I shouldn’t be talking to you today. Not me. You know--“me”--the college girl who was so sure of herself. Smart, happy-go-lucky me who lived the sexual revolution of the 70’s and really believed in it. So enlightened was I that I actually believed that with the legalization of abortion there would be no more unwanted children, fewer abused children, fewer parents bearing the burden of handicapped children or products of rape or incest. Besides, the state should have an interest in protecting women from back alley abortions, a woman should have the option in case her contraception fails, others should not impose their morality on women, and honest to Pete, a woman should have the right to her own body! I’m no hypocrite! It seemed only natural that I should have an abortion to prove to the world that I was right and I could exercise that right.
Thirty years ago, when I had my abortion, I was a little ashamed of myself for allowing myself to get pregnant. My plan was to go off the pill for a short time to “let my body rest.” Poor timing. While on a cruise I got a little loose with an Italian officer. He asked me to write. His friend would translate into Italian. So I wrote without mentioning the pregnancy. I got no answer. He was an Italian citizen. What was I to do? So I exercised my choice. My parents didn’t have to know and neither did anybody else. Simple. Plunk down the $320 in advance and forget about it. Nothing to it. I was 11 weeks along.
Oh. I remember an older woman in the waiting room crying to her reassuring friend about her impending divorce. I considered her to be a fool. I met the doctor shortly beforehand, and I told him to be careful. I did want children later—just not now. Coming off the anesthesia I remember hearing other women weeping. I considered them to be weaker than I.
Years later, I married and had children. As I grieved the loss of my father and of my brother I just couldn’t forget the abortion. I couldn’t move forward—I kept reliving the experience. I could no longer calm myself with slogans and assure myself that I had done the right thing. I wasn’t prepared for this. This wasn’t supposed to be happening! One day I called the abortion clinic and asked for my medical records and for $25 they sent them. The pathology report shows that the contents of my uterus were identifiably human—“fetal parts identified.” I called and told them about my devastation, regret and distress. I was told to call a psychiatrist. But I didn’t. I KNEW what was wrong.
No. My heart was broken. I was grieving the loss of my child. I couldn’t suppress the maternal instinct. I felt betrayed and isolated. But I knew I wasn’t crazy. Reason had gotten the better of me. I could no longer get up every day and defy facts. I felt compelled to read everything I could about abortion. The human fetus has been scientifically defined for over a century. There is a huge amount of evidence that abortion can damage the physical and mental health of women. And I emerged certain that Christian faith represents more than a statement of opinion; it constitutes genuine knowledge. I can assure you abortion has a dismal end and has no positive value whatsoever. I can't recommend it for you.
And so, thanks to Project Rachel, Rachel’s Vineyard Retreat, the Bible study, “Forgiven and Set Free," and Jennifer O’Neill’s “Life after Abortion,” I no longer feel so alone and I’m SILENT NO MORE!! Today has been a tremendous release for me. Thank you!
To watch Peggy tell her story at the 2010 March for Life in D.C., click here.