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Sarah
Ontario,
Canada
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It's been almost eight years since that dreadful day. Now I am married to the same man, and I have two more children with him.
Many questions run through my mind daily such as, “Why did I do what I did, or how could I have done such a terrible thing?” That's not me; I couldn't even hurt a fly. So the question still remains as to why I did what I did.
I was eighteen at the time; I remember that morning at work when I was having abdominal pain. I went to the clinic, and that's when they told me I was pregnant.
I was going to keep the baby, and not for a minute was I afraid. As the month passed, my boyfriend and I moved in together to raise this child.
Now, you must be wondering why I did this. As the next month came around, my friends told me that it was a mistake. They told me that I was not ready, that I didn't know him well enough, and that we were too young. They also insisted that I had no education to raise a child. Their words started to stick. My family wasn't too keen on my pregnancy, except for my father. He was a Christian man.
The father's family also thought we were too young. The whole time his mother kept it a secret from his step dad. That made me feel ashamed, and after a while, that started to get into my head.
As everybody voiced their opinions, my fear grew. With fear came confusion until it was too much. I caved in. I let people's opinions get in the way of what I wanted.
My boyfriend, who is now my husband, was drinking a lot, smoking, and doing drugs. That also contributed to a lot of my fears. He was only nineteen and wanted a family, but he was not mature enough to get rid of his friends. They were a bad influence at that time, but he could not see that. He had his friends and family saying he was not ready for a child.
We were both young and afraid, not knowing what we were doing. We were going from having fun and partying to becoming parents in a few short months. In our case, it seemed backwards. We went from wanting a child to being scared and confused as people’s opinions came in.
One morning I was really full of fear. I spoke to my best friend who was having an abortion herself. .She convinced me it was okay, and everyone's opinion started adding up. I did the worst mistake of my life. I made the appointment with the number my friend gave me. It was the same clinic that she went to. (Misery loves company.) She is no longer my friend.
Anyway, my heart was so torn and full of fear. It was fear of being alone with my baby and giving up my teenage years. It was the fear of taking the risk of the unknown.
I remember that morning. I felt dead. I woke up, got ready, and my boyfriend and I went to the abortion clinic.
I now call it the clinic of hell.
I went in, filled out the forms, and I paid the lady sixty-five dollars. In Toronto, Ontario, for the low price of sixty five dollars, they will kill your baby. I was in the waiting room, and these two girls in front of me were talking about how many abortions they had. One said how it was like her fifth one.
I was sick at hearing this, and remember saying to myself, “What am I doing here? Why am I doing this?” But I was still not strong enough to get out of there. Why? Why didn't I just leave? This question still haunts my soul and becomes my daily nightmare.
At that time, I didn't know the graphic details of the procedure No one took the time to tell me the truth. I really fully did not understand my decision. From what I knew, my baby was so little and didn't know what was going on. Boy, was I lied to by people I trusted and cared for.
The lady called me into the room to start the process. First, they asked me why I was doing this and if I'd consider adoption. Selfishly, I said no. I answered that I was too young and afraid, having neither job nor education. I was relying on my boyfriend whom I barely knew, and the risk was too great. After that, I went into a changing room and was there with the patient ahead of me.
We talked, and she told me she was only four to six weeks, and it was okay for her to have an abortion because the baby was like nothing inside her. Who lied to her? Was she just trying to convince herself what she was doing was not wrong so she would feel better about herself? She also said how this was her third visit. She also was making me feel bad that my baby was twelve weeks old, as if that was too big and I was crossing the abortion line. She was right, but we were both wrong. There's no line to cross; murder is murder. If I didn't listen to anyone else, I should have listened to her, my baby's last hope.
I went into the room; it was small and bright. I lay on the bed, and they quickly poked some needles into my arm. Then the room went soggy. It’s almost like they moved so quickly you don't have time to change your mind. It’s like they don't want you to change your mind. I was feeling very dizzy from the drugs they gave me and as they stuck the ultrasound on my womb. I could see the baby for the last time. It had hands and feet and a head and everything.
I asked her if that was my baby, overwhelmed with love and joy, but it was too late. The drugs were in me. She ignored my question, moved the screen quickly with her hand, and told me to lie down. She stuck the vacuum in, and literally one minute after, it was too late.
Why didn't I stop it once I seen my child? Was it the drugs that makes you weak or was it fear?
I wish they had showed me my baby first and let me see what it looked like. I would have changed my mind, I bet.
My baby was killed by my own doing for no good reason.
I walked out of the room into a waiting area with about five other girls who had just committed murder as well. I lay on the bed for me with no privacy, crying my heart out, regretting my actions, and asking my baby and God to forgive me. I vomited like ten times in front of everybody. It was horrible, and there was tons of blood was pouring down my legs. I just wanted to die there with my baby. One hour after, the recovery time was up. I had no choice but to leave, bleeding and puking. They said to go to the hospital if you had to.
I stood up out of the bed. The whole room started spinning, but I had to get dressed and leave.
Right before I left the nurse gave me a message written on a piece of paper from my boyfriend. It said, “I will love you no matter what.” Apparently, he was trying to get me to change my mind and was crying in the front room. If I knew this, perhaps that would have stopped me and woke me up.
It’s like pure evil in those places, a baby butcher chop shop, literally.
Why didn't a nurse tell me he was crying or let me see the ultrasound longer or explain to me how much my baby had developed?
Why didn't they show me photos or a video or something to really let me understand my rights and make the decision based on the facts? Why didn't they show me the vacuum and tell me where my baby's body would end up?
I was only eighteen. I didn't fully understand.
I said it before in my story and I’ll say it again.
It’s like they want you to do the abortion and keep you focused on that instead of showing you the truth and trying to convince you otherwise. Look at the internet search engines. The real story and images will show the truth.
Abortions are the purest form of evil. Socially acceptable or not, this is WRONG.
Everything about it is not from God. This is a human being inside you, right from the start of the embryo. Please listen to me—it will haunt you later, if not right away. I cry all the time because I miss my child. I feel empty. It affects my daily life.
Now I have two children. One is four and the other is two. I try my best with them. They are beautiful and wonderful. But they do not replace my aborted child; they do not fix the mistake. I find it a bigger challenge to be a great mother, because when I look at my two children and see how wonderful and beautiful they are, it hurts me more knowing what I did.
Please listen to my story and make the right decision. Abortion is not the answer, no matter how confusing it may be. It's not the answer even if you’re a single mom or the funds are low and the debts are high. It is not the answer whether it is drugs, abuse, school, career, peer pressure, or your parent’s expectations.
Don't give up. Don't lose faith. Go to the helpers out there. Find them. There's always a way out. Especially with a child, God knew what He was doing when he gave it to you. Accept the gift of life and its many blessings. The joy a new born child brings is heavenly, and nothing it more important than that, even if (metaphorically speaking), you have to live in a cardboard box with the baby. You can do it. Trust me.
It’s better than living a life full of regret and sadness because you killed your baby. It sounds hard, but it’s the truth.
It’s been eight years now, and I still am ashamed and full of regret and anger. I miss my baby and nothing can fix it, nothing. It will always be in my soul, even if God forgives me. I still severely hurt. I betrayed my child, the one who loved me and trusted me the most. It’s a dirty and hypocritical feeling. I would never wish this spiritual torment even on my worst enemy.
I just want my story heard so it can prevent the next person from making this eternal mistake. If I could save even just one baby, the death of my child will not be in vain.
I love you, my baby.
Love always, Mommie. XoX
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Silent No More Awareness Campaign: Reach Out - Educate - Share
www.silentnomoreawareness.org |
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