The Scars Of Abortion

Before I married Tony, I was dating a guy named Mike.  I started dating him when I was 17.  I loved Mike, and I thought that I was going to marry Mike.  I wanted to marry Mike.  There were things about Mike that I didn't quite like, but I thought that I was gonna be the woman that changed him, and make that difference in his life.  He was somewhat controlling of me, but I didn't mind at that time.  I kinda liked it to tell you the truth.

To make a long story short, I ended up pregnant.  I was humiliated, and more than anything, I didn't want to tell my parents.  I knew how much my parents would be disappointed in me.  I had big plans of going to Emmanuel College in Georgia and majoring in music.  The school had contacted me and asked me to apply for a scholarship.  Here I was, I thought I was going to go to a christian collage, and pregnant.  But more than that, I just didn't want my parents to know.   I remember going to the bathroom and just hoping and praying that things had been "taken care of" naturally.  I remember hoping that God would take my child.  I know that sounds horrible, and that it makes me sound like a monster, and it was horrible.  I was being terribly selfish.

In my stupid desperation, I made a decision that effected the rest of my life, and will continue to do so until the day I die.  My humiliation led me to killing the child that I was carrying.  I had an abortion.  I was 14 weeks pregnant when I had that horrible procedure done.  I always knew that it was wrong, and I always knew that it was murder.  Yet, I went along with it anyway.  Well, after that, I can NOT tell you what my life was like.  I had NO IDEA how that June day would effect me for years to come.  (June 14, to be exact)  I thought that I would drive to Raleigh, get it done, and get on with my life.  And that is what I tried to do.  The day after I had it done, my mom was at work, and I went to make me some breakfast.  I was going to fix me some eggs.  I accidentally dropped an egg of the floor and it busted.  I fell on the ground, laid there, and cried and cried.  For some reason, that egg splattered all over the floor, reminded me of the child that I had just killed.  To this day, every time I cook eggs, I think of that day....I remember me laying of the floor weeping.
 
If I thought I was humiliated when I found out I was pregnant...I had NO IDEA how humiliated I would feel afterwards.  I cried, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without feeling total hatred.  I hated me, and I hated Mike, and I hated everyone.  I thought about it constantly every day.....and I don't mean for just a few weeks or months...I am talking YEARS here.  I had absolutely NO PROBLEM telling and believing with my whole heart that God would forgive someone else for what they had done, no matter what it was.  They could have even come to me and told me that they had an abortion, and I would believe that God would forgive them, but I did not see how he could possible forgive me.  I beat myself up over it.  I was too ashamed to so much as walk into a church.  Then finally I got to the point to where I could walk into a church, but not get into the service.  How in the world could I possibly have worshipped God when I had done something so horrible?  This is how I felt.  And after I had Cristopher, things just got worse.  I would look down at my child at see the child that I had killed.  I found myself wondering what the child would have looked like, and I every year around December, I would know that some time in that month would have been my child's birthday.  It never got better, it only got worse and worse.  I couldn't ask God to forgive me.  I couldn't forgive myself, and I certainly didn't want God to forgive me either for killing His child.
 
We were stationed in Hawaii (husband was in service), and our son was 1.  I had reached the point of misery.....I didn't want Tony, I didn't my child, and I didn't want my life.  I wanted to go to bed and never wake up.  In my mind, I did not deserve Tony, and especially, I didn't deserve this beautiful healthy baby that I had.  I deserved to be in jail for murder, or dead and in hell........

Looking back on my life, I can see now that I had been suffering from depression from an early age.  When I was in high school, I had asked my dad if I could go and talk to a therapist.  My dad told me that no child of his was going to go to a psychiatrist.  It was not "socially acceptable" then like it is now.  So, with my history of depression, and post partem depression, and the trauma that was caused to me by myself because of the abortion that I had, I just couldn't deal with it anymore.

Tony at that time, had been transferred to a new unit because he had had surgery on his ankle.  He was working in a substance abuse counseling center.  Everyone that was working there was military, but there was one man named Roger who was a civilian therapist working for the military.  One night, Tony and I were coming home from our friends house, and once again, something set me off.  I was to the point of hysterical.  I finally finally told Tony that I could not live my life like this anymore, and that I had to get some help.  I did not want to end up like my brother , and that was the direction that I was headed.  And I was going in that direction very rapidly.  Tony spoke with Roger, and he agreed to see me.  I did not have a substa

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