felt as if my insides were being sucked out. It felt like my stomach was being sucked in. I so wanted to cry, but didn’t. I don’t know why, I just didn’t. It, itself wasn’t painful. It was very uncomfortable. At the time I didn’t know why I wanted to cry. I now know why. I was killing my baby.

They then put me in the recovery room with my mom. I had to stay there till the bleeding slowed enough. A nurse kept coming in to check on me. She kept asking how I was feeling. She seemed nice enough at the time. Then during one of her quick visits with me she informed me abortion isn’t birth control and I can’t just go out and keep having sex. As if she knew me. She was making an assumption that I did this all the time (have sex); if she only knew. I remember looking at my mom and thinking why aren’t you yelling at her and telling her I don’t sleep around.

Well I was finally able to leave. I got dressed and my mother and I headed for the train station. That is how we got to and from my appointment. We didn’t speak about anything while we heading back home. Then my mother said it was getting late and she was scared we wouldn’t beat my father home. My day started at nine A.M. and my father got home about five-thirty. I remember feeling scared at the thought of my father getting home before us.

It was rush hour on the trains. The train was full, hot and smelly. I started to feel dizzy and told my mom I felt sick. She said I looked very white and we would get off at the next stop. She yelled at a man sitting close by and told him to get up so I could sit down. He did. That was the only time all day I saw concern in my mother’s eyes. Needless to say I threw up. We got off at the next stop and waited till I felt better.

Then proceeded home again.

We were walking down from the train station when we both saw my dad standing on the steps looking over the railing at us. I was never more terrified in my life. I started crying out of fear. My mother told me to stop. She said she was just going to tell him I was at the doctors and it ran longer that she thought it would.

When we were in hearing distance of the house my father asked where the hell we were?! You could see the anger on his face. My mother told him she took me to the doctors. He asked why, and she said because my breast was hurting. She told him that the doctor said it was growing pains. He said “growing pains you got to be kidding how much more could she grow?”

That day came to an end and time just started going by.

The next time my abortion came up was when I was fifteen. My older sister had found out about it and started crying. She asked me if mom made me get the abortion. I told her no. I told her it was my decision; I didn’t want her blaming my mom. She said if she found out it was my mom she was going to kill her (not literally). I told her I thought it was best because of dad. I said you know him, he would of beat the crap out of me and the baby would have died; quite possibly me too. She said I should have come to her and told her, she would have figured something out. Then we both sat there just crying. She looked at me and said, “That was my niece or nephew.” I told her I was sorry.

I then realized how my abortion was going to affect others. That is something I think no one ever even considers. My sister was now hurting, because she too, lost a baby to love.

 

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I had an abortion because I became pregnant during an extra-marital affair. My gynecologist supported my decision and made an appointment with the abortion provider down the street. During the abortion I was emotionally numb, until I saw the ultrasound of my baby, at which time I began to wail and cry very loudly.

The abortionist asked if I was sure I wanted to do this…I cried out, “I have no other choice.” So he proceeded with the vacuum aspiration. The workers had not noticed that I arrived alone, and was trying to leave alone. In my car I realized that I was unable to drive because of the sedatives they gave me, so if it weren’t for my own concern I would have probably had a car accident. For months I was numb.

As time went on (6 months) I became very depressed and considered suicide. My family committed me to a psychiatric hospital in Atlanta, where I was placed on suicide watch. After no response to medication, doctors ordered electro-convulsive therapy treatments (over 20). For many years I was on multiple antidepressants and have seen several psychiatrists and psychologist. I have received treatment for PTSD by eye movement desensitization. I was referred to a post-abortion Bible study in Ft. Payne, Alabama, called “Forgiven and Set Free.” It was very painful, but I was blessed to have the support of many women and their husbands at a precious memorial service for my baby boy “Micah.”

Today I am a radical pro-life Christian who counsels women on the sidewalk and rallies church prayer teams during the 40 Days for Life Campaign.

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