JONAH ~ A Mother’s Story

I’ll never know for sure, but I always felt like the baby was a boy and I’ve named him Jonah.  My baby had a soul and was a person so I will never refer to him as “it”. In this writing, I will refer to this baby as him, he or Jonah as he deserves to be remembered with dignity.

The Old Testament story of Jonah is an image of the God of second chances, mercy and forgiveness. It is also the story of a disobedient and reluctant prophet and I can really relate to that. And so the name of my baby, the one who never had a chance to hear God’s word on earth, but went directly back to heaven in the year 1984. In the 20^th anniversary of Jonah’s death, I write a testimonial to the horror of abortion, the spiritual, and emotional pain that goes with it. This is an attempt to prevent any young girl from experiencing the same spiritual and emotional trauma.

I am as reluctant as Jonah. I don’t want to tell this story, but I have to. I fear the repercussions and the rejection from telling this story. But, more strongly I fear not telling the story. It occurred to me that each generation is duty bound to pass their experiences on to future generations, so they can learn from the stories and mistakes. So they can be warned and not repeat mistakes. Isn’t that what many of the Old Testament stories are about? And if the failings of the great Kings can be written down for future generations to learn from, then my story can too.

After many years of struggling with the political issue of abortion, I have come to the conclusion that this is not a political issue it is a spiritual one. I have decided to never become involved with the politics because as long as women choose to seek abortion, someone will be there to perform whether it is legally or illegally. So, the hearts of women must be changed and that is my mission. And so if you are reading this, please open your heart to me and I will pour mine out to you.

In 1984, I was seventeen years old. I was reckless, promiscuous, and self-destructive on almost every level. In the beginning of my senior year of high school I felt that I was pregnant. This is important for you to understand, because I didn’t miss a period, I’ve never really been very good at keeping track of them anyway. It is important for you to understand is that I felt the presence of another – immediately, so when you hear the lie that a fetus is just a mass of tissue, I can tell you from experience, I have been pregnant three times and every time I felt it before I knew it. I felt the soul of another person inside me.

I looked in the yellow pages, found an abortion clinic, had a pregnancy test, borrowed money and had the abortion. If that sounds mechanical, it is supposed to because that is exactly how much thought I gave to this.

The spiritual crisis had started before the abortion, because I felt Jonah’s soul inside me and I ignored him. I knew he was there and I refused to acknowledge him. It would begin to haunt me during the abortion and then for the next 20 years.

Let me tell you what I remember about the abortion. First, being only 17, I lied about my age, name, address – everything. No one talked to me about anything; I didn’t seek any information either. I just wanted the pregnancy to be over quickly. But, I don’t remember seeing anything in the abortion clinic about being pregnant, and what that meant exactly. I mean what does a fetus look like at each period of gestation, what is formed. There was certainly no information about a crisis pregnancy and what options there were.

During the abortion itself, I cried out as soon as I felt Jonah’s body being ripped out from mine. I felt him leave me and I remember that very clearly. I was lying there and the abortionist was sucking out my womb and he said, “Stop crying! It’s too late now.” It was an order and a lament. How many times had this man heard a woman cry out as he tore her baby from her womb? How difficult it must have been for him to sleep at night. I wonder if the cries of women haunt him. That is all this man ever said to me through out the entire abortion. After the abortion I lied down on a cot that was similar to the one in the school nurses office. In a little while the nurse gave me antibiotics and I drove myself home.

Then I slowly suffered in silence.

Let me tell you about how aborting Jonah affected my early marriage and childbirth. My husband and I were married in May and I found out I was pregnant in July. What should have been a very happy announcement, I was told by the nurse in the military hospital in this fashion: “You are pregnant and if you want to take care of it you’ll have to do it off base.” My heart sunk as she presented me with a very unwanted and unwelcome option. There was no way that I was going to end this life inside me and how dare she even suggest it! I was angry when I should have been elated.

In March, my beautiful and I really mean stunningly beautiful baby boy was born. Absolutely perfect, absolutely wonderful in every way. I remember when I saw him the very first time; I was convinced without a doubt that there is a God. As I looked at this beautiful child I was profoundly grateful for a second chance and at the same time profoundly distressed about aborting Jonah.

I went to the nearest Catholic Church and found a Sister of what order I do not know. I cried and I confessed and I begged for forgiveness. The Sister said to me, “God has already forgiven you, what right have you to not forgive yourself?” Good question, Sister, twenty years later still unanswered.

Sixteen months after my son, I gave birth to my daughter and this would be the last time that I would carry another human soul in my womb. I love my children, all three of them. I desperately miss one of them. After carrying a child and seeing what they become – the reality of a past abortion is unbearable. I have to live everyday with the knowledge that I ended Jonah’s life. Think about that. A mother’s nature is to protect her children and yet, I ended my child’s life!  Do not believe the lie that abortion is the easy way out of a crisis pregnancy.

Today is the worst of it, because today I have to confess what I did twenty years ago to my two living children. I’m scared of how this will affect them. I’m scared of how this will affect our relationship. Will they look at me differently from now on?

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Postscript: I wrote this testimony in 2004. As an update, I participated in a Rachel's Vineyard Retreat. http://www.rachelsvineyard.org/

 I shouldn't have waited 20 years to do that, during the retreat, I was finally able to forgive and make peace with myself. The pain and regret never do go away, but there is peace in forgiveness.  Also, please note that I wrote this seven years ago, and it has taken me this long to work up the courage to begin to speak up about my experience. This is difficult, painful and I'm still afraid. I have also changed my political leanings on this issue. I vote Pro-Life. I write my elected officials. I do still hold the belief though, that only when hearts and minds are changed, will the horror of abortion be eradicated. 

What it's like "in there"

In speaking with my daughter today, she encouraged me that my story, specifically the lack of care and concern by the medical staff, that I received during my abortion, was what changed her mind definitively.

Good. So here’s that part of my story.

I suspected I was pregnant. I can’t say that I skipped a period, as I didn’t keep track of them that well. I pulled out the yellow pages (it was 1984) looked under “abortion” and went for a “free” pregnancy test. (44-year-old brain translates “loss leader” 17-year -old brain didn’t quite think that way.)

The test was positive, and cash was needed.

I borrowed the cash and went back a week later, on a Saturday. My parents were out of town. I drove myself to the clinic, used a fake name, lied about my age. I didn’t know the laws, but I didn’t want any trouble. I was thankful – no questions were asked. No ID needed, no medical history provided.

In the procedure room, I was not scared; this was just like having a wart removed to me. No big deal. 

I only have one memory of the “procedure”, at some point during the suction, I actually felt the life leave my body, and I became aware of what I had done. I cried out. The doctor said, “Quit crying! It’s too late now.” So I did, I quit crying. This was my “choice” what right did I have to cry?

I went into a recovery room that was like a school nurse’s office. I was treated as if I had just given blood.

I was given some medication and sent on my way. As I had said earlier, I had driven myself. No one asked me if there was anyone to pick me up, there was no concern as to how or if I would get home safely.

I had no follow up appointment.

At 17 not having any idea of healthcare expectations, and feeling as if I deserved what I got, I never questioned this level of care.

I have some questions now:

1. Are abortionists held to even at least the same standard of care as – say orthopedic surgeons? If not, why not?
2. Why is this a cash business?
3. Are women not afforded any kind of after treatment for at physical if not emotional wounds?
4. Why was no age verification done? Why was no one concerned about how I got there and how I would get home?
5.  Of course, my parents were not informed, and as such were not afforded the opportunity to support or guide me. My pregnancy was a result of recreational sex, not rape or incest.  In retrospect, a little guidance here was in order.
6. Why are some people so adamant about supporting this travesty that they are willing to hide the facts from vulnerable women? Why can’t we see an ultrasound? Know what the fetus looks like at the point of development?

So that is the clinical side of my story. With one final note, 27 years later, I’m still crying in private. It was my “choice” after all.

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