Letter To A Baby Aborted After Rape

In a program for those who regretted having an abortion, one exercise was to write a letter to the aborted baby. One woman made her letter public. This is what she wrote:

“Dear Jennifer,

I knew the moment you were conceived, although I tried hard to ignore it. Since you were the result of rape, I felt so lonely and confused. In the beginning I wanted only to destroy you. However, when I began to experience your movements within, I found myself accepting your existence. You were 22 weeks old by the time permission for my legal abortion was granted, and I had decided to keep you. I had grown to love you, but under pressure from those around me, I went ahead with the abortion. For years afterwards your cries echoed in endless dreams until healing finally took place. Then I named you and allowed myself to grieve over your death. I also was a victim as a result of making my decision based on a few scraps of misinformation. Part of me died with you. As you look down from Heaven, I know you forgive me as even I have learned to forgive myself. Now, I press on to help others not to make the mistake I did.”

“Raped and Pregnant: Three Women Tell Their Stories” 1986

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My Hardest Night: A Nurse’s Story

There have been many difficult nights in my 12 years as a registered nurse. Deaths happen in medicine. Sometimes they are anticipated, sometimes they come unexpectedly.

As I think back over the years, I remember the woman, in her 80s, who was suffering from congestive heart failure. Her family sat by her bedside, holding her hand as she gasped her last few breaths. I also remember the man, only in his 30s, who was hit by a drunk driver while on the way home from work. I arrived at the scene of the accident and saw the blank stare of someone in severe shock. On the way to the hospital, despite all our attempts to resuscitate him, this young man died in the back of the ambulance. It would have been hard for me to believe that night, but my most difficult night was yet to come.

One night last August the intensive care nursery was especially busy. As I began my shift that evening, I noticed right away that there was an extra amount of tension in the room. There have been emergency calls from other hospitals that day, and our transport team had been busy bringing in three infants requiring special care which our nursery could provide. Two of the babies were very critical. I could see that it would be difficult night.

What I was not prepared for was our next admission, which I was to be responsible for, since I was the least busy at the time. The nurse from Labor and Delivery walked into our unit carrying a blanket and stating “This is a prostaglandin abortion. He has a heartbeat so we brought him over.” The baby was placed under a radiant warmer and I was told the rest of the facts. The gestational age of the baby was given to be 23 weeks by ultrasound. The mother had cancer and had received chemotherapy treatments before discovering that she was pregnant. The parents had been told that their baby would be horribly deformed because of the chemotherapy.

I looked at the baby boy lying before me, and saw that from all appearances he was perfect. He had a good strong heartbeat. I could tell this without using a stethoscope because I could see his chest moving in sync with his heart rate. With a stethoscope I heard a heart pumping strongly. I look at his size and his skin — he definitely looked more mature than 23 weeks. He was weighed and I discovered that he was 900 grams, almost two pounds. This was almost twice the weight of some babies we have been able to save. A doctor was summoned. When she arrived the baby started moving his tiny arms and legs flailing. He started trying to gasp, but was unable to get air into his lungs. His whole body shuddered with his efforts to breathe. We were joined by a neonatalist and I pleaded with both doctors saying, “The baby is viable — look at his size, look at his skin — he looks much older than 23 weeks.”

it was a horrible moment as each of us wrestled with our own ethical standards. I argued that we should make an attempt to resuscitate him, to get him breathing. The resident doctor told me, “This is an abortion. We have no right to interfere.” The specialist, who had the responsibility for the decision, was wringing his hands and quietly saying, “This is so hard. Oh, God, it’s so hard when it’s this close.” In the end, I lost. We were not going to try to resuscitate this baby. So, I did the only thing I could do. Dipping my index finger into sterile water and placing it on his head, I baptize the child. Then I wrapped him in blankets to keep him warm, and held him. These were the only measures I could take comfort the baby under the circumstances, no matter how much I wanted to do more. I held this little boy, who was still gasping for breath, trying to stay alive on his own. As the tears flowed down my face, I pray to God that he would take this child into his care, and that he would forgive me for my own part in his death. After a while, he stopped gasping. His heart continued to be, but the beating became slower and weaker until it finally stopped. He was gone.

It seems so ironic. No more than 5 feet from where I was watching this baby die, a team of doctors and nurses were gathered around a severely ill infant. They were trying every treatment they could to save this baby, while I stood alone with an infant who had a good chance to survive. But we did nothing for him. As it turned out, we lost both of them.

By Barbara. From Vital Signs: the Journal of the Friendship Pregnancy Center fall 1991

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Testimony of an Emergency Room Nurse

Robert B. Baral is an emergency room nurse and paramedic. He discussed why he is pro-life in this article.

“About 20 years ago, when I first began working in emergency health care, I was stunned at how many of my coworkers were alcoholics. I soon learned why. Few lay people outside of health care can understand the untold lifetimes of memories – both of nightmares and of miracles – that health care workers carry with them. I will share one of those nightmares that haunts me still with you.

I once had a paramedic backup request from a basic ambulance unit for a “woman bleeding vaginally.” I recall it was a dirty, run down walk up in a dirty, run down city. The cops and EMTs were already there. My partner and I entered the run down apartment to find a young female sitting on a mobile “stair chair.” The cops and EMT guys were a bit worried for the girl, who was maybe 15 tops. Our men were just about to start the carry down to the ambulance, never an easy task in these older dwellings.

The patient looked just fine. Her vitals from the EMTs were ok. The guys were concerned because they found a lot of blood around the apartment. She was fully clothed. The girl made it clear that she was not interested in having a pre-hospital ob/gyn exam done by a bunch of male ambulance techs, and we were not interested in forcing ourselves upon her.

Since this was not a life-threatening emergency, had we done so against her will, we would have been guilty of assault & battery, and worse… She said nothing to us about why she was bleeding vaginally – at least nothing about what we were soon to discover…

I was just on the verge of telling the guys to ship he off to the city hospital emergency room without our help, as she didn’t need medic care.

Suddenly, one of the cops motioned to me to come over to the bathroom. I went in and he pointed to a dirty bathtub. In the tub was a newborn dead baby, with the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck and body, in a clear plastic bag, covered with blood. The cop and I looked at each other without speaking.

So now we knew the cause of the young girl’s vaginal bleeding. She had recently given birth, but had not told any of our men when they asked her what was up. The baby was stone dead and long past working the child up as a code.

As we in health care appreciate all to well, it is easy to instantly see if someone is “stone cold” dead. The blood pools according to gravity to create dependent lividity.

The skin is room temperature to the touch. The muscles tighten in the “death grip” of rigor mortis, leaving the body “stiff as a board.” Such was the case here. This was a crime scene for the Medical Examiner’s eyes, so we pleased to be spared the added misery of having to call the ER doctor for a pronouncement.

All I remember next – and this was maybe 17 years ago – was I walked back out to the room where the patient was. I just stared at her and our eyes met – not in judgment or harshness, but just in shocked, dumbfounded disbelief. I said nothing and neither did she.

Women bleed vaginally when giving birth – as is well known – no biggie for EMS or ER purposes unless the blood loss is life-threatening. We were not needed here. I dispatched the girl off to the city hospital E.R. with a nod to our men.

For our maybe 2 or 3 minutes of time, my job on this case was happily done – except for the paper work, of course… We were thankful for not having to hang around on this one! From what I remember we found out, it was a normal birth long before any of us got to the scene. The young teenage mother-never-to-be just didn’t want the baby, so she murdered the child by suffocation with the plastic bag.

One by one, our men went in and then quickly out of the bathroom to see the newborn dead baby, with the umbilical cord wrapped around its poor little body, covered in blood, in a clear plastic bag, sitting on the bottom of a filthy tub.

I often relive this particular nightmare memory as if it was just now happening, and I am standing in that filthy bathroom reaching down to that poor dead baby. It sometimes plays in my mind over and over in nearly frozen slow motion – a living hell nightmare that I can’t shake out of. Strange, but throughout nursing school, we never really learned much about abortion. My first full-time job as an emergency room nurse was at a large urban teaching Catholic hospital. It was there I first really learned about the gruesome medical and nursing details and facts of how different abortion procedures “terminate” unborn babies; how there is no such thing as a “safe and painless” abortion; what horrid risks and after effects women suffer because of abortion. This was vital knowledge for us, as many post-abortion women in distress sought our help in this poor community under the Cross of Christ on top of our hospital.

I am happily no expert, but here is a very brief medical/nursing background on abortion. This is not the place to get into the unpleasant details on the subject:

Abortion techniques include the RU-486 pill; Suction Aspiration; Dilation & Curettage (D&C); Dilation & Evacuation (D&E); Prostaglandin Amniotic Injection; Saline Amniotic Injection; Urea Amniotic Injection; Intracardiac Fetal Poison Injection; Dilation & Extraction (D&X) – aka “Partial Birth Abortion”; Induced Labour Abortion – aka “Live Birth Abortion.” Different techniques are often combined in mid and late term abortions. (1,2,3,4)

Immediate medical/nursing complications include retained “Products of Conception” (POC’s); life threatening bleeding; pain; infections; uterus, bowel and bladder puncture; cervix lacerations; occasional death; the aborted baby being born alive. Future medical/nursing complications include higher rates of breast cancer; ectopic pregnancies; placenta presentation births; miscarriages; sterility; infant cerebral palsy. Future psychological/social complications include increased depression; suicide; drug abuse; alcohol abuse (Post Abortion Syndrome). (4,5,6,7)

National stats on abortion complications in America are thought to be highly under-reported due to limited regulation of the abortion industry and lack of uniform medical/nursing standards of data collection and reporting to government authorities. (7)

Many post-abortion women came to us in terrible suffering, pain and fear. I remember uncontrolled vaginal bleeds, “retained” fetal tissues, septic infections, uterine surgical emergencies, tears, sorrow and regret of many such young women, most just single teenagers. And of course, there were the social, mental and spiritual injuries post abortion – not to mention the known long term complications of body, mind and soul – that these young women were to suffer long after my brief care of them in the ER.

I have recently read of the horrors of “born alive” abortion babies, where women have abortions, but the “complication” of the baby being delivered alive arises, and how such babies are left to die. When I read of testimony of one nurse of those monstrous scandals of one particular American hospital that bears the name “Christ Hospital” (taken over by a secular, big chain health care system), I remembered that case of the dead newborn baby in the bathtub so many years ago. “Born alive” abortion babies aren’t suffocated with plastic bags, but rather are just left without nourishment, warmth or care to expire of “natural causes” to complete such botched abortions. (3)

I fondly remember being present with my wife when my daughter was born some years ago. I often relive the great joy and happiness I felt when I saw our baby being born. I remember when my wife was first pregnant, we were a scared young couple on our own. We considered an abortion. We even made an appointment and walked around the block past the clinic. I never stop thanking Heaven above that we never went in to that abortion clinic for that appointment….

Sometimes, I remember that dead little baby in the bathtub many years ago and cry in my soul for the child. I sometimes light a candle for that murdered newborn baby. Once in a while, if I have a few beers, and I remember that dead little newborn baby, I shed a tear.

When I think of the 40 million plus abortions done in America, I also cry in my soul. (8) For comparison, Hitler murdered 13 million civilians; Mao 20 million; Stalin 20 million. (9) Sometimes I light a candle for all those murdered unborn babies, victims of the American holocaust genocide of abortion. Once in a while, if I have a few beers, and I think of all the terrible documented suffering of aborted babies – and of their mothers and fathers never-to-be, I shed a tear.

I have studied pictures of aborted babies on the internet. (10) I am haunted by what I not infrequently have collected from ob/gyn patients in distress – both post abortion and also from miscarriages – as an E.R. nurse, “Products of Conception.” I recall various “POC’s” that testified to my own eyes the obvious truth, “This was a little human being.” After having studied about the various different abortion procedures, I was left stunned as to the barbarity of it all. I have even read of the selling of aborted baby body parts, tissues, organs and cadavers and am left in shocked disbelief that our nation has stooped to such coldness beyond description.(11)

The murder of babies – born and unborn – is the surest sign of a nation’s depravity, wickedness and loss of humanity. Those of us in urban emergency health care know best of this directly….

Understanding the connections between abortion and the devaluation of human life, and their negative medical, nursing, psychological and social impacts on women, babies and society is vital to help stop the murder of babies in America, both born and unborn.

The spiritual costs of abortion upon our land and people can not be calculated in human words. I pray, “May GOD have mercy upon us for such evils, in JESUS’ Name, Amen.”

Respectfully Yours,

Robert B. Baral

Note; Webmaster may not endorse religious beliefs expressed in testimonies.


1. “Abortion Methods.” www.lovematters.com/methods.htm.

2. “How Are Abortions Done?” Heritage House ’76, Inc. 1998. Snowflake, AZ. 1-(800)-858-3040. www.heritagehouse76.com.

3. “Hearing on HR 4292, the Born Alive Infant Protection Act of 2000.” US House Committee of the Judiciary. July 20, 2000. www.house.gov/judiciary/stan0720.htm.

4. “Facts About Abortion.” CareNet. 2001. Sterling, VA. 1-(703)-478-5661.

5. “”You’re Getting an Abortion – What Can Happen to You?” Heritage House ’76, Inc. Snowflake, AZ. 1-(800)-858-3040. www.abortionfacts.com.

6. “Abortion Risks Higher Than Expected – Breast Cancer, Infertility, Suicide Rates Higher, Yet Under-Reported.” De Veber Institute for Bioethics and Social Research. April 22, 2002 Press Release. ww.deveber.org/press-release-eng2.html.

7. “Abortion’s Physical and Emotional Risks.” Concerned Women of America. www.cwfa.org/library/2000-02_pp_a-risks.shtml.

8. “Abortion Statistics by US State, Race, Age and Worldwide Statistics.” Abortion TV. www.abortiontv.com/AbortionStatistics.htm.

9. “Lethal Laws! Government Genocide Campaigns…” Jews for the Preservation of Firearms Ownership. Hartford, WI. 1-(262)-673-9746. www.jpfo.org/L-laws.htm.

10. “Abortion Pictures.” Abortion TV. www.abortiontv.com/AbortionPictures1.htm

11. Partial Birth Abortion – A Way to Obtain Intact Body Parts To Sell.” Concerned Women for America. 10/20/1999. www.cwfa.org/library/life/1999-10-20_pr_pba.shtml.

12. “The Holy Bible – Authorized King James Version, The Scofield Study Bible.” Oxford University Press, NY. 1945.

13. “America’s GOD and Country Encyclopedia of Quotations.” William J. Federer. Fame Publishing, Coppell, TX. 1994. 1-(800)-404-FAME.

This article is from Abortiontv.com It was posted on 6/27/2002

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Letter to a Birth Mother

Many women facing abortion have a hard time imagining having their baby and giving her up for adoption, but this can be a termendous act of courage and love. Dear Abby recieved a heartfelt letter from a new grandmother whose daughter had adopted a baby.

“Dear Abby,

“My daughter and her husband, after years of indescribable pain and disappointment, just went to the hospital to pick up their brand-new baby girl. Their joy and happy tears would warm the coldest of hearts.

I want the birth mother to know that her love, courage and feelings of loss have not been forgotten in our moments of joy. Your baby will know from the beginning that you had choices and you chose to give her life. You performed the most unselfish act I can imagine, and I question if I would have had your strength of character.

Saying thank you seems inadequate. I wish I could put my arms around you and say “I love you” and I hope my new granddaughter inherits your heart and courage. May the rest of your life be blessed as you blessed ours.”

Adoption is an option where no one has to die. Everybody wins- the child, who gets a chance at life, he adopted family (parents, siblings, grandparents, etc) all the friends and loved ones that that child will have growing up, and the birth mother herself, who never has to deal with the guilt of having killed her baby.

Consider adoption.



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The Day I Became Pro-Life

A former medical student writes the following:

“Don, I want you to go down to the OB-GYN this morning. They’re doing an abortion and I want you to go see it.”

My first thought after getting these directions from my nursing instructor was: Why me? I could remember asking previously to be present at a live birth if the opportunity presented itself, but I had no desire to see an abortion.

But I went. I was in my final semester of nursing school. It has been a long grind. I wasn’t going to make any waves at this point.

It was 1975 and I was not the fervent pro-lifer that I am today. Fact was, I hadn’t given the subject of abortion much thought. Looking back, it seems inconceivable that I, a conservative Christian, would be so unconcerned. Was my attitude sexist? Did I view abortion as a “woman’s problem” that had nothing to do with me?

Perhaps. But I do know this: What I saw that day has stayed with me 23 years, and it will stay with me until I go to my grave.

One scene in particular is as vivid today as on that May morning in 1975. It is with me always, both on a conscious level and in my dreams: a little hand….a little rib cage.

“We’ve given her a general [anesthetic]. She’s about 11 weeks, so a dilatation and suction will be all that’s necessary.” The physician spoke very matter-of-factly as he sat on a stool between the stirrupped and draped legs of his patient. He obviously was very familiar with the procedure. He continued: “We’re going to keep her longer this time. Last time, she nearly exsanguinated on the way home.”

I looked at the assisting nurse. She nearly bled to death last time? This isn’t her first abortion?

The doctor continued talking in his disinterested monotone, and I watched as the contents of the woman’s womb came through a suctioning device and into a stainless-steel pail sitting at his feet. I stepped back and wiped the perspiration from my brow. “This is kind of gruesome,” I said. “Was there some special reason she didn’t want to have her baby?”

“She wanted an abortion,” the nurse replied, “and we’re required by law to do what she wants.”

The doctor had been listening to our conversation. As he stood up, he said, “At this point in the pregnancy, the products of conception aren’t much.” I knew the emphasis on “products of conception” was for my benefit.

Is that what you have in that pail? I thought. Does that make it easier for you? I did not have the courage to put into words what I was thinking. I’ve always regretted that.

I stepped forward and peered into the pail. This time I broke out in a cold sweat. Dear Jesus! I thought. I just saw someone murdered! And I just stood and watched! Why did I come down here? How will I ever put this out of my mind?

“Are you OK?” the voice of the nurse brought me back.

“I’m sorry,” I smiled weakly. “I just never realized what it was like. Do you assist with these all the time?”

“More than I care to admit,” the nurse said. “Actually, I can handle one, but when they start to come back for the second or third time, it really gets to me.”

As I left the operating room, I shook my head in an attempt to get the horrible vision out of my head. I couldn’t. It was there; it would always be there: a little hand…a little rib cage.

For some years after that, I had a recurring dream. A little baby would reach out to me. I would try to get to the baby, but my legs would be like lead weights. When I’d finally drag myself to the baby, he would be gone. I knew the dream was symbolic of the guilt I was feeling. I could not have stopped that abortion, I had not the courage or the authority.

I no longer have the dream, God, in his infinite wisdom, set me free. But I still have the memory — the little hand…the little rib cage. The difference now is, I don’t want the memory to leave. It gives me strength.

From what I read, 25 million [now over 40 million] more babies have been aborted since the one I saw in 1975. That baby who was never given a chance would now be 23 years old. But I believe that little child has an immortal soul just as I do. He now resides with God. And nowadays, when I stand alongside the highway, holding my sign that reads “Abortion Kills Children” I think of the soul of that baby and the tiny body that ended up in a stainless-steel pail at the doctor’s feet. Then I hold my sign even higher, because I know that baby is looking down at me and is glad I’m there.

Source: New Man’s Magazine, Oct 30, 2002 (by Don Haines)

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