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Jen
Illinois,
United States
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I was 19 and very much in love for the first time. My boyfriend and I met in college and were attending a university. Ironically, he told me he wanted to marry me and that he wanted me to be the mother of his children. Three weeks later I discovered I was pregnant. I wanted the baby. I was shocked when he responded by saying “you know what I want you to do” and then gave me money. I had an abortion because I couldn’t muster up the courage to do otherwise. I was afraid to tell my parents, as there were significant problems at home. My boyfriend subsequently distanced himself from me and even though his friends were furious with him, he didn’t care. The truth is that at age 18, he couldn’t see a way through the situation anymore than I could without his support. I don’t even remember having an internal and self-dependent moral compass that guided me to do anything other than what I thought others expected of me. I still don’t understand that. Who was I?
I drove six hours back home from school to see my ob-gyn. He was a very kind and gentle man. I was in my hometown, but I stayed with a friend. My parents didn’t know I was there. That was painful for me and I even drove by the house. I still don’t know why I did that. It felt like I was saying good-bye. Now that I look back, I probably was as I would never be the same person after that day. During my appointment, my doctor asked me if I was sure I wanted an abortion. He gave me an opportunity to change my mind, but I didn’t. He subsequently gave me the name of a doctor at a prestigious hospital in the city. I called and set up the appointment and went with my friend. My boyfriend stayed at school. He wasn’t with me.
When I arrived at the hospital and entered the doctor’s office, no one else was there. I went immediately into the room where my abortion would take place. I remember the details of that room. My friend waited for me in the waiting area. The doctor was incredibly kind. He made me feel cared for and also asked me if I was sure I wanted to go through with it. I guess both doctors sensed my turmoil. I said yes anyway. What was I thinking? I now know that no one told me anything about the reality of abortion. I was completely unaware of the gravity of my decision. I didn’t know that my baby’s heart was beating. I didn’t know how an abortion could and would affect me afterward. I didn’t have any information about other options. No one sat down with me, face to face, and educated me on abortion. I was a teenager. I was so young. I was indirectly lied to, but by omission of the truth. Abortion was legal and I thought it was okay. It wasn’t okay. I have never stopped wishing that I had walked out and changed my mind. My regret has never stopped.
During the procedure, I was fully awake. I didn’t have any medication, which I would later recognize was a blessing. I changed into a gown and lied down on the table. The doctor described what I would experience physically during the procedure. I had a vacuum aspiration. What happened next still haunts me. I felt my baby pulled and forcibly removed from my body. This traumatized me. The true magnitude and reality of what I was in the process of doing overwhelmed me. The moment it was over; the millisecond it was over I wanted to go back. I went into a terrified state of emotional desperation and even further trauma. I realized my “choice” was gone. I no longer had a “choice” because my baby was gone. I broke down and the doctor held me while I sobbed in his arms. I wanted my baby back. I have never, ever been the same. I was shattered and absolutely devastated.
I returned to college and whirled out of control. I lost all trust in my boyfriend, and although we stayed loosely together, I thought nothing of going out whenever I wanted with whomever I chose. This was all behind his back. I didn’t care. I did go to church right away. I went to confession and did find acceptance, but my follow through was short-lived. My self-loathing was an obstacle to the forgiveness that was offered me.
My whirlwind behavior went on for about a year. I somehow found some internal direction, enough to graduate from college and ultimately get a good job. I now know that God was there. He was with me, even though I didn’t realize it. I broke up with my boyfriend after he moved to another college out of state. I told my mother about my abortion several years later, but I never told my dad. She was not upset at all, and actually listened and supported me. We never discussed it again.
I struggled with depression off and on and ended up in some very unhealthy relationships that I now know were part of my turmoil from my abortion. I didn’t make the connection until years later. I look back now and understand that my fear of going home during my pregnancy was real at the time. I also know that my parents would have been devastated to think I wouldn’t come home. They would have loved and cherished their grandchild. I just didn’t have the courage to face them and I felt the problems were insurmountable. I blame no one but myself and I’ve had to live with what I did.
For 30+ years I carried a depth of horror, sorrow, remorse, regret and pain in my soul. So deep, I was unable to cope with it at times. I did, however, promise myself that I would never, ever, ever have another abortion no matter what my circumstances might be. This was because I was awake during my abortion. I remembered the horror, and I kept that promise to myself. Even when I lost a baby to miscarriage because of Down’s Syndrome and received counseling to have an amniocentesis during my next pregnancy, I refused. Because there was a chance of miscarriage with an amniocentesis, I refused to do anything that might put my baby at risk. He was born healthy and is now almost 20 years old.
For years I defined myself as pro-choice. I felt hypocritical to believe otherwise after what I had done. Little did I realize that I had the potential to become one of the strongest advocates for life because of my abortion.
I experienced a conversion and deepening of my faith, which changed my life and put me on the right path. This occurred almost 30 years after my abortion. I had gone to confession many, many times. The last time the priest asked me how many times I had confessed my abortion and then insisted that I accept I had been forgiven. As I was leaving the confessional, I noticed a flyer on the bulletin board offering a healing Mass for post-abortive women. I decided to attend and was baptized in the Holy Spirit. My life changed yet again. I turned my life over to our Lord and to our Blessed Mother. I started to pray the Rosary and subsequently attended a Marian Conference. The program started with a couple singing a song from the perspective of a baby about to be aborted, yet wanting to live. I thought I was okay until I heard that song! I completely fell apart again, all these years later. I went to confession again, but this time I begged the Priest, through sobs and intermittent gasps for air, to tell me how to cope with what I did. I implored him for help because although I knew I was forgiven, I couldn’t cope with the excruciating sorrow that continued to haunt me. It was immediately after my blessing from him when I realized I needed to be pro-life BECAUSE of my abortion, not pro-choice. It was not hypocritical at all. I had been missing the boat all along. I subsequently saw Abby Johnson on Huckabee and pursued more information about people like me. I had absolutely no idea there were post-abortive women stepping forward with the courage I had lacked so long ago.
I went to Rachel’s Vineyard last fall and experienced another layer of healing. I have learned that the healing comes in layers. My baby now has a name and an identity and the dignity she deserves. She is always with me and I know she forgives me. I poured my heart out to her because I love her with every ounce of my being. I always did. I am her mother. Now, I am here trying to take steps toward saving lives in her honor and memory because I took her life; the one I was supposed to cherish and protect. I was able to see her father and talk with him. This helped both of us and encouraged our healing together. He shares the same sorrow. I will never truly forgive myself as she and the Lord have, but I can tell my story and try to make a difference. That is my hope in response to the calling of our Blessed Mother. I am Silent No More.
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