I was 18 when I found out I was pregnant. I was struggling with some emotional issues and I did not feel very good about myself. I had been struggling with drugs and alcohol, but had finally started to get my life straightened out.

I had enlisted in the Navy and was waiting to go to boot camp. I knew before I even missed a period that I was pregnant. I kept telling my recruiter that I thought I was pregnant, so he had me do a test at his office. I was actually excited at first, I had always wanted to be a mother, but when I saw the two lines, the fear set in. I started to cry, thinking about how my grandfather had been so proud to swear me into the Navy. My recruiter sat down with me and wrote down all the reasons why I had to have an abortion. Although I had not used drugs during the time that I was pregnant, he said that my baby would be retarded or deformed. He talked about how I would be disappointing my grandparents. Although I had always been opposed to abortion, I realized that I did not have a choice. I had to have an abortion.

Next, I told my sister and my mother. They both seemed to agree that I needed an abortion. I also told my father, who had always been against abortion. He offered his support no matter what I decided, but the history of our relationship told me that he would not be able to help emotionally or financially.

I went to Planned Parenthood, where they confirmed my pregnancy and then offered counseling on my options. This counseling consisted of a single exchange. The employee asked me if I wanted to discuss my options and I replied that I had to have an abortion. I was then scheduled to have an ultrasound. I was excited that day because I knew that once I saw my baby, I wouldn’t be able to go through with the abortion. However, the screen was not turned towards me during the exam and when I said that I wanted to see, the technician answered that it was too early to see anything.

My abortion was scheduled on May 21, 1997. My mom and sister drove me to the clinic. There were a couple of protesters on the street corner and I hoped they would be in front of the clinic doors, too. Maybe they could help me to keep my baby. But there was no one in front of the clinic. We entered into a small waiting area. I had to sign in and pay a woman who sat behind bulletproof glass. Once I paid, she buzzed me into the next area. I do not remember too much after that. I think my mom stayed in the outer waiting room and my sister came in with me. There were a lot of other girls in the waiting area, but none of us made eye contact. I had brought a book with me, but I just kept reading the same sentences over and over. The next thing I remember I was laying on the table. There was a lady there to hold my hand. I told her that I did not want to do it. She told me not to worry, that everything would be all right and then I could go back to being a teenager. I was crying.

The doctor came in. He was a lot younger than I expected. He told me that he was going to dilate my cervix. All I remember after that was sobbing that I didn’t want to do it, and the pain I felt when he scraped and suctioned my baby out of me. When it was over, the doctor told me that everything was okay and that I had done well. I think he looked at me with sympathy.

Next, they put me in a recovery room. I had to sit in a recliner and they gave me a heated blanket and some juice and crackers. I felt very sick. Later, some of the nurses remarked that they were worried about me because I was gray when I came out. The girl next to me asked me if this was my first time. I told her it was my only time. She said it was her second and she had a child at home.

After we left, my mom and sister took me to McDonalds. After lunch, I lit a cigarette and my mom asked me to put it out because it was not good for me. I remarked that if I could have an abortion I guess I could have a cigarette.

The depression started immediately. I could not stop crying. I quit my jobs and began drinking again and being promiscuous. I left for the Navy and continued to struggle with depression and suicidal thoughts. Antidepressants offered temporary relief, but the military doctors were not interested in discussing my abortion with me.

I met and married my husband, but struggled with intimacy and other relationship issues. I became obsessed with getting pregnant again, but could not. After five years, I realized that I needed real help, but I did not know where to go. So I started to go back to Church. I went to several Churches, trying to find one where I felt comfortable and in my search I kept seeing fliers for Project Rachel. When I saw an advertisement for an upcoming healing retreat, I finally called. I wish that I had heard about Project Rachel so much sooner.

At the retreat I met other women who understood my pain. We shared our stories and then learned of God’s forgiveness. We named our children and wrote letters to them. We were allowed to grieve. Although the healing was not instantaneous, they provided me with the necessary tools. Two years later, I am still in the healing process. I no longer feel depression, shame, guilt, or self-hate. The pain is still in my heart, but I have learned how to live with it. I have come a long way, but I still struggle with an anxiety disorder and trouble sleeping. Sometimes at night I hear my baby crying.

Since my abortion I have met a number of women who are also post-abortive. All of the women I met are suffering because of their abortions. Through my healing journey, I have felt a strong need to help other women like me. It is important that we raise awareness about the harmful effects of abortion on women and equally important that we raise awareness about the healing options available. Because of the private, secretive nature of the pain a post-abortive woman feels, the information about healing resources needs to be easily accessible.