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Testimonies
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Reliving the Experience
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Gwendolyn
Pennsylvania,
United States
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I was raped by a friend's friend when I was sixteen. I married at 25; and I was so eager to be a wife and have a family. I was separated at the age of 31 from this man who was sixteen years my senior. We had one child, a son. It had been a psychologically abusive relationship with an alcoholic. During the separation, I met a man who was very nice, attentive and courteous. It was a messy separation with threats and constant harassment. This man and I began dating, and he was very attentive and loving to my son. My son adored this man. He introduced me to his church, and we saw each other frequently. My friends had met him, and everyone really liked him. After six months or so, we became intimate. Although the divorce had not been granted yet, I became pregnant. The man I was seeing questioned me as to whether the baby was his. I burst into tears and said, of course, it was his. He said he didn't want it, and I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I had my 2 1/2 year old son. I was not divorced, and I was afraid someone would take my son away from me for being a bad parent. I was afraid my alcoholic husband would have my boy taken from me. My parents were out of town until the weather warmed, so I had no support from my mother who was very close to me. Thus, I said I would get an abortion. I would have no emotional support from him, although he said he loved me. I called the Planned Parenthood of Overland Park, Kansas. I called them and said I wanted an abortion. They asked how far along I was, but I did not know. I only knew that the home test showed positive. I was afraid that I was going to be too far along, and I didn't want to abort a baby. I wanted to have it aborted while it was still tissue. Granted, this was late March 1993 and there was not a lot of information to obtain.
My appointment was scheduled for that Saturday. I called on a Monday and went in for a verification of pregnancy on Wednesday. I only remember knowing I had to go in and convince the people at Planned Parenthood that it was all fine and that I wanted this. It never occurred to me that they might want me to have one. I thought they would try to talk me out of it because, after all, I thought they were about protecting women. They arranged for my appointment early on Saturday, three days later. I remember them asking if I wanted to have it done at a later date since there was no hurry. They said they could perform an abortion later. I said no again. I thought it was tissue and would be a simple thing to do earlier.
Saturday morning came. Upon arrival, I recall sitting in the waiting area for only a few minutes with the father. Then I went back into what was a line of beds around a general "operating" area. I believe only white, drawn curtains separated the other women and me from the central room. The assistant gave me a pill and told me to take it. I was told it would help me relax and that all the women take this. I took it. A few minutes later, it was my turn. I cannot remember if I walked in or was wheeled in. I believe I was wheeled in. I changed my mind. I told them when I was in the large, open area and the doctor came in. He told the assistants to hold me down. I remember yelling "No, no I don't want this. Stop! Stop!" They were holding me, and I remember the doctor telling the women to hold me tighter. I heard this loud vacuum sound, and I remember screaming. They repeatedly told me to stop crying and yelling and that it will be over soon. I will never forget the doctor stating, "This one is further along than they had told me!" I remember he sounded pleased.
I was consumed with remorse and deep sorrow. I remember not feeling well for about a week. I remember the intersection off I435 and Row Avenue in Johnson County, Kansas. EVERYTIME I had to go near that intersection I would find another route. My brother and sister-in-law lived a few blocks away from it, so I would take another exit of the interstate. I was a returning student to college and had to drive past the exit, reliving the experience of killing my baby.
I became a different person after that. I was violent with the father when he would bring up pro-life comments and such. I felt so betrayed by him with this stand. Then his daughter became pregnant only a month or two later. I couldn't accept that he was so excited for her baby but wanted ours killed. I stopped seeing him, but he would call on me any chance he had. He said we would name the baby, and both of us thought it was a girl. He said we could have a funeral for her and perhaps try to adopt. He proposed. I said no to all. I told him to stay away. I told my story to my best friend who in turn shared her story of an abortion and ruined marriage because of it. She had no tolerance for the father, and she helped me through the initial years. I could not handle seeing other babies and young children. I kept recalling how I was supposed to have another baby...
At this time, the divorce was final and a neighbor asked me out. We dated, and he expressed that he wanted no children, that my boy was perfect for him. I was fine with that, as I just wanted to be loved and was hoping this would work out. In two months, he proposed and I accepted, although I didn't love him. I didn't think anyone would ever love me now. I was such trash. I was certain God didn't love me. I told my mother when they returned in the summer. She told me to never share this with my sister-in-law, as she was Catholic. I felt I should not tell anyone. I told my future husband, as I felt that was only right. He was fine with it. This was 1994.
The next 15 years were mixed with bouts of sadness and uncontrollable crying. I was pregnant within six months of the marriage. This occurred at the point when I thought I had made a mistake in marrying a man whom I did not love. I was terrified that he might want me to have another abortion since he had said he wanted no children. But I was blessed. My husband said that our love would eventually grow. Now there were two children, and why did I not have three? I suffered severely with postpartum depression with the birth of the second child, who was a girl. In 2008, after moving five different times with our two children, who were six years apart, we returned to Overland Park. This only caused me to relive the scenario over and over each time I passed that exit. This time, however, I was carrying a tremendous cross... I was going to try to enter the Catholic Church. I had no idea I would eventually need to go to confession.
As time drew near and I followed through the truthful and knowledgeable experience of the RCIA classes to enter the Catholic faith, I began to panic about telling about the abortion. I thought I would not be able to enter the Church because of my unforgivable sin. I mean, how could God forgive me of this? Could He forgive me of killing my own child? As my RCIA class of fifty some candidates in my parish were waiting for their turn to go into the confessional, my panic became insurmountable. I literally ran to the head of the RCIA program. With a sobbing voice and tears pouring from my eyes, I begged her to help me, as I was overwhelmed with grief. Lovingly, she told me to come with her, and she led me to a private room where she told me to wait. Moments later, the newly ordained associate priest entered the private office, and I fell to my knees crying out my confession of killing my child. He was quiet and calm. It did not start as a regular confession would begin. I poured out my dreadful, unforgivable sin, and his response was of beauty and love... He told me of the love of God and that through this sacrament, my sins were forgiven. They were washed away and that if God forgives me, I too, could live in the peace of knowing Jesus took my sin to the cross. He advised me to stop by his office in a day or two. I did as he asked and I told him I want to help other women not make the same mistake I did. He told me to contact a woman named Pat at Project Rachel. The next day I called her and made an appointment. Upon meeting her, we began to chat about why I thought I could help other women.
Eventually, she asked me straightforward if I had had an abortion. Once again, I broke down. She invited me to a class of recovery with another younger woman who could probably use my support as another who shared her pain. I did, and through the course of meeting with these women, we shared our pain, history, and the potential pain the fathers may feel. Eventually this led to a memorial service for our babies who never were born. That was in 2009.
Now through many memories relived and shared, I have chosen to be silent no more. I hope I may help women to avoid the trap of lies and deceit spewed forth from Planned Parenthood and to stop the cruelty of and abuse of women by this organization.
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