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Testimonies
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Mom, I'm Pregnant
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Betty
Pennsylvania,
United States
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“Mom, I’m pregnant.”
Words I never expected to hear—not yet—not from my teenage daughter, Karen.
She was a quiet, lovely “A” student in high school. How could this have happened? What had I done wrong? Her dad will say it was my fault! So many questions—but I had an answer.
An abortion. We had a problem. Let’s fix it and get on with “our” lives. In my own mind, I likened this situation to a toothache. Got one? Go to the dentist, he’ll fix it, and we’ll all be better.
I had some money saved up from my job, took a day off from work, kept Karen home from school, and we went to the abortion clinic. I’ll never forget the sadness I felt as Karen left the waiting room towards the doctor’s room.
Several other grandmothers were waiting. I wanted to scream—she was raped—“my” daughter wouldn’t have gotten pregnant otherwise. She’s a “good girl.” I kept silent.
As if All Is Well
We never talked about that day. Never told her father. It was over with, now we can resume our lives—as if all is well.
Karen got pregnant again, married the baby’s father, brought her school grades up to “A’s” again and graduated from high school in June. My granddaughter was born in July, a wonderful blessing! Months stretch into years. Karen had remarried and began suffering from nightmares about the abortion. A feeling of desperation, emptiness, and quiet—I am unaware of it. She never spoke to me about her feelings—I never asked.
Slowly, like a tight rosebud, Karen began opening up. The petals unfolded, revealing a need to share her experiences with others. When I heard this, my thoughts screamed inside—“Oh no! Not again—I thought all of this was over with years ago. Now she’s dragging it all out into the open. What will people think of me?”
I was the one who took her by the hand to the clinic. How can she do this to me again?
I didn’t realize the torment and stress Karen was undergoing. The emotional, spiritual, physical drain must have been nearly overwhelming. Yet I was mainly worried about me.
Those petals kept opening wider. Then she began broadcasting this personal disaster on Christian TV shows, even the “700 Club.” Talked at churches and universities, opening her life to many other hurting people.
Post-Abortion Syndrome
Hey, I’m not going to watch and listen to this stuff. If I just avoid the people involved in her pro-life happenings, I’ll be all right. But, one evening, while home alone, a rerun was shown on a Christian TV channel dealing with Post-Abortion Syndrome. They mentioned my daughter Karen!
I sat transfixed as “Karen’s Story” told of her nightmares, alcohol and drug abuse, and her suicidal feelings. How could I have been so pre-occupied in my own surroundings to have not seen and felt her heartbreak? The stored up dam of tears broke. I sobbed, mourning the loss of my grandchildren.
Finally, I felt the torment and despair of my dear daughter. All these years of deceiving myself. All was not fine—the past isn’t just that—gone and forgotten. Our actions do create consequences we need to deal with.
Reconciliation
Karen and I have finally forgiven each other and again share a precious bond of mother, daughter, friend.
Slowly, I have forgiven myself, and now I hope “Karen’s Mom’s story” will reach many mothers faced with the knowledge their daughter is pregnant. You both CAN escape the dreadful consequence of death of that baby—your grandchild.
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