Stacy's Story - Cultural Legacy

I Wish Someone Had Told Me…

That the first time I had sex, I would get pregnant.
That the “man” with whom I shared that first “intimate moment” would choose not to father his own child.
That the “man” who seemed to “know what was best” would actually be encouraging me to make the most regretful decision of my life, as well as his.
That $300, or any other amount of money, would NOT fix my problem, but instead would CAUSE more emotional and physical trauma than I could ever possibly imagine…. And would ultimately change my life forever.
That my choice was being based on feeling frightened, shocked, self-seeking, deserving, irresponsible, and worried about what my parents, neighbors, friends and family might think.
That there were people who would have loved to have adopted and cherished my child.
That there were agencies who would have helped me, if I had decided to parent or place my baby.
That my parents might truly “have understood” if I had shared the news of my pregnancy with them.
Not to make a rash decision based on the needs of others: my boyfriend, my family…or on my scholarship to the university!
That my life didn’t have to stop, just because I was pregnant. Other options were available!
That life is about choices, and this “pro-choice” I was making…would result in a TRULY “poor choice” down the line.
That there was actually at least ONE person out there who would help me, so that my child’s life would not end!

I Wish Someone Had Told Me…

That the abortion clinic’s staff would humiliate me minute by minute, hour upon hour.
That Planned Parenthood, and Family Planning, both wouldn’t know the first thing about “caring” for their clients.
That the girl ahead of me in line, would laugh the whole time, claiming her 5th abortion, and that it was “easy and not to worry”!
That I truly could have gotten “off the table” when I realized I was making a horrific mistake.
That I could have changed my mind until the very last minute, no matter what the doctors or nurses said.
That the procedure was NOT like the removal of a tooth. I don’t regret my trips to the dentist.
That a part of my “maternity” would die on that table, right along with my child.
That I would feel more appalled with myself after the “procedure”, as I walked out the back door of the clinic.
That people didn’t talk about these “kind of things”! After “it” was over, I wouldn’t be able to talk about it either.
That there would be so much physical and emotional pain involved… not just then, but 23 years later.
That I would lose a part of my dignity, self-love and purpose in life!
That one day I TRULY would regret this “choice”.

I Wish Someone Had Told Me…

I Wish Someone Had Told Me…

That I would blame myself for the child lost when I drove my friend for her abortion.
That I would eventually change my major in college to “pay God back” for my mistake.
That the grief, guilt and shame would take over my life emotionally.
That I would wake up crying in the middle of the night for years.
That on each anniversary date, I would feel numb and unable to move.
That I would consider suicide twice, due to the emotional pain of my “choice”!

I Wish Someone Had Told Me…

That a baby is always a gift and miracle.
That explanations of my fetus being “just a blob of tissue” would be completely dissolved when I graduated with a double degree in Child Development and Psychology.
That 7 years post-abortion, the joy of seeing my son’s ultrasound pictures would be haunted by the fact that I terminated a child at 8 weeks gestation.
That the birth of my son JD would truly be a day of “reckoning” for me.
That my son’s hugs and kisses, or hearing him say, “I love you, Mommy more than all the houses, stars and cars!” would mean more to me that I can possibly explain. To think that my eldest son might have shared similar “endearments”!
That two years into my marriage, my husband and I would end up in counseling and separated.
That while visiting a friend house, I would be a victim of non-consenting sex.
That I might get pregnant from that situation.
That I might be forced to choose abortion again, because my family said I couldn’t bring a biracial child into the world, while I was married to someone else.
That because my marriage was “on the rocks”, abortion was in the best interest of saving my family, husband and son.
That my husband and I would end up divorced 5 years later, after he became involved with my best friend.
That I wouldn’t ever be able to have any other children.
I would have to have a hysterectomy before I was 40 years old.

I Wish Someone Had Told Me…

That when I became a Christian at 38 years old, that my heart’s wound would re-open and ache even more for the lives that I terminated.
That I would again begin to cry and weep for those babies in Heaven.
That when I finally chose to admit my sin – others would say “Oh, forget about it” or “It was YOUR choice”!
That people wouldn’t ever let me “talk” about it and would “judge” me the rest of my life. Even the “forgiving” people who call themselves “Christians”!
That it would take the accepting hearts and compassion, of a few select women, to assist in the healing of my disgrace.
That I would eventually find other women/men/families who had suffered as long as I had in silence.
That I could go through a healing program in which God would release me from the shame, guilt and grief that I had suffered for 23 years.

I’m GLAD Someone Told Me…

That God was in the room with me during my abortions, held my hand through both procedures and personally carried my children home to Heaven.
That He’s been trying to comfort me, everyday, for the past 23 years, even while I’ve been begging Him for forgiveness.
That God and I could name my children – who are forever covered with His fingerprints.
That Dylan Conor and Dory Kalani could “truly” be with me in heart and soul, even here on Earth.
That forgiving myself would be ungodly painful, tearfully emotional, yet humanly possible.
That the thought of Jesus on the cross was, is and always will be “good enough” for my sins to be forgiven.
That when I finally get to Heaven myself, that Dylan and Dory won’t “remember” why I haven’t held, hugged or kissed them!

I’m GLAD Someone Told Me…

That my hurts would be made into halos’, and beauty could be made of ashes.
That God would lead me to a life of comforting others, as He held my hand during my own recovery.
That one day I would be blessed to talk about my unborn children to young men and women in high school and college, to congregations, at fund-raisers, during awareness campaigns, or even to my very own son.
That by my sharing honestly with my son, my own sins.. That he would commit his life to Christ and to the miracle of defending “life” itself.
That God truly is the most amazing, awesome, forgiving, unconditional “Father” any woman/man or child could ever know.

I’m GLAD Someone Told Me…

SM, California

Stacy’s Story