This is More For Me Than For You…

 

Only two people that I know by name know that I was pregnant and that I terminated the pregnancy, a distant female colleague that I worked with at the time, and a distant church member whom I felt the need to confess to her as a new Christian.  All were told, "I had an abortion."  I never shared any more than that. 

 

            Until today...

 

            It was within a week that I found out I was pregnant and terminated the pregnancy.  I couldn't have been more than 5 weeks pregnant.  That's how quickly I wanted the situation to end.    

 

My mind was in over drive.  I knew that premarital sex was a sin.  Yet here I was.  Pregnant.  Unmarried.  And decidedly, alone.

I didn't want to be pregnant.  I was too smart for that.  I began taking birth control before I started having sex.  But I had developed a lump in my breast, so he used condoms... except the time that a child was conceived.  And as far as I was concerned at the time, there was no turning back.

 

            So I looked in the Yellow Pages, and found a clinic far, far, far way from where I lived.  I had to take 3 buses to get there.  I didn't care.  I just didn't want to be recognized.  I wanted to be free.  What is freedom, anyway?  It certainly wasn't what I was about to do. 

 

            So very early in the morning, on July 17, 1986, I had an abortion.  I remember not wanting to be put to sleep, but having to be anyway.  I remember hearing a sucking sound in my subconscious.  I remember not being about to get dressed after the procedure, because of the feeling of drowsiness from the medication.  I remember the feeling of being very alone.

 

            So I took the buses back to my home and went to bed.  It wasn't until I woke up that night that I realized the magnitude of what I had done.  I had killed a child, my child.  I knew that God, being God, would forgive me when I asked for His forgiveness.  But could I forgive myself?  Eventually, I could... but not without self destructing first.

 

            My spirit became numb.  I felt, as life went on as normal; I pretended to be the same person, but life inside me was different.  Numb.  And nothing that I did made the numbness go away.  An emptiness swept over me that would not be ignored.  There were no external reminders, just that empty numb feeling inside that wasn't there before the abortion.

 

            I left the father.  He never knew why.  I stopped having sex... momentarily anyway.  All in acts of penance, I suppose.  But the numbness remained.  But the emptiness remained.  But the loneliness remained...

 

            I could say I moved on from that eventful time in my life.  And by looking at me, you would agree.  But I would be lying and you would be sadly mistaken.  I am still that scared girl in her early twenties, looking up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with everyone in that clinic, trying to forget, trying to move on, trying to be unfeeling about the murder that was about to be committed... by my hand, and my hand alone.

 

            By writing this, I now know why I don't trust easily.  Because I've learned that even I am not to be trusted.  I can't rely on me to make the best choice when it comes to my well being, so how can I expect anyone else to?

 

            So I stand alone.  Wanting to join in on life, yet afraid to venture that far into the fun, knowing that the consequences are so severe, that I may not live to tell the tale if I hurt again.  Many men, many relationships... same results.  Numb.  Empty.  Alone.

 

But there is a happy ending.  I'm in love with God.  He brought me here so that I can heal some more and open up for once with someone other than Him.  And, so I can move away from the numbness, the emptiness, and the loneliness.

 

            It's been a long time coming, but that's not important.  What is important is that it has come.

 

Anonymous, But Never To Him, VA