My first baby would be 22 this week. I was a 17-year-old drug-using high school drop-out, but when the lady wearing scrubs told me I was pregnant, I already thought of myself as a new mother.
Everyone wanted me to get an abortion except me. I actually stopped using drugs, went to the library and checked out a book called Under 18 and Pregnant and started to read it to prepare. I scheduled my first prenatal check-up.
My boyfriend was relentless. I am deliberately omitting the details of the violence, both real and threatened, but I finally caved in to my boyfriend’s insistence to not have our baby. On January 4, 1989, he took me to the abortion clinic, but I literally ran out in the hope of saving my baby. Two days later, on January 6, 1989, at 9 1/2 weeks gestation, I had an abortion. It nearly killed me. No, not the surgical procedure, the psychological aftermath. I attempted suicide three times after my abortion and finally ended up in an adolescent psychiatric ward of a community hospital for a month to recover.
I was coerced into having an abortion and thought that by becoming a counselor at an abortion clinic, I could help others like me really talk out their feelings on the issue, truly explore their options, and help them make an honest, informed decision–or help them leave an abusive situation. I worked at an abortion clinic for five years (from age 18 to 23)—not the same one where I had my abortion. I started out on the phone, then at the front desk checking in patients and accepting payments, then I learned medical assisting and helped in the laboratory, took vital signs in the recovery room, and did “dishes” in the autoclave area. (I’ll come back to this).
Then, after two years working at the clinic and starting college as a psychology major, I was trained as a counselor. The “counseling” experience was not what I had hoped. Nearly every pregnant woman coming to an abortion clinic for “options counseling” had already made up her mind, but just wanted to check out the facility and have her questions answered and perhaps her fears allayed. And most of the women coming in felt they had no other choice. A few were truly ambivalent. Sure, we had a little notebook with the names and numbers of two local adoption agencies, but we were never trained or taught how the adoption process works so we could explain it to women. We had the phone number of the local WIC office, public assistance, etc., but again, knew nothing about the process should anyone ever ask for details. If a pregnant woman wanted to learn more about these other choices, the best the “options counselor” could offer was a post-it note with a phone number hastily scribbled on it.
During my time at the clinic, I was a staunch supporter of abortion rights, while all the time knowing in my heart that I felt that what I did was wrong, that I missed my baby, and that I wished things could be different for me. In hindsight, I can see that by surrounding myself with people who believed it was OK to abort babies, I was hoping that someday I would be OK with aborting my baby.
This never happened… After finally forgiving myself for aborting my first child I was able to see the world differently. After two failed marriages I was able to finally commit and my husband and I have been married for eleven years. After giving birth to three sons and feeling the life grow inside me and knowing the fierce overwhelming love a mother can feel for a child, I have been able to finally acknowledge that yes, life begins at conception….
One night after working autoclave my nightmares about dead babies were so gruesome and terrifying and intense I met with the clinic’s director to talk about my feelings. She was very understanding, open and honest, and painfully forthright when she told me, “What we do here is end a life. Pure and simple. There is no disputing this fact. You need to be OK with this to work here.” ….
For myself, I know in my heart that I would never again terminate a pregnancy — EVER — nor would I ever work at an abortion clinic again. If someone I love was facing an unplanned pregnancy, I would do my very best to help her find a way to stay pregnant and give that baby a chance—whether it be by becoming a parent, or by offering up the child for adoption.
There are far too many innocent lives being snuffed out in our country before they have the opportunity to take their first breath, and as a nation we should be doing better. We need to do better. We need to provide real resources to pregnant mothers facing an unplanned pregnancy. The women and babies of our country deserve better. After all, sometimes the best things in life aren’t planned.
Happy No-birthday, Un-baby. I miss you every day. Love & tears, Mom.
by Jewels Green (An excerpt from the full Article)
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You can contact Jewels Green through Live Action.org, contributor Kristen Walker
My maiden name is Julia Holcomb and I am writing in response to Kevin Burke’s article Post Abortion Trauma from the National Review. I found the article he wrote about Steven Tyler remarkably compassionate while outlining the trauma of abortion. My name was mentioned in this article, as it has been in several other articles that have been written lately, and in several books. I decided it was time to tell my story honestly, to the best of my memory, hoping to bring closure and peace to this period of my life.
(This letter first appeared at Lifenews.com. Reprinted here with permission.)
In November of 1973, shortly after my 16th birthday, I met Steven Tyler at a concert in Portland, Oregon. To understand what leads a 16-year-old girl to find herself backstage at an Aerosmith Rock Concert, and in a three- year live-in relationship with Steven Tyler, you need some essential background information.
Family Trauma
My biological father abandoned my mother while we were toddlers. He was a charming rogue of a gambler who came and went in our lives, leaving a wake of debt and infidelity. My mother had been encouraged to get an abortion (illegally) by more than one family member when she found out she was expecting me, (the middle child). Thankfully she gave birth to me and later to my younger brother, and was a loving mother. When Daddy’s gambling debts caused her small teaching salary to be garnished, she filed for a divorce. Even after the first divorce she had been a good mother, taking us to church, reading us the Bible in the morning before school, singing to us at night, and praying with us for our wandering father. She was gentle and supportive and I always knew I could go to her for help. When mother remarried my first stepfather, (who was an alcoholic) things became difficult.
A devastating trauma struck our family in the summer of 1971 when I was 13 years old. My younger brother was killed in a car accident on our way home from a camping trip with our grandparents. He was 10 years old. My grandfather was also killed, my grandmother lost a leg, and my sister and I were injured. The car accident and family trauma triggered a chain of events that led to my mother and first stepfather to divorce.
My stepfather was committed to a mental hospital briefly, and mother had an emotional breakdown. My sister and I went to live with my aunt and uncle for some months.
When we returned home to my mother after the divorce, things were not the same. My mother seemed wounded and disillusioned with life. Without the stability of the family, or the church, we all struggled to recover from my brother’s death. She was still working as a teacher but she was living with my second stepfather, though they were not married yet. He is a man I have grown to love and respect over time, yet in the 1970’s, when he was living with my mother, he was a different person than he is today and we disliked each other.
My sister and I were left on our own most of the time. Previously, I had been raised going to church, but after the accident we just never went back. My sister and I became angry and rebellious. My sister left home when she was about 16, and backpacked around the country with her boyfriend. There I was at age 15, my sister gone, and feeling like I was in the way. There was a sense of being an obstacle to my mothers’ relationship with this new man.
My friendships changed from the kids we knew at church to the kids who hung out at the local Teen Center. Some of them took drugs and drank.
Meeting Steven Tyler
A few months before I met Steven, while I was still 15, I became friends with a girl who had access to backstage parties at concerts. She was 24 years old, and although our acquaintance was brief, she was a pivotal change in the course of my life, and ours was one of the most dangerous friendships I ever formed.
She quickly taught me to dress in revealing clothes to get noticed and use sex as a hook to try to catch a rock star. I still remember dressing to go to the Aerosmith concert, intending to get backstage with her. I had listened to the song Dream On and seen Steven’s photo on the album cover. I went to the concert hoping to meet Steven and after the concert we met for the first time. At that time, I thought he was the best thing in my life. My sad, vulnerable story, as well as my youth and personal attractiveness captured his interest.
My mother signed over guardianship of me to Steven after I had moved to Boston. I remember my surprise when Steven told me she had signed the papers and trying to take this in mentally. A sense of vulnerability came over me, knowing that I was his ward, but we were not married. He had not expressed his intentions of a long-term relationship with me. He had mentioned that he wanted guardianship papers so I could travel across state lines when he was on tour. I had told him my mother would not sign me over to him. I asked him how he had got her to do it. He said, “I told her I needed them for you to enroll in school.” I felt abandoned by my mother as well as my father and stepfather. Steven was really my only hope at that point.
I became lost in a rock and roll culture. In Steven’s world it was sex, drugs, and rock and roll, but it seemed no less chaotic than the world I left behind. I didn’t know it yet, but I would barely make it out alive.
The Pregnancy
When we first lived together I took the birth control pill. It is not true that my pregnancy with Steven was unplanned, as has been written. After some months together, Steven spoke to me of his desire to have a child. He had grown up in the New Hampshire countryside and at times he behaved like a down-to-earth farm boy. He wanted a family and he asked me if I was willing to have a child with him. I was touched by his sincerity and said yes. I wanted children, and began to believe he must truly love me since he had made himself my guardian and was asking to have children with me. He threw my birth control pills off the balcony of the hotel where we were staying, into the street far below.
Within a year I became pregnant. I had never been pregnant before, contrary to what Steven has written. At first Steven and I were both happy about the baby. I remember telling him, “I’m pregnant” and from his reaction I believed he was truly excited. He asked me to marry him a few months later and I said, “yes.” He took me to New Hampshire to tell his parents about the baby and the marriage. He asked his grandmother if he could give me her wedding ring. His parents were conflicted about the idea of Steven and I marrying. His mother was supportive of everything Steven wanted and I remember truly loving her. She was such a kindhearted lady, with a wonderful sense of humor. His father had grave reservations because of my youth and immaturity.
His grandmother declined to give us the ring. She loved Steven but expressed concerns that if we divorced, the ring would leave the family. Things went quickly downhill from there for the two of us. When we left that night, Steven and I had a heated argument: I felt he should buy me a ring at a jeweler and we should get married anyway. He did not.
Looking back, I do not fault him for a change of heart after his parents expressed concerns. Marriage is a serious step that should not be jumped into, even when a baby is on the way. Still, I was in a bad position. I thought I loved him, I wanted to marry him, and he had asked me to marry him; now the wedding was off and I was very angry with him for not standing by me. It seemed like a cowardly change of heart after he had asked me to have a baby with him and purposefully set out to get me pregnant. For the first time I realized that I should not have been foolish enough to conceive a child outside of marriage with a man who might not be interested in a life-long relationship. His guardianship of me complicated things further. I was subordinate to him as in a parent relationship and felt I had little control over my life. I had trusted him and now was the moment of truth.
The Fire
It was the fall of 1975. We returned to our apartment in Boston, and within a few weeks he was touring with his band. I was alone and pregnant in the apartment with no money, no education, no prenatal care, no driver’s license and little food.
Steven would call me every day to check in with me and I asked him for money to get groceries. He promised to send Ray Tabano over the next day to take me shopping. Ray was a childhood friend of Steven’s and had been a guitar player in the original band. I remember waiting by the window for Ray to arrive. He came to the apartment and I let him in through the front door.
The next thing I remember was waking up in a cloud of dense smoke fighting for air to breathe. Ray was gone. I fell to the floor from the couch in the front room. The couch was not burning and I had no burns on my body, but thick black smoke was consuming the room. The smoke was less dense on the floor, but still, I could barely see.
I was frightened but calm enough to think about a series of commercials that Bill Cosby had done called, Learn Not To Burn. One message had been, if you’re in a smoke-filled room, get down on the floor because the air is clearer on the floor. I knew I only had minutes to get out of that apartment. I crawled to the front door, which was next to the couch I had been laying on. The apartment had at least three locks on the front door. There was a keyed lock on the handle, a dead bolt and a security bar that angled from the door down to the floor. Steven insisted on keeping these locked at all times because he usually kept drugs in the house and he had suffered a break-in at our previous apartment on Beacon Street. All of the locks were secured and I could not budge the security bar. I was choking and knew I needed to head for the back stairway that led down to the kitchen and an outside exit.
When I got to the stairs, smoke and heat and flames were pouring up the stairway. The railings were scorching hot at the top. I burned one of my hands grabbing the railing before I realized it was impossible to climb down those stairs through that fire. There was no way out.
Bill Cosby was there in my mind again. He had said in one of those commercials, if you’re trapped in a fire, a good place to seek shelter is an empty fireplace. I crawled to the fireplace in our bedroom and lay down inside it. It was empty and clean and the flue was open. Black smoke filled the air and was boiling up the chimney, but there was a small pocket of air on the floor where I was laying. As I began to fall unconscious, I knew I was about to die. I was frightened and I felt so alone. I believed I deserved to go to hell because of my many sins and I did not feel prepared to die.
Above the fireplace hung a picture of the child Jesus called The Light of the World, by Charles Chambers. The picture had hung in my Grandmothers’ classroom where she taught first grade. I had been one of her students when I was 5 years old. I used to look up at that picture every day in school when Grandma would open the class in prayer. One year the schools decided to take down all pictures of Jesus and forbid prayer in the classroom, so my Grandmother took the picture home. It hung in her living room for years, and at her death I was given the picture as a memory of her.
When I told my mother that I was pregnant, she sent the picture to me and I hung it over the fireplace in Steven’s apartment. Now, I was lying beneath it, close to death. I thought of my grandmother, remembering one of the Bible verses she taught me and prayed:
“Into your hands I commend my spirit, thou hast redeemed me Oh Lord God of truth.”
I was thinking of Jesus’ final words on the cross as a means of pleading for mercy. I did not expect to live and yet I felt great peace as I closed my eyes.
The Nightmare Deepens
I woke up in the hospital. There was an IV in my arm and a doctor was speaking to me slowly, like one speaks to a child. He asked, “Do you know your name?” “My name is Julia Holcomb,” I answered. He asked more questions and he was relieved to see that in spite of severe smoke inhalation I had not suffered brain damage. The baby I was carrying also survived the fire.
Steven was there in my hospital room. He said he was happy to see me alive and appeared very shaken. Steven told me they had been taking my blood oxygen count from an artery in my wrist. The last time the nurse had taken it, she had shed tears because she thought I would not make it, and said sadly “She’s so young.” Steven told me the doctor did not expect me to live, and thought that if I lived there would be brain damage from the lack of oxygen. He gave me a teddy bear and I clung to it. He told me I had received many cards and flowers from people wishing me well. I was too weary to talk and I drifted off again.
In the hospital a doctor came into my room and said that my lungs were remarkably clear of smoke damage. He said Steven had spoken to him about the possibility of my having an abortion, since I was so young and recovering from smoke inhalation. I was surprised and I asked him if the baby was OK. He smiled and reassured me that the heartbeat sounded good and the baby seemed fine. I told him I would not have an abortion. I wanted my baby. The doctor was kind and supportive of my decision. He did not pressure me in any way. He asked me if I had taken drugs while I was pregnant. I said, “Yes, sometimes.” (I did on occasion use cocaine but not to the degree that Steven was abusing.) The doctor told me that drugs were bad for me, and bad for the baby. He said I must not take any more while I was pregnant. I was so ashamed because I knew he was right. I said, “OK” and intended to stop.
The Abortion
The doctor left the room and Steven came in. He told me that I needed to have an abortion because of the smoke damage to my lungs and the oxygen deprivation I had suffered. I said “No,” I wanted the baby. I was five-months pregnant. I could not believe he was even asking me to have an abortion at this stage. He spent over an hour pressing me to go ahead and have the abortion. He said that I was too young to have a baby and it would have brain damage because I had been in the fire and taken drugs. I became very quiet and repeated the answer “No” more than once. I said I should not be asked to make that decision while still in the hospital. He said I had to have the abortion now. He said I was too far along to wait because it would be illegal for me to get an abortion in another week.
He sat beside my hospital bed, but we did not look at each other. I said no again. Finally he gave up and said, “OK, you can go home to your mother’s and have the baby there.” I was worn out and began to feel hopeless. My mother and stepfather would not be happy to have me return home pregnant. I believed they would also want me to have an abortion. I began to feel like life was caving in on me. I had no health insurance or money and did not believe Steven intended to help provide for our baby or me. He had not been providing medical care for me up to that time. I believed he was abandoning me as my father and my mother had. I began to cry and agreed to have the abortion. Steven was relieved and happy. He reassured me that he cared for me and that after the abortion everything would be fine.
I was moved to another part of the hospital and a different doctor performed the abortion. It was a horrible nightmare I will never forget. I was traumatized by the experience. My baby had one defender in life; me, and I caved in to pressure because of fear of rejection and the unknown future. I wish I could go back and be given that chance again, to say no to the abortion one last time. I wish with all my heart I could have watched that baby live his life and grow to be a man.
The doctor did not explain what the procedure would be like. Steven watched when the doctor punctured my uterus with a large needle. Then I was taken to a room to wait for the contractions. Steven sat beside me in the hospital until it was over. When the nurse would leave the room he was snorting cocaine on the table beside my bed. He even offered some to me once, but I just turned away, sick inside. Steven, high on cocaine, was emotionally detached, witnessing the procedure but cut off from the normal reaction and feelings of horror you would expect. At the time I was shocked and hurt by his behavior.
But I know now that on an unconscious level, he must have been traumatized witnessing the death of his first-born son in such a horrific and direct way. Steven watched the baby come out and he told me later, when we were in New Hampshire, that it had been born alive and allowed to die. (I was not allowed to see the baby when it was delivered.) Steven told me later that it had been a boy and that he now felt terrible guilt and a sense of dread over what he had done. I did not know that such a thing could be legal. I could not imagine a world where a tiny baby could be born alive and tossed aside as worthless without ever seeing his mother’s face.
Nothing was ever the same between us after that day, though I did not return home for over a year. I became very quiet and withdrawn after the abortion. I was grieving the loss of my baby and I could never look at Steven again without remembering what he had done to our son and me. I had just lived through a horrific fire that nearly claimed my life, but the abortion made me feel like part of me died with my baby. I felt cheated and betrayed, and angry with myself for agreeing to something that I knew was wrong. I felt deep anger and almost hatred for the doctor who performed the abortion.
Everyone around me seemed to be moving on with life, but I was carrying a wound that would not go away. Steven was already involved with other women at that time. The fact that he was my guardian complicated things for him because he was legally responsible for me. I was young, had dropped out of high school, and did not understand my legal rights at the time. I felt completely powerless.
I left Steven in February 1977 and returned to live with my mother and stepfather. Steven called a few times after I returned home and then I never heard from him again.
Rising Out of the Ashes
The road to recovery was a slow process. When I returned home to my mother I was a broken spirit. I could not sleep at night without nightmares of the abortion and the fire. The world seemed like a dark place. My mother and stepfather now had a handsome little boy. He was a joy and I could not help but be happy when I was with him. My love for my half brother opened my heart toward my stepfather and I began to see that he was trying to be a good husband and father.
Mother had found that she missed the church and they were attending a United Methodist church in our area. I began attending with them and I remember a turning point for me was a week-long church retreat in the summer at the Oregon coast. There were young adults my own age, sing-alongs, campfires, Bible studies, prayer meetings, and I left there with a renewed sense of hope that God existed; He loved me in spite of my sins, and I could find forgiveness and a measure of real happiness within a family of my own if I began to rebuild my life.
Soon I was baptized. Mother helped me to get my GED, and I got my first job working as a receptionist. I began to attend youth activities, and the church became a lifeline that pulled me out of the fog of grief, sorrow, and guilt after my years with Steven. I found forgiveness in Jesus. I forgave myself, I forgave my mother and stepfather, and I prayed for the grace to forgive Steven.
I gained the confidence to move out and enroll in college. I rented a room of my own from an elderly widow who lived near the campus. That is when I met Joseph, who is now my husband.
My husband is my true hero. He has been a loving husband, a generous father, and hard-working provider for our family. My husband loves me and has forgiven me from his heart and has not let my past define his understanding of who I am as a person. If I had kept my baby I believe Joseph and I would still be married today, and our lives would be richer because of his presence in our family. God has been generous in giving us the joy of children and grandchildren who are a constant reminder of God’s presence in our life. I am amazed at the way God has protected me over the years.
Today I am a pro-life Roman Catholic, the mother of seven children, and this year my husband and I will celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary. Joseph and I have six children of our own, and I give thanks for each of them, as they are truly a gift from God. We are also legal guardians to a beautiful little girl whose young mother made the choice for life in a difficult pregnancy, and then entrusted her to our care.
Joseph and I joined the Catholic Church, as adults through the RCIA process in 1992. The Catholic Church’s teaching on respect for life, as well as the sacrament of confession, has brought me an even deeper level of healing and peace. We have been active in ministries within the church that support the family, marriage and respect for life.
Setting the Record Straight
To set the record straight: I was never pregnant before I met Steven Tyler, nor did I ever have a previous abortion and Steven knows this to be true. I do not believe I started the fire that burned his apartment, but I am thankful to God for the brave firemen who pulled me out of that burning building. I never asked him for any money after I returned home. I came to him with nothing and I left him with nothing, except regrets. Although I presented myself to him in a highly sexualized way, we did not have sex in public places as he wrote in his new book. His continued gross exaggeration of our relationship is puzzling to me. He has talked of me as a sex object without any human dignity. I have made a point over these long years never to speak of him, yet he has repeatedly humiliated me in print with distortions of our time together. I do not understand why he has done this. It has been very painful.
Love Survives
In spite of everything, I do not hate Steven Tyler, nor am I personally bitter. I pray for his sincere conversion of heart and hope he can find God’s grace. I know that I am also responsible for what happened that day. Someone may say that my abortion was justified because of my age, the drugs, and the fire. I do not believe anything can justify taking my baby’s life. The action is wrong. I pray that our nation will change its laws so that the lives of innocent unborn babies are protected.
I pray that all those who have had abortions, or have participated in any way in an abortion procedure, may find in my story, not judgment or condemnation, but a renewed hope in God’s steadfast love, forgiveness and peace.
Our nation’s young girls, especially those like me, who have experienced trauma and abuse, and are vulnerable to exploitation should not be used as sexual playthings, scarred by abortions to free their male partners from financial responsibility, and then like their unborn children, tossed aside as an unwanted object.
Marriage and the family are the building blocks of all virtuous societies. I learned this lesson in a trial by fire that taught me to trust God’s plan no matter what occurs. I pray that our nation may also find its way back to God by respecting the life of unborn children and strengthening the sanctity of marriage.
After I was out of the hospital and recovered from the fire, Steven Tyler brought me my picture of Jesus, The Light of the World, and gave it to me. He said it was the only thing that had survived the fire. It was covered with black soot, and the paper backing was singed, but I cleaned it and it is now hanging in the entry of my home.
I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. (John 8, 12)
Sincerely,
Julia Holcomb
We had planned everything. We had decided to have this baby. Our baby…
I am 18, I just graduated and have already applied and got into the best university of interior architecture. However, we have been talking about this for a few months now. I don’t see myself going to university, I see myself having a child with my fiance, who is 23 (cooking chef), and raising our child. I lived in Oman (in the Middle East), and I was going to go to Paris to start my studies, and my fiance was going to stay in Oman for his job. So before I left (because my family was moving to the Netherlands at the same time as I was moving to France), me and my fiancé decided to try and have a baby, so that if I was pregnant I would fly back to him and live with him and raise our child together. I would be an artist and writer (I almost finished the book I’m writing, and have lots and lots of paintings to sell, and will continue with this because that’s what I really want to do in my life). We tried to conceive.
The plane took off, and my heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. I had no idea when I was going to see my fiancé again because my parents didn’t like me being with him. I found out 3 weeks after arriving in Holland that I was pregnant. The “positive” on the pregnancy test was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and tears fell down my cheeks as a huge smile lit up my face. I grabbed my phone and sent my fiancé a text:
“My love, you are going to be a father”
I had never had so much happiness. My life was exactly how I wanted it to be. I gently placed my hand on my tummy and whispered “I love you”.
I had no choice but to tell my parents immediately because we had to cancel the university year and the apartment that we had found for me in Paris. I was so scared. I was shaking. I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell them with words, so I bought a pair of baby shoes and placed the positive test in between them in a shoe box. My parents came home and opened the box in front of me. From that moment on, everything turned into a nightmare. My dad insulted me, but with the calmest voice you could possibly talk in. Meaning that he was weighing out his words more than ever before. My mom simply said ‘I can’t believe this’ and went to lock herself up in the bathroom. My dad said ok, we’ll take an appointment for an abortion. I never told them I tried to get pregnant because I was too scared of their reaction. I said “I want to keep it. I will never kill my baby”. The second I pronounced these words, they both brainwashed me nonstop for the 4 days following my statement. Every minute, I had things said to me such as “it’s not even a baby, it’s just cells growing and multiplying. It’s a cancer. Because as it grows up, it will destroy all our family. Your grandmother will have a heart attack when she’ll learn you’re pregnant. You are going to kill your grandma. And you are going to destroy your baby’s life. Look at the father he has, I feel so sorry for you. You are so selfish if you keep it. If you keep it, you will make your mother and I divorce from all the pressure we will have for raising your kid.” I told them they would NEVER raise my child because it wasn’t theirs. To which they replied “oh and you think YOU, an 18 year old girl with no money and no studies, are going to raise your child”… They continued, day AND night. Their words were so horrible that I couldn’t eat or sleep anymore. The second I would open my mouth, I would get a horrible come back that brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t eat or sleep anymore as I was crying so much and wondering “what if they are right?” – That was my biggest mistake to listen to what THEY wanted once again, and not what I felt was right. After about 4 to 5 days, I had lost 5 kg. I couldn’t walk from how weak I was: obviously when you’re pregnant and your parents stop you from sleeping because they come almost every night at 3 am to “discuss” with me for about 2 or 3 hours and leave me crying my heart out of pain and distress, it’s normal that you lose all your energy. I tried to take my suitcase and leave, but couldn’t carry it as I was too weak; that was right after my mom looked at me and told me with the coldest voice “I don’t give a s*** what you do. I don’t care anymore. You’ve caused enough problems in the family. I will take care of my husband and my son, and you just back off, I don’t care about you anymore”.
2 days passed and they kept telling me “look how weak you are, you can’t even carry a fetus properly. You’re going to die with the fetus if you don’t get an abortion”. They would NEVER say ‘baby’ or ‘child’ and they would laugh at me every time I called my ‘fetus’, baby. One afternoon I walked into the living room and as my mom hung up the phone, she turned to me and said “I took an appointment for your abortion. It’s tomorrow. So find whatever reason to persuade yourself that it’s the right thing to do. You know I love you and you know I would never tell you to do that if I wasn’t 200% sure that there was no other solution”. I looked down and stayed silence. There was nothing I could do or say to even try to make her understand.
I went to the appointment with both my parents as they thought that if they didn’t come with me, I would never do it – their excuse was that they are coming with me to support me because I was being so courageous. I walked in the room where I was meant to have my echography done. I was going to see my baby for the first time. I was crying so much I couldn’t see where I was walking. Each step I took was a step closer to death. The doctor asked me if I sure about this, which made me cry even more, and my dad answered for me “yes she is” to which the girl replied that she was asking me not him. He went to sit in the waiting room.
The nurse put gel on my tummy. It was cold. I know it sounds silly but I asked her not to press too hard on my tummy I didn’t want her to hurt my baby. She laughed. …And I saw him. I saw my baby. On the screen. He was so small. I smiled, waved, and said ‘hey baby’… I was crying so much. The girl told me if I kept it, my due date was 13th of March 2011. She looked into my eyes and after a few seconds said “go home and think this over. I refuse to do the abortion because I know you are not sure about this. There is always a solution”. When I walked out of the room, my parents understood immediately. My dad’s eyes turned black, and the only feelings I could see in his eyes were “hate and anger”. My mom walked outside and started crying and sat down in the street, on the sidewalk.
We went home. “You are the most selfish person. You are destroying your family and will destroy the life of that ‘thing’”- said my mom. I cried silently. They stopped talking to me. Every second that passed, I died a little more inside. I called my uncle and my best friend. They both told me to get an abortion I had no choice and that my parents were right about the fact that I would destroy the whole family. They had won. I grabbed the phone and took an appointment.
“I will do you an injection and you will fall asleep. The intervention will take 15 minutes.” The surgery table was so cold. My deathbed. My mom wanted to come inside there and hold my hand just before going to sleep –once again to make sure I wouldn’t change my mind despite all of the other reasons she gave me. I was crying so much and shaking everywhere. My jaw, my arms, my hands, my body, my legs. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes were filled with burning tears. I felt the needle pierce my right arm. I wanted to scream but no sound came out. I tried to fight back but fell asleep…
I saw God when I was asleep. There was a bright light, I knew it was him and it felt as if he was holding my hand. He told me “everything will be ok, it’s not your time to go…”
I woke up.
If I could go back in time, I would NEVER have let them decide for me. I would NEVER have listened and even think for a second that there was a chance they were right. I regret it. I cry every day, and the pain of having decided to kill my child for other people’s satisfaction and happiness is something I will never forgive myself. I died that day. I lost my baby, my child. And the most horrible thing is to hear my mom still tell me “I knew how you felt, and it was the hardest thing for me to tell you to get an abortion. So don’t think you are alone feeling so hurt. I feel as hurt as you.” How dare she say that!? She has no idea how much pain I have. She never lost a baby. She never had an abortion, and no one ever forced her to get one. My life is a nightmare now. I stopped university because I am in deep depression and the only thing I can think of is getting my baby back. I want my baby back…
What is done is done. But there is not one day that goes by without me knowing that I would give anything to go back in time and walk away before it’s too late. I hate myself.
To all the girls out there, no matter how HARD it is to fight against parents, family, friends, make sure that the decision you will make is 100% YOUR decision. If you have a doubt, stop. Think it through again and again, until that doubt is gone and until you know in your heart and in your mind that the decision you are taking is the right one. Whether you decide to keep it, or not. Because the only one that has the right to make that decision is YOU.
To my baby, “I will always love you. Please forgive me…”
Hi,
Thanks for writing and sharing your story. I am so sad about what you have gone through. I can tell that your heart is breaking. Abortion is a very traumatic event and it is easy to understand why you would be so sad about this. I just want you to know that even though you are in so much pain right now, there is hope.
What you are feeling is normal. It’s normal to grieve the loss of your child and to deeply regret what you did. You know, you can forgive yourself for giving into the pressure to have an abortion from your parents. I think caving into the pressure is normal and most people in your shoes would have done the same thing. Forgive yourself and just let that go to God.
A lot of women have the same feelings that you described in your email after an abortion. Many women regret their abortion, or they want to have another child, or they become jealous of others’ children, and they think about their due date and the gender that their child would have been. You are not alone. These things that you are feeling right now are big and heavy and it’s a lot to work through. Recovering emotionally from an abortion is not something that you can do on your own, but there is a lot of help available. I highly recommend that you get some post abortion counseling. It will change your life! You’ll be so glad that you did it. To find post abortion help in your area, just go to https://optionline.org type in your zip code and click “search”. A list of centers will appear. Just choose one and ask about their post abortion program. They are will be so glad that you called. Help is just around the corner.
You have been through so much pain, but I know that you can get better. It will be possible to forgive yourself, your parents and your boyfriend. You just have to take one step at a time and pretty soon you will be able to look back at how far you have come. Please write back soon and tell me who you are doing.
Much love,
April
My name is Brittany and I am 21 years old. I am a sufferer of Polycistic ovary syndrome (PCOS) and edometrious. I got told when i was 18 that i would never be able to conceive a child naturally. I have just found out that i am 9 weeks pregnant, I went to my first scan at 7 weeks and saw the babies little heart beat was a very exciting time for me to see the baby that i never thought i could have.
Lately I have been having some mixed feelings, The father of the baby wants nothing to do with it and says i am making a big mistake and should get rid of it because he doesn’t want to give up the life he has now and take responsibility of a child. This could be a one of chance of ever conceiving a child and He wants me to get rid of it. I have seriously been considering not going through with the pregnancy just from what he is saying, i feel so alone and dont know what to do.
I have seen my babies heart beat every day. He/she is growing inside of me….
Hi Brittany,
Thanks for emailing. It’s good to talk with you.
I’m sorry to hear about your situation and I’m sorry that your boyfriend is doing this to you. I agree with you that every life is precious and a once in a lifetime shot. When making the decision about whether to choose parenting your child or abortion, I would encourage you to do what you want to do instead of listening to other people. No matter what you decide and no matter who influences you, you are the one who has to live with the consequences. Your boyfriend will not have to live with it. It’s easy for him to tell you what he things you should do, but you are the mother and you are the one with the closest connection with your child. I think that you already know that you want to parent your child. Don’t let anyone talk you out of that decision.
Here is a great website that you can go to so you can see exactly where your child is in development: http://www.ehd.org/movies.php?mov_id=210. Needless, to say, if your child has a heartbeat and you can hear his or her heartbeat through ultrasound, you can be sure that he or she is alive and a human being. If you were to choose abortion, the worst thing in the world is knowing that you took the life of another human being – not just any human being, but your very own child.
No matter what your boyfriend may be saying to you, don’t believe it. Don’t buy into it. It’s true that you may not be able to give you child all the best in life, but what parent can? I know I was not given all the best in life and I still made it anyway. Your child is no different. All he or she needs is your love and your support, and you are capable to doing that. I think that you have what it takes. I think that you can do this! You can be an excellent mother! Just give your baby a chance to live. You don’t know what you are capable of until you try.
Let me know how things turn out.
Much love,
April
Hey Becky,
i emailed you around 7 weeks ago when i had first found out i was pregnant and the father didnt want anything too do with it and i felt confused and alone and not sure weather too go through with the pregnancy,
I listened too my heart and i am now 13.5 weeks pregnant and couldnt be more excited :). the father still wants nothing too do with the baby and that does upset me alot as my abby wont have a father and i have also lost my best friend, but when i saw my babies heart beating on the scan and saw its little body i knew i made the right decision by keeping the baby,
I want too thank you for this website as it has helped me a lot and when i feel down in the dumps i come on here and read peoples stories and it always makes me feel better, just cant wait too meet my little one.
Thank you,
Brittany
Growing up my mother was my rock. i had an alcoholic dad, but my mom, i hadn’t ever seen drunk in my life. She was the strongest christian i had ever met and she put her family before all else. My dad was a very bad alcoholic and through all the scary things he did and put us through, she somehow managed to stay by him and try to help him through it.
When i was fourteen, my mom passed away. she died in a lawn mowing accident in our back yard. we live on a river, and as she was mowing the edge, the blade got stuck on cattails, tipped the mower and she was trapped.
My dad then sent me to a christian boarding school just two months after my mom died. It was really hard for me. i wanted nothing more that to be around family and friends close to me during that time, but instead i was moving into a dorm, where i hardly knew anybody. that year, my freshman year, my grades dropped, i gained weight and i just wasn’t myself. i missed my friends at home. I had so many friends at home and they all knew what i was dealing with and i wanted to be close to them. earlier that year, shortly after my mom died, i started dating my now husband, which was another reason i just wanted to be home. i got to go home quite frequently but it still wasn’t enough.
That summer, i finally convinced my dad to let me come home. my siblings told me that if his alcoholism got out of hand i might have to return to the boarding school, so because of this, i ignored it. My dad wouldn’t drink, i would pretend like it wasn’t happening. I would just go on with my regular life and try not to let it bother me. on Halloween my sophomore year my dad got so drunk our neighbor had to come help him. our neighbor got ahold of my brother and grandfather, and after that my dad was sent to treatment and i had to live with my brother.
my dad returned around Christmas time and we tried so hard to get things back to normal, but they weren’t. he was so on edge and angry.
In march i got pregnant. my boyfriend and i were using protection, but it broke and i got pregnant. i knew that night i was pregnant and so did my boyfriend, but i tried to ignore it. two months went by and i still hadn’t gotten my period. i was so scared. my boyfriend was right by my side. he was urging me to take a test and get to the doctor, so finally i got ahold of a close family friend for help. she bought me a pregnancy test and it was positive. at this point, i saw my deathbed before me i thought. i told my boyfriend and all he wanted to do was hug and love me, but i was just so unbelievably distant. i couldn’t talk or do anything. I then got to the doctor, found out my due date and heard the heartbeat. we weren’t ready to tell anybody so we payed for the appointment so they wouldn’t send a bill out.
i knew my dad was going to shun me, and i was afraid he was going to send me away. a few weeks later we went to the doctor and fout out we were having a little girl. we knew we HAD to tell our parents, that this really wasn’t going away. we told his parents first. they were mad but they supported and loved us. We then told my family. my sister threw a lot of things in my face about how big of a liar i am for keeping this in, and threw stuff in my face about how near impossible it was going to be for me to raise my daughter. she made me feel so bad. when we told my dad , he wouldn’t speak to me.
we went on and went to counseling and met with an adoption agency, but soon realized we couldn’t give our little girl up, she was ours. my dad gave us two options, to give the baby up or to get married, cause he was having no part in any of the financial or emotional burdens. we talked it through and knew how much we loved each other and were best friends. we decided to get married.
with nobody on our side, we pushed through with wedding, housing, and financial planning. he had a good job as a farmer, and i had good grades, so i could finish school early and start in college right away in the fall. thats what we did. we then bought a house and started preparing.
just one month before our daughter was born we got married and moved in. now, seven months later, we’ve beaten the odds. my siblings have come around but my dad is still on edge. we seldomly speak, and he has only seen his granddaughter a handful of times. my husbands family is awesome, they are there for us through thick and thin.
we’ve been through and conquered a lot. and we couldn’t have done it without prayer, love for each other, love for our daughter, and love for our god.
Dear Anna,
I am in tears. Your story is so sad and yet so beautiful. You have had really difficult times in your life. Losing your mom, your rock and protector must have been so incredibly devastating. Then to lose your friends and family all in one fell swoop by being sent to a boarding school…wow. Maybe your dad did that to protect you from himself, but still it would have been so hard. Your courage and strength are just amazing. God truly sustained you through all of it. Your mom’s faith continues on through you, and now you can pass that on to your little girl! You have so much going for you…keep on keeping on! People told my boyfriend (now husband) that we wouldn’t be able to do it. We were too young…not financially stable, etc. But you know what? We ARE doing it! And so are you guys! It IS possible. Keep praying…keep loving…and you will have a life that is richly blessed. You will have your ups and downs…but everyone does…even those who get married and have a baby when all their “ducks are in a row”. Our lives will never be without suffering, but that suffering can cause us to grow become stronger! I am so inspired by you! Thank you for sharing your story.
Luv,
Becky
