survive:
I had a 13.5 week abortion June 8, 1971. This was before Roe v. Wade.
I didn’t know what was going to happen, either; in those days, young women barely knew anything about birth control or abortions. When I had my urine test done I needed to refrigerate the sample until the pregnancy test could be performed hours later; so I stashed the jar of urine in the ice chest in a bar where I was working, right next to the long necks.
I was driven by a dear friend to the medical facility, 2 1/2 hours away from my home, where I filled out paperwork, was given a 10 mg. Valium and ten minutes later was in the stirrups. Although I thought I was going to vomit on the table, I found it to be less uncomfortable than a tattoo. I was released about an hour later. A friend drove me to her home in Northern Virginia where I recuperated for seven days. I then returned to my home, with no plumbing, no heating and only a spring house, and I was back at work within the week.
I share my story with girls and women, too. Without interjecting the element of judgment in it, I describe my experience and I tell them that the most important thing that they can do is to love and respect themselves. No horror, no drama, no cheap shots. It’s not my place to recommend any behavior to any girl or woman who is pregnant and looking at options. I explain what happened to me and give them information or steer them in a reputable direction for information they are seeking. And if they are not pregnant, I do let them know that it is within their rights to “make waves by resisting” - in fact, not only is that a woman’s birthright, it is her duty. If she will not do it, then who?
In an earlier post, you say, “The mother might have been broken down by pressure from everyone she knows, lied to, and threatened. She is the one who goes home to a dingy apartment to bleed in the dark by herself. She is the one who spends her life wondering what she would have named her child.
I think the doctor deserves far more punishment, because he is the one who probably knows better, he is freer to walk away before it’s too late, and he is rewarded financially for his deed, rather than already paying for it physically and emotionally as the mother is doing.”
I believe the doctor is only equally free to walk away from the deal, that he does not enjoy more freedom than the patient. He is paid for medical services, not “rewarded”, and don’t doubt that some of these doctors who perform terminations do have emotional repercussions before, during or after their participation. This in no way compares with the patient’s suffering, if she is, indeed, suffering. I say this because I did not suffer. I had regrets, I have regrets, but what’s done is done. God has seen fit to keep me here to try to do better. And so I try.
We each have individual experiences that shape us. By the time I hit the stirrups I had already been hardened by sexual assault, alcoholism and drug use. I left home at 18 and six months later was raped in a Catholic Church parking lot by a guy who offered to give me a ride to Mass. Back then it was important to me to go to Mass every Sunday. That was then.
Two tales, two destinations. I pray that God will watch over you and give you the strength to gain and keep perspective on your experiences. I pray that you can live in this moment and bathe in the wonder of God’s universe, finding safety and contentment in the sunlight of His spirit. I pray that the sadness of your loss will come to be outweighed by a pointed awareness that the soul or souls lost on that mournful day in 1991 are with you still, and draw you close to ease your pain, and envelop you with forgiveness and a longing to meet your spirit one day down the road.
This, too, is how I pray for myself and for every woman who has chosen abortion.
marietta