Category: Women’s Stories

Eight years ago this month, I aborted my son, Jacob Matthew, at seventeen weeks. At the time, I was in an abusive marriage. My former husband had moved in with another woman, leaving me alone and pregnant.He manipulated me into thinking I couldn’t raise our son alone, and that my pregnancy would “destroy my body.”

He convinced me that I would be alone forever if I carried the baby to term. I believed every word of it. In desperation and anger, I made the decision to have an abortion. through the efforts and advice of my division officer (I was in the military), friends, and even my father, “I would rather you have an abortion than place my grandson for adoption,” I was lead to believe it was the best “choice” for everyone. I thought it was even the best decision for my son, who had no chance to voice an opinion. I fell for the planned parenthood lies about adoption. I didn’t want to give my baby away. The “counselor” at the clinic told me I was smart for taking “power” and “control” of my life. They never told me how any of the risks about abortion by dilation and extraction. they never mentioned that I may have complications in later pregnancies, or become sterile altogether. They never told how much abortion would hurt me, emotionally and physically. And, of course, they never once mentioned what was going to be done to my unborn son. By taking “power” and “control” of my life and having an abortion, I lost control. Upon waking up in the clinic, I realized the horrid mistake I had made and the finality of what I had done. I immediately wanted to feel my baby inside me and felt instead only a sick emptiness in my gut. The room was full of crying, hysterical girls. There was no comforting reassurance from the cold nurses who, only the day before, had been smiling and cheerful, only a “hurry up and get out of here” attitude. I felt abused and used and dirty. That feeling only got worse when I returned to work without a pregnant belly to the astonished questions of coworkers. The days and weeks went by, but life got no better. The father came home and in desperation, I tried to have another baby right away to replace Jacob. The second pregnancy ended in miscarriage, the third was complicated by a bowel obstruction from scarring caused by the abortion. I had major surgery at six months pregnant, almost died, and almost lost my daughter. Amazingly, the doctors offered to “compassionately” abort my child and let her “die peacefully in my arms.” I refused to sign any paperwork allowing this. Three months later, I deliver a healthy baby girl, my only child by emergency c-section. I could never deliver her normally, the abortion damaged my cervix so I couldn’t dilate. Another pregnancy following was an ectopic, a direct result of the scarring caused by abortion. I lost the baby and had a hysterectomy at the age of twenty-seven. My daughter was only a year old. I can’t have any more children, thanks to my “choice.” I can’t describe how abortion altered, almost destroyed my life. I spent years in denial and guilt, sleepless with nightmares, and emotional problems. I was in and out of professional therapy, thought of suicide and had severe problems with relationships. The father of my aborted child and my living daughter left my life shortly after her birth. I ended up a single parent anyway! However, I found I can do it, and I could have kept and raised my son too. When I learned, years later, what I had a hand in doing to my son, the pain he must have felt, I was devastated and wanted to die as well. It was only through counseling and Christ that I was able to overcome that time. Today, I am remarried to a man who adopted my daughter and we have adopted a newborn baby boy whose mother chose life. I thank God for both of them each day. My advice to anyone being pressured to abort is never, never let another person persuade you into thinking that is the only available choice. How can anyone claim to care, love, or want the best for you and ask you to abort the life of your precious child? How can they love you and put you in harm’s way? No one who would have their pregnant wife, girlfriend, or daughter cares about what is best. They are truly only thinking of themselves. Plenty of people have unplanned babies. I have yet to hear of one mother who wishes she’d aborted her children after they are born. I wish I had never set foot in a planned parenthood clinic. I will tell anyone who asks the truth, abortion destroys women. It doesn’t empower them or help them. Abortion destroys lives, mothers, children, and families. I will forever regret buying into the lie.

sincerely,

Lorraine 

Share on Facebook

It’s been about 3 years now since i walked through the doors of that clinic. And for the first time in 3 years I have had noone to talk with about the fears, sadness, and emptiness that i felt. When i was 18 i was pregnant and for sure intended to keep the baby

I gave birth to my son who is now 4 years old. Shortly after i had him, i become pregnant again. I cried for days wondering what i was supposed to do…my boyfriend (now my husband) tried to comfort me in every way possible. I thought i could never tell my parents that i was pregnant again, what would they do and what would people think of me. That was all that was going through my selfish and self-centered mind. My boyfriend would not hear of an abortion and kept insuring [sic] me that everything would work out for the better.

It turns out that after lots of nights crying and pondering on what to do…I found myself flipping through the yellow pages to look for an abortion clinic. There are only two in Wichita which i am pretty sure everyone is pretty familiar with because of the controversial in the many cruel years of abortion. I called a clinic and spoke with the secretary and i remember the first thing she asked was how i was going to pay for the procedure. She immediately informed me that if i had medicaid it would cost me only 250.00 out of my pockets. And so with that in mind she set up and appointment for me, and still in the back of my mind i kept telling myself that i had to do this for the sake of everyone.

The day came for me to go to the clinic…alone. When i approached the clinic i parked next door so that the protestors would not come up to me. That still did not stop them…I remember a lady with long hair pulling at my arm, “Don’t let them take your baby away from you!” With that i ran off in fear and approached the door which had a huge black man guarding the door. Inside i walked up to the front desk and again the secretary asked for the money in cash first off. I remember the faces and the clinic like it was yesterday. All the time i was sitting waiting for my turn I kept saying to myself that I was better than the others in there and that I really wasn’t a murderer because my situation was different. But as you and i know…I was just as bad as the doctor preforming the procedure. The total time that i spent waiting in the clinic was about 3 hours before i was called in and the reason i think women have to wait so long is the fact the God is giving us a final test to see if we would actually go through with it. When the nurse called me in….my heart beat a million times faster and thousands of images ran through my mind that i don’t even remember what the counselor was talking about. The clearest thing in my mind at that point was hearing a very young girl about the age of 13 crying because she had just had the procedure done. That should have been my wake-up call, but even that did not stop me from killing my baby. The nurse did the sono. and told me that i was 8 weeks. Then the doctor came in and ask me if i wanted to be sedated and i told her no because i had to drive home. The whole procedure took about 15 min. and to this very day i can hear the loud and haunting noise of the vacuum that sucked the life of my little baby out. I can still feel the sharp tool that poked inside my womb to tear up the precious little individual inside of me. After everything was done the nurse took me to the recovery room where there were about 6 other girls all curled up like a fetus just crying….I wondered why i was the only one not crying. After about 10 min. i got up and left.

That night and the next night i remember pains that were unbearable and bleeding that just soaked the entire comfortor. I called the clinic the next day and asked if this was common and the nurse told me that everything should stop soon and that i would go on with my life…Boy was she wrong.

I am married to the same man and now have 3 healthy and wonderful kids whom I wouldn’t give up for the world. And still to this day noone knows of the terrible sin i committed 3 years ago. I am afraid to tell my husband because i love him with all my heart and dont know how he would handle all of it. If anyone out there has and opinion on how i should handle it please feel free to respond. They say that you go on in life forgetting all about the past and never have to bring it up again. That is the one thing that i could not do…for the past 3 years that have gone by not a day goes by that i dont think about the child i chose to kill…I think about whether it was a boy or a girl and that he or she could have been 3 by now. Sometimes i lay in bed crying to myself in disbelieve of what i have done and i dont think i could ever forgive myself for ever doing that and i always pray to God that he forgives me. I ask forgiveness from my heavenly child and hope that one day we will be united so i can put my arms around my child that never had the chance at life. I know the choices i made, the actions i took and now i know that i am still paying the price. I wish only to see this site 3 years ago because i know for a fact that i would never had gone with the procedure, I cant take back what i have done but i can only pray for others and help anyone who might be considering and abortion because now i am the biggest Pro-Life supporter! And i know and believe that if all Pro-lifers keep doing what we are doing than we can save one baby at a time!

Anonymous

Share on Facebook

When I was 17 years old I found out that I was 8 weeks pregnant. My boyfriend with whom I was “shacking up” was a 24-year old physically and emotionally abusive alcoholic. I decided to keep the pregnancy a secret until I was beyond 12 weeks pregnant knowing that he would want an abortion and I mistakenly thought that this was the maximum gestation for having one.

When I did tell him, he was furious and insisted that the child be aborted as soon as possible. I told him that it was too late to have one and he informed me that the clinic in fact performs abortions up to 16 weeks of gestation.

This news broke my heart. I did not want to kill this baby, but my co-dependence and addiction to this man won out. I finally made an appointment with the abortion clinic. When the day arrived, my parents (who are now very much pro-life) picked me up for the drive. My boyfriend refused to accompany me, telling me it was a “simple procedure” and I would “be in and out quickly.” It was a long, terrible drive, I remember crying all the way up. This was the last thing in the world that I wanted to do, so why was I going along with it just to keep this man in my life?… All I could think about was the size of the baby, what it must weigh and the level of development it was at. I had already begun to feel a bond with this tiny life inside me. I felt like my whole world was caving in and everybody around me just wanted to me to get rid of this problem. I should have said no but I was too weak and dependent.

When we arrived at the abortion clinic, my mother and I were directed to a waiting room that was packed full of young girls. Everything seemed surreal. Even though each of these girls was about to commit the same atrocity as I was, I couldn’t help thinking, “I don’t belong here.” I just cried through the whole wait. As each minute passed, I kept hoping that the medical staff would run out of time and have to send me away.

But, eventually I was called in and given a small written questionnaire whose purpose was to ensure that I was certain of this decision. I slowly checked off the answers, crying and trembling with fear and horror. I was sure that my obvious mental state would force them to reject me. They had told me over the telephone that due to the seriousness of this act, if they had any indication that I was not prepared to proceed, they couldn’t allow me to do so. I remember being so surprised that this wasn’t even considered. My mental state obviously didn’t matter to them, they were only interested in one thing.

Instead of counseling me about the procedure and my emotional condition, they gave me some “pills” that they said would “calm my nerves.” Then I went into the room where my child’s fate would lie. There were many
horrible looking surgical tools laid out on a table beside the bed. The doctor and nurses entered the room and none of them really talked to me at all; they seemed rather hurried, almost annoyed with me. One nurse bitterly told me to, “calm down, everything will be fine.” I felt like a burden to them.

There was a drape covering my legs, but I could see the doctor moving about quickly and roughly. I could feel a lot of cramping in my abdomen and I realized that it was the sharp tools ripping apart my child. I imagined them first removing the arms, then the legs and the head. Then, I watched as a vacuum machine with a tube attached to it began sucking out the pieces of this little body. The tube was actually clear so I could see a tremendous amount of blood and clumpy masses passing through it. The pain was unspeakable, both physically and emotionally. The machine was loud and the suction made the most gruesome sound that I will never forget. I would rather listen to the sound of a dentist’s drill in my ear for eternity than to hear that sound ever again for even a moment; the gruesome sound of a baby being sucked from its’ mother’s womb.

The procedure took a significant amount of time, and I found out the reason why after it was over. With sarcasm, the apathetic doctor told me, “Well, you were a lot further along than 16 weeks.” It turns out that I was actually 18 to 20 weeks pregnant.

A nurse then told me that I could use an adjacent bathroom to clean up. I slid off the bed and felt so weary, in shock and in pain that my mother had to hold me up. As I slowly made my way toward the bathroom, I looked down and saw a drop of my blood about the size of a half-dollar fall to
the floor. Seeing that blood clarified what I had done and I will never forget it. That was all that was left of my child. That was it.

I discarded my baby at a clinic of death that night, brutally murdered and left to rot in a sink. That child did not deserve that heinous murder. They told me the recovery time would be a couple of days with some mild cramping and light bleeding. Well, this was totally downplayed, when in fact there were several days of significant abdominal pain and an extraordinary amount of bleeding, so much that I had to wear diapers for a week. It’s funny, they informed me about the cost of the abortion and the amount of time it should take to be completed, but what they didn’t tell me about was the nightmares I would have for months afterwards or the tremendous shame that I would feel. They didn’t tell me that I would be riddled with guilt and regret for the rest of my life and fear of being able to give a healthy birth in the future. The guilt,shame and fear that I feel are minute compared to the brutality that I condemned my unborn child to, but it’s odd how the Pro-Choicer’s illustrate this horror as a simple procedure when the truth is that it is nothing short of a brutal massacre of a human life.

I will now have to live with the choice I made for the rest of my life. I allowed a “doctor of death” to enter my womb, literally tear my child apart and suck it out of my body. This baby never had a chance to smile, dream, laugh or cry. His or her life was savagely snuffed out. Is this what Pro-Choice means? That you have the choice to have your unborn human baby diced up and violently sucked out of your body and down a sink drain?

The sole purpose of that abortion clinic is to murder human babies, herding women through like cattle, not so far off from what Hitler did in WWII. They did not halt the procedure upon observing my obvious mental state proving that there was absolutely no concern for this irreversible decision that I was about to undertake. They were cold and ill mannered during the procedure.

Women have been so blessed by God with the most beautiful gift of being the caretaker of life; unfortunately the world has given them the right to end life. This should not be a right of women but rather illegal as it is cold-blooded murder in the first degree.

Cynthia

Share on Facebook

“As I entered the clinic doors, the nurse at the desk took my name and age. She said I was eight weeks pregnant and that it was just a mass of tissue not yet formed. As I lay on the table where the procedure was about to take place, I saw covered jar on the table close to my feet. Terror ran through me and I asked why this jar was covered up if this thing that they say is inside me is just a blob of white tissue? After seeing the jar I knew deep down inside something was not told to me. I felt betrayed and sick. It wasn’t until years later when I saw the fetal growth chart, then I realized why they covered the jar. The one thing I lacked was the visual knowledge of what was really happening after conception in my body. The biggest thing I had to get over was to forgive myself for what I had done. The memory will always be there.”

From the book by Larry L. Lewis “Proclaiming the Pro-Life Message: Christian Leaders Addressed the Abortion Issue” (Hannibal MO: Hannibal books) 1997

Share on Facebook

“It has been over 10 years and I still feel the pain and loss of it as if it were yesterday. It was a decision we reached together, one based mostly on preventing embarrassment and shame to our parents and the local church. We simply wanted to get rid of an untimely problem. The college clinic and local planning council set up an appointment to have a suction vacuum procedure done. Not once did anyone tell me just how my 10-week-old baby looked, or how it was growing. If only there’d been someone with the truth. “If only” are words I have said 100 times! When I had my first baby, there was both joy and sadness in my heart. Joy because of the tremendous miracle God had given, and sadness because I fully realized that there really was a baby which I destroyed earlier. It was especially difficult when I began to think how old my child would be and wondered what he or she might have looked like and been like. Time has a way of healing so many emotional scars, but abortion is a scar that is carved on my heart. And I don’t think time will ever change it completely!”

From the book by Larry L. Lewis “Proclaiming the Pro-Life Message: Christian Leaders Addressed the Abortion Issue” (Hannibal MO: Hannibal books) 1997

Share on Facebook

“Nearing 40 years of age and after four children, I found myself pregnant. My husband suggested abortion. I knew in my heart it was wrong. I have suffered supreme remorse ever since. Our home has one empty bedroom — a constant reminder!

The doctors could control my problem, but nobody can control my hurt and loss of a very precious life that God himself created. I carry this around now and for the rest of my life, this awful memory, the hurt is all mine. You can tell young women who may be considering abortion that a woman never forgets her baby. The memory lives on and on.”

From the book by Larry L. Lewis “Proclaiming the Pro-Life Message: Christian Leaders Addressed the Abortion Issue” (Hannibal MO: Hannibal books) 1997

Share on Facebook

When I became pregnant for the fifth time in seven years, my doctor asked me if I really thought I should “continue the pregnancy.”

Abortion had never occurred to me until he suggested it. I’m a former foster child. Conceived illegitimately, my father was forced to marry my mother because of me. My childhood was brutal. I was abandoned by my father when I was two-and-a-half. Then when he reappeared in my life again at the age of eight, it became worse. I survived incest, starvation, and beatings. I clung to life. But the two abortions I had nearly destroyed me.

My husband said, “It’s your decision. Do what you want,” and left for work. Naively, I began looking for women who had had abortions. I wanted to know what to expect. But I couldn’t find anyone who would admit to having had one. I asked my doctor and he said, “It only takes a few minutes and its over.”

Having already had four babies, I am now appalled at how ignorant I was about fetal development. My doctor said the baby, at six-and-a-half weeks was “just a blob,” and I believed him. I had my first abortion in another state. Afterwards, before I even got home, I began to cry. It didn’t help.

I continued to cry after I got home. I cried on my knees beside my bed. When finally I stopped crying on the outside, I kept crying on the inside. I felt so dirty and alone.

Something deep inside of me froze, I think. I dreamed a lot about snow and ice, as well as about babies. I felt cheated, betrayed, and manipulated. I went to counseling and the psychologist said “Forgive yourself,” and “Let yourself go on.” She didn’t say how.

Two years later, I was pregnant again – on purpose. But still, I wanted to die, or at least go crazy so I could escape the torment, the nightmares about babies, the self-disgust, and the degradation I felt. This time I waited until the baby was 12 weeks along before I murdered him. My doctor tied my tubes at the same time, and he said he would never do another abortion. I made him tell me about the baby, just as I had made the man who did the first abortion. (The first one was a girl. She died January 15th. The second was a boy, March 29th. I learned to dread every January and March.)

I wasn’t told that there could be complications which wouldn’t be discovered for years. I wasn’t told that the strength of the suction machine is such that it can turn a uterus nearly completely inside out. I had to have an early hysterectomy because of it.

I wasn’t told that having an abortion would to unbelievable self-hatred that would consume me, and lead to distrust, suspicion, and the utter inability to care about myself, or others — including my four children. I wasn’t told that hearing babies cry would trigger such anger that I wouldn’t be able to be around babies at all.

I wasn’t told that it would become impossible to look at my own eyes in a mirror. Or that my confidence would be so shaken that I would become unable to make important life decisions. My self-hatred kept me from pursuing my goal of becoming a registered nurse. I didn’t think I deserved success.

I wasn’t told that I would come to hate all those who advised me to have my abortions, because they were my accomplices in the murders of my babies. I wasn’t told that having an abortion with my husband’s consent would end up causing me to hate the father of my children, or that I would be unable to sustain ANY satisfying, lasting, fulfilling relationships.

I wasn’t told that I could become suicidal in the Fall of every year, when both of my babies should have been born. I wasn’t told that on the birthdays of my living children, I would remember the two for whom I would never make a birthday cake, or that on Mother’s Day I would remember the two who would never send me a card, or that every Christmas I would remember the two for whom there would be no presents.

My abortions were supposed to be a “quick-fix” for my problems, but they didn’t tell me there is no “quick-fix” for regrets.

I had gone to my pastor before both abortions. He said the babies were “just blobs” too, so when I went afterwards and asked why I felt so dirty, he said, “God forgives.” I asked God to forgive me, and my pastor said He did. But I didn’t feel forgiven. I still felt unclean and undeserving.

I went to a psychiatric hospital and they gave me shock treatments. It didn’t help.

The nightmares continued. I became a workaholic. Work didn’t help. I became a compulsive eater. Food didn’t help. I became an anorexic as a form of self-punishment. That came close to killing me; I had two strokes.

I tried alcohol. It only helped temporarily. The torment would still be there when I woke up. That effort to escape the pain only lasted two months.

A friend of mine told me she was considering an abortion. I tried to talk her out of it. But I failed.

I worked at a crisis pregnancy center for a year. But that didn’t help – three clients aborted. I started the only pro-life organization in south-east Kansas, and was president for a year, and that didn’t help.

I honestly believe that the only thing that is going to help, is to find out that someone decided against abortion because God worked in them through my story. Maybe I’m wrong though.

One thing I have learned — God’s forgiveness doesn’t depend on whether I “feel” forgiven. And it certainly doesn’t depend on whether I deserve forgiveness. It is based on His Grace, and that awes me! Regardless of what my head says, God’s Word says in 1 John 1:9 that if I confess my sins, He will forgive me. I have, and He does not lie.

———————————————————-

This testimony is taken from Judith’s response to the “The Abortion Case Study Project.” Originally published in The PostAbortion Review 1(2) Spring 1993.

Judith would welcome correspondence with anyone whom she can help who is considering an abortion or has had an abortion. She would also welcome letters or calls of support. She can be reached at: RR 2 Box 190, Columbus, KS 66725; (316) 848-3642.

Copyright: Elliot Institute, PO Box 7348, Springfield, IL 62791-7348

Additional material is posted at www.afterabortion.org

Share on Facebook

In a book by Patrick Lee called “Abortion and Unborn Human Life” a woman expresses her grief after an abortion. Her story is typical of the many other stories on this website.

“I am 34, married seven years. I had an abortion not quite four years ago. The pain of the knowledge of what I did is permanent, deep and fresh again when I least expect it. A word about a child, Mother’s Day, a song — can literally rip me apart. There is never any warning. In the middle of the happiest moments, something will trigger a sadness for my action.

I can’t make you feel how I feel or how I felt. I would be writing for hours. Even if I talked to you, you could not know the pain I set myself up for. It’s not just babies that abortion kills. It’s mothers too.”

Originally quoted by David Reardon

Patrick Lee “Abortion and Unborn Human Life” (Washington DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 1996) 154

 

 

Share on Facebook

The following letter was received by Salon magazine.

“I’ve had an abortion. And I think women’s rights are important. But, to state the obvious, abortion is a terrible thing to go experience. It isn’t cool. It’s a private grief.

It isn’t something to broadcast on a T-Shirt. It isn’t a cheesy slogan. Like “I had a great time at the abortion clinic today” or “Guess where I where I went over spring break?” Yes, standing up for women’s rights is important. But trivializing, or diminishing, an agonizing life changing choice is not the way to go about it. I am not proud of the loss that I’ve had; I’m grief stricken. I’ve often found that having a normal human ambivalence about this issue is not O.K. with activists on either side.

That day, when I was in the recovery room, after the abortion, a women who was less sick than me stood up to leave and the nurse said flippantly “oh I wouldn’t want to waste my day,either.” As if the woman had just stopped in to pick up her dry-cleaning. The woman turned around for a moment to stare at the nurse. She said, “I hope I never see you again” and slammed the door.

“Say it sister” are the exact words that I thought then, as I leaned over to throw up again.”

————

Salon.com, Letters
Say it sister, I had an abortion: 8/4/2006

Share on Facebook

In June of 2002 I discovered I was pregnant. The day I found out I was scared, excited and sad. You see, I knew that my boyfriend was unemployed and I was looking for a new place to live. While I have a good job, I also go to college full-time and have a lot of commitments in my life. I also knew that without a stable partner, there was no way I could raise a child in any fashion that would provide a loving and secure future for my baby. I realized that I could not keep this child, no matter how much I wanted to.

When I told my boyfriend of one year at that time, he immediately said that he wanted an abortion, but supported my choice either way. Once your boyfriend says he wants an abortion, nothing he says after that really matters, you know if you have the baby, he’ll hate you for it. We decided to make an appointment to go to a clinic.

It was a week later before my appointment. When I arrived I was scared and wanted to run out of there without looking back. The facility was not all that clean, and the people weren’t very knowledgeable. There was only one doctor, he was old and had arthritis in his hands so bad he could barely move his fingers. They took me back to an exam room for the sonogram. The technician was incompetent to put it nicely. They couldn’t get an external picture, so they had to use an attachment that went inside via the vagina. This was uncomfortable and painful as she prodded and poked around my cervix. The tech than informed me that I was 6 and one-half weeks pregnant. I was later informed that I was a candidate for RU-486, being less than 9 weeks pregnant. I breathed a sigh of relief as I did not have to endure the surgical abortion. I would later be VERY SORRY.

The initial injection made me very ill, I thought I was going to “get sick” all night, and that was just the beginning of the hellish torture I was about to endure over the next three weeks. There are several pills you need to take on different days to finish aborting the pregnancy. After the injection the doctor tells you that if you don’t finish your baby will be born without arms and legs. He also says the last set of pills is designed to make you actually “pass” the “tissue”. Or in a mother’s English miscarry the baby. In order to miscarry you must experience contractions. The doctor gives you 2 days of pills that will make you go into contraction. The doctor gave me 6 Percoset to help ease the pain. Sounds easy enough, right? WRONG!!!! I was in agony for 6 hours for 2 consecutive nights. The pain made me scream in tortuous wails. I lay on my boyfriend’s couch, the first night alone, and writhed, twisted and contorted my body praying that either I would die or the pain would stop. I called the emergency number they gave me and told them that the pain killers were not working. They said very callously that there was nothing more they could do for me, informing me that this is normal and to just wait it out. After two nights of what I thought would end this nightmare I began to bleed, a little. On the third day after the contractions I passed the first “tissue” mass. I thought, that’s it, it’s over, now I can begin to heal, right? WRONG!!!!!!

About one and a half weeks later while watching TV I began to feel very ill, and began to cramp up again. Thinking this must be normal (yeah right), at first I thought nothing of it. Within two hours I began to bleed very heavily. The bleeding became increasing worse; eventually I couldn’t get off the toilet. I began to pass blood clots the size of golf balls, and yet another fleshy mass. The cramps became contraction and the bleeding became uncontrollable, I went through a pack of maximum strength maxi pads inside of 12 hours. While sleeping the first night I ruined three pairs of P.J. pants. I again called the emergency number the clinic provided me with and they said it was normal and to just wait it out.

The next day the bleeding was still relentless and the pain only bearable because I was still breathing. I called the clinic, again, and they told me that the doctor said it was a “delayed abortion”. There was still nothing they could do and it was normal. I lay all day bleeding, crying and thinking I must be crazy. As the day progressed it became increasingly hard for me to get up and walk to the bathroom. I began to pass out if I stood up. It finally got to the point that my boyfriend had to carry me to the bathroom, because I could no longer stand. Again we called the emergency number and they said if it was that bad I needed to come in. I asked them how they propose I do that since I cannot be more than 5 minutes away from a bathroom, and when I stand up I pass out. At this point I was distressed and angry that I had to endure such suffering, but at the same time I thought maybe I deserved it. After all, it was my fault and my choice not to keep this baby. I knew it was God punishing me for killing one of his children. Even though my boyfriend, Tom, didn’t want the baby, it was my body, my choice, my suffering, and my consequences.

I called my regular GYN and described the situation to him, he said I needed to go to the emergency room immediately. Upon arrival at the ER they put me in a wheel chair and I waited no more than 10 minutes before I was blood-soaked from the waist down. They rushed me through triage, where they discovered my blood pressure was roughly 60 over 52. The doctors met me in my room where they immediately put me on I.V. fluids and drew blood. I described what was happening over the last 24 hours and the events that had led up to my visit in the ER. The next 12 hours were degrading, humiliating, painful, stressful, and virtually unbearable. The doctor said he needed to examine me, internally. While cramping and bleeding he inserted a speculum and began to pull out blood clots from inside. He then said I need a sonogram to determined what was left and what was causing the profuse bleeding. He also informed me that I had lost more than 2 pints of blood in the last 24 hours. During his exam I was screaming in pain. He called to the nurse and put me on a heart monitor. I was sent for a sonogram and again the tech needed to go internally, yet more embarrassment and pain. As I met different nurses and doctors I could tell who thought I was an awful person for having an abortion and those who were sorry for my situation. I felt the eyes of judgement and the hands of compassion.

When I returned to my room, I was informed there was a specialist called in to finish my “case”. The doctor was a female, which I found comforting. She was thoughtful and compassionate. Somehow the compassion of other people only made me feel worse, like I didn’t deserve it. There was a third painful internal exam and finally a conclusion. My cervix wouldn’t close back up, it was still dilated and wouldn’t close. The doctor asked me how far along I was and if it was a single pregnancy. I told her about the clinic and said about 6 and 1/2 weeks, and they didn’t tell me anything more. I had to ask the tech at the clinic to even see the sonogram. They discussed nothing with me and I had no idea whether it was twins or not. I told her that I thought it was because thinking back, twins run in my family and it was my generations turn. My oldest brother didn’t have twins so it was a good possibility. Realizing for the first time that it could have been twins made me feel even worse. The doctor told me that at this point it doesn’t matter, they could fix the situation but it would involved a type of “surgical abortion” that I would be sedated for. Before the surgery I received my two pints of blood and antibiotics. I don’t remember much thereafter, I woke up and the pain was finally gone and the bleeding had stopped.

It took me about a week to recover. The doctor told me if I had not come into the hospital I would have bled to death within an additional 24 hours. I was relieved to have survived my ordeal, but the mental ramifications since that day had a large impact on my life. I have regretted my decision, hated myself for ending a life, felt selfish and detached from my boyfriend, friends and everyday life. I have lost my desire to be intimate with my boyfriend; I have zero sex drive. There isn’t a day I wake up and don’t beat myself up about what a horrible person I am. Pro-life activists say this is the “easy way out”. Let me assure you there is nothing easy about what I went through. The statistics say only 3 in every 100,000 experience such drastic side-effects. When you are one of those three it doesn’t matter what the statistics say. I am a healthy 24 year-old without any indications that I would have been a high-risk candidate. I do not use drugs and rarely drink, I am not bulimic, anorexic, or over-weight, I do not engage in high-risk sex or have multiple partners, and I have never been pregnant or had an abortion before this. Please take my story and be warned but most importantly please know that you are not alone. I have shared this story with you because I feel alone, and that no one could possibly understand. I know that is not true. I hope I help someone to make an informed decision. Please actively seek out counseling before you make a decision that cannot be reversed. Don’t feel pressured by your boyfriend or what society thinks is “right”. Do only what you think is right.

Share on Facebook