In 1984 my mother walked into an abortion clinic and paid to abort me. That day, my mom left the clinic and by the grace of God never returned.
After waiting for an hour in the lobby they walked her back to a private room and gave her an ultrasound before starting the procedure. When the abortionist saw the screen, he told my mom to come back in two to three weeks because he wanted me to be more developed before he would give her an abortion.
For whatever reason, my life was spared, but growing up my mom made it clear that I was a mistake and that she was angry they refused to abort me.
Given everything I endured the first 18 years of my life, most people would argue that killing me would have been the kinder thing to do. After 18 years of physical, sexual, and emotional abuse, I am here to say that despite my circumstances and the trauma I endured, I am grateful to be alive.
In 1984 an abortionist ironically spared my life, but 16 years later my little sister wouldn’t be so lucky. When I was 16 I came home from school and I found my mom on the floor crying, bleeding, and in excruciating pain. She immediately asked me to drive her to the hospital and when we got there they took her back for a D&C.
At the time I didn’t know what that was, or that my mom was even pregnant and that she had taken the abortion pill. Before they closed the door and finished the abortion I walked into the room and I asked questions about “the machine.”
Questions such as: “What does it do? Will this hurt? Why does she need this?”
The doctor calmly responded that they needed to remove some left over tissue from my mom’s uterus and that it wouldn’t hurt her because they were going to sedate her. I remember feeling worried for my mom’s safety and knowing in my heart that whatever they were about to do was wrong.
At 16 I felt helpless, hopeless, and I didn’t know how to speak up because I didn’t know that the “tissue” they were removing was my sibling. That day, I sat outside the room and I listened as a machine sucked the life out of my baby sister.
I’ll never know why I got a second chance at life and she did not. I wish I had the courage and knowledge that day to speak up for her. I am now passionate about being a voice for the voiceless because by doing so I am a voice for her and the millions of other children who never got a second chance at life like I did.