Twenty-four years ago, I found out I was pregnant. At that time, I was in a bad relationship and all of my family lived in other states.
I developed a disease called hyperemisis gravadurum which causes constant, severe vomiting.
After my third hospitalization, I was told there was a possibility my baby and I could suffer severe health problems and the only option was an abortion.
This was my 15th week, so I had to be put to sleep for the abortion procedure. Before the orderly took me into the operating room, the abortionist came in. By this time, I was starting to change my mind. After all, the doctors used words like, “Maybe,”, “Possibly,” “Could.” I asked the doctor if the baby would feel any pain and he said, “No.” Then he rushed out of the room. I felt that he brushed me off. I thought, “Maybe it’s not so bad. After all, you have a license to kill rabbits, so how bad could this be?”
When I woke up, I was alone. I noticed two things, immediately. I did not feel sick anymore but to say I regretted the abortion was the master of all understatements.
From that moment on, I wanted to die. The IV tubing was all air. The fluid should run through before another bag is started. If not, you will suffer what is called an “air embolism” that can be fatal. As the nurse was hanging a new bag, I didn’t say anything. I truly wanted to die.
For 16 years I suffered every minute. I hated myself. I would hear babies cry when I was alone. I had the repeating dream that, at night, I would go outside and bury my baby. I didn’t start using drugs or being promiscuous. Instead, I had to be a perfect person and perfect mother—which made me feel worse. I had to constantly fight the urge to commit suicide, even to the point of putting a gun in my mouth. The only thing that stopped me was the thought that I had already killed one of my children; I couldn’t let my other children find my dead body and clean up the mess.
About 10 years after the abortion I developed a condition called central nervous system lupus. The doctor said that most people die in 10 years. This disease is directly connected to the abortion.
Then, by the grace of God, I was forced to get help. This was through a weekend of learning that God has forgiven us, but forgiving yourself is the hard part. I learned to let God help me to forgive myself.
I am six years beyond the 10-year average life span. I truly believe I have this grace so I can help other fathers and mothers know that it is OK to talk about your abortions and there is help.
Listen to me, fathers and mothers and anyone else close to someone who is thinking about abortion. Know that, yes, it might seem like abortion is the only way to solve a problem. But no matter what the situation is, if you have that abortion you will, without a doubt, suffer the rest of your life—physically and emotionally. So, please, stop, before it is too late. And if you have had an abortion, there is forgiveness.