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Testimonies
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I Didn't Talk About It
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Erin
Arizona,
United States
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I was in my last year of college when I found out I was pregnant. I had been diagnosed with Type I diabetes seven years before. I had essentially been told I should not have children, because they would be born with significant problems, and I would become very ill. I was also very selfish; I wanted to finish school; I wanted a life. It was my life which I had planned out for myself.
I called Planned Parenthood the day after I found out I was pregnant. I'm guessing I was four weeks pregnant. I was told that I was not allowed to have the abortion until I was 12 weeks pregnant. So I scheduled my appointment and asked if there was anything I needed to do beforehand. I was told, “No, just show up”. I waited the eight weeks to have the procedure done.
It was a Saturday in February and I remember it was a gray, dreary day. It felt appropriate that my making this awful decision would be on one of the few of bad weather days in Arizona. I signed in at the front desk and then waited. The waiting room was pretty much like any doctor's office except everyone in the room was very isolated. It was not because of the way it was set up, but I believe because of what we were doing there. They called me back for pre-abortion "counseling.” They basically asked if this was my decision and if I had any questions. They said nothing about what was going to happen, nothing about the baby that was growing, nothing informative at all.
They then did a blood test, testing for STD's, including HIV and stated if any of the tests came back positive, "someone" would contact me. I then was sent back to the waiting room until I was called back about a half hour later. A nurse took me into a room and had me change into a gown. The room was very clinical, just a table and instruments. She asked me if I was doing OK and then told me that the doctor would be in shortly. I waited maybe five minutes and the doctor came in. I was not introduced to him and never knew his name. In fact, other than telling me when he was going to touch me, he never said a word to me. As the procedure started, I was staring at the ceiling, and I remember tears running down the side of my face. No one said anything, not the nurse or the doctor. The noise was horrible, this sucking noise, like being at the dentist, but so much louder. I began to feel sick to my stomach and had horrible pain. I told the nurse that I was feeling sick and she got me something to throw up in. The pain was really awful. (No one said that this would be painful. In fact, I had been reassured several times that I would barely feel anything,) I threw up a couple of times and during that time the procedure continued. There were no pauses, no "Are you doing OK?" When it was over, the doctor took his gloves and gown off, threw them away and left. No one asked how I was doing and there were no post procedure instructions. There was nothing, which was probably very appropriate because at the time I felt very numb, except for the cramping.
They gave me cloths to clean myself up with, had me get dressed, and sent me home. The only thing they really warned me about was blood clots over the size of a quarter. If I saw any I was to come back in to get checked out. I was sick for a couple of days. My boyfriend at the time made me scrambled eggs, which to this day makes me sick to my stomach. Afterwards I threw myself into life, worked and went to school. I didn't give myself time at all to think. I just wanted to forget, but I found out that was impossible. For the next decade or so I just didn't think about it. Every time a thought popped into my head about my abortion, I immediately threw myself into something that would take my mind off of it. I didn't talk about it with anyone, not the father of the child who would become my husband nor my family. I didn't talk about it at all. My marriage would end with the father, not necessarily because of the abortion, but perhaps because of who it made me. I was jealous of people who had families, and my husband and I were not a family.
I remarried a man who was a devout Christian and who invested his time and energy into bringing me to Christ. Before we got married we both knew we wanted to have children and wanted a family. I told him that God might not allow me to have children because of what I had done and that I didn't deserve children. My husband was so supportive, and we talked a lot about my abortion and what I was feeling. We still talk about it to this day. I was a stubborn, selfish, prideful woman. It took about two years for my heart to change and for me to realize that the only way for me to be forgiven for all the horrible things I had done was to accept Jesus' grace and forgiveness. I don't know if I would say I have forgiven myself, but I have accepted God's forgiveness, which is more important. Because of God's forgiveness I realize that my experience can be used for God's purpose and that my voice can be used to help others. That is why I am silent not more.
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