My Name is Kathy, I Live in Michigan

In May I was considering coming out of the closet, the abortion closet that is.  I was contemplating letting friends and family know I have had two abortions.  With much fear, I came out.  Is it freeing?  Perhaps.  But maybe not.  What made me finally decide to do it?  Issues with my mother.

How did I do it?  Due to issues with my mother I was texting with an out of state friend.  I was feeling stressed.  I decided right then and there the truth needed to be told.  I wanted to shout it out on Facebook.  I needed to shout it out somewhere.  I felt like I was going to burst!  Problem was, my internet access was down at the time.  After much prayerful thought I gave my friend the go ahead to post to my wall.  It was scary.  I did not know if I was doing the right thing or not.  All I could do was trust in God.  Many of my friends are pro-life.  I even have a few family members on Facebook.  I was afraid they may think of me as a bad person - not for having the abortion - but for letting out the secret.  Even though they did not know at the time.  I was afraid they would tell my mother.  And my mother would get upset at me, for revealing the secret sin.  I did receive support in comments.  The friend who posted was kind enough to share said comments. 

Why am I not so sure if it is freeing?  As I said above, there is that fear of what people would think.  I was afraid of loosing friends on Facebook.  But at the same time if they are going to stop being friends because of a past abortion sin then they were probably never friends.  In some ways I do want to lose friends.  I feel I don't deserve friends.  I feel I deserve to be left alone. 

Why did I do it?  It needs to be done.  The pro-abortion side is going into overdrive with their agenda.  Using TV and popular culture to make abortion look cool and normal.  Attacking pro-life movements outright.  Also, I felt stifled in my talking about pro-life issues.  I would start to talk about something and then feel like I would need to hold back.  I was afraid of others wondering how I would know anything about what it is really like for a post abortive woman.  I was afraid of them knowing I was post abortive.  When reading comments to posts from pro-life pages on social media I would see nasty judgmental comments.  I would want to respond.  I would overthink on how to reply and try to sound as impersonal as possible.  One of the many specifics I have wanted to talk about is how I think the "doctor" from the second abortion is somewhat a Kermit Gosnell of Michigan.  I want to be able to share the pro-life books I have read, here on this blog and on Facebook, without anyone getting suspicious.  If everyone knows who I am, there is no reason to fear.  And not having fear is how I can tackle the pro-abortion side.

Dreams of my Daughters

In dreams I walk with you
In dreams I talk to you
In dreams you're mine
All of the time
We're together, in dreams, in dreams... 
...In beautiful dreams of you

In Dreams ~ Roy Orbison

I have been singing this song in my head for the past couple days.  This is the chorus to the Roy Orbison song In Dreams.  I am a huge fan of Roy Orbison.  I love his music.  So passionate, so melancholy, so deep.  Most of his songs can be sad, full of lovelorn, unrequited love and love lost.  But recently I have been attaching the melancholy of his music to the grief over the loss of my daughters, especially this song.

Listen to the full song;

See, the thing is, I may have only started writing of my experiences just less than a year ago.  I had my breakdown in February of 2014.  But even before that, was when I think the lead up to my grief, I was confronted with the memories of the abortion deaths of Anastasia and Hanelore.
About 7 or 8 years ago I had a dream.  I was in the waiting room of a doctor's office, health clinic or hospital or somewhere.  There were two preteen girls.  I think the modern word now is tween.  The taller one who looked like she may have been older spoke to me.  I am not sure why, or how the conversation started.  She told me they were waiting for their mother.  She left them there and hasn't come back for them.  I couldn't imagine why a mother would leave her children at a doctor's office, or anywhere for that matter.  The girls never told me how long they had been waiting.
The older taller girl had long dark brown wavy hair.  Wasn't too big or too small body wise.  Had somewhat of a curvy shape of a young lady developing.  She had beautiful clear blue eyes.  I couldn't completely make out her face.  Her younger sister had long straight light auburn hair with a slight strawberry blonde tint.  She was very slender and wispy.  As if a bit of a medieval look to her.  She too, though I could not make out her facial features, had beautiful clear blue eyes.
I woke up, trying to figure out who those girls were and why I would dream about them.  Then it dawned on me.  They were my daughters!  The daughters I ordered the killing of.  I hadn't thought about the abortions since then.  I had slightly remembered.  But I had so put everything out of my mind that it was almost to the point of forgetting about them.

I still do dream about them.  Sometimes they are very young girls. Sometimes they are the ages they would be had they been allowed to live.  But mostly I wake up knowing I dreamt about them without recalling the details.  All I have are dreams...

Which is the Real Punishment; Baby or Abortion?

I was thinking about the comment President Barack Obama made regarding not wanting his daughters to be "punished with a baby," in 2008, during his first presidential election.
While I try to leave political views out of my posts I believe in looking at all angles of an issue.  I am not one to get my information from just one source or the other.  I refuse to focus on information that leans to one agenda or the other.  So I decided to refresh myself with the segment of his speech through a Google search.  Supposedly, he wasn't talking about abortion or supporting getting abortions for his daughters.  I watched the video clip, read the "explanations" from both sides.  Yeah, it's rather iffy and can be taken either way; depending on what the person's view is already. Typical of most politicians.  I will let you click the Google search here and decide on your own.  Either way, the attitude of being "punished with a baby" seems to be within the pro-abortion side.

This got me to thinking; in comparison to a pregnancy or abortion, which is really the punishment?  A baby is a gift.  Not a gift from the woman's husband or boyfriend (or fill in other possibilities).  But she is a gift from God.  Would you take a gift from a friend or beloved family member and say "gee thanks, I really like this, but not right now or not ever" and then tear it up and throw it in the trash?
Remember, I have had abortions also, so I am not judging.  Just reflecting and looking back.

I am reminded of when I was in the third grade, being the latchkey kid that I was, while my mom was at work I snuck into her closet to find two Cabbage Patch dolls that she was holding until Christmas.  I guess I had misbehaved in school or didn't do my homework or something.  So she took one of the dolls back.  After opening Christmas presents that year I looked around asking my mom where the other doll was.  Oops.  She asked me why I thought there was another doll.  I had to tell her.  She was mad.

Here's my point.  Kids get presents from their parents.  When they misbehave the parents sometimes take away the gift.  There is a similarity to that and abortion, especially when the mother is forced or coerced.  Maybe even when the mother was in full decision of the abortion, whether she let anyone know about it.  Whether there is pressure from family, boyfriend/husband, friends, or society they are the ones who are telling the woman that "she is a bad little girl" and should have her gift taken away as her punishment.  She doesn't deserve to have the baby.  Yet, it is packaged as the pregnancy being the punishment.  Again, even for the woman who made the decision on her own, she too is being punished by society.  Due to society's view on pregnancy during "imperfect circumstances" and abortion.
*I don't quite recall if the actual word "punishment" was used during the "family intervention" but I do remember the allusion to the "fact" that continuing a pregnancy would be a "punishment."

When making the comparisons to parents taking away a gift and pressure to abort it is almost like these YouTube videos out there where parents hammer out or shoot up a kid's expensive tech item such as iPhone, iPad, laptop, Xbox, etc.  Kid misused the privilege, that comes along with such tech objects, given to them.  So the parents destroy the object, while the kid can do nothing but witness the destruction.  Never again to be in a useable condition or to be seen anymore.
Which is quite similar to abortion being used as a punishment.  The child is destroyed.  Never to be loved.  Never to be held.  Never for the parents to see or hear his firsts; words, crawling, walking, eating solids, attending school, extracurricular activities, marriage, family of their own.  The mother of the aborted child is there to witness the destruction.  There is nothing she can do to stop it.  Afterwards she just stares at the destruction, not able to anything but cry.  Maybe not now, but possibly later.
I have always thought these videos of the parents destroying their kids' high end toys are dumb.  The parents could hold onto the toy until the kid straightens up.  Give it to charity.  Sell it on eBay.  Do something where the item is not destroyed and can still be used.
Same with a child where the mother is currently unable take care of the child.  She should be encouraged to carry the pregnancy to terms.  Her family should be there to support her and the child, given resources on being able to care for the child while being raised by her. If there is no way to do that perhaps someone could step up and take care of the child until the mother is in a situation to raise the child herself.  If there is no one able to do that for her then encourage adoption.

Of course a child can not completely  be compared to an inanimate object.  That is where the similarities differ.  Yes, when the Xbox or whatever is being destroyed the kid is going to be upset and cry.  But they will not look back years or decades away and mourn for the object that was destroyed.  They may possibly realize they were dumb for doing whatever it was that caused the destruction of the object.
As for the abortion she will look back at the abortion and regret it.  Regret that there is no way to bring back the child.  She may even regret partaking in the action that got her pregnant.  Of course I am looking at this from the perspective of a woman who was unmarried at the time.  I do realize that there are women who are married at the time of their pregnancies,who abort.  My empathy goes out to them, whatever the situation.

Another difference between the parents who destroy inanimate objects and abortions is that the tech gadget is a gift from the earthly parents.  While a baby is a gift from God, our Heavenly Father.  The gift from the parents is destroyed by the parents who gave them the gift.  The gift from God is NOT destroyed by The Father who gave the gift to the family.  But is destroyed by the world and the culture. 
This is something I am finally coming to terms with.  At the time of my first abortion I came to "the 'realization' that there was no God."  I never knew I had that thought until sometime last year, in 2014.

*Recent additions after editing

Do You Know Me?

This is a post I have been having bopping about in my head for a few days.  It could have a few multiple connections to it.  Then in an email exchange my dummy self told my mother about this blog, just not the title or link.  But more about that later.

I try to stay as anonymous online as possible in regards to the abortions.  When writing I try to be as basic as possible while trying to avoid anyone recognizing me.  I make sure that no one knows where I live or where the abortions took place.  I avoid using names in any way.  There are only a rare few couple of persons who know me and this blog, simultaneously.  Telling others of my abortions is something I am unable to do.  Though I am able to speak of it and my thoughts "behind the safety of a computer."
A friend who is the administrator to their church's Facebook page expresses an interest in linking my blog to one of the page's postings.  The selfLESS side of me would allow it,if it would help someone who has had an abortion, those wondering about the life of a post-abortion person and/or someone in a crisis pregnancy.  The selfISH side of me knows that many of my friends read that page.  While I do try to be as careful as possible not to be recognized, I am still afraid that there may be that one minute thing that a friend could pick up on.
I am many persons to many people.  Those who know of my Anastasia and Hanelore account don't know my personal likes and dislikes or basic bio info.  I have a Facebook account on my real name.  Those people know my likes and dislikes along with basic bio info.  And even though they know I am pro-life and post about pro-life news and issues, they do not know about my abortions.  
Sometimes I wonder if my family, friends and co-workers even know me.

Even as myself, I feel as though others don't really know me.  In this fast paced world, we as a society don't take the time to know others.  All we want to do is make small talk with others.  We judge others.  We make up stories about others.  It's easier than to talk and listen to those who are hurting.

We see so many people around us.  Perhaps they seem fine, perhaps not.  Abortion is legal.  Yet there is shame with it.  No one wants to admit to having one.  Maybe it is because deep down, legal or not, our consciousnesses tell us and know it is a sin.
Perhaps the girl standing behind you at the grocery store has had an abortion.  What about the checkout girl at the grocery store you see once or twice a week during your shopping.  You talk to her about her cats, her home, her kids, her spouse, her parents, etc.  But you don't know the pain she may be hiding.  I am in no way advocating that you ask her about her personal details.  Just saying that many people are hiding hurts that many of us could not imagine.

It is not just about abortion either.  Some of it could be sins that the person was directly involved in.  Maybe it was something beyond their control that the sin was committed against them.  Somebody told them they were in the wrong and they feel guilt for no reason.

One of the things that bugs me is middle age men who say to women, "Why don't you smile?".  And yes, it is almost always middle age men that do that.  But not all middle age men do that.  I mean, REALLY?!  They don't even know me!  Be they customers from my job, someone in line at the store, someone from church that I don't even have regular conversations with, or what have you.  I always want to ask, "do you know me?".
That's the thing with modern society.  Everyone is expected to smile, smile, smile!  For no reason.  It would be one thing for someone to walk around with a constant frown.  Even then still, if you don't know the person, leave them alone.  There life is none of your business!  Can't people just have a neutral look on their face without someone bothering them?

A Letter to my Mother

I have been going through some issues lately.  My anxiety seems to come and go.  Some days I am totally fine.  Others I am a total basket case.  During the "basket days" I can go from lethargy to anger and back and forth.  One thing going on is my relationship with my mother.  We have never really been estranged, but more strained.  I have tried to open up communications, at first I thought she was understanding, but I feel it is more she waits for me to show vulnerability to attack me while I am wounded.  The following is the first letter/email of my "coming out" in regards to the anxiety about the abortions so many years ago.  I did not mention my personal abortions, just alluding to them.  The letter has been slightly edited to eliminate names and/or locations that would identify me.

Hi Mom,

I will be going to grandma's on December...Christmas. 

I am thinking about moving back (to hometown area).  And I know I have the house and everything.  I really appreciate everything you have done.  But I am just not happy here anymore.  I don't think I can really be happy anywhere.  But I believe I could be happier (there).  I would like to find a Christ centered Bible believing church.  One that believes and teaches that all of the Bible is truth.  Somewhere that has people of all walks of life.  I think I can only find that (there). Plus I can be closer to grandma.I just want to get rid of most everything that is not needed.  I have been hoarding to replace many emptinesses in my life.  I have now realized that none of those are going to fill any of the voids in my life.  I have been feeling this way since March of this year (2014).  Perhaps even longer.  But I think now I am just starting to realize the causes of my emptiness.

I will be turning 40 soon.  I feel as though so much of my life has been wasted.on petty pursuits.  And what do I have to show for it?  Cremated cats on the fireplace shelf and one living cat.  As much as I love (current cat) and the other cats before him, they are not a real family.  It may be too late to have biological children of my own.  But it is not too late to possibly find a man who is kind, Christian, could be a provider and protector, believes in a fidelity minded marriage, etc.  And for kids there could always be adoption. 

In some ways it may be good that I was never in a location where I could meet any men.  I have not really liked myself much for the past almost 20 years.  And creepy guys can sense that and "go in for the kill."  I have spent too much time with a slight man-hating personality.  Telling myself I don't want or need some stinkin man and have kids.  I have convinced myself I don't like kids.  All in order to protect myself and my emotions.  Yet kids seem to like me.

Also I would like to become a pro-life advocate.  And for me, I think I could only do that (locale).  There is actually a pro-life coordinator in (this town).  I don't think they do much except for an annual banquet.  Perhaps they join the pro-lifers in (that other town) for things.  I know this is something we don't see eye to eye on.  But please understand that this is an issue that means a lot to me. 
The pro-life movement is not all about "whackos" standing in front of Planned Parenthood shouting at and shaming pregnant women, calling them sinners, heathens, sluts, telling them they are going to hell or whatever.  Yes, there are some like that.  But that is a small minority.  There are probably more whackos in the pro-choice movement than in the pro-life camp.  Advocates help women in crisis pregnancies in many ways.  Give them information on alternatives to abortion, guide them to agencies that can help them find housing; nutrition; medical care; taking care of basic bills, online and phone counseling.  Talk to them outside of the clinics with care and compassion and a listening ear without shaming them.
And no, no one is influencing my views.  I have read up on the information.  I have read stories of regret, some from women as old as grandma (who are still hurting).  And many of those who had the "procedure" done during the 40's, 50's or 60s had it done in a back room during off hours of a general physician.  I have seen the horror stories of filthy clinics.  And deaths still happen despite "legalization."  Women who get infections due to carelessness from the actions of the clinics that never receive unannounced inspections from a local health inspector.  Women whose organs are ruptured from the procedures.  Women who become infertile.  Women who have miscarriages due to damage of the cervix.  Women who neglect the children they had before or after the abortions and lack any emotional intimacy with husbands or boyfriends.  Pictures of post aborted babies.  No matter how you slice it (no pun intended) it is not the same as "removing a tumor."  A tumor is not supposed to be inside of a body.  A baby is.  The pregnancy may not have been planned, but in general it is a part of human nature.  There is no perfect world.  Even when the parents are married and purposefully attempt to become pregnant.

Anyways, I didn't mean to write so much.  And I ask that you do your own research and come to your own conclusion to see if I am "being brainwashed" or if I have come to a logical conclusion.  If you have any questions on more of why I am pro-life and/or information please ask, but do not attack.

Love,
(Your Daughter)

The Yellow Onesie

Last I finished off with Damn! That Hurt!, the telling of my actual abortion experience.  Now onto the aftermath.  The aftermath is not just a one time incident.  I have since learned that the aftermath is something that has been ongoing in my life for almost 20 years.  Having come to the realization of my abortion; looking back I can see how the planned death of my child affected me throughout my life.  But for now, I will just talk about the immediately following aftermath.

To read previous posts leading up to this one click the links below. 

I Knew, Almost Soon After Conception
"Matt" Didn't Care
Her Views Turned on a Dime
Damn! That Hurt!

After a few days I returned from my mother's either I called "Matt" or he called me.  I did not tell him about the abortion.  He came over to my apartment.  We talked.  He showed me a onesie he bought for our baby, the baby that no longer exists.  It was a typical yellow non gender onesie.  While much of my memory is fuzzy, this is one of the exact things I remember.  I remember exactly the layout of my old apartment.  I remember where in the apartment I was sitting.  I was sitting on "Matt's" lap and told him I had a "miscarriage."  He cried.  Or so I thought.  It could have been crocodile tears.  I am not sure.  I do know that I was unable to cry.  I just put my head upon his shoulder. 
He never asked about any of the details.  Then I was glad, because I didn't want to make anything up nor was I ready to tell him the truth.  But looking back, I wonder did he suspect?  Did he even actually care?
I had a horrible sinking feeling inside.  Hurt because of the abortion.  Felt bad because of lying to him.  Angry because of all that time I was pregnant he never acknowledged that I had a child inside me.  And now that she was gone he acknowledges the situation?!  Where was he when I was pregnant?  Why wasn't he "fighting" for me and our child? 
I did have sex with him that night.  I have since found out that women are told not to have sex for at least 2 weeks after the abortion.  I was never told that.  I was given antibiotics and instructions, but not the no having sex part.  But unless it wasn't written down for me, if I was only told verbally I probably wasn't paying attention in the state of mind I was in. 
"Matt" did find the antibiotics.  I told him I had to take those because of the miscarriage.  Next day or two he told me his sister told him that the antibiotics are only for abortions.  Yeah, after the baby's gone is when he tells any of his family members.  I insisted that it was a miscarriage I had.  After all, my own mother convinced my that abortion and miscarriage are basically the same thing.  Right?  We didn't fight or anything.  He just dropped the subject. 

Then came having to tell my best friend.  This is the friend from the Christian school who did the book report about abortion.  I called and told her that I was no longer going to get married.  And that I had a miscarriage.  She didn't press me on details.  Just gave me sympathy.  I felt worse lying to her than I did to "Matt."  Why didn't I say something to her, before the abortion?  Maybe she would have been able to help me or find someone who could?

Damn! That Hurt!

More of my story, previous posts in chronological order;

I Knew, Almost Soon After Conception
"Matt" Didn't Care
Her Views Turned on a Dime

This is probably the scariest part of my story in regards to the first abortion.  I have told of all the events leading up to this moment. 

The following may contain "colorful language" and graphic subject matter.  This is also where memories seem to be the haziest.

After relenting to the having the abortion done my mother came to pick me up to take me to the town she was living in.  See Her Views Turned on a Dime for more on my mother's change of heart in regards to my pregnancy.  I do not remember much about the ride to her apartment.  I do recall her "reassuring talk" about the daughter of one of her friends from work who had an abortion.  When I asked my mother "what if this is the only chance I could have a baby" she responded with telling me about the girl's abortion.  She had said that when the girl's sister was pregnant she told her mother, my mother's work friend, that the baby she was carrying could be "the spirit of her sister's aborted baby."  I have recently been seeing this whole "spirit of the aborted baby come back in a new baby" sort of thing in a few "words of comfort" stories.  I don't think I actually bought it then, and I sure as hell don't buy it now!  But at that time, I was grabbing at straws and trying to believe anything while nothing seemed believable.  S
he also told me that I would have plenty of chances to have more children and would be married and settle down.  How did she know that?  Did she really believe what she was saying?  The future is no guarantee.

I do not know if "Matt" knew about me visiting my mother or not.  I may have told him, I may have not.  The next day we went to the abortion clinic.  I do not know if the trauma has blocked out my memory or if I had been drugged, possibly to not notice any protestors or just basic avoid backing out.  Either way, I do not recall the drive to the clinic.  Though I do know exactly where it was.  The locale was inside an older plaza type building.  It is now another business, with a Planned Parenthood across the street in a newer building.  I do not recall the walking in.  I do not recall anything about the waiting area.  I do not know if I sat in the waiting area or if I was ushered directly into the "procedure" room.  I do not know if there were other people in the waiting area.  I do not remember filling out the paper work.  I do not know if my mother stayed in the waiting room or not.

The only time I was told anything about what would happen was in the "procedure" room.  I was told by someone I assumed was a nurse that they would be applying local anesthesia to my cervix.  Then use a few instruments to dilate the cervix. Then use a vacuum aspirator to pull the baby out.  They made it sound like the baby would be pulled out in one piece.  Not that that makes it any better, just less gory than the reality of it being pulled out in pieces.  That seems about right.  I don't think I was really listening.  My body was on the exam table, but I have no clue where the hell my mind was. I do not recall actually seeing the instruments or given many details.
I do not recall when the doctor was in the room.  He may have been there as soon as I arrived in the room or later after the anesthesia.  Or not there at all.  I really don't know. 
They told me it wouldn't hurt a bit and it would just be a pinch.  LIARS!  It freakin hurt like hell!!!  I literally felt like every damn organ was being sucked out!  It was at that moment that I decided there is no God.  The moment of my rejection of God is only a revelation I have only realized until now. 

I must have gotten up off the table.  That or I floated to the doorway.  Either option is a possibility.  The nurse type lady told me that I would need to sit in a recovery room.  I had horrible cramping in my abdomen, bowels and rectal area.  The best way to describe it was like my butthole was getting ready to release an atomic fart, but something was obstructing it.  I recall making a dumb joke that I wasn't sure if I wanted to puke or take a dump.  That is the last thing I remember.  Perhaps I used the restroom, perhaps I didn't.  I do not even remembering being in the recovery room.  I do not know if I slept, read a magazine, watched TV or stared at a wall until my mother picked me up.  I do not remember her taking me from the clinic.

I do not recall how long I was at my mother's apartment.  I don't know if I slept or what I did during that time.  The only thing I clearly remember after that was going to a Wal-Mart with my mother.  We were in line waiting to purchase our items.  Behind us was a couple about my age.  They had a baby in a stroller with them.  The baby was crying.  Basic fussing, like babies do, not causing too much of a scene.  I was about ready to burst into tears.  I asked my mother for the car keys to wait in the car.
I bolted out of that store so fast.  The moment I got in the car I bawled like never before.  Tears streaming down my face and hyperventilating in my breathing.  My mother got in the car.  Asked me what was wrong.  Really?  She couldn't put the two together?  I said something to the effect of "I killed my baby" or "I will never see my baby" or both of those things.  Her response?  Oh, that's all. I thought maybe the baby was annoying you and something about I did the right thing, it was no big deal, I would get over it, etc.  Then and there I decided that the only thing to do was to be numb about the situation.

The aftermath...To be continued...