Life after Abortion

Life after abortion….seems like a contradiction in terms. Abortion ends a life…so how could there be life after any death? Simple. The mother lives on, after the death of her child. Debates run wild and vicious around the world about the very terms I’m using. Medical professionals and science claim that it’s not a life, it’s a fetus and a fetus is not a child. That is what they would like to believe and that is what they want mothers and defenders of the “Right to Choose” to believe. But tell me, if the fetus is NOT a life, then why does it grow? Why do I feel so horrible inside after having an abortion? After taking my baby’s life? Why, if “it” is “just a fetus”, do I feel the loss of a part of my life every single day that I live on? Why do I feel that I allowed my son to be sucked up by a doctor and a nurse for $350.00 because it was “inconvenient for me”? Are you shocked and confused that I would say, “my son”?
Let me explain myself. I KNEW beyond a shadow of any doubt, beyond what any “scientific” or “medical” knowledge, any debate for the “right to choose” arguments, so-called facts even said, I knew in my heart, in my soul, and in my spirit that my child was a baby boy. I knew the very second I conceived that I was pregnant, as if all the scientific facts had been verified that very moment. I knew I had a son. I knew at the moment of conception, a life was growing inside of me, a life I did not want to be responsible for, a life that was “inconvenient”, a life I did not want to nurture, let alone tell anyone and reveal my situation. Why? Why all the secrets? Because then my irresponsible lifestyle and choices would be known to the world. That was only one reason.
I actually wrote a list of pros and cons. I had more reasons on my list that I should have an abortion, than not to. The shorter list far outweighed the excuses I came up with that I was doing the right thing. I later suffered emotionally, physically, and mentally, and to this very day, I still suffer. There is a longing in my heart that cannot be quenched. There is a sense of loss in my spirit, missing the person I chose to be separated from, for the rest of my days alive on this earth.
Yes, I used the word excuses rather than reasons. At the time they were reasons to me, but as my life went on and I had to deal with what it did to my body, my mental state and my spirit, I realized that the reasons were actually excuses that I used to justify my decision in order to save myself from guilt. I blocked out certain things, purposefully, in my mind so I wouldn’t have to face the reality of what I was really doing. That didn’t last long. I told myself that if I did it as soon as possible, I wouldn’t really be responsible for killing my child; it was just a fetus after all. I made an appointment for the soonest possible time to go in and get this taken care of. I went in, and it was too soon, they could hardly see it on the ultrasound, so I had to make another appointment and go in again, delaying what I wanted done immediately, having to wait for what seemed like forever to go back in. They charge you according to how far along you are in your pregnancy.
Here I am, seventeen years later. Even at this very moment, in taking out a calculator to see how long it has been, a sense of sadness and grief comes over me. My mind quickly comprehends what the age of my child would have been, should have been, is. I think about the holidays. As I begin to write this, Christmas is four days away. What would our Christmases have been like? What kind of gifts would be under the tree? What kinds of things would my son have liked, that I would have shopped for? What would have been his style of clothing? Would I have been a good mother, even though I didn’t want him? Would he be playing with his cousins, leading them as the oldest? Would he be sharing with them what the true meaning of Christmas really is and showing them all the love and family traditions that we celebrate? Would his cousins adore him and try to be like him? Would he be driving them around now, taking them to Walmart or out for a burger for guy talk?