When I was 19 years old I was living 2500 miles away from my family and ended up in a mentally and physically abusive relationship.  I had only one friend in the city I was living in, and we weren't really speaking at the time, so when I discovered that I was pregnant I was scared and alone.  I felt like a trapped animal.  I didn't really know where to turn so I went to Planned Parenthood thinking they would help me.  They did the pregnancy test and confirmed my worst fear.  The nurse said, "Don't worry about it, you're only six or seven weeks, you can take care of the 'problem'. It's just a clump of cells."  And she made me an appointment for an abortion at a clinic for about two weeks later.   There was no discussion about if I wanted to keep the baby or if it was even a baby.  I don't even remember if she asked about the father. 

I called my mom back in NY to ask her what she would do.  Trying to be supportive, she shared that when she was 19 she had a similar experience, and "it" had been the right decision for her.  So if I chose an abortion it was OK ("at least now it was legal").  "It was my body, my life, and my decision."  

Scared but resolved that it was the right decision for me, I chose to go through with the abortion.  My boyfriend drove me to the clinic, dropped me at the door, and waited in the parking lot.  I entered the building that was old and dirty.  The waiting room was full of women.  As I sat there waiting my turn, I became increasingly emotional.  By the time I entered the surgical room I was almost hysterical.  The Doctor examined me and decided that I was past their nine week threshold, so I needed to go to a different clinic for my abortion.  They quickly escorted me out the BACK door with a phone number in hand.  It felt like I was being put out like the trash.  When I reached the car, my boyfriend acted relieved that I had not had the abortion, which really confused me because he had two other children that he wasn't taking care of or even seeing, so I knew he wouldn't take care of this child or me.  Even though at that moment I wanted to keep my baby, I knew I would keep the second appointment because I could not be connected to this abusive, neglectful man for the rest of my life. My life with him wasn't safe.  I felt stupid and only saw a future filled with poverty as a single mom. 

At the second clinic I tried to keep my emotions in check for fear that they would send me away again.  This clinic was much cleaner but just as crowded.  My boyfriend did come with me this time but was only allowed to wait in the waiting room.  I was alone in the procedure room.  Laying on the table, all I could hear was the sound of a vacuum and, with tears running down my face, all I could see was a large bottle filling up with the blood of my baby.  I'll never forget those sights, sounds, and smells.  They lived in my nightmares for years ... I left the clinic, and they said I would have some mild cramping and bleeding, "like a period", but if it became heavy to call them.  Over the next several days it did become very painful and heavy, so I did call  But the nurses just said that it was "normal" and to wait it out (or go to the emergency room if it got worse).  I was afraid that there could be something wrong, but I had no health insurance so going to another doctor or the hospital was not an option. I began to "self-medicate" for the pain and eventually was able to go back to work about a week later.    

Alcohol abuse became a regular numbing technique for my life, and my relationship with my boyfriend was rockier by the month.  We tried moving to California to "change our scenery".  That didn't work, because the problems came right along with us.  I actually realized that was only his way of isolating me even further to control me more.  After about a year and a half I eventually broke away from him and moved back to NY. 

On Feb 2nd 1983, almost three years to the day of my abortion, I received Jesus as my Lord and Savior.  I knew my sins were forgiven, yet I still struggled with the hidden shame of the abortion.  Several years later a woman joined the church who was part of CareNet and was offering and an abortion recovery class.  I declined, thinking I'd “gotten over it" (so far from the truth...).  My abortion was February 4th, 1980, and every year I experienced anniversary depression at that time and again in the fall when my baby would have been born.  My sadness became so profound that I was eventually prescribed antidepressants.  Later, a friend asked me if I would go with her to the abortion Recovery group, because she didn't want to go alone.  I reluctantly went just to be her support.  This began my journey of healing.  Learning the statistics, that at least 25% of women experience abortion, I knew I wasn't alone.  I knew I needed deeper healing, because every time the subject of abortion came up it sent me running out of the room for fear that the truth would show on my face.  Even after the first recovery group I went through I still couldn't sit through a Sanctity of Human Life Sunday sermon. 

Over the next 10 years God began to peel back the layers of pain and reveal His truth, forgiveness, and healing as I attended two other grief recovery programs at CareNet.  That is why I will be SILENT NO MORE!   I am now blessed to be employed at CareNet for the last two years as a Client Advocate, where I can help couples make informed choices about their pregnancies and lead women who have had abortions though the healing process.