My Baby's Story

I found myself pregnant when I was a teenager and still living at home.  There are many reasons that led to my being pregnant, primarily divorced and neglectful parents, and absolutely no church in our lives.  Of course I have to take responsibility, but in the back of my mind I ask why my irresponsible parents didn't educate me, protect me, and take me to church.  By age 18 I had attempted suicide twice using drugs.  No one noticed either time even though I was barely conscious. 

When I finally found the courage to tell my mother she commanded, "You will have an abortion and you will tell no one!"  She scheduled the appointment and took me to the abortion mill herself.  Apparently this clinic did more than abortions because while there I walked into a room where two fully clothed older ladies told me, dressed in nothing but the white open-backed hospital gown, that I was in the wrong room.  They could've stopped me if they'd had courage. I can still see the sorrow in their eyes. 

I hate the memories of the actual abortion—the sucking sound, the white lights.  But, more than that I hate the memory of the feeling something was terribly wrong.  Now, I would describe what I felt—total numbness, hopelessness, and despair—as feeling that I had just lost everything. 

In the car on the way home after the abortion I was a collapsed empty shell.  My mother asked, "Are you all right?"  I didn't answer, but I wasn't all right. 

My depression continued to grow.  I would drive down the road, crying, and thinking of driving into the oncoming traffic in order to kill myself wishing I had the courage. 

Things have changed a great deal.  I'm married, have a daughter, attend church faithfully, and depression is no longer a part of my life.  I know God has forgiven me.  I have forgiven myself. 

I ask my baby to forgive me.  Baby, I'm sorry.  Had I only known I would've fought for your life with a vengeance.  In your honor I now have the courage to defy my mother's command and tell someone.  I will fight to end this war that ripped you so violently from me.  The guilt and anger will never leave me and that's what will keep me fighting.  I love you.