- Posted February 10, 2013 by
San Antonio, Texas
This iReport is part of an assignment:
Have you had an abortion?
David shares his experience with lost fatherhood on the Supreme Court steps in Washington DC.
God's Healing Process
Texas, United States
I am an Altar Boy. I’m not supposed to be aborting someone else’s baby and then my own. I participated in my first abortion back in 1989 when I was twenty-eight years old, though it was not my child. I was involved in an adulterous affair with a younger married woman. She was angry with me because I would not leave my marriage and my wife for her even though we had been in this adulterous affair for more than a year and for the fact that I kept lying to her that I would leave my wife for her and her two-year-old son. So, because of my constant lying to her and moving in and out from my home to different apartments and town-homes with her, she engaged in another adulterous affair with another young man and became pregnant.
She of course informed me of her crisis pregnancy to see what my reaction would be. In perfect character with my survivalist macho mentality back then, I knew I could not allow myself to be the father of an illegitimate child. However, since in my sick mind I still wanted to continue my physical relationship with this young woman, I told her I that I would be the man that the baby’s father could not be (he abandoned her) and help her with her decision to abort (kill the unwanted baby). At that moment I felt a horrific emptiness that I knew was insidious evil and mortal sin envelop my soul, mind, heart and body, but I did nothing about it. The cold and detached personality skills which I had developed over many years were from my childhood were in action.
My childhood is where I learned defense mechanisms of my feelings to survive the violent alcoholic environment I grew up in. Of course I told myself I was being chivalrous by helping out this poor girl who needed a real man’s help, not wanting to admit I was culpable in my own sick and demented way. I already knew form my Catholic upbringing that it was evil to commit murder, especially abortion and/or infanticide. As a Cradle Catholic Altar Boy and knowing in my soul it was wrong to kill a baby especially when I had seen my older sister get pregnant at sixteen years old and I was only fourteen and she did not inform our parents or us, her siblings…the lack of pre-natal care caused the baby to be born premature and die within hours of entering this world. I already knew that dark devastating feeling of loss because of the personal experience with my sister’s baby and how the direct killing of an innocent child was a mortal sin.
In my distorted and sick mind, my first priority was my corporate career and pursuing the goal I had to become the first Hispanic CEO of a major world corporation. So I could not allow careless mistakes like an unwanted pregnancy with another woman from an adulterous affair take away all the hard work I felt I had already put in to get to the point I was at. The disease of thinking no one else was seeing what was going on still amazes me to this day. The insidiousness of Satan and his use of our own sick pride against us… I remember everything about that ugly hot, humid sticky dark summer day experience. I watched as she slowly walked from the death room of the abortuary, as she tried to sit in the passenger seat she vomited and said she felt acute abdominal pains and there was some bleeding, but they told her that was going to be normal. All I wanted to do was escape and get away from her and the entire situation which I knew was shrouded in evil, darkness and mortal sin.
A Catholic Altar Boy could commit murder…my fear was since I had crossed the line that I said and knew I never would because of my faith and Catholicism, what worse evils and mortal sins was I going to commit because I still had an enormous amount of rage and resentment in my soul because of the way I had been raised? I was fearful… but yet liberated that I no longer had to wonder how despicably evil and cold I could be. Depression, alcoholism, increased drug use, multiple adulterous affairs with depravity of all sorts…and a drive for more money and power beyond my wildest imaginations….I felt the more wealthy and powerful I became, the more distance I was putting between my present and my shameful and embarrassing past…the poverty, no class or refinement, no education, simple, stupid, ignorant, dirty, immigrant background with no future.
I was sadly mistaken because no matter how well I dressed and pretended to be from a background of culture wherever I went my hideous past was right there with me. So the more I tried to numb myself the deeper into the abyss I flung my conscious and my soul. I could not believe the depths of my despair and violent mood swings. Then of course, she got pregnant with my child. My fury was unparalleled. I viciously dragged her to an abortuary that she went running out of. I thought she was lying about being pregnant with my child. It was her last desperate attempt to make me leave my Catholic Sacramental marriage and become divorced like so many other mutts in my diseased family. I remember obsessing that my life and dreams were going to be trashed if I didn’t make this problem go away. The reality was I did not want to share or sacrifice anything…. my time my money with anyone, let alone a baby. I had seen it too much when I was younger, growing up poor.
But deep down inside I wished that someone would come and save me from these demented choices I was making. Finally, she acquiesced when she saw I wasn’t going to change my mind and we ended going somewhere else. The abortuary was crowded. She was crying; I did not react. When the baby was dead, I took her home, made sure there was food for her and her son, put her into bed and left. I returned to my home with my wife and tried to pretend that everything was back to normal.
It wasn’t long before I ended up at rock bottom and checked myself into a rehab center. Upon my release back in April of 1991, I immediately went to Confession with a Catholic Priest. It took three consecutive days to confess everything. But I still thought I knew better than God because, although I had just received absolution, I felt as though I could never truly be forgiven. It wasn’t until a year and a half later that God blessed me with the Grace that I finally chose to accept and begin the long painful process of my personal story of the Prodigal Son.
Today, with the Spiritual Gifts of Rachel’s Vineyard and everything that has been a part of God’s healing process for me, I have never felt the Peace that surpasses all understanding more and through this, I am willing to BE SILENT NO MORE!