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EXPRESS YOUR REGRET

Do You Regret Your Abortion or Your Lost Fatherhood? By filling in the form below you can add your expression of regret to our list. All information remains confidential and is presented anonymously


 
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For the Brother and Sister I Lost
Nick
North Dakota, United States

When I was 11 years old, I had no clue what abortion was. When I was 12 and in 7th grade, I received the opportunity to go to an abortion clinic and pray in front of it. When I went that first week, I didn't know what to expect. When we arrived I was one of the only two boys there.

As we lined up in front of the clinic I notice there were 2 people, a guy and a girl, wearing bright flagging vests with the words RRWC Courtesy Officers sharpied on a silver strip in the middle of the vest. We were there as a part of 40 Days for Life, and I noticed they had 40 brightly colored sheets of paper taped to the side of the clinic each containing a parody of the 40 Days prayers.

As everyone either took out their rosaries or took up a sign, I could see the courtesy officers tensing up. We began to pray the rosary and seconds later the courtesy officers began to scream and yell each of their 40 Days for Choice prayers over us. It didn't take long for many of the girls to begin crying. I realized that I, the other guy, and the parent chaperones were the only ones not crying because of the pro-choicers onslaught of "We pray for an end to sidewalk bullying or we pray for our respect of women."

It was then that I realized why I was out there and I decided I had to go out there every Wednesday. I hoped I would see those same courtesy officers again and maybe they will remember me from that first week. Maybe they will remember how they reduced a dozen 12-year-old girls to tears, but there were different courtesy officers every time I went there. By the last week there were none.

I continued to go to the mill every chance I got the following year, but I still didn't quite have a clear picture of what abortion truly was or how it affected the people involved. It wasn't until my freshman year that I truly knew what I was doing in front of that clinic.
I signed up to go to a March for Life, mostly for the opportunity to go to DC, but the trip was given meaning to me 3 months before we left. On the first weekend in October of 2012 during another 40 Days for Life campaign, my parents arranged for me to stay at a friend’s house so they could go on a couples retreat. He and I decided to pray outside of the abortion mill from 5 to 7 a.m. because no one had signed up for that block. We got up early and spent two uneventful hours praying the rosary and making idle conversation. Soon, after we got back to his house his mom told me that my brother was there to get me. I was confused. I wasn't supposed to be picked up until later that night.

When I got in my brother's car I noticed that my sister was also there looking half asleep. He told me that my mother wanted us with her for the last part of the retreat. When we arrived at the Sisters of St. Francis Convent we were greeted by a priest and a lady who said she would show us to where our parents were. We followed her to a comfy office like room where our mom and dad were sitting. The lady then closed the door and sat down to explain why my parents were there. She told us it was a Rachel's Vineyard Retreat and that Rachel's Vineyard is a ministry for women who have had abortions and others who believe they have been hurt by abortion.

My mother then told us about the two abortions that she had had. My mother and father were attending this retreat to help deal with their grief and guilt, and they wanted us to be with them for the final mass of their retreat when all the petitions were prayers offered up to the babies who were aborted. Then before the procession of the gifts each of the women brought up a little cloth baby that they placed in a basket in front of the altar. My mom went up with three, two symbolized the babies she had aborted and one to symbolize a child she had lost during another pregnancy.

Attending that mass with my family and surrounded by other women who had abortions and truly regretted it has given me some valuable perspective and an even better reason to believe what I do about abortion. I was no longer going to DC for the trip, but because I had people at home and in my family who I had to fight for, not just my mom, but the brother and sister I lost.

With your permission, please join me in a moment of silent prayer for my siblings and all the babies who have been aborted. Thank you for these prayers and your continued prayers. I am glad to be silent no more.


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