Dedicated to John and Mary Ann
 
I had my first abortion in 1976, when the fetus was 13 weeks old. I had it in the hospital and felt very much ashamed of what I had done. I hated the baby’s father so much. I saw this as a get-even answer. I was particularly hurt because the baby’s father said he could never marry me because I was German and stupid for getting pregnant in the first place. He was a Jew whose parents survived the Holocaust. This was like a double whammy.

My mom told me I was making a mistake and would regret it later. She was right. I would not listen. I have since forgiven him and prayed for the boy baby, who I named John.
 
About a year later, I found myself pregnant by a married man.  Naturally, he was not going to leave his wife for me. I felt particularly bad because I kept going to the doctor to see if I was pregnant. To make a long story short, I didn't find out until the seventh month. I got another abortion. 
 
In the hospital, they gave me prostaglandin to kill the baby. Later, the child was delivered dead in my bed. She was a girl I named Mary Ann. She was the most beautiful baby I had ever laid eyes on. I cried my eyes out. I never told my parents about this one because I was so ashamed over what I had done. 
 
I would never encourage someone in the same position to have an abortion. I would tell her to stick up for what is right whether she is married or not and not allow herself to be pushed around like I did. I was never the same.  I didn't trust anyone, especially men. 
 
It was many years before I met someone good. He knows my past and has loved me in spite of it.