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TESTIMONIALSHope CPC received the following letter from a woman who wishes to remain anonymous: In the autumn of 1975 at 15 years of age, I became pregnant while living in a divorced, fallen-away-from-God family. Through my older sister, only 18 years old, and still living our faith tradition, she began teaching me about the child that was developing within me. She also was connecting me up with a support system for financial aid and such. Little did I know that she and my mother were having some debates concerning abortion, as my mother was being influenced by my would-become step-father.
When I was 5 ½ - 6 months pregnant, my mom said that I had some test that needed to be done and we went off to the doctors. I had been to doctors before for prenatal care; this doctor’s office was next door to a hospital. After some blood was drawn and when I was being taken in a wheelchair to the hospital, my mother still insisted that I was just having some test done. While lying on a stretcher in a hospital room, a doctor placed the stretcher by the window stating “far better lighting.” He began a procedure that I had no idea what it was, but when he stuck a very long needle into my stomach, I knew enough to know that this was very wrong. I turned my face towards the window, ashamed to let anyone see me cry, submitting to authority. I fixed my attention out that window onto the nature I saw. I allowed myself to begin on a journey of insanity, shame, and isolation. I was silenced.
The window of nature marks an endless search seeking outwardly for sanity and sanctification which still today takes on many faces and forms.
After the doctor left, I lay silent in a bed they placed me into. Though my mother was there, I never felt so alone as then; withdrawn, in shock. I do remember my child moving so very much within me and suddenly he stopped. I didn’t know then, but I do know now that he was silently screaming and burning in pain – then dead.
After a short time I began contracting, though I still did not understand what was going on. My mom just kept saying that this was the best thing for all of us. Not long after that, I began screaming because something was coming out of me. The nurse put me on a bed pan and I gave birth to my dead baby. I still remember screaming, “That is my baby?” not even believing the horror I was experiencing. My mom left the room. The last thing I remember was standing up on the bed screaming and crying and watching my mom walk (run?) out of the room. My mind is blank until the next day. I was at our home at the dining room table sipping on a glass of wine. My sister entered the room and questioned, “Why are you drinking wine?” She shrieked, “Oh my God, you had an abortion!?!” My mom quickly ushered her out of the room, out of hearing distance.
I hung my head in shame. I felt betrayed by my mom. I knew we killed my baby and I assumed all the shame and guilt, silently.
For the next 18 years, I existed on a downward spiral of death and destruction to myself and others. I did manage to give birth to three lovely children that today know of the shame we committed, murdering their brother. In the mist of these three children, I had still no respect for life and was a contraception user. I had an IUD perforate through my uterus and was told by the doctor who inserted a surgical instrument in order to x-ray the IUD, that I was pregnant – three weeks maybe – and that there was certainly damage to the tissue and that I should abort. I did, and had surgery to remove the IUD from behind the uterine wall in the cul-de-sac. I was so numb and dead inside. I just assumed additional shame of killing this second child of mine.
Eventually at the second suicidal incident, God intervened and called me back to our faith tradition. I found forgiveness through the Catholic Church in 1991, accepting reconciliation and healing daily from Our Lord Jesus Christ.
Now today and every day, I turn my head looking out that window at nature being silent no more. For it is not natural for a women to kill the child growing within her as the intrinsic bond cannot be broken, even by death and denial. For you, Michael and Rafael, who had no voice, I will be silent no more with love for you.
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