Over the past few weeks, reports have revealed that Planned Parenthood facilities across the United States are shuttering or laying off staff due to Congress’ recent Medicaid cuts. Contrary to what pro-abortion advocates say, women are much better off without them.
I would know better than anyone.
Abortion data reveals that 60% of women who have experienced an abortion would have preferred to give birth if they had more support or financial security. I certainly fell into that group as a 34-year-old, when I discovered that I was pregnant.
I was due for a biopsy at the time, so medical professionals referred me for an abortion. Deep down, I sensed this option was wrong. Yet lacking adequate information or resources, I believed the ‘professionals’ claim that abortion was necessary, and that it would be painless and quick. Neither statement could be further from the truth.
My abortion experience was traumatizing. Pulling into the lot, well-intentioned protesters held signs affirming my subconscious suspicion that my choice was wrong. Upon entering the waiting room, I beheld dozens of women who appeared numb and depressed like me. One girl softly cried to her mother, saying she didn’t want to go through with it.
This bleak scene darkly hinted at what came next—the iciness of the doctor; the horrifically painful tugging, as well as the final ‘tug’ that felt like something inside me was exerting one last effort to hold on; and the immediate sickness that left me vomiting, but receiving no comfort or help. How I wish I had listened to the voice that said, “Get up! Get up!” before the procedure started.
Looking back, I am appalled that the tragedy I endured has been labeled as ‘women’s health care,’ or empowering. My abortion reduced me to a shell of a human being, and I grappled with depression and suicidal tendencies for the next nine years of my life. I flunked out of law school and continued refusing to address my trauma.
It wasn’t until I had my second child that I finally addressed my abortion, and its consequences in my life. It was a long journey, however. At the pinnacle of my grief and guilt, I became suicidal and placed my car in the path of an oncoming truck, which I thought would put me out of my misery. At the last moment, thankfully, the voice of my four-year-old daughter in the back seat brought me back to reality and I drove us safely out of harm.
It was around this time that I made a startling discovery. My daughter confessed that she’d been having recurring dreams about her “brother.” I’d always believed strongly that the child I aborted had been a boy, so hearing about my daughter’s dreams stopped me dead in my tracks.
These dreams proved to be the catalyst I needed to seek forgiveness and healing. I finally sought the care that I needed to overcome my post-abortive grief. I went through a post-abortion healing study at a pregnancy resource center and eventually volunteered at the center.
God also transformed my grief into another beautiful opportunity for service through the National Memorial for the Unborn in Chattanooga, Tennessee. The Memorial was built on the very grounds of a former abortion clinic in 1994. Although I had relocated to Chattanooga in 2016 and heard about the Memorial, I didn’t have the courage to go until 2021. Since that visit I have found peace recognizing the humanity of my son. I became the director at the Memorial in 2022. And as I have beheld the 50-foot granite wall with thousands of nameplates honoring aborted babies and women weeping around it, I wonder—do pro-abortion activists truly believe they are helping the victims whose children are honored on this wall?
When women like me experience the unexpected, we need compassion, resources and support, as well as accurate information to inform our choices. Looking back, my heart breaks knowing I chose an abortion I didn’t need. My abortion was not empowering; neither was the resulting pain and suffering.
Healing and using my story to advocate for other women, however, has empowered me by giving me purpose. My story is now the subject of an upcoming movie. I hope my story inspires women, letting them know that abortion isn’t the only option, and there is a wealth of hope, compassion, as well as resources available to them if they need it.
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