“I was 29 years old, and had just moved across country for a new job. I was scared, and alone. And I knew the minute I landed in my new city, the decision to move had been a huge mistake. But I was there, and had no money to move back home. I’d have to just make it work. As time wore on, I felt increasingly alone and depressed. Nights were spent at home, alone, usually with a bottle of wine. I was living in a two story building with windows overlooking the apartments next door. I had been there about 2 months and had noticed a very nice looking guy next door. We had spoken a couple of times in the parking lot and he seemed nice enough. One night, I decided to take the bold step of introducing myself. Encouraged by the half bottle of wine I had consumed, I grabbed an unopened bottle and headed next door. It didn’t take long for us to go through with it. He was nice and warm and, needless to say, very willing to relieve me of my loneliness. Trouble was, because of my move, my prescription for my pills had run out about a month earlier, and I hadn’t bothered to get a new one. But I wouldn’t worry about that, it’d be OK. About 4 weeks later, I knew something wasn’t right. I was out of town on a business trip and couldn’t keep anything down, especially in the morning. Sure enough, I got back home, went to the doctor, and he confirmed my suspicions. Funny thing is, I remember how happy I was. I remember smiling, and thinking, “I’m going to have a baby!” The next thing the doctor said was, “We can set up an appointment for you next week; we’ll take care of everything.” That’s when the reality set in. Of course he was right, he was “the doctor.” I was unmarried, couldn’t even remember the name of the “father,” and there was no way I was going to try to explain this to my mother, 1400 miles away. I couldn’t lay this at her feet and expect her forgiveness.
I remember driving up to the building to keep “my appointment”. Somehow, I managed to get through the whole thing. I was by myself, no one went with me. I’m strong, I knew I could do it, and then everything would be OK, back to normal. When the doctor was done, he came into the room, smiling, to announce everything went just fine… “Oh and, by the way, it was a boy”. That was the moment I realize I had just aborted my son. I had just killed the little boy that was to have been my son. That was 30 years ago. I still hear the doctor’s voice. I still see myself driving home, stunned by what I had just done. I still remember the irony of calling my mother later that same day just to hear her voice. And I still remember that two days after “my procedure” was Mother’s Day. I am a Christian, and have been all of my life. I take full responsibility for my actions 30 years ago. No one made that decision but me. I have prayed for forgiveness, and know that it has been granted by my Heavenly Father. But, I can’t find it in my heart to forgive myself. I probably never will. Know this… if you are considering abortion, the consequences of the decision you make today will be with you your entire life. You don’t get a do over. Know that you are aborting a living being, a child, no matter how young the fetus is. You may be strong enough to go through the procedure, but the pain you will live with the rest of your life will drive you to your knees. You’d think after 30 years I would have dealt with it. I keep trying.”
Location: Columbus, OH
Date: May 14, 2012