I had an abortion because I was single, and I thought I was master of my own destiny; because the father apparently had no objection; because I was ashamed that I "got caught"; because I did not want to face the disapproval of my parents and relatives; because I did not want my parents raising my child or telling me how to do so.

Abortion in New York State became legal about 1970.  The doctor who told me the pregnancy test was positive thought it was good news, so I had to find another doctor; but it may have been him who referred me to Planned Parenthood.  The NYS law allowed abortion if the mental health of the mother was in jeopardy, so I was required to meet with two separate psychologists and was coached to tell them I was suicidal because of my pregnancy.

The procedure was called a "therapeutic D&C" and was performed by a seemingly well-respected OB/GYN at an excellent local hospital.  The only things I remember were that the nurse(s) were not very friendly because they knew what this D&C actually was; and I've always wondered, "what if" if they had spoken up (instead of looking at me with disapproval).  The second thing was that my release was delayed because I had lost so much blood.  I had driven myself there and home again.  I was emotionally cold and indifferent.  But the OB/GYN had "saved my life", i.e. my lifestyle.

Immediately after the abortion, I do not remember anything in particular except continued disbelief about the pregnancy.  The fact that I just had an abortion immediately sealed up somewhere, never to be remembered.  The baby's father seemed unfazed, and we continued our relationship until I ended it, perhaps a few months later, only because an old boyfriend re-entered my life.  I think it was a month or two after the abortion that I experienced an extremely frightening menstrual period, and I've always wondered what an entire weekend of a huge amount of blood and large pieces of tissue really were... Since I was spending the weekend with a friend out of town, I had no access to my doctor, and I don't think I ever asked the doctor about it later.

As time went on after the abortion, it did not seem there were any ill effects, emotionally or physically.  I just never thought about it.  It was securely shut away.  I've experienced serious bouts of depression my entire life, I could not make a connection to the abortion for any that occurred since then.  It did not seem normal to feel so disconnected from children, but there were other reasons for that, too.  The first time I felt a longing for motherhood was when I saw my first nephew.  Marriage was still many relationships and years away.  And then I married a man who deceived me about wanting children, which later seemed like "poetic justice".

It was only after that marriage was finally ending that I found what I had been looking for, for a very long time: a return to God and His Church, for truth, for goodness, for freedom, all of which carried me through the nightmare of the divorce process.  Along the way, and especially by watching EWTN, I learned what abortion really is, what those "blobs of tissue" really are, and reality hit me like a boulder: I had killed my child.  I had allowed that beautiful, tiny baby to be torn apart within my own body, a human child I handily disposed of, my child, a son perhaps, a childhood never lived, a bicycle never ridden, a cousin never known (my first nephew was also born in 1970), an adult in his own right with his own career, his own family perhaps, the possibilities, the joys, the sorrows.  I am horrified that abortion exists, all those lies women are told, my own cavalier attitude for so very long.  Jesus, I beg for forgiveness and for your mercy.  I'm so sorry I killed a precious child of God, His creation that He had entrusted to my care, a human being created for a purpose.  So, here I am, 65 years old, absolutely alone, still keeping the worst of all secrets from everyone who knows me, and unable to forgive myself.  I am still trying to muster the courage to seek help person-to-person.  Hopefully, this is a step in that direction.  I pray for my child and tell him I am sorry, but I'm too embarrassed to ask him to pray for me. Also, I recently began praying for his father.