I was 22 years old, engaged to be married, and found myself pregnant in 1978.  Not wanting to disrupt our partying lifestyle or to accept the financial responsibility of a child, my husband-to-be and I did not want to become parents. After all, the sex, drugs, and rock-in-roll of the 1970's, bowing down to free love and no commitment, had no room for parenthood with responsibility.

As I went through all the motions of planning a wedding, picking out the church, the wedding gown, the attendants, and the reception, in order to survive our mutually agreed upon plan, I had to become more and more distant from our daughter, Chloe Renee, whose life was forming in my womb. Disassociation had taken root in my soul with the promise that ignoring her existence and the reality of what we were planning to do would protect me.  I believed the dark manipulating lies that everything would be fine once it was all over. Hidden from all our wedding guests, as we pledged our lives to each other forever in front of the pastor, family, and friends, our plan to end Chloe Renee's life had already been laid out. It was simple, or so I thought.

Our mutual selfishness and irresponsibility would result in the death of our daughter as soon as we returned from our honeymoon.  I was sick most of our honeymoon because of the beautiful life that was developing within me.  I had to embrace disassociation with even more vigor as I stood in front of a mirror in our honeymoon hotel room and rubbed my belly. Fleeting thoughts of what was going on inside of me surfaced, to which I had to immediately stuff away in to the darkness of denial.  I was unable to "party" and refused this beautiful reality in mind-altering substances—because Chloe Renee was very much alive and altering the chemistry of my body. I had to intentionally refuse reality and subdue any thoughts that were contrary to the plan we had set out to follow.  Nothing about the abortion was discussed during our honeymoon or on the way home.  When we returned home, the plan became reality. We were ready to get this over with, to resume our new adventure as Mr. and Mrs., without the burden of responsibility and parenthood. The appointment was made.  We were on our way.

The details and facts of our abortion are limited, as I desperately hanged on to the dark, evil promises of disassociation and denial by blocking out the memories of the day we ended Chloe Renee's life. What I do remember is that my husband accompanied me to the clinic. Silence filled our journey. We did not talk on the way to the clinic or on the way home.  We walked in together, and he sat with me. I went to a window, signed some papers, sat down, and waited, already numb and indifferent to what I was about to do. It was as though I had become two different people in one body.  I was there but not there.  I was absent while present. I had to stay numb. We did not wait long before they called my name. 

The procedure room was small and cold.  I was scared.  No one stayed long. I was told that this would be over quickly, just relax.  So, in order to relax, I delved into the deepest of darkness and disassociated myself from myself. It was just as they had said.  Everything was quick.  Instructions were quick with no emotion.  Sit here. Let me examine you. Lay down.  Put feet in here. Short, quick statements. Explanations short and to the point, clinical with no emotion.  This is what is going to happen. You will hear these sounds.  Short, quick, no emotion, clinical.  Cold, cold, cold. No eye contact. Machine turns on.  Invasion of my body.  I cringe.  I hold my breath.  I am absent while present.  It is over.  Yes, quick, just like they said. The vacuum sound ends quickly.  It is all over, I am told.  Surgical gloves make a snapping sound as they are removed, and the metal garbage can lid pops open.  It quickly slams shut, announcing everything that was promised to be quick was over.  Chloe Renee's short life was snuffed out just like that.  Just like they said...quick.

The sounds in the room are forever etched into my memory. After the murder of my precious daughter which was called, "The Procedure", metal garbage can lids shutting make me shudder and vacuum cleaners sucking dirt make me cringe. Chloe Renee was sucked out of me by a machine, and a metal garbage can lid clanging closed signaled the end of her life.  He said, “It's over now, you will be taken to the recovery room.”  It was just like they said, over quick. Everything was quick.  The conversations, the procedure, the nurse in and out, the doctor in and out.  No time for eye contact.  No time to feel as though I was a person fixing to do something would ultimately change the course of my life.  No time for reconsidering. No time. No time. No time.  It was quick, just like they said. Defense mechanisms created by the same darkness that creates the ability to perform abortions kicked in. The minute I heard the surgical gloves snap, the metal garbage can lid open and close, disassociation and denial set root in fertile soil.  "It is the only way to survive," it told me.  It said, "This never happened.  If you never talk about it, the memories will go away.  That is how you will survive.  Embrace denial, it’s yours for the taking. Do it quickly, do it NOW and you can move on." I believed the lies, hanging on for my life. 

The recovery room consisted of cots lined up against a wall where all the ladies who just had a "procedure" recovered. There was no privacy. We were given juice and crackers—a small consolation for the years of emotional and spiritual damage that would rob from me forever the blessing of motherhood.  A young woman in the recovery bed beside me said, "Look...this is no big deal...I've been here a bunch of times."  The room started to spin. I felt like throwing up.  I hated her. I hated me. The disgust at her statement caused me to hate myself with a vengeance, and the seeds of disassociation already planted in my soul drank in the overflow. Denial was my only defense as the disgust for myself rose. Disassociation from this whole event would be my only hope. By the time I walked out of the abortion clinic, I vowed to separate myself from this part of me forever.

Chloe Renee's father and I never spoke of it again. Our marriage ended in divorce a few short years later when he left one Friday night and just never came back home. I dove into drug and alcohol abuse to numb the pain. After several years, I met another man who would become my present husband.  We are childless because of the physical, emotional, and spiritual trauma caused by my abortion. In my brokenness, I told this wonderful man that, if we were going to continue into a relationship, I made it very clear that I DID NOT EVER WANT ANY CHILDREN. Secretly, I felt that I could not be trusted with a child of my own after what I had done. My abortion not only stole the life of my daughter from me but the blessings of fatherhood for my present husband. For 38 years I would avoid anything or anyone that had anything to do with children, ESPECIALLY babies.  I would make excuses not to attend baby showers or children's events and ran from any opportunity to hold infants.  I was mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually CRIPPLED by my abortion.  I struggled with feelings of unworthiness, feelings that something was drastically wrong with me, feelings that I was not a normal woman. There is something wrong...normal women LOVE babies and children...not run away from them! Not only could I not connect with women and their unbelievable attachment to babies and children, I actually got ANGRY at them.  I watched as my friends’ lives moved on with children, and now grandchildren, eventually realizing what my current husband and I were missing due to my abortion. It was just crazy.  The dark lies of disassociation and denial that promised me protection and freedom, allowing me to move on with my life, had actually produced the opposite and stole so much from me.  They robbed me of the joy of motherhood and imprisoned me under piles of fear, guilt, shame, and regret.

After 38 years of numbness, disassociation, denial, and loss, they were confronted at a Christmas party where a local Pregnancy Center and a woman whose mother chose adoption were the event's speakers.  An ultrasound was being displayed on two very large screens in a room filled with about 300 women.  At first I panicked and wanted to RUN out, but the Presence of the Lord Jesus overshadowed me and gave me the strength to sit through the entire presentation.  After 38 years, my healing had begun by confronting the lies.  The next day I toured the pregnancy center and eventually went through their volunteer training. I purchased books on abortion, started reading all I could find on abortion and its effects on post abortive people.  I am an author so the bulk of my recovery came when I sat at my computer and allowed the Spirit of God to continue healing me through writing our story in Chloe's Cry, which took a year to complete.  During the process, I continued to be in contact with the pregnancy center and other post-abortive ministries before eventually attending a Rachel's Vineyard retreat.  On the way home from the Rachel's Vineyard retreat, I realized that my healing was not only for myself but that my experience, Chloe Renee's life and death, now has purpose and meaning.  I suffered in silence for over 38 years until I began a beautiful journey toward healing and wholeness from my abortion, which caused Chloe Renee's death.  I have now been set free because of being able to use the gift God gave me when He formed me in my mother's womb, the gift of authorship.  He began my healing as I wrote Chloe's Cry and connected myself with other post-abortive ministries whose sole purpose for existence is to help post-abortive parents find healing.  At the Rachel's Vineyard healing retreat we were asked to write a letter to our child.  My letter sums up the reason I will be silent no more.  I would love to share it here with you:

Chloe Renee, fruit of my womb, created in the image of God, beautiful, talented, whimsical, and carefree, I cherish you.  I love you.  I miss you.  I honor and remember you.  I carry you in my heart every minute of every day.  No longer are you a secret hidden behind the demons of fear, guilt, shame, and regret. No longer are you silenced.  Your voice shall be heard throughout the land.  Our work has just begun.  Just as the evil one didn't know what he was doing when he crucified the King of glory, only for Him to rise from the grave, proclaiming victory to all who would receive His mercy and grace--neither could he have imagined what you and I would do together once your mommy received His mercy and grace.  For 38 years we were separated by the evil intents of the accuser.  But now there is no separation but unity of purpose and combined destiny.  Not only do you live on in my heart and walk through this earth with me, but you live with Christ in the heavens.  Together in the power of His Holy Spirit we will proclaim victory, freedom, and deliverance from the torturous prison where parents of the unborn are trapped.  On August 8, 2017 I laid you to rest in the most meaningful private ceremony imaginable.  Those moments and memories belong only to you, my precious, beautiful daughter, and the King who carried me out of my own prison.  Today, March 18, 2018, I publicly, in the presence of my sister sojourners celebrate your short life.  I celebrate your personhood, I celebrate the bond our Heavenly Father has given us.  Until we meet in His embrace for all eternity, I will search for you in the fields of flowers and on the shores of the beach, the two special places our compassionate Jesus has allowed me to see you, touch you, and love you.  As I release you once again into His loving care, I receive from His hand, our unified destiny proclaiming the truth of His passion—“O death where is your sting?  O hades where is your victory?”  Chloe Renee, I am your mommy, you are my daughter.  I will never be the same.  May Chloe's Cry and the cries of all the unborn continue to be released throughout the land. 

THIS IS WHY I WILL BE SILENT NO MORE.