Note from ALa: Though I am unwaveringly pro-life, I have a deep compassion for women that have suffered from the decision to abort a child. I believe these women are crucial to the pro-life movement as they can speak to the experience first hand and to the torment it caused them in the years after. It pains me to see anyone living with the burden this writer is carrying. I wish the writer would forgive herself and use this to help others. The writer did not request to be anonymous, but I have chosen to withhold the name.
I am a whore a slut and a hypocrite
"On January 6, 1997 at exactly 11:47am in Harrisburg Pennsylvania I had an abortion. I know the exact minute, the exact second I allowed my child to be murdered.
But let me back up a bit to October 11, 1996. I think it was a Saturday night it had to be a weekend because it was the night of my boyfriend's fraternity social of which I was a guest. Boyfriend and I had actually been very good at abstaining because I had suffered a miscarriage the previous March. We had decided after that we were going to abstain because we were not ready to get married and I already had one child I could barely support. Also because he used my miscarriage as the reason he was stressed out and screwed up officer candidate school (which he didn't go to until 3 months after that anyway). Well, I guess we had too much to drink or maybe it was because he wore his Charlies to the semi formal, but one thing led to another and you get the picture.
Two weeks later I am puking my guts up. Crap. The first test came back negative, phew. Kept puking went to student medical center... yep pregnant. Oh damn WTF again? It was like De Ja vue all over again. I was only a couple of months from college graduation. Roughly 7 years prior, when I was a senior in High School, I got knocked up just a couple months before graduation. I was a walking after school special.
Back to my sin. I really wanted to keep this child. I refuse to make excuses for what I did. Yes my boyfriend manipulated me terribly. He said my father would disown me and that I would finally confirm in my father's eyes that I was a whore. Then he blamed the pregnancy on me because I had decided to try Depro Provera (even though we were abstaining just in case.) He said I wasn't even a good mother to child I had and that he was going to enlist active duty and I would never see him because he would be on a ship. He said he would have to do that in order to support a child. He screamed at me that I was trying to manipulate him or trap him. If I were a gold digger I'd have picked a much better target then an unemployed college student. He screamed that I would ruin his chances at returning to officer school. In my typical fashion I stuck my head in the sand almost convincing myself I was not pregnant although my clothes didn't fit and I was puking my guts up and failing all of my classes. Boyfriend and I both walked at graduation in the Fall. It was a mock graduation, meaning we could walk because we were only a few credits shy, but he wanted his dad off his butt. I remember keeping my graduation gown on the entire day even through dinner to hide my expanding waist from his family. I remember his female cousin looking at me funny because I was puking in the ladies.
Ok let's move forward to the night before he was a real sweetheart saying he would marry me someday and that he promised to give me my baby back (like that is possible). I am weak and pathetic and I fell for it. I did what he wanted. So we traveled from school to the closest clinic which was in Harrisburg. I remember stepping out of the car and seeing the protestors looking at me I wanted to run to them , to say "save me, help me please, take me back to school, please help me". But I was scared I wouldn't be able to get back to my child who was in daycare an hour and a half away. I was scared what boyfriend would do if I ran. So I went in. Boyfriend paid the blood money: $425 on his Alumni MasterCard. I still have the receipt. I remember sitting quietly in the waiting room I think Jerry Springer was on. I was wearing one of boyfriend's T shirts and a pair of his green sweatpants. None of my clothes fit anymore and they said to wear loose clothing. The nurse called me back. I thought just to fill out paperwork, but they took me to the murder room. I didn't even get my last ditch effort to beg boyfriend, "please do let me do this". I still wonder what he would have said if I was permitted to go back out to the waiting room. I will wonder for the rest of my life.
They made me strip, put on a horrid paper gown and I had to lie down with my arms crossed like I was dead. No pain medicine. I didn't deserve it. I was a sinner. I deserved to hear every sucking sound and feel every cramp as my child was ripped from me piece by piece. I remember the doctor was foreign, maybe Indian, he was kind of mean and impatient. No one asked me if I was sure if this is what I wanted. I wanted to bolt off that table. I stared at the clock and made myself keep staring so I would remember the exact moment that I murdered my own child. When it was over I was in bit of a daze. I remember feeling cramping and gushing and I was crawled up in a ball on the backseat of my boyfriend's car. He actually got pulled over for speeding and true to form he used what had just happened as an excuse. It wouldn't be the last time. (He used it as excuse for running out of an exam with test paper in hand and he dragged me to talk to the professor to pretend I was still pregnant and get him out of being thrown out of school. He also used it to help him get an "F" changed to a "C" in Russian so he could graduate.)
I vaguely remember getting back to campus just in time to get son from daycare. I was dizzy and nauseous and I could barely stand up. You would think after what I had gone through boyfriend would have stayed with me right? Nope he said he had a closed fraternity party to go to. I was like you have got to be kidding me. He said because of the last couple of months "he felt it was important for him to work on socialization". Not so much because of the pregnancy thing but because he was still so distraught about screwing up officer school and not being able to get back in and that he would never get to fly jet airplanes. Friggin airplanes. A child died so he could have chance to play fighter pilot? His dream killed my dream of a whole family and in the end neither of us would ever get what we wanted. I have been tormented by this for ten years. I hate myself for it. I have spoken to many a counselor, priest, etc. all saying that God will forgive me that I am punishing myself worse than God ever would, but the thing is I deserve to go to hell. I deserve to be called a whore and worse. I deserve to never meet anyone. I deserve the fact I have a disorder that prevents me from conceiving again. I deserve to lose all of my friends many of which know this story and some who do not. The ones that didn't know, I suspect, after reading this will call me every name in the book, go ahead, I deserve it. There is nothing you can say to me that I haven't said to myself or felt about myself. You see I am still Pro Life but I was a hypocrite, a murderer and I know that every pain that God inflicts on me is no more than I deserve. If I could go back in time I would go to that moment when I stepped out of his car and ran as fast as I could to the elderly protestor standing apart from the crowd, silently pleading with me from across the street..."