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Have you had an abortion?
A forced horror
In 1981, I was a young mother of three children. My husband and I had just gotten out of a very controlling cult which had an extreme doctrine concerning women's submission to their husbands. I had a very poor self-image which further fed into my feelings of inferiority and worthlessness. When I became pregnant with our fourth child, my husband told me I had to get an abortion. Abortion was something I never had thought about in any way before. He said he could not afford to support another child, and since I was a stay at home mother, I thought I was not in a position to disagree. However, it felt very wrong.
The day of the abortion, he drove me to the clinic. We went inside and paid and were asked if we had any reservations. I said that I did, so they took us into a very nice office with soft lighting and comfortable couches with lots of pillows, and nice plush carpeting. The lady counselor spoke softly to us and explained that it was only a mass of cells, a “product of conception”, and not a baby. She was persuasive and eventually, I consented. I was taken into a room to change into a hospital gown, then instructed to sit in a common area where a number of other women were sitting. The chairs were metal folding chairs and the television was turned on to a sitcom. It was very distressing to be forced to hear the canned laughter and the double entendre sexual jokes while waiting to see the doctor. None of us in the room were laughing at the jokes.
Since I had only had natural childbirths before, I assumed I would not need anesthesia for the abortion, but at the last minute, as I was nervously waiting, I realized that I did not want to be awake or aware of what they were going to do. It was really hitting me that I was terminating a pregnancy.
As I lay on the operating table, the doctor and the anesthesiologist were joking and then talking about the size of the trunks in the new model cars. I wanted to scream at them to stop talking, but I couldn't talk and then I was unconscious.
I woke up in a hallway, strapped to a gurney, sobbing and crying, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, over and over. When someone finally came out to see me, she undid the straps and walked me, as I sobbed, to a small room where another woman sat on a wooden bench. I sat on another bench near her and we were given some saltine crackers and a paper cup with water to drink. The other woman tried to comfort me by saying she had had several abortions and that I would get over it and be alright. As we spoke, another woman was brought in to the room, also upset but quiet. We just sat there and ate our crackers. After awhile, the woman who brought us in, came and got us and we got dressed and left.
I was sad. But I didn't say much of anything to my husband. When I would get together with Christian women for Bible studies, I would often cry and talk about my experience with them. I know these women were very loving and meant well, and they would gather around and pray for me, but they just did not understand the depth of my sorrow. They would try to console me by telling me that Jesus has forgiven me from my sin and that I needed to believe that and let it go. But I just couldn't do that.
For years, every autumn, I would remember the abortion again and realize that my child would have been having another birthday about that time. I would cry all over again.
I got pregnant again about a year later, and my husband again wanted me to abort this child. He tried the same arguments with me, but this time I knew there was no way I would do that. He threatened to leave, but I really didn't care. There was absolutely no way I would ever go through that hell again.
Ten years after the abortion, I left my husband and divorced him, and part of my reason was the abortion. I blamed him for making me kill our baby. Shortly after, at a new church, I befriended a woman who worked at a crisis pregnancy center. I talked to her about my abortion and she told me about a class she taught for post abortion women. I gladly signed up and took the class. It was difficult to face the fact that I killed my child, and take full responsibility for it (instead of just blaming my husband) but once I did, and prayed for forgiveness, I was set free from the weight of that deep sorrow. I believe that my child was a boy and I named him Benjamin and I know he is well loved in the arms of Jesus and that I will someday see him. I know I am forgiven from my sin.
The day of the abortion, he drove me to the clinic. We went inside and paid and were asked if we had any reservations. I said that I did, so they took us into a very nice office with soft lighting and comfortable couches with lots of pillows, and nice plush carpeting. The lady counselor spoke softly to us and explained that it was only a mass of cells, a “product of conception”, and not a baby. She was persuasive and eventually, I consented. I was taken into a room to change into a hospital gown, then instructed to sit in a common area where a number of other women were sitting. The chairs were metal folding chairs and the television was turned on to a sitcom. It was very distressing to be forced to hear the canned laughter and the double entendre sexual jokes while waiting to see the doctor. None of us in the room were laughing at the jokes.
Since I had only had natural childbirths before, I assumed I would not need anesthesia for the abortion, but at the last minute, as I was nervously waiting, I realized that I did not want to be awake or aware of what they were going to do. It was really hitting me that I was terminating a pregnancy.
As I lay on the operating table, the doctor and the anesthesiologist were joking and then talking about the size of the trunks in the new model cars. I wanted to scream at them to stop talking, but I couldn't talk and then I was unconscious.
I woke up in a hallway, strapped to a gurney, sobbing and crying, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, over and over. When someone finally came out to see me, she undid the straps and walked me, as I sobbed, to a small room where another woman sat on a wooden bench. I sat on another bench near her and we were given some saltine crackers and a paper cup with water to drink. The other woman tried to comfort me by saying she had had several abortions and that I would get over it and be alright. As we spoke, another woman was brought in to the room, also upset but quiet. We just sat there and ate our crackers. After awhile, the woman who brought us in, came and got us and we got dressed and left.
I was sad. But I didn't say much of anything to my husband. When I would get together with Christian women for Bible studies, I would often cry and talk about my experience with them. I know these women were very loving and meant well, and they would gather around and pray for me, but they just did not understand the depth of my sorrow. They would try to console me by telling me that Jesus has forgiven me from my sin and that I needed to believe that and let it go. But I just couldn't do that.
For years, every autumn, I would remember the abortion again and realize that my child would have been having another birthday about that time. I would cry all over again.
I got pregnant again about a year later, and my husband again wanted me to abort this child. He tried the same arguments with me, but this time I knew there was no way I would do that. He threatened to leave, but I really didn't care. There was absolutely no way I would ever go through that hell again.
Ten years after the abortion, I left my husband and divorced him, and part of my reason was the abortion. I blamed him for making me kill our baby. Shortly after, at a new church, I befriended a woman who worked at a crisis pregnancy center. I talked to her about my abortion and she told me about a class she taught for post abortion women. I gladly signed up and took the class. It was difficult to face the fact that I killed my child, and take full responsibility for it (instead of just blaming my husband) but once I did, and prayed for forgiveness, I was set free from the weight of that deep sorrow. I believe that my child was a boy and I named him Benjamin and I know he is well loved in the arms of Jesus and that I will someday see him. I know I am forgiven from my sin.
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