Good morning!  My name is Leeann.  I am a survivor of a most hideous procedure.  I am an abortion survivor.  Unfortunately, my son, who I call Matthew B., did not survive this procedure.  He wants his mother’s story told. 

I was pressured by my mother and father to have an abortion when I was four months pregnant.  I had no idea what an abortion was.  I had become pregnant from a one-night stand.  I was scared.  And I turned to my parents.  I thought they would let me have the baby and put him up for adoption.  What happened was not the adoption. 

My son was burned to death in my womb as a result of the saline injection.  I felt my baby’s body struggling to live, but I was hopeless and helpless against stopping his death at that point.  I became ill with vomiting, diarrhea, and cramping.  I was in labor for ten hours.  Finally, I was knocked out, and the baby, my son, Matthew B., was removed from my body.  When I awoke from my abortion procedure, I was aching from every part of my body.  My breasts leaked milk at that time and still do to this day. 

From that day forward and for many days to come, I chose to be in denial.  I told myself the lies that our society tells us, that you are hearing behind us, that I needed to be thankful that I was able to have abortion and not be saddled with a baby.  I was told I was fortunate because I could now go on with my life.  But I missed my baby.  I wondered what he would be like.  I thought about him every birthday.  And I had a fantasy that the abortionist had raised my baby, a blond-haired baby.  I knew I would be able to find him one day. 

Vocally, I told people that abortion was wonderful.  I told others that is was right for a woman to choose not to have a child and not be burdened.  Years later, I met the love of my life, the man who would become my husband.  I knew I had to tell him that I had had an abortion—not an easy thing to do.  It’s something nobody ever talks about.  I was told never to tell anyone I had had an abortion and so I was obedient; I was quiet, I was silent.  My fiancé looked at me and said, “You killed your baby.” I was indignant.  This was the first time I had been told the truth of abortion.  Sixteen years of self-destructive behavior, alcoholism, depression, promiscuity, low self-esteem, poor decision-making, and suicidal thoughts—those were the other facts of my abortion. 

When we married, we wanted to start a family right away.  That “right away” never came.  No more baby.  I had hit rock-bottom and I realized that, indeed, through this hideous procedure of abortion, I had killed my baby and I needed to come to terms with this.  Through the grace of God, I have come to terms that I permitted my son, Matthew B., to be killed, so that I could have a life (I was told), but that life was very empty and very, very difficult.

I want everyone here to know that my abortion hurt me in ways I never could have imagined.  I still cry, thirty-five years later.  I miss my son; I miss my grandchildren, because even though I was a poor mother, my son would have been a wonderful father. 

I am your sister, I am your daughter, I am your mother, I am your aunt, I am every woman, I am not bad, I am not good, I made a mistake, but it was compounded by murder, and for that, my life changed irrevocably.  If I keep silent, no one will benefit from my experience.  My prayer is and will be that no woman should ever undergo an abortion—ever again. 

If you are a woman who’s had an abortion, there is help for you.  If you are a man whose child has been aborted, there is help.  If you are a family member of an aborted child, there is help.  If you are a woman considering abortion, please come talk with me.  I have been in your shoes and I would give up everything I have today to have my son standing with me today.  God bless us all.