My Testimony of Abortion
On October 23, 1986, I made a terrible choice to have the child that I was carrying in my womb terminated. It was a choice that I made after much brain washing by the father of the child and his mother. I was a scared, almost 20-year-old kid with two children from a man who I ran from, a man who seemed to like to use me for a punching bag and who used my then 1 and 2 year olds as pawns in his power trip. I was scared every hour of every day that he would try to prove me unfit, and take away my boys. Then I got pregnant again.
The mother of my then boyfriend used the old boyfriend argument over and over, while her son kept saying “if you don’t get rid of this, I am leaving you.” He said that he didn’t want the responsibility.
I was 16 weeks pregnant when my boyfriend brought me to the abortion clinic. The people there assured me that it wasn’t yet a “baby” I lied to them about how far along I was; I told them I was 8 weeks or maybe 10. They said that the “blob” of tissues would feel no pain, so I signed the forms. They gave me a drug into my vein, and into that horrible room I went. When the doctor came in, they began that very painful procedure. Between trying to breathe the pain away, I tried to joke with them to get my mind off of what was happening. The doctor told me after he checked in the “basin” that he’d gotten it all out. I was instructed to dress, and go into the recovery area. I was feeling like I was going to vomit. The nurse told me that it was from the medication and that it would pass.
After a little while, I was released to go home. My boyfriend was hungry, so we stopped at Taco Bell on the way. It wasn’t long until I had to run outside and puke my guts all over the sidewalk. I was so embarrassed. Later that night I broke down crying and told my boyfriend that I wished that we had not done it. In a very cold, matter of fact tone he replied, “Well, it’s gone now, so there is no use thinking about it anymore.”
The next day was my birthday and my mom showed up with a gift. I had been trying to think of how I was going to break the news to her because she was very excited about this baby. I had lied to her about why I had to go to “the appointment” the day before, but when she patted my now empty tummy and asked the dreaded question, “How’s my new grandbaby?” I told her the truth. She was livid. She started cursing me like I have never experienced. She threw my gift at me and left.
That same evening my boyfriend and his family took me out for a birthday dinner. I excused myself to go to the restroom, where I saw, to my horror after getting up to flush, a perfectly formed tiny leg with the foot and toes and thigh attached floating on the toilet paper. I about lost it! I quickly flushed and ran out of the restroom. I told my boyfriend’s mother what I had seen and that I wanted to go home. She, like her son had done, responded very matter of factly, “Well, just don’t think about it. You did the right thing, just sit down here and enjoy your birthday dinner.” I didn’t feel like celebrating.
No one in my family was sympathetic to my pain, and no one would discuss it. To make matters worse, I was not healing like they said I would at the clinic. I would bleed and then stop for a day, and then I would bleed and pass “stuff”. I went to my doctor and had him check me. He said that I needed a DNC, so he scheduled it for after the holidays along with the tubal ligation I requested. Having my tubes tied was my way of punishing me because I didn’t feel that I deserved to have anymore babies
Before the procedure, I got pregnant again. When the doctor asked me on January 3, 1987 if I could be pregnant, I lied. I felt that if I hadn’t been allowed to keep my other baby, I wouldn’t be allowed to keep this one either. During recovery from the procedures, I felt sick. They said it was because of the anesthesia, and that it would pass. It didn’t pass. I was soon puking my guts into the trash can.
The years following were terrible. I began to drink heavily to numb my pain and silence the things I would see and hear. I didn’t feel like a mom anymore. I felt as if I were babysitting my own children, and I was only able to relate to them like a protective “big sister”. But thanks be to God for his healing love!
I was totally healed November 2004. My kids, who are now grown men, are trying to get used to me being Momma. In fact now everyone is fair game. I now mother everybody. It is very important for me to share my experience with others to help both sides of the issue to understand the whole issue of abortion, and how it makes for two victims, not just one. I want to be a support to other hurting women out there so that through compassionate support, they can find their freedom as I found mine.