To Anyone Considering Abortion:
As I write this letter, my heart is breaking—it is
the 13th anniversary of the horrible day that I chose to
end the life of my unborn child. I have regretted that
decision every minute of every hour, of every day since
that dark day. Days like today, my pain is so unbearable
that it feels like I can’t escape it, ever!
This letter is my way of trying to cope with my own
guilt and shame. I would like to think it will help
someone and maybe their precious child will have the
chance mine never had—the chance to experience life.
I was 16 years old when I became pregnant. The father
was my high school boyfriend. I finally got up the
courage to tell him and he left me so fast, I couldn’t
believe it. My mother immediately ordered me to have an
abortion—“There was no negotiation,” she said.
At the abortion clinic, the counselor asked me if I
was sure about my decision and I practically screamed
"NO!" She smoothed it over and told me I was going
through normal "pre-procedure" nerves.
The next day, the actual procedure was scheduled. I
guess I was so numb by then, I was moving as if in a
trance. I remember when the doctor came in, I looked at
him and said, “I don’t want to do this. Please tell them
(the nurses) to stop.” He laughed and to me that we had
no choice now—my cervix was dilated and the baby would
die anyway. For as long as I live, I will never forget
the sound and the feeling of my baby being torn from my
body. I couldn't believe the force that was going
through my body. It seemed like it took forever and I
was screaming the whole time. I could literally feel
them violently tearing my irreplaceable, precious child
from the safety of his home. For all my pain, I can only
imagine how his last few minutes of life were!
Every year I think the pain will dim, but it never
does. PLEASE! To anyone considering this as an option,
do not think for one second that it will be easy and
will be over quickly. This is a pain you must be
prepared to bear for the rest of your life. If only I
had carried this baby and given him to someone who was
yearning for a child to love. Imagine how our lives
would be different—my life, his life, the people who
could have been his parents.
I regret that I cannot sign this with my real name—no
one in my life knows about my past. I hope this doesn't
lessen the effect of my story.
