I was 17 years old, when I got into a secret relationship With a close family friend I had known since I was around 7 years old. It was an innocent and trusting person, which made me completely unprepared for what was about to happen next. 

As soon as I told my boyfriend I was pregnant, he became verbally and emotionally abusive. He told me he would not go to the doctor with me or even be seen with me in public if I kept the baby. We fought daily and I became depressed and even contemplated suicide because I felt like I could not have my baby, but also that I could not live without my baby. I went to the hospital when I experienced some bleeding and I got to see my baby on an ultrasound, a tiny embryo with a strong beating heart. His heartbeat was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

My boyfriend and family abandoned me emotionally and financially. I got kicked out of the house and sent to Ottawa to stay with my Sister. They strongly discouraged me from raising my baby or placing him with an adoptive family and they never offered me pregnancy resources or support. I wanted to raise my baby, or make an adoption plan, but instead my family coerced me to have an abortion. I felt abandoned, pressured  and betrayed by them, the people I loved and trusted the most. Abortion was the only choice I saw that people supported.

At the abortion clinic, I was told that after the abortion, everything would go back to the way it was before, like the pregnancy and abortion and all the trauma surrounding it had never happened. I was assured the procedure would be no worse than menstrual cramps. All of that was a lie. Physically, it was the worst pain I have ever felt. It was like someone was stabbing me repeatedly in my lower abdomen. I screamed in pain into a gas mask as I squeezed the nurse’s hand. I could hear and see everything, including the suction machine they used to dismember my son. It made a sound I will never forget.

Immediately after the abortion, I felt like a part of me had left my body, as if a part of me had died. I was left with a hole in my soul. Things did not go back to normal as I had been assured they would. I wanted to end my life every day because I did not want to live in a world without my son. I suffered from a major depressive disorder, anxiety and post-traumatic stress and my emotionally abusive boyfriend became sexually abusive. I tried many times to leave him, but I couldn’t because he was all I had left of my son. Substance abuse and self-harm filled my days for three long, dark years.

Thank God, I found my way to post-abortion counseling, which helped me unpack my traumatic experience and take my first steps toward healing. Through the Sisters of Life I became involved with a community of parents who have lost children to abortion. Learning about others’ stories has helped me to begin to share my own story. My friends in the pro-life community and church family have offered me unconditional love and share the heartbreak of my son’s loss.

When I was fully able to understand what Jesus did on the Cross for me, I was able, finally, to forgive myself. Prior to that I  was consumed with guilt because I had the final say on my Son's life, and I gave into the pressure of aborting him, rather than fighting for his life. I repented and brought my abortion to the cross. Then I realized JESUS loved me and my son and wanted us to have salvation. He sacrificed himself for us and I wasn’t going to deny what He did on the cross for me any longer. I forgave myself and extended that grace of forgiveness to everyone who was connected to my abortion.

I want to share my story in the hopes of reaching a woman in that scared and lonely place I found myself at 17. I want my story to help change the hearts and minds of abortion-vulnerable mothers. And I want to reach out to women and men still suffering in shame and silence and invite them into a healing journey with God. But the reason I most wanted to be here today, why I speak out about my abortion whenever I can, is because I will never forget my son Caden. He is the reason I am silent no more.