I am writing this today because I regret the taking of my child, Ryan John’s life through the means of a legal abortion during the month of November, 1983.
When the doctor at the Minneapolis Public Health clinic told me I was pregnant I started to cry. She said, “This is not good news?” I told her, “No, I am not married” Her only advice was, “There is an abortion clinic just right down the street. Why don’t you give them a call.”
I went home and told my boyfriend I was pregnant. We went back and forth with the decision but because he told me he was not ready to be a father. I felt he would not be there for me if I did have the baby. I was afraid to be a single mom. I made the appointment and he went with me.
At the clinic I received very little counseling. I was asked why I was having the abortion. I told them I was on drugs, but truth be told I felt I had no other choice because of so many issues surrounding the pregnancy. I had no resources. I felt I couldn’t tell my parents, my boyfriend would not support me. I had no money or health insurance. I was working part-time in a bar. During the counseling session, I was told not to have sex for four weeks and that I would feel a little discomfort and some bleeding would occur. I was told I would feel some sadness but that it would go away.
What the counselor did not tell me was I would suffer for 12 years with great regret and remorse. That I would have deep feelings of lose and despair and that I would become insanely insecure and have great depths of loneliness. That I would marry the baby’s father and end up hating him because he did not protect his family. They didn’t tell me our marriage would end in a bitter divorce.
They did not tell me having an abortion could increase the chance of having a miscarriage and the inability to get pregnant again. They did not tell me that my menstrual cycle every month would be a painful reminder of the abortion and haunt me as my arms remain empty of my own child. They did not tell me that even through I have had great healing my heart would break at the touch of a toddlers hand in mine and that I would not be done crying just yet.
They did not tell me that I would wonder every day about my child and that I would crawl into the shower, turn on the water and try to drown away my pain and sorrow. Hoping God would take my life away because I did not deserve to live.
They did not tell me my sanity would be a token and my soul the price I would pay. They did not tell me I would be in secular counseling for three years; seeing my therapist once a week. They did not tell me that at the end of those three years she would throw up her hands and tell me, “You are just going to have to learn to live with it.” And in reply I asked, “How does someone live with murdering their own child?”
They did not tell me she would not know the answer.
By bringing this out into the public, I want women who are suffering to know that they can be healed. I want them to know the train wreck of thoughts, disjointed feelings and years of depression are “normal” after an abortion. I want them to know they are not the crazy ones. I want them to know they can experience feelings of joy and peace as I have and that it is only because of the Divine Mercy of Jesus Christ that I can stand here today.
Abortion is like a hurricane causing havoc among its victims. I want those who suffer to know that they can come away from the shore and find shelter from the storm and be Silent No More.