|
|
| |
Cicely
Indiana,
United States
|
| |
|
| |
I had my abortion because I felt like abortion was my only option. I was a single mother of one beautiful daughter who I had at the age of 17. I worked diligently to beat the stereotype of the girl who became pregnant as a teenager. I was focused on my daughter and my career and had left my daughter’s father several years prior. He had not attempted any contact with her for about two years.
I had recently worked my way into a management position, I was practicing abstinence, and I had just bought a home for my daughter and I. Out of the blue my daughter’s father requested a visit. During that visit I had a momentary lapse in reason, and four weeks later I was faced with a pregnancy. I felt that all my hard work would be pulled out from under me. I envisioned all of those who had encouraged me now being disappointed in me.
I immediately called the abortion clinic. They treated me badly on the phone, but I was focused on only one thing—getting my life back. I scheduled an appointment, and I bawled the entire time I was speaking to them. Their so called pre abortion "counseling" was a joke. It consisted of a young woman who read out of a binder. There was no compassion; it was very matter of fact. I was in this session with another young lady who was also there for an abortion. So much for confidentiality. After all of my tears, and my response of, “I just wish I didn't have to be in this situation,” to her, “Why are you crying" question, I was never pointed in a different direction or presented with other options. I felt like abortion was my only option. I was scheduled for the procedure.
The baby's father was supposed to come along for the procedure. When I arrived at his sister’s home, where he was living in the basement, I wasn't really that shocked to find he was in bed with another woman. I felt like abortion was my only option.
At the clinic everything seemed to be a haze. I was quickly checked in, removed by clothes, and was given a gown. I was then horrified when I was shown into a room that had the walls lined with benches. Every available spot was taken. I entered one door, took a seat and then scooted along as the women went in. Every scoot I took, another seat was filled, and another abortion done. No one spoke, we only looked down at our bare feet. My mind was blank.
When it was my turn a woman brought me in and instructed me onto the exam table. I laid back. Yellow is what I remember. I heard a male voice, and I assumed it was the doctor, because he was talking to the woman as if he were a doctor. And then it began. I immediately began to feel nauseous. I stated that I was going to get sick. That is when the male’s voice stated, “Oh, you'll be fine." At that moment by the tone in his voice I knew I was just a number, this was all routine. He didn't care about me. He didn't care that I was a daughter, a sister, a mother, scared. I remember some pain, the loud suction machine, and, just like that, I had aborted. I was sent to the "recovery" area where I don't remember much. I remember crying and then the clinic workers hurrying me to get up, dressed, and out so that someone else could take my spot.
I put it out of my mind and threw myself in to work. My addiction was my job, keeping busy was a must. Guilt would surround me daily. A hurried failed marriage, an eating disorder, GUILT again. The feeling of not being worthy, of being scared to hold a baby. Distancing myself from all types of relationships. I didn't dare tell anyone what I had done. I would preach pro-choice, "I wouldn't do it, but if you want to it's okay.” What the hell was I saying!? Where was my courage to speak up? To say, “No, listen, this is what an abortion has done to me.” My courage was down the road somewhere under shame and guilt and around the corner from “I am not worthy.”
I found help when I was determined to use my mistake to help others. I got involved in volunteering and was introduced to Surrendering the Secret. I was able to spend time with like women who had experienced what I had, women who were courageous, who saw courage in me. God has a grace that all of us are deserving of, even me.
After living in my own hell and feeling shackled, today I am finally free. I am redeemed, and I will share my story because I AM SILENT NO MORE!
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
Silent No More Awareness Campaign: Reach Out - Educate - Share
www.silentnomoreawareness.org |
|