Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this guest post are solely those of the guest author.
I am a Christian wife and mother with a strong passion to educate others about the truth on abortion. I believe people deserve to know what happens in an abortion clinic and what a woman carries with her for eternity.
I know this because I didn’t just have one abortion — I had three.
I am 46 years old and will carry the memories of my children until the day I meet them in heaven. I think of them every year and wonder what they would look like and what they would be doing with their lives. I took that from them.
A history of abuse
From the age of three, I was sexually abused by a stepfather and two uncles. Years later, I was raped in a bar parking lot.
I come from a highly dysfunctional family where I was neglected and abused emotionally and physically. I had no self-esteem, and was never taught that it was okay to say ‘no’ to a man. I was never taught self-love and that my body was sacred. I grew up believing that the only reason I was here on earth was to please men. I thought the only way to have a boyfriend was through sex.
I became pregnant for the first time at age 16. When my friend told me that she thought I was pregnant, I finally took a test. I was filled with fear. Telling my mother was terrifying. She had gotten pregnant with my brother at 15, and she reminded me of that almost daily. When I told her I was pregnant, she was fearful — and she told me I needed to get an abortion. She said if I kept the baby, I would end up in the welfare line, barefoot and pregnant, with multiple children.
I begged her to change her mind. But I knew she was set, and I had no way out.
The first abortion
We lived in Idaho, but traveled to Washington State for the abortion. My mother had a Volkswagen van with a bed in the back. I hid under a blanket, crying silently and holding my stomach. I apologized to my baby the entire time. I was heartbroken but felt trapped.
At the clinic, I was escorted to a waiting room. There I was surrounded by about 15 other women. I felt like cattle. I was numb and scared to death. The guilt was overwhelming. I sat there and listened to the women speak to one another. Several said they were there for a third or fourth abortion and that they were going to “party” later that night. I remember thinking that I could never do this again in my life. I felt like I was going to the slaughter.
My name was called, and I was brought to a makeshift room with a cold table to lie on. The walls were pale green, and medical instruments were everywhere. As I lay there waiting, the nurse came in and was very cold towards me. The doctor then came in quietly, not speaking to me.
They must have told me what was going to happen, but I think I was so numb that I couldn’t hear them. The pain was unbearable; the sounds were horrific. Even in that moment, I couldn’t fully appreciate what was happening in that room. I think to survive, I had to ignore the truth. Tears streamed down my face.
I was then led to a back exit where my mother met me with her van. I crawled under the same blanket and cried the entire ride home. I held my stomach and begged for forgiveness.
After a few days of mourning my loss, I had to get up and move forward without thinking about it. That’s what I told myself, anyway.
The second abortion
At age 17, I worked at Job Corp in Oregon. I lived in a co-ed dorm, where I met a boy who ended up abusing me and stalking me. After he was kicked out, I learned I was pregnant by him. I was scared to death and alone. I knew I couldn’t rely on my mother for help or guidance.
I felt like I had no way out. I went to the guidance counselor and she arranged for an abortion.
The only thing I can remember from the experience is the silence on the drive there — and when I was put on the table, I asked if the nurse could hold my hand. She had to ask the doctor for permission to touch me. He seemed annoyed by that, but allowed it.
I remember the pain and the horrible sounds. I remember the car ride home and the amount of guilt I felt. I remember asking myself if I would ever learn from this.
I stayed in bed for a few days and then went on with my life — or it appeared that way. Deep down I was drowning. But I didn’t know Jesus as my Savior and there was nobody to talk about these deep feelings I had.
People around me treated abortion like it was getting a tooth pulled. In my heart, I knew it went much deeper than that.
A healthy baby boy
When I was 19, I began communicating with a man 15 years my senior, who was in prison. We wrote to one another, and I visited him in prison. He portrayed himself as a great guy who made a minor mistake that landed him in prison. I wanted to be loved so badly that I believed him. Until I didn’t.
At times, he joked that one day, he could show up on my doorstep. I never thought it would happen. Until it did.
He was on a work detail at a cemetery near my apartment. That day, I was cleaning and I saw a work truck stop on the side of my building. A man jumped out of the truck. As he came closer, I realized it was him. He was at my door with a huge smile on his face. I asked why he was there and what was going on. He told me that he had paid the guard five dollars, and he had 15 minutes with me. So, two minutes of loveless sex later, he walked out my door and went back to the cemetery.
I was stunned, shocked, and scared all at the same time. A few weeks later, I lost my apartment and had nowhere to go. He offered for me to move in with his mother and wait for him to be released from prison. I got on a Greyhound bus with the few items I owned and moved into a complete stranger’s home.
About six weeks later I learned I was pregnant by him.
I kept my pregnancy a secret from my own family until I was four months along, because I feared that they could convince me to have an abortion — and I wanted to keep this baby. Then, I learned some very damaging truths about the man in prison, and how evil he was.
I was afraid, and promised I would protect my baby with everything in me.
I called my mother and asked her if I could come home, and she said I could. I lied to the man and his family, telling them I needed to be around my family but that I would be back. In truth, I had no intention of ever returning.
His stepfather took me to the bus station in the middle of the night, hugged me, and said I was a very smart young lady. He knew what I was doing, and told me to not come back, because the father of my child would never change.
I gave birth to a healthy and beautiful baby boy in July of 1999. I was a single mother with no job, no car, and no money. I took him home and worked hard to provide for him, and loved him with everything I had in me.
I carried guilt for aborting my first two babies that I didn’t fight for. I wanted to make them proud of me by taking care of my son.
The third abortion
But then, when he was six months old, I met a man at my job and we began dating seriously. We soon moved in together and got engaged. I thought I had found my ‘forever’ in him. He loved my son like his own.
When my son was nearly a year old, however, our relationship was falling apart, and I suspected he was cheating on me. On my son’s birthday, I had to go get a DNA test done so I could get welfare. That day, I found out I was pregnant.
I had a million thoughts amd didn’t know what to do. How was I going to raise two babies on my own? I couldn’t see past that. I never thought the man I was with would help me. About a month later, I made the decision to have an abortion. Again, I traveled to Washington State. I only remember bits and pieces of this because it was traumatizing.
Even writing this, my heart is racing and my hands are shaking.
I don’t remember walking into the clinic or who I spoke to, or getting onto the table for the doctor to put sticks in my cervix. But I do remember going to the motel they set me up with — a crack motel with prostitutes. It was dark and dirty. I remember lying on the bed having contractions throughout the night.
To this day, I don’t know what these sticks were, but I assume they were to dilate my cervix. I went to the bathroom several times thinking I was going to give birth on the toilet. I don’t remember how I got to the clinic or got to the table, but I will never forget the pain that I endured and the sounds that I heard. I was so angry and disappointed in myself. I was numb and deeply wounded by my own actions.
I remember promising myself that I would never do this again. I had a baby to raise, and I needed to focus on that.
Redemption and learning the truth
I worked different jobs that allowed me to raise my son, got my GED, and had the help of my mother and her husband. My son flourished. I went to school, got a job as a dental assistant, and I was proud of myself. I soon met the love of my life — the man to whom I am still married. We raised my son together, and I am so proud of who he is!
Through the years, the babies I aborted have always been on my mind. I found God along my journey, and when Roe v. Wade was overturned, I reached out to a pregnancy center for help. I attended a retreat where I found peace and forgiveness for my abortions. I then worked for the pregnancy center for a year; I learned so much and gave my heart and soul to that job!
One day while there, I got to witness an ultrasound. I was so shocked at what I saw on that screen! I asked the tech how far along the patient was, and she told me 8 weeks. I saw the baby’s head, a spine, arms and legs, and a heartbeat.
6 weeks from fertilization (8 weeks gestation/LMP)
I kept myself together until I went back to my desk, and then I broke down.
I knew all along that Planned Parenthood had lied to me about my babies, but to see the proof on that screen brought me to my knees. I was never given options, and was told it was just a clump of cells.
I know God has forgiven me — and when I get to heaven, I will get to meet my beautiful babies again.
Tell President Trump, RFK, Jr., Elon, and Vivek: Stop killing America’s future.
Defund Planned Parenthood NOW!
