I sold my soul for a date to the senior prom.  In high school I was never asked to the dances.  In March of my senior year I met the brother of a friend at a party and he asked me out.  He was two years older, going to college, had a job and an apartment of his own.  He took me to my prom.  We slept together for the first time on Memorial Day Weekend and by July, I was pregnant.

I was so scared and frightened.  I had long dreamed of going to college and thought my life was at an end before it began.  I went to Planned Parenthood for the free pregnancy test.  The counselor told me an abortion would set all things right again and it would be as if nothing had happened.  Although I had just completed twelve years of Catholic school, I believed her. 

My boyfriend took me to the doctor’s office that August day.  There were about 20 young women like myself.  We were all given paperwork to fill out and consent forms to sign.  Then in groups we were walked across the street to the hospital.  We had blood tests, were told to undress and put on hospital gowns.  Our clothes and purses were put into plastic bags.  I waited for my turn on the gurney.

When I came out of the anesthesia I was calling, “Mommy, Mommy."  One of the orderlies smirked, “This one is crying for her mother.”  In the recovery room the nurses gave us juice and cookies.  Eventually I was given the plastic bag with my clothes and told I could leave.  My boyfriend’s sister picked me up and took me to my family’s weekend place where she took care of me.  The next month her brother broke up with me.

I felt desolated; I was damaged goods.  I turned my back on my God and my Church. I began to sleep with guys on the first date, or not even any date at all.  I thought it was expected.  I was just hoping one of them would love me.  I didn’t just experiment with drugs, I engaged in full-scale research.  My favorite line at parties and concerts was, “What drugs are you on, and are there any left?”  I had two more abortions by the age of 21.

By 27 I developed severe endometriosis and had my first of two surgeries to cut it away from my tubes and ovaries.  I became clinically depressed and for three years took anti-depressants under the care of a psychiatrist.  When I was 33 I wanted to kill myself and stood atop an ocean cliff waiting to fall forward.  I was pulled back by the unseen hand of my Guardian Angel, fell to my knees and begged God to help me.  Two weeks later the man who was to become my husband came into my life.  A year after our marriage, I had surgery to remove my right ovary.  Then at the age of 36 I had a full hysterectomy.  I never had children. 

It has been a long, painful journey, but my faith has healed me. Within a few weeks of our return to the Church, my husband and I had a Mass said for the souls of my babies. Through confession, I knew God had forgiven me. But it was only a few years ago at a weekend retreat, in a deep meditation when I was in the presence of my babies, my deceased parents, my patron saints, St. Peter, and Jesus that I finally forgave myself. 

Abortion not only takes away the life of the baby, it wounds the soul of the mother and robs the extended family of all that the child could be according to God’s plan.  It wounds the father’s soul and disturbs the web of life and love intended for that man to protect and to cherish.  It crushes everyone and impacts society at the deepest levels.  All of us deserve better than abortion.  I am silent no more.