My name is Eric. I am a Christian, a husband, a father, and
I work as a hairdresser in New York City. And I am torn apart by the fact that
I did not stop the abortion of my precious daughter. Although I am covered by
the blood of Jesus who died for my sins past, present, and future, I feel that
there is still a price I must pay, a consequence, a sentence for my choice.
Here is my story.
In December 2002 I began telling everyone, co-workers,
clients and friends, how important two days were in my future. The first was
January 23, the date my then three-years-old daughter would premier as a Gap
model. It was going to be an exciting day to see her bigger than life in store
windows all over Manhattan. The other was May 7, 2003, my daughter Emmanuelle’s
due date. But before either of those dates arrived, my wife and I went for a
sonogram and learned that Emmanuelle had a rare brain anomaly, which would
cause seizures and clenched fists. The doctor was very upset that he had to
give us the news that our daughter was not perfect. He said "we’ll talk
about options tomorrow morning," but we never talked about options.
Instead, on January 15th, my wife and I let the doctors kill
Emmanuelle. I sat nearby quietly praying while the doctor inserted a huge
needle into my wife’s belly as she lay sedated, and injected a salt solution
straight into the heart of my precious daughter killing her instantly.
Afterward I thought, how can I ask God to bless me after what I have done?
"The prayers of a righteous man availeth much" (James 5:16)
therefore, the prayers of an unrighteous man availeth nothing.
When my wife went to the doctor for her post abortion checkup,
she learned that the doctor had taken a picture of Emmanuelle after she was
aborted. I suppose it is a picture of her lying dead on the table shortly after
the delivery. I’ve never looked at the picture. I still cannot believe that my
wife brought that picture home.
I don’t know if my marriage can ever be restored. I look at
my wife and am reminded of the sin we committed. Though I love my two beautiful
children, I am constantly reminded that one is missing. How will I tell my
children about their sister in heaven? Will I ever be free of the guilt and
shame? I look forward to the day when I can ever so humbly ask her for
On January 23, 2005, I traveled to Washington, D.C. to
participate in the March for Life. While there, I met men and women who also
had abortion experiences, some more than twenty years ago. Their abortions hurt
them and changed their lives just as mine did me. We all aborted for
convenience only to find out we would never have convenience again.
There are constant reminders of what I have done, and I find
myself wondering if I will ever get back on the path where, at the end, I will
be met by God saying, "Well done good and faithful servant." For now,
I am committed to speaking out in the hope of waking up the medical community
and to reaching out to other victims of abortion, particularly the husbands and
fathers. Maybe by helping them I can help myself.