My childhood was brutal. I was
abandoned by my father when I was two-and-a-half. Then when he reappeared in my
life again at the age of eight, it became worse. I survived incest, starvation,
and beatings.
I clung to life. It was my two abortions that nearly
destroyed me.
When I became pregnant for the fifth time in seven years,
my doctor asked me if I really thought I should "continue the
pregnancy." Abortion had never occurred to me until he suggested it. My husband said, "It's your decision. Do what you
want," and left for work. Naively, I began looking for women who had had
abortions. But I couldn't find anyone who would admit to having had one. I
asked my doctor and he said, "It only takes a few minutes and it's
over."
Having already had four babies, I am now appalled at how ignorant
I was about fetal development. My doctor said the baby--at six-and-a-half
weeks--was "just a blob," and I believed him. Afterwards, before I
even got home, I began to cry. It didn't help.
When finally I stopped crying on the outside, I kept crying
on the inside. I felt so dirty and alone. Something deep inside of me froze, I
think. I dreamed a lot about snow and ice, as well as about babies. I felt
cheated, betrayed, and manipulated.
I went to counseling and the psychologist said,
"forgive yourself," and "let yourself go on." She didn't
say how.
Two years later, I had another abortion as an act of
self-punishment. I wanted to die, or at least go crazy so I could escape the
torment, the nightmares about babies, the self-disgust and the degradation I
felt.
* * * * *
I wasn't told that there could be complications which
wouldn't be discovered for years. I wasn't told that the strength of the
suction machine is such that it can turn a uterus nearly completely inside out.
I had to have an early hysterectomy because of it.
I wasn't told that after having an abortion an unbelievable
self-hatred would consume me and lead to distrust, suspicion, and the utter
inability to care about myself, or others--including my four children. I wasn't
told that hearing babies cry would trigger such anger that I wouldn't be able
to be around babies at all.
I wasn't told that it would become impossible to look at my
own eyes in a mirror. Or that my confidence would be so shaken that I would
become unable to make important life decisions. My self-hatred kept me from
pursuing my goal of becoming a registered nurse. I didn't think I deserved
success.
I wasn't told that I would come to hate all those who
advised me to have my abortions, because they were my accomplices in the
murders of my babies. I wasn't told that having an abortion with my husband's
consent would end up causing me to hate the father of my children, or
that I would be unable to sustain ANY satisfying, lasting, fulfilling
relationships.
I wasn't told that I could become suicidal in the fall of
every year, when both of my babies should have been born.
I wasn't told that on the birthdays of my living children,
I would remember the two for whom I would never make a birthday cake, or that
on Mother's Day I would remember the two who would never send me a card, or
that every Christmas I would remember the two for whom there would be no
presents.
My abortions were supposed to be a "quick-fix"
for my problems, but they didn't tell me there is no "quick-fix" for
regrets.
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