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The following testimonies were sent to us. You can share your story with others and make a difference.
Testimonies can be sent to prolifemessengers@gmail.com to be posted in our website (they can be posted as anonymous).
Uncurling fingers never knew the touch of a mother's love or cradling embrace; disallowed voice, not granted as much as a half attempt in this nine month race.
Eyelids never opened to sunlight,
nor did bare blue that would fine-tune; blissful daybreak an unseen sight, alike shimmering glow of full moon.
The leaves of Autumn never did fall,
Summer's heat was not once felt; ears never did listen to Spring's calls, eyes never watched snow slowly melt.
Precious laughter never spoke aloud,
the joyous tones were forever hushed; was taken away before it was time by a coward he decided all that was to be rushed.
Angelic whispers of hair never grew,
smiles hidden on blushed cheeks; for all was taken before date due, so many years stolen in mere weeks.
Nameless, unknown and without voice
first hello overlooked with goodbye; all was decided in a single choice, never got to sing you a lullaby.
Floating in a distant, timeless land,
playful spirit knows none of this; life's gifts they'll never understand, all that is to be innocently missed. Anonymous
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The Lost Child
April 1976.....
It's almost midnight and I am sitting in the bathroom wringing my hands and wiping away tears. I am waiting to see if my life is going to change or if I am going to keep on living the way I have been these last few months, wild and free, unstoppable and feeling undestructable.
When the timer goes off, I almost fall off the toilet from fear. I pick up my home test with shaking hands and look, but I cannot see; my brain won't let the reality of it sink in. I keep looking, but I am rejecting it. The color my brain denies is the haunting color of blue. I am willing that color to change, but it stubbornly refuses to turn pink. Blue: there it is, my life will surely not go on the way I have planned. I am barely sixteen years old and I am pregnant. Worse yet, I just ended my relationship with my boyfriend and have my eyes on another. My mind starts to yell, "What ya gonna do now...what ya gonna do now?"
"Shut up!" I scream at myself, "I don't know what I am going to do!" All I can do now is hide the test, go to bed, and pray.
Ever since I was a little girl, I have had a heart for the Lord. Tonight, I need answers and I pray, I beg, and I plead, but all the response is the condeming silence. I roll over, feeling that God is mad at me for this stupid mistake. I lay my hand gently on my tummy, give it a soft pat, and smile at the knowledge of the little life inside of me. At the break of dawn, my weary mind finally tires of fighting against itself and sleep closes my eyes.
I awake late in the afternoon and I sneak out of bed, trying not to face anyone. I am terrified that my words may betray me. I walk past my sister and mother with my head down, avoiding eyes and conversation. My mother is smarter than I give her credit for and she has this magical radar that picks up anything at any moment. It is hard to avoid her antenas of perception that are constantly bouncing in my direction.
"Honey, have you started your period yet?" (She always keeps track of these embarressing milestones in my life.)
"Yeah mom, last week." It is too easy to lie and I'm feeling guilty. My mothers radar is still bouncing off of me and she will not shut it off completely. Something is stirring and she knows it. Mom goes into the bathroom and unwraps all my kotex pads in the waste basket. They give me up as the criminal I feel like, because of their cleanliness. Some how, I thought I was clever in my ripe old age of sixteen!
She comes out of the bathroom, her face is pale white with a sick expression, like she just got hit in the belly by a professional boxer. As she looks at me, I break down crying, feeling my shame envelope me. My mom is in shock but she still takes me into her arms and I sob, "I'm so sorry, mommy."
After our initial shock and tears,we sit down with dad, which is harder than telling my mom. After all, I am daddy's little girl, his princess, as he calls me. I do not feel like a princess at the moment, but rather like one of her ragged servants.
I fight for this baby, because I want to feel this child grow and I want to give her life. But at sixteen, my life is not my own as I find out. I will not have this child, after all, it is not a baby yet, it is just a little piece of tissue and some cells, so I am told. When your sixteen, pregnant, scared, and are used to adults making all of your decisions, it is hard not to believe them so I put my total trust and life into their hands. I handed over my life and the life of my child. Calls are made, appointments are set up with decisions made in a whirlwind of two days. I do not have much time left with this baby, I have to say goodbye soon. I am up almost all night before my little "problem" gets fixed and I write a letter to her ( I feel that it is a girl) explaining why I cannot keep her and saying my goodbyes. I cry all night, patting and rubbing my tummy, talking to a child who cannot and who will never hear my voice. The morning rushes in quickly and even though the sun is shining, there is a dark, stormy cloud over me and it is pouring on my emotions. I refuse to get up! My parents have no sympathy for me on this bright, beautiful day, there is a job to be done, a problem to be taken care of, a life to end.
We drive for an hour in silence with long, sad faces, each of us seem lost in thoughts of, "What if, maybe we can, and should we."
I remember looking out the window of the car all the way up to chicago with my hand on my tummy, gently rubbing it, watching people on the outside going on with their lives. The life of my baby will soon come to an end and no one will ever know of even care. We arrive all too soon and we walk the two windy blocks to the women's clinic. There is a protest going on today in front of this building. Angry women and men with big, accusing signs shouting in protest against abortion and the murder of children. We have to walk straight through that mob to get in.
My mother wraps her arms around me tightly as we quickly walk up the sidewalk. The protesters see us coming and they know what we are about to do. They surround us and yell thier angry words. I keep my head down and avoid all eyes. I do not want to be there, I am on thier side, I agree with them, but I am in my mothers grip and I have to go forward. One angry woman steps in front of us and starts to yell, " do you know that you are going to kill a baby?!" I want so badly to stop & talk to her, I look her in the eyes and she seems to see the hurt and desperation in my face. She gives me a look of pitty and understanding and steps aside. The others are not so kind or merciful.
The inside of this clinic was cold and uninviting. Nurses were rushing about. Young men had long sad faces, full of worry and guilt. There were parents fitfully pacing the floors, waiting, suffering in silence. It was a place where new life walked in and was then tricked into death. I was forced to see a counseler before my "procedure" and I poured out my fears, hopes and dreams for keeping this baby and giving her life, but she has heard this sob story a million times and some where in her heart, it all became just words, not real people. She politely nodded her head and then sent me on my way. That walk down the lonely hallway was cold, bare and uncaring, I could almost hear the faint cries of newborns bouncing off the walls pleading for a different way!
As I was placed on that hard cold metal table, the doctor who has made a life out of taking it, seems tired and irritable, rushing to get this little problem out of the way. He is very matter of fact, not really looking at me, but rather through me. He hurriedly explains what he is doing as he has a thousand times before, " a little cold, some cramping, over in a minute". Just like that.....over...done...gone...no more.
As he turns on his machine of death, I break down and cry, "Goodbye my little one, do not be scared, I love you!" The young nurse who did not look much older than myself, took my hand and held it as she wiped away my tears, it was the only kind thing that happened to me that day. I feel like the hardness of that inviroment had not yet penetraded her heart.
In the recovery room or should I say the greiving room, was another young girl my age who had just gone through her own little procedure. Her story was a lot like mine ,but her father was a big politican with a nice carrer ahead of him and having a pregnant teenage daughter was out of the question. So here she was, getting fixed for daddy. We cried together.
In one short day I had a new life inside of me, full of promise and who wanted to live as we all do, yet she was taken away in a matter of seconds because having her would have been inconvient for a few people. So she was sent to live her life with Jesus and just knowing that my daughter is with God makes the pain bearable. I shall meet her some day and will finally become her mommy. I often wonder what kind of woman and mother she would have been ,and I have thought about her every week for the last 31 years. She is my child & I am her mother and nothing can ever change that fact.
Thank-you again.
NOBODY ever gets over an abortion, I know, it has been over 30 years and I still think about her & I ask the Lord on a weekly basis to give her a hug from mommy.
I know that much of the time we focus so much on the act of abortion itself that we look past the person who made the decission to do it & throw our fingers in thier face. When my mother & I had to walk through that angry mob, no one tried to speak kindly to us or offer us an option. They surrounded us like hungry lions out for the kill, screaming at us with thier big 'holy' signs! I remember when we left the building hours later, the mob was gone, no one was there to help the young ladies with thier pain. I cried all the way down those steps, my mom & dad were helping me to stay on my feet as the guilt & pain came out in sobs.
That mob of accusing people left a bad taste in my mouth about Christains for a long time until the Lord took/touched my heart for His Glory about 12 years ago. He has set me free from the guilt & pain of that day, but my arms & heart still ache for a daughter that I am looking forward to meeting in Heaven some day.
Thanks for letting me get this out.
for His Glory... Nancy
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Silent No More
It all happened so fast and so unexpectedly during my junior year of college: a new relationship with a young woman, an illness which turned out to be the morning sickness of a pregnancy, and a hasty abortion which had a dramatic effect on both our lives. No matter how difficult or painful an experience or situation is, God always manages to bring something good out of it. In this particular case, He taught me several valuable lessons about what it is to be a Catholic.
Though Sharon and I had not known each other for very long, we quickly developed deep feelings for one another. Apparently, neither I nor my feelings for Sharon were strong enough for what happened early on in our relationship. When she needed me most, I was unable to come through for her.
For almost a week, Sharon had been waking up with nausea and vomiting periodically throughout the day. We were both perplexed and worried because neither of us knew why this was happening to her and it didn't seem to be getting any better. So on a Thursday, Sharon went home to see a doctor and find out why she was getting sick all the time.
In the early hours of the next day I was shocked to learn the cause of Sharon's nausea. She was pregnant with her ex-boyfriend's child. I was even more shocked to learn what she intended to do about it; she and her ex-boyfriend had made an appointment to abort the unborn child for that very afternoon. He was going to take her to the clinic and pay for the abortion. After telling me her reasons for having the abortion, she asked me what I thought she should do.
Its four in the morning, and my girlfriend of a couple weeks has just informed me that she's pregnant with her ex-boyfriend's child and she's having an abortion in less than twelve hours. Now she wants to know what I think she should do.
Unfortunately, I was not up to the task. Like many people out there, I personally found abortion abhorrent but hid behind the shield of "it's your body-, it's your choice." Though I went to Mass and tried to be a good Catholic, I did not completely subscribe to my Church's teaching on abortion. I was against abortion but not against a woman's choice, or so-called "right," to have one. I was anti-abortion but not pro-life. So when Sharon asked me if she should have the abortion, I replied with words to the effect of "its not my body or my child and I don't have the right to tell you what to do with either of them." I replied with these words even though I knew that she was morally wrong to abort her unborn child. I remained silent because I mistakenly believed that I did not have the right to tell her what to do with her unborn child.
Though I had ample time to tell Sharon to reconsider this hasty decision to abort her child, I remained silent. Early Friday evening she called me to tell me she had had the abortion. Silence is said to be golden but in this case it proved fatal to both Sharon's unborn child and our relationship.
When Sharon returned to college a few days later, our whole relationship had changed dramatically. I would never feel the same way about her or us or myself again. I never told her that I was appalled at her having an abortion, even on the few occasions when she asked me. I remained silent again and again. To this day, I have no idea how the abortion affected her emotionally because we never spoke about it. As I became more appalled at what she had done and what I had not said, my feelings for her went away.
Sharon went home at the semester's end and didn't return to our college. I only saw her one more time after she dropped out. By that time, my feelings for her had all but evaporated. I told her that I did not want to have a long distance relationship. That reason was partially true. The other reason, which I did not tell her, was that I no longer cared for her because of the abortion.
So the final toll, for Sharon's abortion was one aborted child, one aborted relationship, one aborted college career, and at least two wounded individuals. Though ultimately the child had suffered and lost the most - his or her life, Sharon and I both suffered and lost as well. I cannot recall ever calling upon God for help throughout this whole ordeal.
A year went by and I managed to get on with my life. I buried the feelings associated with the experience deep inside. I had relationships with other women and thought that I had put Sharon's abortion behind me. I was wrong because I had not adequately dealt with it. Eventually, the guilt and pain of Sharon's abortion resurfaced.
I don't know exactly why these feelings resurfaced or emerged when they did. Maybe it was because I was beginning to rediscover my faith. Maybe it was because of the one-year anniversary of Sharon's abortion. Maybe it was because a priest-friend of mine asked me how I could be opposed to abortion but be pro-choice at the same time. Maybe I just couldn't contain the emotions any longer. Maybe it was a combination of the four or maybe God had some other reason which I don't know about. At any rate, this round was in some ways worse than the first.
The toughest emotion to deal with was the guilt of having remained silent while Sharon aborted her unborn child. I was wracked by the intense guilt of not having spoken out in defense of Sharon's unborn child when they both needed me most. The child's mother failed him/her. The child's father failed him/her. I failed him/her. I might have been the last chance that child had for life.
Fortunately, this time I did turn to God for help. With the help of a priest-friend, I was able to deal with the emotional pain and guilt of Sharon's abortion. Through him, God helped to heal me of these wounds and to choose sides in this struggle between life and death. I have come to accept and embrace my Church's teachings on every person's right to fife. As I learned, you cannot be for life and be for a woman's "right" to choose the death of her unborn child.
As part of the healing process and to make amends for my past silence, I began participating in pro-life events. My first March for Life in Washington was a tremendous experience for me in that I was able to do penance for my past silence by marching for the rights of the unborn. I have since participated in two more marches and several other pro-life events held in my diocese. I also spoke about my experiences at a retreat led by my priest-friend. These events have given me an opportunity to speak out for life and not remain silent. In addition, I frequently pray for Sharon that she will seek God's forgiveness and healing for having aborted her unborn child.
I learned the hard way that abortion doesn't just kill the baby in the womb. The forceps and other tools which tear apart the unborn child also tear apart the hearts and souls of the mother, the father, the friend, the brother, the sister and so on. It wounds every person who cares for that mother who aborts her unborn child. An abortion has a ripple effect of pain upon everyone involved.
One of the most important lessons that God taught me through this ordeal was that I not only have a right to speak out for life and against abortion, but as a Catholic, I have an obligation to do so as well. Not only did I have the right to tell Sharon she shouldnt abort her unborn child, I had an obligation to do so as someone who cared for her. I had an obligation to her, to God, and most importantly to the unborn child, to tell her "You don't have to abort the baby. There are alternatives. There are people who will help you."
I have learned that silence is deadly. Silence is an acquiescence to the murder of an innocent unborn child. I have learned to be silent no more.
Neither should you be silent. If someone who you care about it is contemplating an abortion, you must not remain silent. You must tell her what she is doing is wrong. You must not stand by silently while she makes the worst mistake of her life. I know that there's no guarantee that your words will convince her to reconsider her decision, but by remaining silent, you guarantee that she won't. You must not remain silent like I once did.
By Bryan
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A Silent No More Testimony When I was 13 I got pregnant. For months I didn't realize anything was wrong because my period was not regular at that time. When I did go to the doctor, she told me I was 5 months pregnant. My parents convinced me that an abortion was the only answer. Because I was so far along in the pregnancy, I had to fly to Kansas to have the abortion.
The procedure took five days. Every morning my dad would drive our car through the crowd of protesters gathered around the gates as they screamed at me, held signs of dead fetuses and banged on my window. During the five day procedure my cervix was slowly forced to dilate, which caused the worse cramps I have ever felt.
On the fourth day, as I lay on an examination table, my baby began to kick frantically, more than she had ever before. I didn't realize what was going on but she knew. The doctor entered with a large needle that he shot into my belly. After that I never felt my baby move again.
The next morning I entered a large room with about 5 other women. We were all placed in our own hospital beds and hooked up to an IV that was meant to put us in a "twilight" state of consciousness. Unfortunately, I remember every detail of the experience. I was freezing, shaking, cramping and alone. Someone gave me two little pills I thought would make me feel better but they were to force me into labor. Then the nurse walked down the baby killing assembly line to see how dilated we were and one by one we were taken off in a wheelchair to a separate room.
When it was my turn I was surprised to enter a small room with what seemed to be a toilet. I was told to sit on the toilet, lean on the nurse and push. So I did. I pushed my dead baby out into a toilet. After all this trauma, I lay on another examination table waiting for the doctor and a nurse placed her hand on my stomach and said with a smile ...
For weeks after the procedure I was severely depressed. I rarely got out of bed. My body was bleeding and confused because it went through the process of having a baby, however there was no baby to care for. Eventually I got out of bed but I battle depression to this day and have been suicidal many times in my life. I abused drugs and alcohol. I was promiscuous. I had very little self worth and developed bulimia. I hated my parents and rebelled anyway I could. I have been in therapy since the abortion and within the last couple years I have made a lot of progress. I was caringly persuaded to attend a Rachel's Vineyard Retreat in April 2005. This retreat changed my life because although I had always heard "God forgives you" I never felt it like I did at the retreat. His mercy was falling like rain all around me but I had an umbrella up. The retreat helped me to fold my umbrella and when I did I was drenched in the forgiveness God was pouring out all along. Being with the other women helped a lot as well. I saw that other women had made the same mistake I did and I didn't condemn them so I realized I needed to stop condemning myself. People need to know that the babies our country allows to be murdered everyday are not lumps of mass, but living children with souls and worth. I felt my baby move inside of me. She had a personality. I left that baby dead in a toilet and my story is multiplied day after day, baby after baby. It is absurd to think abortion is a solution to any problem. The hurt and pain doesn't end after the baby is gone. I had thought I would just get over it. We are told as women we have a choice but no one explains what we are choosing. I doubt many would choose to feel the way I have for 10 years so that is why I am SILENT NO MORE! |
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I Bear the Mark
My biological mother was seven-and-a-half months pregnant when she decided to abort me. I don't know why she made that decision. It was 1977. She and my biological father were 17 at the time and weren't married.
She went to a clinic in Los Angeles and had a saline abortion. A salt solution is injected into the mother's womb, which the baby gulps. The solution also burns the baby inside and out. The idea was that within 24 hours she would deliver a dead baby. But, by the grace of God, I survived.
The abortionist wasn't on duty when I came into the world. Had he been there, he would have ended my life with strangulation, suffocation or leaving me there to die, which was considered perfectly legal up until 5 August 2002 in the United States. Now, a child who has survived an abortion must receive proper medical care. The abortionist had to sign my birth certificate. He had to acknowledge a life that just hours before he was trying to end.
The only person even remotely concerned about my well-being was the nurse. She called an ambulance and had me transferred to a hospital. I was placed in an incubator weighing two pounds. They didn't expect me to live.
After several months they decided that I had a tremendous will to live. I was placed in the foster care system and at 17 months was diagnosed with cerebral palsy due to lack of oxygen while I was being burnt alive for 18 hours in my mother's womb. I was 32lbs, couldn't move and they said that I would just be a vegetable for the rest of my life.
My foster mother, Penny, decided that despite what the doctors were saying, she would work with me. She did my physical therapy three times a day and I began to hold up my head, sit up and crawl. Eventually, at the age of three-and-a-half, I was able to walk with a walker and leg braces. That was the age at which Penny's daughter, Diana, who was then in her thirties, adopted me.
I'm 28 now and work as a musician in Nashville, Tennessee. I still walk with a limp and fall occasionally. But I've just completed my first marathon and will be running the London Marathon next April to raise funds for children with cerebral palsy. I'll be running on behalf of Stars Organization Supporting Cerebral Palsy.
Diana told me about my past. I had always had this sense that there was more to my life story. I was always asking her why I had cerebral palsy. You would have thought that I would be fine with her answers because I was a premature baby or that I had experienced a traumatic birth.
But when I asked her again when I was 12 she asked me whether I really wanted to know and I said yes. When she explained it to me, my reply was typical of a 12-year-old. I just said, at least I have cerebral palsy for an interesting reason. My mother said a good thing: that instead of focusing on the fact that you almost died, rejoice in the fact that you are alive. And I do.
When I was 17, Diana met my biological mother and communicated very clearly to her my forgiveness. I'm a Christian. I believe that bitterness eats up your life. I want to be the opposite of bitter. I never wanted to meet her. Penny has loved me so well I don't feel the need. I don't know much about the meeting, only that she didn't ask for forgiveness from me and that she had another abortion later.
I started speaking out about abortion when I was 14, and on Tuesday I will be speaking to a parliamentary meeting at the House of Commons about it. I believe that it's important when something like this has happened to you to present the truth about not just abortion, but also about what a tremendous life you can possess through overcoming weakness.
I don't believe that killing is a right. I am completely against abortion in any circumstance, including rape.
Even though rape is a horrific crime I do not believe that a child should have to pay for the crime. I don't believe that abortion in that case will solve a problem. In fact I have met people who are the product of rape and they say they are very glad to be alive. If abortion is merely about women's rights then what were mine? There wasn't a radical feminist yelling about how my rights were being violated on that day.
Every day I thank God for life. I do not consider myself a by-product of conception, a clump of tissue, or any other of the titles given to a child in the womb. I do not consider any person conceived to be any of those things. I have met other survivors of abortion. They are all thankful for life.
Today, a baby is a baby when convenient. It is tissue or otherwise when the time is not right. A baby is a baby when miscarriage takes place at two, three, four months. A baby is called a tissue or clumps of cells when an abortion takes place at two, three, four months. Why is that? I see no difference.
I believe that I am living proof that abortion is the killing of a human being. My biological mother felt that she was entitled to a choice 28 years ago that she thought would only affect her. And yet I bear the mark of her choice every day of my life with my cerebral palsy. Although I don't hold it against her, I think it's important for people to think about that before they make their decision."
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Hi fellow pro-lifer! Here is my testimony in brief: I am a post-abortive man. When I was sixteen, my then-girlfriend told me that she was pregnant. She wanted the baby, I didn't. I pressured her to abort, and reluctantly she did. We both paid a high price for that. I became a serious drug addict and alcoholic for the next twenty years. Only my return to Christ saved me form certain death and later, Hell. Now I have named my child and I pray in front of abortion mills with my wife, who ironically cannot have children because she thought the world was in an overpopulation crisis, so she had herself sterilised. May God have mercy on this nation. A Boy From Cape Cod |
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