A little over 20 years ago, I was an 18 yr old woman who had her life all planned out. But the spring before I was to leave for college, my birth control failed and I found myself being told by a nurse at a local clinic that I was pregnant. She told me not to worry because I had options.
But I already knew which option I would choose. Back then, I not only believed the lie that “it’s only a clump of cells,” I thought abortion was the most responsible option a young woman in my situation could take.
It was the only option that I thought I’d be able to forget once it was done…the only option that wouldn’t destroy my plans…the only option I thought would affect my life the least. I was selfishly wrong on all three.
The first vivid memory I have of the day of my abortion is of my waiting for what seemed like an eternity for my turn with the doctor. I just wanted to get it over with and the longer I laid on that table, the more I started to doubt what I was about to do. A couple of times, I almost got dressed and left. Instead, I kept telling myself that I was doing the right thing…the responsible thing…and at six weeks I was only killing cells, right?
The second vivid memory of that day, is of the sharp pierce I felt on my left side and the cry that I heard escape from my lips. It seems that even anesthesia couldn’t stop the motherly instinct to cry out when my child was severed from my body. It wasn’t pain I felt. It was anguish and it wouldn’t end in that surgery room.
You wouldn’t have known it from the outside, but inside, my abortion had not only left a hole in my womb, it had left a huge hole in my heart. And no matter how many ways I tried to fill that hole, it only got deeper. No matter how many things I accomplished, inside I knew that none of them were as valuable as the life I had discarded.
It was many years later, when I was trying to get pregnant, that I was blindsided by the truth. As I was standing in the bathroom hoping the stick would finally turn the right color, it hit me that I wanted the test to tell me that we were having a baby. Not a clump of cells, a baby. The heartbreaking realization that I had killed the child I didn’t want brought me to my knees and the anguish that began so long ago during the abortion came pouring out of me as I begged for God’s forgiveness.
He gave me forgiveness but I would never be pregnant again. Scar tissue had grown, on my left side, to the point that it connected my uterus to my colon causing me to have first a surgery and then, six years later, a hysterectomy. No one could or would ever say if this scar tissue came from my abortion, but I think it’s a likely possibility.
Since my hysterectomy four years ago, God has been encouraging me, inch by inch, to tell my story for the benefit of others. To ask people like those gathering today to keep praying and to keep fighting to save the lives of these children. They won’t only be saving their lives, but also the lives of their mothers because I believe the second biggest lie told by pro-abortion groups is that there are “no serious, long-term effects from having an abortion.” The first lie, of course, is that “it’s only a clump of cells.”
I don’t know if my seeing an ultrasound would have made me get up from that table so many years ago. What I do know is that I had a right and it was that clinic’s responsibility to tell me the truth about what was inside my body. Then, like today, I was given the same lie that made it possible for me to make the choice THEY thought I should make. Women would never put up with this lapse in information for any other medical procedure. Until we end abortion, the least we should be able to expect is that women are given all the information available.
And anyone opposed to that has no right claiming they believe in giving women a choice.