This is a great post by a fellow blogger. The language is very up front and honest, but the message is awesome.
By: Sarah
From: The Dress Rehearsal
I have come across the inspiration, again, to write about something that is extremely hard for me to write. It is real. It is painful. It is something that I am scared to tell you about.
It is a secret that I have kept for too long. It is a secret, that deserves to be shared. Hopefully, hopefully you can look past what I have done, and hear the message behind what I have learned.
As hard as this is, I know it needs to be done. My actions have directly caused the pain of one man in this world, and that’s not fair. My not talking about it, indirectly causes the pain of every single man in this world, that is just like this one man that I hurt so badly.
My courage to speak up. The small amount of courage that I have mustered up, is completely thanks to Opinionated Man and his post on HarsH ReaLiTy called, That Baby Isn’t ONLY Yours. His post reminded me of how very important it is to muster up the balls to tell you what I need to say, for men like him, that so many people shut down. He’s a guy, what could he possibly know about abortion?!
You would be surprised at what this guy knows! In fact, I actually started following this guys blog because he pissed me off. I don’t even remember what post I first read. But, I was like, man, what an arrogant asshat. He will even tell you he’s an asshat. But, he’s real. I mean so fricken real that it ceases to amaze me. It took a few weeks, but I very quickly fell in love with his blog. I get sucked into it for hours, reading post after post. It’s funny. It’s blunt. Sometimes, it’s hard to hear. But, it’s real. That impresses me. That, inspires me. This is far from the first post that his blog has inspired, but by far, it is the most important one that it has….
So, I’ll cut right to the chase. Like ripping off a band-aid….
I killed my baby.
I was 18 years old. I was just starting life. My dad had died about six months before. My mom was turning back to alcohol to try to numb the pain. My sister was back home again, struggling with raising her own child. I had a job that I killed myself working for, but my paycheck hardly proved that. I had a boyfriend that still didn’t have a job. In fact, he was on probation. He had not had a job for so long, that his probation officer finally put him in jail for up to a year. I was just starting life.
And, I found out that I was pregnant.
I was so stressed that I threw up every single item I consumed for nearly two months. I mean, even a glass of milk, would come back up within 20 minutes. I was scared to death to face the responsibility of motherhood. I didn’t know what to do. Where to turn. How to even start to attempt to survive through this. I had so many other things going on.
I wasn’t raped. I wasn’t even consistently on birth control. Sure, I was “on” it, but, I forgot to take my pill all the time. And now, I was faced with the consequences, alone.
Or so it felt.
I went to planned parenthood. A sinister place, I now believe. They told me all about the option to get an abortion. They gave me information packets, phone numbers, support. But, they never once told me about the option of adoption, or even the option to keep the baby. They never once mentioned the many resources that are available for women that were in my predicament.
But, I can’t blame them. I can’t blame my dad. I can’t blame my mom, or my sister, or even my boyfriend.
I alone made the decision to kill my baby. It is a choice that I have had to live with for the rest of my life. (Another thing they fail to tell you beforehand.)
I went to visit my boyfriend, in jail. I told him about the baby. I told him that we weren’t in a position to be parents. I told him what I was thinking about doing. I told his mom. I told my mom. I even told my best friend. Not a single one of them wanted me to make the choice that I did. Not a single one of them left me when I did make that choice. For that, I am eternally grateful. That is a support system of love that is desperately hard to come by.
A support system that I wish I knew the importance of before I did what I did. But, I didn’t.
Let me throw in here, that if you are facing this decision, really, really think this one through. I mean, if you’re going to do it, I won’t judge you. I CAN’T judge you. I will love you just the same. But, let me warn you, you WILL suffer for this decision for the REST of your life.
You WILL be a murderer. And you WILL have to live with that. FOREVER.
Forever can be an awfully long time.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was ten weeks pregnant. It would have been done sooner, but I had to save up the money. $400. That was the going price for killing a child back then. $400. Do you know how much baby gear that I could have purchased with $400?! I didn’t know. I wish I had known.
We arrived at the clinic on a summer day in late September. I threw up on the way. Twice. But this was nothing new. I had been throwing up all day, every day, for some time now. I walked in. It was a warmer environment than I expected. It wasn’t like a scene off of Hostel, like I had feared. It was welcoming. Safe. Warm. Comforting…. On the surface.
I filled out the papers. I sat there. Next to my mom and my best friend. I sat there and thought. My eyes teared up a few times. I hid them from my biggest supporters. Then, suddenly, I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t know how I was going to make it. But, I knew this wasn’t the way. I turned to my mom.
But, before I could utter the words, a nurse called my name. And I followed along….
I wish I had spoke up. But, I didn’t.
I had an ultrasound completed. A requirement for these types of things. They need to know exactly how far along you are.
I thought they would show me. I strained my neck as I peered around in an attempt to see. But, I didn’t ask to see.
I wish I had asked. Maybe, maybe if I would have saw the growing child inside of me. Maybe then, I would have spoke up. But, I didn’t.
I went to another room. A colder room. And put on a hospital gown.
They filled me with drugs. To ease the “pain”. They had me watch a short movie. I don’t even recall the movie. The drugs slowly kicked in.
I was in a fog. Another world. The giant vacuum was inserted into me. Sucking the life out of me. Literally.
The vacuum sound was disgusting. The most horrendous noise one will ever hear. Ironically, it mimicked the sounds of a screaming child. A child being torn, ripped away, from every comfort it has ever known. Betrayed, by the one who was meant to keep them safe.
After it was done I was escorted to another room. A colder room. I was parked in front of a movie, alone, until the drugs wore off. This was a longer movie. A movie I also do not remember. When it was done I was reunited with my mom and best friend. Numb. Never able to undo what I had just done.
We went to McDonald’s. I ate. Slowly. Numbly. It was the first thing I had kept down for nearly two months. I went home. Numbly. Assuring everyone that I was fine. I had made the right choice.
I wish I had spoke up. I wish I had told them that I had just made the worst decision of my life. I had just chose to be a murderer. I had just killed my baby.
A month later my boyfriend did get out of jail. In 9 months less than the year I had feared. Four months later, I broke up with him. It was too hard. I still struggled for that perfect life that I wanted to bring a child into. A successful career. A happy home. He, still struggled to find a job. As the days wore on, I blamed him more and more for the decision I had made.
It was never his fault. I should have told him what I was going through. I should have spoke up. But, I didn’t.
I continued on like this for several more years. Numbly. Masking my pain with a false belief that I had done the “right” thing. Telling myself that I had made the right choice. That, I couldn’t bring a child into this world, into that relationship, that home environment.
To be honest. I wasn’t completely naive. I knew about adoption. I didn’t know any facts. Or any information. Or how open adoption worked. I just knew that there was an option to carry this baby, to birth this child, and then hand it over to a happily married, well off couple to raise as their own.
I couldn’t do it. I was too selfish. I knew, that if I had this child, I would never be able to hand it over. I wasn’t in the position that I wanted to be in when I brought children into this world. Plus, I didn’t want to get fat and stretchy and ugly. I was being selfish. At the time, I didn’t realize. I wish I had realized. But, I didn’t.
I wish I had spoke up. I wish I had told someone what I was feeling. Maybe, maybe if I would have said something they could have told me the truth about the world. Maybe, they could have saved my baby. They could have saved me. But, I didn’t speak up.
Years later, I would become pregnant again. I would be just as scared as the first time. But, I couldn’t do it again. I knew I could never do it again. So, along came my “first” child. I didn’t have the insane morning sickness like I did the first time. This time, the torment came after my child was born. The months of torment. The sleepless nights. The nights that I would lie awake, staring at my child, constantly making sure they were still breathing. I was sure that God would take this child from me, just as I had taken His child from this earth.
An eye for an eye, and all that. I was terrified, to the point of mental illness, that something would happen to my baby and I would lose him.
Still, I never talked to anyone about this. To talk, would be to tell them the horrible thing that I had done. I was too scared of their judgement for this. Too scared that they would validate exactly how I felt about myself.
A few years later, I re-connected with this past boyfriend. My first child’s father. As weird as it was, I didn’t reconnect with him though, but with his wife. She had hunted me down on Facebook and sent me a friend request. What could I do, but accept it? Slowly, we began to talk about those times.
Of course, she knew. She was his wife. She needed to know. And, she originally hunted me down on Facebook out of almost jealousy, because he had loved me so much. She has nothing to worry about though. There isn’t a person he could hate more than me now. I killed his baby.
I killed HIS baby, and never even thought a thing about it. I actually attempted to BLAME him for my own selfish decision.
You know what’s worse. What is worse than living with the fact that you are a murderer. That you took your own child’s life. Knowing that you took someone else’s child’s life. That there is someone in this world that wants nothing more than to be a parent. And you STOLE that from them.
This wife of his. This loving wife. Who through all of this, loves me like a sister, like a best friend. This amazing person… can’t have children. They, he, will never know what it is like to be a parent.
And here I am. With my two healthy kids. That I get to tuck in every night.
How fucking fair is that?!
You have no idea the torment that this reality causes a person. It is HELL. It is a pain that no drug in the world will ever take away.
He will NEVER be a Dad. And it is ALL my fault.
I wish I had known. If I had known, I would have respected his choice. I would have ASKED his choice. If he had made the choice for himself, it wouldn’t be my cross to bear. But, I didn’t ask. I wish I had asked.
So, to all those people that claim that it is our body and fathers have no right. You don’t know what the hell you are talking about. Fathers should have every right in the world, any right in the world, that mothers have. The father to my baby, my baby that I chose to kill, because it was my right, has to live with my choice every day for the rest of HIS life.
That is a choice that no one should have the right to make for another person. Not you. Not me. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
August 19, 2015 at 18:06
Thanks for sharing the links! 🙂
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August 19, 2015 at 18:07
Most welcome this post really moved me
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August 19, 2015 at 18:07
Me as well. 🙂
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August 19, 2015 at 18:55
Wally, I clicked on “VISIT THE ORIGINAL POST HERE” but nothing happens. Can you respond to me with the link to her website? This story is so bold and so beautifully courageous. I would love to leave her a supportive comment. Thanks!
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August 19, 2015 at 18:56
I will fix that darn thanks
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August 19, 2015 at 19:07
Try it now, it’s fixed. Not sure what I did. Thank you for pointing it out though.
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August 19, 2015 at 19:01
Love the honesty Sarah reveals, she’s a brave woman, God bless you Sarah.
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August 19, 2015 at 19:07
Moving story huh Brother Vincent? By the way, the like to her site was messed up, but is working now.
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August 20, 2015 at 06:52
It really is Brother Wally! Thanks for the update, I’ll check it out!
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August 19, 2015 at 20:15
This was a very moving post. I am concerned for this woman and her spiritual health. I hope she realizes that the mistakes she made don’t have to haunt her for the rest of her life – that her sins have been forgiven.
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August 19, 2015 at 20:16
She indicated she is Christian and seems to understand that. What a story huh?
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August 19, 2015 at 20:39
Amazing just amazing
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August 19, 2015 at 20:41
Wasn’t it?
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August 19, 2015 at 20:42
I love truth and honesty, and she really did that here, so raw.
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August 19, 2015 at 20:44
Very and moving. Put a human face on something we treat very abstractly sometimes
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August 19, 2015 at 20:44
It makes you think wow, we treat so many of these issues abstractly. Should make us examine ourselves
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August 19, 2015 at 20:49
We do do that. I mean I am totally anti abortion period. But there is still a human side. I asked myself the other day what I would do if a woman came to my wife and I and said if you cannot take my baby I have to abort it what would I do. How many babies would I personally take to keep them alive
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August 19, 2015 at 20:55
We are all so responsible, all of us.
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August 19, 2015 at 21:20
Quite a confession!
We are all sinners. The Apostle Paul called himself a great sinner, the foremost in fact. He had no doubt he had kill, but he knew God had forgiven him.
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August 20, 2015 at 04:22
Amen Tom
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August 19, 2015 at 23:32
Wow, very powerful story, thanks for sharing.
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August 20, 2015 at 04:21
It was for sure
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August 20, 2015 at 10:19
Hey Wally, this is completely off topic but did you hear about beheading of a very important man in Paymra? He was the keeper of the city’s ancient religious artifacts and for refusing to give up their locations and pledge allegiance to ISIS he was brutally murdered. Made my think of you because of the city. http://www.cnn.com/2015/08/18/middleeast/isis-executes-antiquities-expert/index.html
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August 20, 2015 at 10:22
No I did not hear me it but thanks for the link. I’m pretty sure our little spot in the road took its name from there. Thanks Tricia!
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August 20, 2015 at 10:30
I assumed as much.;) I’m sure you know I meant to put an “l” in my spelling of Palmyra above too.
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August 20, 2015 at 10:34
What an awful story that is poor guy
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August 20, 2015 at 07:02
Reblogged this on Talmidimblogging.
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August 20, 2015 at 07:03
Morning Brother Vincent
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August 20, 2015 at 07:39
Wow, moving post.
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August 20, 2015 at 07:41
Yes it was
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August 20, 2015 at 08:28
Powerful story
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August 20, 2015 at 08:30
Yes sir it was. Shows the very real impact of this on very real people. Thanks for reading Bill
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August 21, 2015 at 06:32
Just read it Wally. Thank you for sharing. Isn’t it great that there is forgiveness at the Cross – even for killing an unborn child?!!
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August 21, 2015 at 06:58
Oh amen brother
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August 22, 2015 at 20:40
Wow. All of your comments were so nice to read. When I wrote this, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that someone else would be reading it. I never considered the effect it would have on others… let alone the one that it would have on me. I am very honored to have reached so many on such a deep level. Thank you for sharing my story Wally!
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August 22, 2015 at 20:54
You are quite welcome. Feel free to come over and visit here. And you changed your blog name? I was confused. But do come by I have some great brothers and sisters here and we would love too see you around
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August 22, 2015 at 20:58
Yes, I did change up my blog some and due to the blog changes, my name as well. I wrote all about it!… in a post scheduled to publish on Monday ~Oops! Thank you for the warm welcome though 🙂
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August 22, 2015 at 21:01
Lol you bet
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September 18, 2015 at 11:20
You actually post this with the vulgarity in it?!
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September 18, 2015 at 11:23
Um..yes. Readers were fairly warned up front, and the message is a good one. Thanks for reading and commenting!
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September 19, 2015 at 16:09
If you say so. But I think it’s a bit of a compromise. Do you think Jesus would be completely satisfied to have read or posted that? Just an honest question…
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September 19, 2015 at 16:49
Shimei
It’s a valid question, and I can’t argue the point of its validity and your honest concern. I thank you for asking it.
I, of course, can’t answer for what Jesus would have read or written. I would totally agree that there are standards of decorum and decency that we should live by as Christians. Having said that, this story, coarse as it may have been, was the young lady’s story, warts and all. The issues she raised and the pain she felt are true, regardless of how she raised them.
Jesus was not a choir boy, you know. Of course, Jesus loved and loves us all, and taught that love first for God then for others are the greatest commandments. He, however, was not a retiring wallflower, fading into the background in meekness. Scripture is replete with Jesus telling it like it is, often using words which in his day would have seemed coarse and inflammatory. Tipping the tables of the money changers in the Temple was hardly the mark of a retiring sissy. Neither was calling the Pharisees snakes, vipers, and hypocrites
God Himself often relays stories to us, which are quite vulgar in nature and reveal the bad side of even His believers. Just the story of Lot alone is enough to make one blush. First, he offers to cast his own daughters to the raging mob outside his home to keep them from assaulting the angels sent to his home. Then, after fleeing the city, he gets drunk and has incestuous relations with those same daughters. That’s not a pretty picture, but we can learn a lesson, or many lessons from it.
Lot, is just an example, as God is never shy about sharing the seedy side of His people with us. Despite that, what we see recurring is God’s wonderful grace and forgiveness even in the face of such sin among his very own. That’s good stuff.
I don’t make a habit of posting things that are inappropriate, nor to do I plan to in the future. But, abortion is a horrible crime, both against God and the innocent babies, and sometime revealing the ugly side of things may be just what is necessary to bring them to a halt.
Having said all of that, I do regret any discomfort or offense you may have felt personally at the reading of those words.
Peace and blessings to you.
.
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September 19, 2015 at 17:05
Thanks Wally. Needed some clarification on your stand point!
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September 19, 2015 at 17:19
My pleasure Shimei, as I never want anyone to be unduly distressed by what I write.
By the way, prayers for your work there in Durban. It’s a blessing from God that there are families willing to give it all up to go out and do His work.
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September 20, 2015 at 03:09
Thank you. We don’t do it for people, but it’s encouraging to have people appreciate it!
Please do keep us in your prayers…the mission field is no play ground!
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