Abortion’s Other Victim
Coming of age during an era when “nice girls” were expected to be virgins on their wedding nights, I considered myself to be a nice girl. In October 1969, I was twenty-two and still waiting to meet my Mr. Right. Then one night my destiny was changed. I was date-raped. I felt both violated and ashamed. The following week he called and asked me to go out with him again, so I continued to date him, reasoning that having a steady boyfriend would justify losing my virginity. However, he was a controller and I felt trapped in the relationship. For my own protection, I was planning to see a gynecologist for birth control, but before getting around to it I got pregnant.
I lived with my mother in my home town in New Jersey, where my Jewish family was fairly well-known. I thought that if people knew I was pregnant out of wedlock, my family would be disgraced. I had no choice but to tell my mother about my pregnancy, and we agreed that abortion was my only alternative. There were no crisis pregnancy centers back then, or at least none that I knew of. I was not at all involved with religion, so I had no clergy to turn to for advice. Had there been somewhere for me to go for the counseling I so desperately needed, I might have had a different story to tell.
I told my boyfriend that I was pregnant and planning to get an abortion. He begged me not to, saying that while he couldn’t marry me (I wouldn’t have married him, anyway) he would support the child. I told him my mind had been made up. We argued and ended the relationship. I never heard from him again.
Prior to Roe v. Wade, abortion was illegal in New Jersey, but allowed in New York State if the mother’s life was at risk. My mother made some phone calls, and it was arranged for me to go to Bellevue Hospital in New York City, where I was required to be interviewed by two psychiatrists in separate interviews. They were pro-abortion, so I only needed to tell them that I would most likely consider suicide if my pregnancy were to continue. There was no counseling of any kind offered to me. It was a cold day in January 1970 when I was put to sleep and a D&C was performed (they called it “scraping”). I awoke in a recovery room, alone and depressed. The whole ordeal was horrible for me emotionally, but at least I had gotten rid of my “problem.” Little did I know that my problems were just beginning.
I was required to return for a follow-up visit, during which I was told I needed to start taking a certain “once-a-month” birth control pill. I refused, so they sent me to the psychiatrist’s office. I told her that I had made a mistake and it wouldn’t happen again, but she belittled me, shouting at me that I was “acting like a baby,” and that if I didn’t take those pills, I would end up back there for another abortion. She persisted, so I took the pills. A couple of months later, I bled profusely and had to get a prescription to stop the bleeding. Later I learned that there was no such pill on the market, so I realized that I had been used as a guinea pig to test it.
My life became one struggle after another. I quit my job where I would have had a bright future and went from one job to another due to my emotional instability. My hunger for affection coupled with low self-esteem led me into promiscuity. I began dating a young man who asked me to marry him. Five months later we got married, but the marriage lasted only two and a half years. We went our separate ways, and I resumed my promiscuous lifestyle.
I met my second husband when I was talked into going on a blind date. Our relationship was unstable because we both had unresolved emotional issues, but we stayed together, bought a house, and got married in 1983 after having lived together for five years. More than anything, I wanted to experience motherhood and to be a stay-at-home mom, and I sensed my biological clock ticking. In 1985, at the age of 38 I gave birth to my beautiful, perfectly healthy son. It broke my heart when my maternity leave ended and I had to leave him with a babysitter so that I could return to work.
The following year, we sold our house and moved to Florida. I was happy that now I could stay home with my son, but our marriage kept getting worse, and so did our finances. In 1992 we filed for bankruptcy, and a year later the new house we had purchased was lost to foreclosure. I became deeply depressed, felt like a total failure and believed that my son would be better off without me. I just wanted to die. My doctor prescribed various antidepressants to try, but nothing helped. Then, in September 1993 I got invited to attend a Pentecostal church service, started attending regularly, and my life was turned around. (That’s a whole other story!)
When I became a Christian, I accepted God’s forgiveness for my abortion, but remained pro-choice, because I thought it wasn’t right to force my religious belief on others. But then something happened that changed my heart. It was October 1996. I was at home, listening to Christian radio, and Dr. James Dobson’s Focus on the Family came on with a program entitled “Children of Rape.” One woman had given her daughter up for adoption and they had been reunited. Another woman’s son thanked her for choosing life and raising him as a single mother. I thought about my aborted child, who would have been about the same age as that young man, and I broke down in tears. Afterwards, I called the radio program, and one of their chaplains spent some time on the phone with me. He told me he would have Sydna Massé call me. (At that time, Sydna worked for Focus on the Family. She now has her own ministry and website: http://ramahinternational.org)
Sydna explained to me that I was experiencing “post-abortion trauma,” and that it most likely was the cause of my difficulties with relationships, as well as the reason why I felt that I had not properly bonded with my son. She helped me to understand that even though I had accepted God’s forgiveness for my abortion, I had not forgiven myself. She sent me a package with books and cassette tapes to help me begin my healing process. Meanwhile, my marriage was on its last thread. My husband moved out in December and filed for divorce a year later.
The process of my emotional healing took a long time. The loneliness was painful and at times unbearable. But I knew that I needed to be delivered from codependency before I could enter into another relationship. I prayed for God to give me one more chance at marriage and to send the right husband to me. After seven years of raising my son as a single mom, my prayers were answered, and since October 2003 I’ve been married to my wonderful husband. My son and I have a closer relationship now, although I still feel that I never did properly bond with him. Despite all the mistakes I might have made while raising him, he has grown up to be a fine young man. I’m extremely proud of him!
For years I thought that my emotional wounds from the abortion experience had been healed completely. But my feelings of grief for my aborted baby were rekindled during a phone conversation with a college friend who I had reconnected with. She confided in me that she had gotten pregnant from being date-raped and had given birth to a son who she immediately gave up for adoption. Now, decades later, they found each other and established a relationship. I told her about my abortion and said to her, “I’ll have to wait until I’m in heaven to meet my child.” While I’m very happy for my friend, I am once again grieving my loss from so many years ago.
This is why I believe I must share my story publicly. Perhaps some women who have had abortions don’t experience any feelings of remorse. But I believe that the majority of post-abortive women are at some point emotionally affected. For me, the only shred of consolation is that I caught my pregnancy very early and the abortion was performed at about six weeks. But I still regret having made that decision, and I often wonder what my life would have been like if I had given birth to that child.
Since the overturning of Roe v. Wade, the topic of abortion is once again in the forefront of the news media, as well as appearing on election ballots in some states. All this talk about the life and rights of the unborn. Yes! Of course I agree! But I don’t hear much, if anything, said about the OTHER victim of an abortion (and also the baby’s father, who in most cases has no say in the matter).
I believe that God has given me a ministry to help other women who, like me, have suffered from guilt and shame and struggled to lead a normal life after having had an abortion. Also, women who might be contemplating abortion need to know about post-abortion trauma and the long-term consequences that could ensue. Who could better tell them than somebody who has lived through it?
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