ANONYMOUS

Taken From: http://alwaysabeautifullife.tumblr.com/archive

Anonymous asked: i just recently had an abortion over the weekend and it was great that i had access to it, without it my boyfriend and i would of had to drop out of college and ruin our lives but apparently abortion is sooo wrong when its not even a baby, its a parasite made of cells that have no feelings that is leaving my body, people like you make me sick‏

 

When I first read this post, I thought I would just delete it like the rest. I know your intentions were to cause me suffering, and if causing me suffering means you win, then I guess you have. To be honest, lying in this hospital bed, it is young women like you that I think about the most.

I was once like you. I was once told that aborting my children was the answer to my life. I was once told that my boyfriend too would have to drop out of the University he attended, and I wouldn’t be able to attend the following year after I graduated from High School. The funny thing was, because of my son, my ex-boyfriend and I qualified for several grants and scholarships. In fact, I’m one of the few people I know that was able to go to school without taking out student loans. Which is probably why I’m a home owner at 26.

I was once like you. “Its a clump of cells,” they told me. “Its a parasite,” they said. When scientifically speaking, that’s inaccurate. It is a fetus, or an unborn human being. I know a human becomes easier to kill once you label it something else. This is called dehumanization. You don’t need to dehumanize the unborn human being, you can just call it what it is; you aborted an underdeveloped human being.

As I look into my sons eyes, I don’t see a parasite, or a clump of cells. I see a brown haired, fair skin, goofy 8 year old human being. I see a human being with the exact same body as the one they called a parasite when it was in my womb. His body grows a little more every year, and every year he gets stronger. “Mom, let me help you with that.” he says, as I struggle to carry bags into the house. “Mom, wait, I’ll get it for you,” he says, as he jumps in front of me to reach for the door to open it. His body is more developed, that’s for sure, but it it the same as it was when it was tiny and growing inside me.

I was once like you. “It will ruin your life,” they said. “You’re a child yourself”, they said. That’s the strangest. As I lie in this hospital bed, at risk of death, I have no fear. I am 26 years old, and have absolutely nothing more that I could ask for to make me happier. If keeping my son ruined my life, then why do I have everything I want? Why am I so content with my short life, if it was ruined the day he was born? The love and happiness I have experienced in my short life, is enough to feel fulfilled, complete. My life is beautiful, and my children were the ones that made it that way.

When I cry, my children burry their heads on my chest, wipe my tears with their tiny fingers. When I smile, they run to me, wrap their arms around me, lean back and giggle. What have they destroyed in my life besides all that was bitter, hateful and selfish? Besides all those awful parts of me they peeled away with their tenderness, and gentleness.

I’m sorry that when you terminated your pregnancy, you felt nothing, and I’m afraid that is where we are different. I couldn’t bring myself to dehumanize the tiny human being inside my body, even though it was under developed, dependent and inconvenient. I felt. And I’m the one who feels for you now. I can feel the loss for your unborn human being.

I know you assume I think I’m “better then you”. But it’s exactly the opposite. As I lay here in this bed, ready to give my life for the child inside of me right now, it isn’t just because its my child. It’s because it is a human being. I am willing to die for an underdeveloped, dependent and inconvenient human being, because that human is my equal. You are my equal, your child is my equal, and I don’t have it in me to view my life as more valuable then anyone else’s. I can’t use any reason to take an innocent human being, dehumanize it, and place it under me. And I don’t want to.

I’m sorry that people like me make you sick, but I think if you really new me, you wouldn’t feel that way. Maybe if you knew me, you could see that my life is beautiful and wonderful just like yours, and just like every human being. I believe that your life is precious, and you were made for more love then you comprehend, and I’m so sorry you can’t see the value of life.

Life is precious. It is a divine right, it is so precious that I would be willing to die if that is the cost for another to live.

Months from now, I hope that you read this and I’m living with my new beautiful child, in my modest house, with the rest of my family, but if I’m not, I want you to remember that it made me happy to risk my life for another human being, and I would gladly do it even for someone who was sickened by me; I would even do it for you.

Life is invaluable.

Save Yourself Pain

Rebecca 's Story

I allowed myself to be talked into having an abortion because I was sixteen, was still in high school, was date raped, and had been prescribed medication for an infection. I was told that the meds might cause the child problems. These were several of the "right" reasons. I take full responsibility for my decision. But I was pushed and even manipulated by both my mother and my family doctor. When I went to the clinic, I remember thinking they would help me put all the pieces together and help me change my mind. I also thought they would help me talk my mother out of this "choice". Nothing could be further from the truth. I was told from the beginning that this was not a life yet. “We just clean out some useless cells.” I was told over and over again that this was a simple procedure and it would be over in just a few minutes. Ha, thirty eight years later, and I still think about it. Although in the last thirteen years I now think about my abortion in terms of how I can help women to not "choose" to go through the Hell that this "simple procedure" starts in them and extends to their whole lives. Looking backwards, I can see how every choice I made for years a result was stemming from that day. I spent the next two years after the abortion engaging in many self-destructive activities, promiscuity, and drug use.  I ran off with a man I later married, who was always abusive (but he was the only person that had tried to talk me out of the abortion).I miscarried several children. The abuse and the miscarriages led me to recovery. This in turn led me to talk to the two children I did have and raise. The one bright spot in my experience is that they are both PRO-LIFE. My daughter found herself in a spot a few years back and NEVER considered abortion. I now have 3 three wonderful grandchildren from her. Two of them she and I are raising and one was adopted by a lovely couple, who are gracious enough to let us be a part of his life. There were several tools and friends involved in my healing process. Every one of them was from God! He opened my eyes and my heart, so the things I needed to face, didn’t faceable. (This may not be a real word but I am using it anyway) :) I was helping a friend work on a paper addressing the connection between DV and abortion when I was hit with the revelation that she was writing my story without even knowing it. So began my healing. I did stop being silent and I talked to anyone who would hear me. I would talk even more if I knew how to access a platform. These children are wanted.  I know this because I walked through the adoption with my own daughter. I helped her read the profiles; I have seen the many, many families that want a child. So I have experience from both sides of the fence. Save your baby, save yourself a lot of pain.

 Mary Rathke Was Conceived By Rape

http://maryrathke.wordpress.com/

Because of the circumstances concerning my conception–by RAPE–I, and all those who will be conceived in the same manner have been marked for death by a great number of people. We are called the “demon seed,” who are  unable to contribute to our society, unable to bring our mother’s joy.

Unprotected, sadly, even by some individuals and organizations who refer to themselves as “pro-life”. How sad that so many who purport to champion the cause of the unborn, consider me “an exception”. But I’m NOT an exception…I am a human being, just like any other preborn human being.

I am here today, because my mother–despite the fact that she was mentally ill AND raped, on her way home from work one night–decided my life had value, that no matter how I was conceived, I was valuable and worth protecting. I am far from “demon seed”.  I am a beautiful licensed minister who volunteers to help the homeless, a wife, mother and friend. Yet, like so many minorities in America, I am the target of hate. My people group (those conceived by rape) are not protected by law like many other minority people groups. Instead, every time a law is passed with a rape exception, a clear message is broadcast that my life has no value.  (Current bill being debated with a rape exception is the No Taxpayer Funding For Abortion Act)

What if a certain amount of the population were a specific racial group, and some claimed they were “demon seed?” Wouldn’t there be outrage!?  What if a law was proposed to limit abortions for everyone except the 1% of those minority, would you support it? Because 99% would be saved, or would you see the prejudice against that 1%?

For someone who was conceived in rape-like me, I see this as a prejudice issue. Similar to a hate crime, we are called “demon seed.” I have received hate mail stating my mother made the wrong choice and should have aborted me. I have friends who, because they were conceived in rape, were spit on.

If you are Pro-Choice you believe it is the mother’s choice and any child may be aborted. However, if you are Pro-Life you have a decision to make. Are you pro-life “except in the case of Mary Rathke, conceived in rape or Kristi, conceived in rape/incest?” Can you look me in the eyes and tell me my mother should have had the option of legally aborting me and that my life is not worth fighting for?

Those running a race don’t settle for 99%, they want to finish the race, they don’t train and plan on stopping yards from the finish line, happy they made it that far. Too many have lost focus on the big picture here.  The NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) do not have exceptions, they don’t leave out those who are albino or have vitiligo because they may appear “white” to some. Why do Pro-Life people have exceptions? If you fight for life, I implore you, fight for mine as well.

During World War II the American soldiers did not go into the concentration camps and only liberate the Jewish captives and then deny the gypsies release. They fought to release them all, and so must we!

Please find out who your legislators are by typing in your zip code (click here) and call their office. Ask them to support Congressman Paul Broun, MD’s amendment to remove the Rape Exception from the ‘No Taxpayer Funding For Abortion Act.’ Let us not allow tax payer money to be used to target a specific people group for abortion, and all others not. If the law goes into effect with a rape exception, we are abandoning the one percent, leaving those babies and women in a more vulnerable position, prone to more violence, harm and regret. Their life is worth fighting for! Legislators do not go back later and remove the exceptions, instead they set precedent that exceptions are okay. Please speak out for these so-called “exceptions”. If you don’t, who will?

Editor's Note: Mary Rathke is a pro-life speaker who was conceived in rape.

Having An Abortion Made Me Pro-Life: A Personal Story

Army Vet Chic

First Published May 6th 2013 at ArmyVetChicRants.com

 

This is my personal story. I have only told a few people this story over the last 12 years. It is very painful and shameful for me. However, I feel, in light of the renewed debate following the Kermit Gosnell trial, my story might help others to understand why some of us take the pro-life stance against abortion. Despite the accusations from the pro-choice groups, not all pro-lifers are religious fanatics who only care about the unborn while disregarding all other life. Some of us are not really that religious at all and have come to the pro-life stance through our own experiences. Some of us know the truth behind abortion and struggle to expose it every day.

Judge me if you want, but I ask you to read my story with an open mind and understand that I am in no way proud of my past and suffer a tremendous weight of guilt every day as a result of it. So…here goes…

When I was a teenager, I went on a wild streak after leaving the strict home of my father to live in the home of my absent mother and alcoholic step-dad. In my dad’s house, I was always kept on a very short leash which didn’t allow me to do anything away from home, including the movies, spending the night with friends, or even school dances. At the age of 16, I decided I wanted to live with my mom again after spending 4 years with my dad. When I got to my mom and step-dad’s house, mom was running the streets as a prostitute to earn money for crack and my step-dad was a very hard-working construction boss and alcoholic. In my step-dad’s house, there weren’t many rules and my curfew wasn’t enforced because my step-dad was passed out by 9pm every night. After only a few months, I had dropped out of high school, started dating a 23-year old man, and become pregnant. My dad attempted to straighten me out by making me go back home with him and my step-mother, offering me a stable home and support if I would just cut out the baby’s father and/or give my baby up for adoption or abort him. I was young and “in love” so I couldn’t have imagined my life without my, then, boyfriend and giving up or getting rid of my baby was not an option. I chose to marry my baby’s father at the age of 16 and have my baby in what I thought would be the perfect life of marriage to the man I loved, without the heavy hand of my father pushing me to do what he wanted.

I stayed with my husband for 7 years, having another child during that time, before finally leaving the abusive relationship to be on my own for the first time in my life. I had never been independent; since I left a controlling father for a controlling husband before ever having the chance to be an adult. I had managed to get my GED, decent administrative jobs, and learn how to pay bills but I hadn’t really learned responsibility.
I was only on my own for about 6 months before I was on the verge of eviction and getting fired. One night, I was drinking heavily, as was my routine on the days that my two kids were at their dad’s house, when an Army recruiting commercial came on the television. In my stupor, I decided to call the GO-ARMY number and leave my information for someone to contact me. I had completely forgotten about my drunken phone call until I got the call a few days later from a man stating he was with the local Army recruiting station and would like to sit down with me to discuss my interest in the military. At first, I laughed off the recruiter. Me? Join the military and give up my drinking and partying lifestyle? But, after awhile I considered the road I was on in my life. I was irresponsible, undisciplined, unhappy, on the verge of homelessness, and losing the support of family and friends. Maybe the Army could help me be a better person. A better mom.

So after going through the steps required to join the military as a mother of 2 children, I left for Basic Training as a future soldier of the U.S. Army. I left my children and everything I had known in order to make myself a better person for my kids. That was my main driving force; for my kids. I completed Basic Training and went on to AIT (sort of like college for soldiers to learn their jobs).

In AIT, soldiers get many more freedoms compared to the previous weeks of absolutely no freedom. Once again, I went from being controlled on a daily basis to having more opportunities to be independent. I was a good soldier during the week and a binge partier on the weekends. I mean, why not? I had worked so hard and given up so much for my kids. Why couldn’t I have a little fun on the side? This led to many sexual encounters with multiple partners over the course of the 6 months I was in AIT. But hey, I deserved it. I wasn’t hurting anyone, right?

When I graduated from AIT and went to my permanent duty station, I found out I was pregnant. I was fairly certain of whom the father was but had no idea where he was stationed now and knew that my military career could be ruined if I went through with a pregnancy before I even had the chance to prove myself as a soldier. I felt I had no other choice but to terminate. I believed that I would be forced to leave the military or be labeled as one of “those females” that arrive to their duty station already pregnant. All my hard work would have been for nothing.

In the days following, I had contacted my step-dad, asked to borrow money he didn’t really have, and begged him to come to my Army post in Georgia and go with me to Florida to have the abortion. Georgia did not have abortion services but I could drive a few hours to the Florida abortion clinic, no questions asked. About one week later, I was sitting in the clinic on an exam table with an intra-vaginal ultrasound, being used to verify my pregnancy, inside of me. The sound was muted on the ultrasound monitor at my request because I couldn’t bear to hear the heartbeat of the child I was about to kill. The doctor was pleasant and accommodating as I’m sure he had had many women make that same request before because, I mean, who could hear that and still go through with it? I kept my eyes averted from the monitor and tried to think about how my life would go back to normal after it was done. Everything was going to be okay.

About 15 minutes in the room where the procedure was done, in a half-asleep state but still aware of what was happening, and I was no longer pregnant. Just like that. A little discomfort for a few minutes, no worse than moderate menstrual cramps, and my body was back to having only one heart beating inside of it. I was escorted to a recovery area to wake up and drink a cup of juice (Because apparently juice is better than a counselor). As soon as I entered this room and sat down, I began to sob uncontrollably. I couldn’t believe what I had just done! Had I, the mother of two beautiful sons, just murdered an innocent life for my own selfish reasons? Because of my own actions and inability to deal with my own issues, I destroyed a life that I had created in a drunken act of unsatisfying sex with a guy I didn’t even know by anything other than his last name. This realization hit me like a ton of bricks. But it was too late. I had already gone through with it.

I just sat in the “recovery room” crying and trying to come to grips with what I had just done.
After about 30 minutes, I left the room to find the comforting arms of my step-dad who didn’t judge me and even tried to console me with assurances that I had “no choice” if I wanted to follow through with my goal to be a more responsible person for my kids. How’s that for irony?

Back then, my life was unbearable for me if I did not have a man to depend on for direction. So, it’s no surprise that not more than a month later, I had already met a guy who I thought was easy to talk to and made me feel comfortable about myself. I was, however, quick to confess what I had done only weeks before as if I was trying to convince him to not like me. It didn’t work. He liked, and quickly, loved me, for me, in spite of my past and I loved him back.

About a year and a half later, I gave birth to my third child at the Army hospital on post. Her birth was bittersweet for me as I knew that I never would have had her or met my, now, husband if I had not made the decision to abort her older brother or sister the year before.

The whole point of me revealing this horrible truth about my past is not to defend abortion but instead to show that it is possible to have gone through the actions, events, and decisions that lead to having an abortion and regretting it with every fiber of your being. I wasn’t pro-life or pro-choice before my abortion 12 years ago. I didn’t have an opinion on the topic at all. After the procedure, I discovered that the act itself had made me pro-life. How could so many women justify doing what I had done?

Does having had an abortion and being pro-life make me a hypocrite? I’ll let you make that decision for yourself but I believe that having, physically, been on the other side of the debate makes me even more qualified to argue against abortions. I know what goes through the mind of many women who decide to abort. I know that the decision, for most, is not based on the life that the baby will be forced to endure if carried to term; it is based on the selfish scenarios that play out in our minds when we realize our actions could destroy our dreams or goals. Those women who choose to abort, not because they are victims of a sex crime or are at risk of dying if they carry to term, are not thinking about how hard life will be for the child they carry, they are thinking about how hard life will be for them when that child arrives. Those women, who were quick to blow-off the simple and easy act of taking a pill or making their partner wear a condom or not putting themselves in the position to make those decisions under the influence of drugs and alcohol, are not thinking “If I have this baby, he won’t have the things he wants or needs because I am poor or not ready for this”. No. They are thinking, “If I have this baby I will: lose my freedom, not be able to get a good job, have to pay for more food and baby supplies, never have any time or money for myself, and have effectively ruined my life”.

Abortions are not about the baby; they are about the “mothers”.

Abortions are the way out of admitting you made the stupid decision to ignore the easier responsibility and act of having safe sex which resulted in the harder responsibility and burden of having a child.

Abortion is the free-pass a woman gets whenever she makes a “mistake” and realizes she can’t pay for it, literally and figuratively.

Pro-choice advocates are, in essence, saying that making mistakes and not paying for them is wrong unless it creates a life. In that case, it is perfectly fine to screw up because we’ve got this nice little clinic here that can make everything go away. You don’t even have to think about what your life will be like if you are an irresponsible sexual partner anymore. As long as you can get your hands on a few hundred dollars, you can go back to life as usual.

What is the point of teaching our kids to learn from their mistakes if we are allowing them the option to make the serious mistakes over and over without repercussions?

What we are teaching our kids, especially little girls, is that, no matter what, keep some money set aside just in case you forget to take your pill or your boyfriend doesn’t have a condom. If you get pregnant, you can use that money to get an abortion and nobody will ever know.

Well, I am here to say that I am the mother of 3 beautiful children who are alive today; a mother who mourns the death of one more of my children that I never got to meet because I couldn’t face the consequences of being irresponsible and careless. I am a woman who exercised my “right to choose” and regrets it every day of my life. I am a woman who made the choice to abort and as a result, became pro-life. I should have 4 children, 10, 12, 15, and 20 years old. But I don’t. Instead of that 12 year old boy or girl, I have 12 years of pain and regret. That is what you get from abortion; the all-encompassing pain of the knowledge that you killed your own child because you couldn’t face the consequences of your actions. At least that’s what women like me get from it.

Not only did I made the mistakes that led to my visit to the clinic back then but I made the mistake of thinking that decision was all about me and what I wanted. I made the mistake of ignoring the heartbeat and the monitor that showed the little life growing inside of me. If I had been forced to or had the guts to hear the sound of that heart and see it beating on the screen, I would never have chosen to end the life of my own child. I was a coward. I live with that every day.

We should not be advocating for any woman who makes a mistake to seek out abortion as the answer. This is not an acceptable excuse to end a life you have created.

I know, all too well, how the quick and easy process of choosing to and having an abortion can lead to a lifetime of regret, horrible guilt, and what-ifs.  A lifetime of imagining what your child would look like or what kind of personality they would have. It’s torture.

We have got to end the culture of ‘easy way outs’ of responsibilities and create a culture of ‘use your head’ before you do things that could end in your life being changed forever.

We have to stop the campaign for abortions to be more easily accessed with even lower costs. If we don’t, we are ignoring the seriousness of the decision and how it will affect those involved for the rest of their lives.
Thank you for reading this story and I hope that, through it, I have effectively expressed that abortion is not a choice women should be able to make on a whim.

Colleen's Story 

I cannot tell you what led me to abortion. Whatever happened before that moment is pointless. What I do remember is every second of every day thereafter. I remember every face I saw that day. I can remember every sound there was to hear. I remember antiseptic smell. I remember the hospital gown. I remember wondering how many other people had worn it before me. I remember the colors in the waiting room. I remember exactly the spot where I parked my car. I remember signing a paper stating I would have a ride home. I remember driving home alone. I remember being the only person crying in the recovery room. I remember the instructions given for "after care". I remember lying to people about where I was that day. I remember picking up my daughter from my Mom's house on my way home. I remember not being able to look at her. I remember walking in my front door. I remember the person I was before that moment.
I wish I had to conjure up these memories. Everyday since that day, without warning, I remember.

I was raised and still try to be a Catholic. I know in my heart that God will forgive me if I ask Him to. I will not ask. I will never forgive myself. My actions are unforgivable.

I have a daughter whom I love more that anything. I have wonderful parents and siblings whom I cherish. I have a good job and a nice home.

What I lost that day is peace of mind. I will never get it back. I am sure that women have many reasons for having abortions. The circumstances leading to an unwanted pregnancy are trivial. Abortion is an extreme act of selfishness.Selfishness so powerful I was willing to betray myself.  Selfishness so powerful I was willing to betray my unborn child.

Ella's Story by John

In April of 1972, when I was twenty-three years old, I met a lovely young woman. One spring day, I had gone to lunch with two of the guys from work, and she was our waitress at a local restaurant. Frank, John, and I worked for the city and often got out of the office at midday, but I had never been attracted to anyone we had met on our jaunts. As I stole glances at our waitress, the guys kidded me about asking her out.

Petite with short brown hair and the blue eyes, she appeared to be as shy as myself. As she returned with our check, I had my last chance and kidded her a little about the paper cap bobby-pinned to her hair that she had to wear on her job. Then, trying to be casual, I simply asked her if I could call her sometime. She hesitated; then said reluctantly, Okay. I didn t have so much as a strap of paper on me, but she rescued me by writing down her name and phone number on a napkin, which in my youth I thought was very clever of her. I withstood a little more ribbing from my buddies on the way back to the office, but that evening I did work up the courage to call the young waitress, whom I will refer to as Ella. We chatted for a while and then I asked her out to a movie on Friday evening and she accepted.

At the time, I was struggling to decide what to do with my life. Two years earlier, I had graduated from a university in the Midwest and moved to a major city on the East Coast. I had accepted an administrative job with the city government and had worked there until I had settled on what I hoped would be my life s work. Just a few months earlier I had applied to graduate school in journalism and intended to move back to the Midwest in the fall. On Friday night, Ella and I went out to movie and then to a nightclub. We then returned to my apartment and she stayed the night. Thereafter, we often went out, about three or four times a week.

Ella had moved to the city from California a few months ago, and was living with her family here. Like me, she was struggling to find her way in life. She was much more of a free spirit than I, yet mentioned that she had never intended to go out with me when she had given me her phone number. But she said that I had sounded like such a country boy on the telephone that she had decided to give me a chance.

We became friends and lovers, although I would be leaving for another university in the Midwest in just a few months and she planned to return to California someday. Ella then became pregnant, and our lives suddenly became very serious.

I was shocked and told Ella that I did not want this baby. To my surprise, she wanted to have the baby. We went for counseling at two different family planning agencies, and each of the counselors advised that Ella should have an abortion. It was 1972, less than a year before Roe v. Wade, but abortions were legal in a nearby state. We scheduled an appointment and on an ironically beautiful day in May, I drove Ella there and she had an abortion. It happened so quickly in a clinical manner. It seemed to me and to Ella s family that we were being sensible, but Ella went into mourning and didn t say a word to me as we drove back to the city.

I took Ella to her mother s home in the suburbs, hung around for a while, and then, not knowing what else to do, I returned to my office. Afterwards, Ella told me that she was very angry that I had gone back to work after her traumatic experience at the clinic. Yet we continued to see each other. Over the next few months, the shared experience even bound us closer than ever and we became especially tender to each other. We spent most every evening and weekend together, and I sensed that she loved me. However, although I cared for her very deeply, I was determined to go back to school, and that August I went back to the Midwest.

Over the next couple years, Ella and I kept in touch. Although I never thought of marrying her, I soon came to deeply regret the killing of our baby more than ever, especially since I had been the one who had been so adamant that we do so. Thereafter, Ella and I lost touch until 1977. I had since moved back East, not far from the city where I had met Ella, and one summer I went there to visit friends. I had lost track of Ella, but called her brother, who was listed in the phonebook, and he gave me their mother s number. He didn t say much to me, only that Ella had become very ill and was living with their mother in a downtown apartment.

I called the number and briefly talked to Ella s mother who told me that her daughter had a debilitating illness, similar to muscular dystrophy, but with a grim prognosis. Although Ella was only in her mid-twenties, her health was rapidly failing and she had only a year or so left before she died. That afternoon, in a state of shock, I visited Ella at her mother s apartment in a charming brick building in an older neighborhood and we chatted for a while. I felt so badly for her and about everything but sitting in a wheelchair, she kept a good humor until she brought up the abortion. The nurse at the clinic told me that I had time to have plenty of babies, Ella recalled, tears filling her eyes.

She had never before mentioned this to me. It was then that Ella broke down and began to sob uncontrollably. Her mother appeared and made it clear that I should go. I so much wanted to help Ella, as if there were anything that I could do, but I was only hurting her further. After all, it was I who had already done so much harm.

For a moment, Ella and I gazed into each other s eyes and then we bid each other farewell. And I left, closing the door, taking the elevator to the ground floor, and walking out into the warm, sunny afternoon. As I realized that I would never see Ella again, I broke down as I strode down the avenue, not caring what anyone thought of the tears streaming down my cheeks. If I had not been so adamant, Ella would have had our baby. I had denied her this one chance for great joy in her life. She would have had at least a few years with her baby. I could have become a good father. Even after Ella became ill, her parents would also have eagerly helped to care for the child thereafter. Most numbingly, I had denied our baby a chance to have life.

I never saw Ella again, but not a day has gone by when I have not mourned the death of our baby and prayed for forgiveness over the years and now the decades. I became ashamed of the casual ways of my youth and knew that I had to change my life. But there was no way that I could ever bring back our baby. I eventually married and my wife and I had several children and I became a good husband and father in a traditional family. Yet I have continued to be haunted by the memories of this tragedy of my youth. Even after my children have grown up and begun to make lives of their own, I have continued to grieve for the loss of an innocent baby so many years ago.

Raped, Pregnant, & Mentally Ill, I Chose Life Against Doctor’s Advice.

My Story - By Nikki 

 

I am not telling this to be famous or get praise. I am not a hero. I am not a victim looking for sympathy. I am just a woman who was blessed by Christ enough to do the right thing. I am also not a talented writer. But I have some things I have to say. I have been spared the horror of having to live with knowledge that I let my child be killed. My son was spared death. A family has a son. I am telling this story to hopefully impact other women in a similar situation and to let them know the help that is available to them. I also want to let people know how pregnant women are treated by pro-abortion doctors.

I am bi-polar. I must take an antidepressant, a mood stabilizer, and an anti-psychotic every day of my life. I have prayed to Christ for a healing. For the time being He has left me with this Cross. Without medication I become severely mentally ill. I become a danger to myself and others. On medication, I am able to live a productive life and to the best of my ability and with His grace, a Godly one.

Three years ago I was violently raped. Because of my mental illness as well as the fact that I was dating my attacker, I didn’t make the best witness and my attacker was not prosecuted. I was also so traumatized by the event that it took me over a week to report the crime and there was by then, a lack of physical evidence. My attacker claimed we had consensual sex and that I was only accusing him of rape because he dumped me. Shortly after this, I found out I was pregnant. I have never felt so frightened or alone.

The first doctor simply assumed that I would have an abortion and wanted to schedule it. He acted shocked that I would even consider having the child. He literally did his best to talk me into an abortion. When he couldn’t he brought in my psychiatrist.

My psychiatrist explained to me that the medication I was taking would cause severe birth defects. Even if I stopped now, it might already be too late. If I stopped taking the medication he said I would be at risk for suicide or just destroying my life with craziness. And he insisted I would probably miscarry or have a deformed child. Both of these doctors did their best to talk me into abortion.

I was terrified and alone and had no idea where to turn. I felt abandoned by God. Even my “pro-life” mother told me to have an abortion. I am ashamed to admit that I considered abortion. I also considered suicide as well as the homicide of my attacker. I wanted him dead. I hated myself and I wanted to be dead. But for whatever reason I couldn’t bring myself to hate my baby. My baby was innocent.

I got in my car and I drove. I didn’t know where I was going. I ended up 350 miles away, in Memphis Tennessee, in a church parking lot. I didn’t know the church or anyone there. There was a Bible study going on when I walked in. People came to greet me and I started screaming and cursing God and cursing the people there.

The Pastor and his wife brought me to his office and spoke with me. They prayed with me. A few hours later they introduced me to an older couple who took me into their home. They took care of me for a year. I did not make it easy for them. I went off my meds for the pregnancy and between the hormones and the bi-polar I was severely mentally ill and very unpleasant to live with. I literally wrecked their house. I was ungrateful and unlovable. They loved me anyway.

At three months pregnant, I decided I was going to put the child up for adoption. At six months pregnant I changed my mind and decided I wanted to keep my baby. I didn’t blame my baby for who is father was. I loved him and I wanted him. It was going to be us against the world. He was going to fix me. I started to expect things to be great when he was born.

That isn’t how he went. I did give birth to a healthy, normal baby boy. But I couldn’t look at him without seeing my attacker’s face. I was also crazier than I had ever been. I would spend 24 hours in bed in severe depression and then spend the next 24 hours hyper active and hallucinating. I was unable to be a mother to my son. So, I gave him up. I gave him up for adoption when he was one month old.

Some pro-abortion people at this point might ask me if all of this was worth it. Yes. My son is alive. He lives with a family in Tennessee who loves him. There is a great deal of happiness in the world today because he wasn’t killed.  I know I did the right thing and I don’t have to be haunted by the death of an innocent child for the rest of my life. God used this to put some of the kindest people into my life that I have ever known. I know now that Christ was with me on every step of my path, even while I was being raped. Christ knew abandonment, betrayal, torture, and death. He suffered worse than me.

Pro-abortion people tell me that other women should have the same choice available to them that I had. What choice is that? The choice to kill myself? The choice to kill my attacker? The choice to kill my baby? All three choices are about death. Humans do not have that right and government should not pretend that they do. There is no right to choose to kill.

I have forgiven my attacker. That doesn’t mean I trust him or will speak with him. It means I pray for him and I will not kill him or take any other act of revenge. I have asked Christ to save him. Instead of asking God to give him what he deserves, I ask God to give him what he needs.

Please do not condemn women who make the wrong choice and have abortions. They are lied to. They are pressured by doctors and families. They don’t know the love and the help that is out there for them. They don’t know the love of Christ. They need your love. Some live in shame every day while others live in denial and fight for more death. They are broken.

I am not a hero. I am a woman who has been saved by Christ. I am at peace. No matter what else I fail to do in this life, I know that with the grace of Christ I did one thing right. I chose life and accepted the suffering that went with it. If a broken, raped, bi-polar girl can choose life, so can you. Christ will be with you.