My Story - A Horrible Nightmare

I had a horrible nightmare!  I was dreaming I had another abortion.  Oh my gosh, it was a horrid dream.  I didn't know why I was having another abortion, and I kept questioning that very fact.  In my dream, I saw myself walking in what was supposed to be a Planned Parenthood and being directed to the room where the abortion would take place.  I kept thinking, “I can’t believe I’m doing this!”  And I remember telling myself, “You don’t have to do this!”  I had the procedure done and was consequently being directed to sit in a recovery area.  As I was led there and shown to where I should have my recovery, I remember seeing someone else’s drops of blood on the same bench where I was being told to sit.  I thought how nasty that was and how I didn't want to go sit there.  Throughout the entire dream I kept repeating in my mind, over and over, “I can’t believe I am having another abortion”, “Why would I do this when I hate abortion so much and have talked about hating it and being against it?” 

When I finally awoke from the nightmare this morning, I was SO relieved!  Even in my dream I kept repeating to myself, “Surely, this is a dream.  Surely, I’m only dreaming I’m having another abortion, and it really cannot be true.”  It was very upsetting, depressing, and sobering.  I wondered why I dreamed such a horrid thing and what would have triggered it.  As I wrote about it in my journal, I thought of the combination of two events over the weekend which probably triggered it.

The first event happened the day before yesterday, when I heard on the radio a political advertisement with a woman giving her testimony that when she had been pregnant, and expecting to add another child to her family, the doctor told her that the baby had a genetic problem.  She spoke of how she and her husband made the “loving decision” to abort the baby and how important it was not to vote for the candidate who was against a woman’s right to choose.  It was an awful advertisement and made me quite upset.  It was hard to believe that I could hear such a thing as a radio commercial.  What has our society come to?  For a moment, in my mind, I put myself in her shoes.  What if I had discovered my baby had a genetic problem?  Would I want to abort that baby?  Ugh, what an awful consideration.  I thought of all the people who have had children with mental or physical disabilities or genetic problems and how much those parents love their children and how many things of great value they have learned and experienced with their children.  Then I thought of how when I was pregnant with my fourth child, I wanted none of the tests or ultrasounds to find out if there was anything wrong with her or to even to know what her sex was.  She was a gift from God, period.  No matter what may or may not be wrong with her or what sex she was—she was a precious and special gift from heaven above and she had been entrusted to me and my husband for her care.

The second event happened yesterday, when a friend came over with her five month old baby girl.  She and her baby spent an hour and a half here in my home chatting with me.  I held that precious baby and touched her tiny toes and her tiny fingers and her head and ears, over and over again.  And that triggered the remembrance of my loss—my immense loss of Grace.  I looked at this baby’s little fingers and toes and couldn’t image aborting and tearing apart such beautiful parts of a human life.  Now, when I hold babies or touch babies, I can’t help but think of how many of them are being killed every day in our country.  I can’t help but think of the lies that are perpetuated to the greatest degree, all in the name of keeping it legal for a woman to have “a choice” over “her body”.  A baby is not even her own body!  It’s just developing within her body.  Our country is not keeping it legal for a woman to choose what to do with her body.  Our country is keeping it legal for a woman to be able to choose what to do with another body and human life that just happens to be developing and growing in her body!

As I awoke this morning from my nightmare, and felt more than relieved that it had only been a dream, I also thought about the fact that it is November.  My baby Grace was due at the end of November.  I recall sitting at the crisis pregnancy center and that sweet woman giving me a due date.  I was just crying and crying at how crazy that sounded and at my own unbelief over my predicament.  My child would be turning 27 years old this month, if she had been allowed a birth – day.  She would be turning 27 if she had only been allowed a day to be born.  Instead, I gave her a death - day.  Saturday, April 20, 1985.  I planned and scheduled it and had her death executed on that awful day.

Since I’ve been more vocal and open with others about my past abortion, it doesn’t haunt me as much.  It’s not a big, dark secret with as much negative power over me.  Yet, this recent nightmare stabbed and hurt me deeply.   It takes me back to early April 1985, and I see myself sitting at the formal dining room table in our family’s home.  The phone book is open in front of me to “Abortions”, and the phone is in my hand.  I am very nervously making that call and scheduling that appointment.  I get upset I can’t get in sooner and have to wait about two weeks before the next available appointment.  I had all that time to change my mind.  I had all that time to choose a much wiser and better choice.  I had gotten pregnant just a few feet away from that dining room table, irresponsibly and foolishly having premarital sex as a 16 year old teenager.  Right under my parents’ noses.  My poor parents couldn’t have imagined I was doing such things—such very stupid things.  Very stupid actions on my part.  Actions that now make me so angry at myself.  For the sake of experiencing fleeting moments of “fun” and physical ecstasy with my boyfriend, there were huge long-term consequences.  A precious, precious life was at stake, and I threw her away to protect myself. 

For the rest of my life, I get to live with the intense regret, ache, and loss—until the day I die.  There’s no protecting myself from that.  I protected myself from telling my parents and from being a teenage mom in 1985.  But now, I live with this ugly, horrible decision for the rest of my life.  I live with a wound and scar so deep—so very deep.  I live with an ongoing emptiness that always hounds my soul and keeps a break my heart.

There’s a part of me that is glad and thankful for my nightmare.  It reminds me and refreshes in my memory the seriousness of what happened.  It may now be easier to talk about my abortion with others, but I don’t want that to ever reduce the seriousness and the tragedy of my actions 27 ½ years ago. 

Twenty seven and a half years ago, I chose to have my first baby killed because I was too scared to face the consequences of being a teenage mom, of being pregnant at 16, of telling and admitting to my parents that I, their little girl, was sexually active against their wishes and against what I knew myself right.  I never want to forget the seriousness of choosing to kill my precious, sweet, innocent baby to save my own self.

I’m thinking of my baby.

I’m painfully regretting making the choice to end her life.

I’m wishing I could change the past and bring her back. 

I love you, my dear and precious Grace.  I took your life to save my own.  And yet, you have taught me so much and have played such a great part in who I am today.  Your brief earthly life truly mattered!   My arms will always long for you.