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Testimonies
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Buried Deeply
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Michelle
Florida,
United States
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In the summer of 1976, at just 15 years old, I found myself pregnant. My parents had divorced when I was 12, and I was afraid of what my mother's reaction would be to the news that I was pregnant. I was close to my aunt and uncle, who lived 4-5 hours away, and they came and brought me home with them for the summer to care for my younger cousins. I confided in them, and, with their counsel, I was led to believe that an abortion would solve my problem- and my mother never had to know!
I remember looking through the yellow pages with them. My uncle drove me to the clinic. I remember walking inside. I remember hearing only that this procedure would fix everything and allow me to finish school. I remember waiting for my turn and “nurses" who positioned me on a cold metal table. No one ever said that what was burrowed in my womb was a baby. I don't remember faces. I was given general anesthesia and told not to worry--when I awoke my life would be back to normal.
I woke up in a lot of pain and shivering profusely. I think I woke up in a hallway. They gave us cookies and a Dixie cup of orange juice. I remember my hands shaking so much that I spilled most of the juice on my lap. There was no warmth--physically or from clinic workers. I can't remember any more details, but I recovered at my aunt and uncle’s house. It was the summer that Elvis Presley died--I remember seeing it on the news on TV.
I had an abortion at 15 because I was scared, terrified and the adults in my life told me it was my best option. I don't remember hearing any other option.
After my abortion my life spun out of control. Promiscuity, heavy binge drinking, partying, drugs, and skipping school plagued my teen and young adult life. I had difficulty relating well to my firstborn child, and even now we struggle. I have major-treatment resistant depression, panic attacks, two divorces, alcohol addiction, and self-loathing that I never knew I had.
The pain and guilt and remorse were buried SO deep that 38 years passed since my abortion before it finally surfaced after the traumatic, sudden death of my newborn grandson. My then husband left me when my grieving took too long for him. I had suffered extreme loss, 8 family members in 12 years--but the culmination was my precious grandson's death. Sometimes it takes a tragedy to unearth a deeply buried trauma. That's how my awareness settled on what I had done through aborting my own baby.
Thankfully I found Rachel's Vineyard Retreat, and there, within the safety of other women who had abortions, I was able to find forgiveness and begin my healing journey. I cried over my lost little one--I recognized his God-given dignity and named him "Stephen David,” after the first martyr, and the king who had a heart after God. Through my Catholic faith and the tenderness of God I am beginning to find forgiveness for taking the life of my own child. I know there are so many women who need to find this tender forgiveness, which is why I will be silent no more!
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