My name is Anne, and I’m from NJ. 

In 1974, right after my 16th birthday, I had an abortion in New York City.  I went there after being told by a doctor to “say you are 18” and to bring cash. I collected money from my friends. Much of it was in change in a bag. I did not have the full amount they wanted, but the clinic took me, anyway. I did not want general anesthesia, but they told me after examining me that I needed it because of the size of the baby. I only remember thinking it would be better to die than to go home to my mother, who had borderline personality disorder, and be pregnant.  So, I agreed, assuming I’d probably die.

I didn’t die.

My first feeling after the abortion was relief, because of my home situation. I never wanted to be intimate with anyone again, but a couple of years and a lot of alcohol later, I wanted to replace that baby. I drank heavily for five years following the abortion.  The only thing that stopped me was a deep and lasting conversion experience. As a Roman Catholic, I confessed the sin, experienced God’s forgiveness, and put it out of my mind.  But I still did not want to get close to anyone. When I did not drink, I was an emotional overeater and felt strangely disconnected to infants and very small children.

Many years later I attended a Rachel’s Vineyard retreat, which helped me. I later got married and had three children, although I miscarried five.

I have NEVER forgotten my first child, who I call Maureen Ann, and who I grieve differently than my miscarried babies. They are all in God’s hands, but it was only the first that should not have been gone so soon. Yet I am glad she was conceived and is with God, so I may meet her someday.