On February 5th, 1985, I sat in an abortion clinic because I deeply believed there was no other way out.  You see, this was my third child that I carried in my womb.  The love of a child I did not know yet.  The choices I made as a very young girl would change my life forever!  I was only 23 years old, and I already had two small children whom I loved dearly.  

I allowed fear to dictate my decisions that day. I had to choose between the children that I birthed and breastfed or the child that I did not know yet.  So, I lied about every question asked.  I signed on the dotted line, and I turned and faced the wall when the nurse conducted the ultrasound.  Her words still ring just as loudly today as they did all those years ago, “There it is,” she said.  “Don’t you want to see it?” Then I sat in a room full of strangers, who all basically believed the same lie as I did, that there was no other way out!  My heart sank as I watched a woman who sat next to me rub her belly, as if to soothe the child inside of her, before it would be our turn to go into the next room, where the murder would take place.  When I entered the room, my eyes caught a glimpse of a bloody trash can, and I immediately turned away.  My heart screamed out, “I want my baby!” And fear called out, “You have no choice!”  

I was put to sleep for the procedure, because I knew that any memory of slaughtering my baby would be my demise, and I had to return for my two children. I bled the rest of my baby’s remains for days.  I could not wrap my mind around what I had just done.  I was suicidal and ran to the nearest priest who would hear my confession.  He sat there in silence, listening to my every word, then said that the person in this whole story that would be the hardest to forgive would be myself. 

Upon returning home, it was revealed to me that my two precious baby boys were legally taken from me.  So now I had lost three children!  I remember sitting on the edge of my bed with a pistol in my mouth and just as I was going to pull the trigger, someone knocked on the door and entered the room. My attempt failed.  For years after this I dove so deep into alcohol and sex, it was frightening!  A doctor told me that my uterus was so rotten that I would never be able to carry another child. Be happy, he said to me, for the two you have now. I felt as though a blanket of shame had been placed on my shoulders, and I chose to carry it for over twenty years. 

I was invited to a prayer group in 1997 and, by this time, I was in my fourth marriage, barely hanging on. A very special woman gave her time to counsel me and to let me know how much God loved me, and I thought, “OK lady, if you believe it then I guess I can, too.”  But then she told me to name my baby.  She instructed me to go before the blessed sacrament and entrust my baby to God’s loving care with the name I had chosen.  Again, I thought, “OK lady! But how could I name a child that I did not know the sex of and didn’t know who the father was?” But I did as instructed! I prayed so hard for God to reveal to me in some way the sex of my child and who the father was, but I never believed for one minute that God, in His great mercy, would reveal to me what I had asked. I was too great a sinner!  More lies flooded my mind.  Lies of people who said God forgives a lot of things but not this thing! God could never forgive what I had done!  It was maybe a few weeks later, in a dream, that I was shown my baby girl and also who the daddy was by the color of her skin.  I named her Alaina Claire, but I call her Lainie.  I knew instantly in her big beautiful smile that she had forgiven me, and she loves me!!  I still dream of her, only now my mother holds her as they both smile at me with unconditional love.  

In October of 2012 I made my Rachel’s Vineyard Retreat and was loved by a small group of women, where it felt safe for the second time in my life to share my pains and burdens and to be loved through it all.  I had three more beautiful children after Lainie, even though that doctor said my uterus was too rotten to ever carry another child.

Lainie was conceived in November around Thanksgiving, and I never forget!  She would be 34 years old in August.  Every February I mourn the death of my baby girl and her precious life that I chose to end.  And on August 26, which was Lainie’s due date, I was set free from the chains of alcohol abuse.  Only now I can rejoice in God’s truth instead of believing the lies.  Love covers a multitude of sins.  And that is why I am silent no more.