Editor's Note: We have done some soul searching concerning how hard this article will impact our readers. We know that this detailed account of events will be painful for many of them. This was the first article that ever made us flinch. In the end, we decided to run this story submission, because it tells the whole truth in a way that is rarely (if ever) expressed; about an important topic that is normally shrouded in secrecy, lies, and political manipulation games. This time, we tried to minimize our editing, as to leave everything fairly intact, and without undue influence from us. We are resisting the temptation to comment about this topic; so that this writing may speak for itself.
I have always been pro-life. I always supported the right of a child to live, and be given a chance at life. Yet when I found myself in that position, it was not so simple. My symptoms arrived quickly, and I had them all. Nausea was present all day long, my breasts were sore, and I laid in bed almost constantly for two weeks wondering if I had contracted a super bug. I was shocked when I discovered I was pregnant, and my pro-life stance suddenly rested on shaky ground. From a truly rational perspective, I could see that I did not have the financial means to support a child, still lived with my parents, and had physical illnesses of my own which would have made child-bearing very difficult. I also knew of the problems within the foster care system, and the risks of sexual abuse. I still instinctively felt a desire to be a mother, a love for the child that I bore, and my faith made this decision even more challenging.
I need people to understand that it was not a decision that I took lightly. I read as much as I could about abortions, as quickly as possible. Finding honest information seemed futile. I found Christian sites that attempted to deceive by claiming that abortion mortality rates are extremely high. They implied that I was more likely to survive a plane crash, than this procedure. Equally dishonest were the pro-abortion sites which claimed that the procedure was completely safe and that emotional trauma was unlikely. I knew both to be false, and I felt so alone.
Throughout every waking hour, I thought about the child that I could give birth to in nine months. I attempted to make my decision as soon as possible, because I did not wish to terminate a child that had any consciousness or that could suffer. By eight weeks, an ultrasound frequently shows what looks like a small child and the infant has a heart beat. I had an abortion at four weeks. I researched methods, and found the one that seemed most humane. I was to take a series of pills that would disconnect the pregnancy sack from the womb. It came with risks, some of them were severe, but my instincts told me that it would be the best, most humane way.
I called the local Planned Parenthood clinic to make an appointment, and they gave me a "quote" on the phone, along with asking about my insurance. This was my first indication of their true motives. I'd heard some groups chastising them before, but only while attacking abortion as a whole. Thus, I had always assumed that these opinions were unfairly biased. My procedure was to cost $400. It was a large price tag for something that I still felt was murder, but it was my only real option.
When I arrived at Planned Parenthood, I was surprised to see that the waiting room was full. A basket of black condoms sat in the middle of the room, with the words "Just Wear One" imprinted on them. Beside them was a stack of free anti-pregnancy bumper stickers. These people had a problem with life itself, and they were not ashamed of it. Looking around, fake plastic plants were used as ornaments. Living plants would have represented life, growth and prosperity. A arguably occult painting was on the wall, next to the plant. It was comprised of deep red and black colors, and displayed a thinly-veiled phallic image of a key entering a hole. A blood red tickle feather floated at the bottom. This would be the first of many such images that I would see.
I had brought my partner, but there were no other men in the facility. Before any meeting at all, I was asked for "the money" upon entering the clinic. Before any questions, tests for eligibility, or the legally required counseling, the profit came first. I paid, and sat down with a packet of papers to fill out. The packet was comprised of waivers and insurance questions. They were exempted from responsibility if any complications were to arrive, and they would only pay for hospital visits if they deemed the visits necessary, and I knew they never would under any circumstances.
I was called in to a room littered with Gardasil advertisements. My partner was not allowed to join me. Posters made false claims suggesting that Gardasil was the new safe sex vaccine to only reinforce the message of promiscuity. Other posters advertised for birth control pills and injections. I searched the room for images of happy families, children, adoption, and life. There was nothing to be seen. This was a creepy place that associated happiness with the absence of family. Then my blood type and iron levels were taken, and I was deemed healthy enough for the abortion drug.
They made me wait in the waiting room once more, when I noticed a woman with a pronounced pregnant stomach. She was filling out the same forms as me, which meant that she was having an abortion. Her child was most likely conscious, with a heart beat, and with all of its organs. Yet, she appeared undisturbed. Re-examining the room, I realized that everyone was emotionless, except for me and my partner. I had imagined this to be a place of sorrow, where people dreaded their own actions, yet that is not what I saw. People seemed perfectly normal, and in some cases, happy.
My pregnancy was much earlier than most, and a normal ultrasound was not even possible for me. Thus, a vaginal ultrasound was used. This involved the use of a penis-shaped machine, covered with a condom, and coated with a lubricant. It all seemed so warped. My partner was present during most of the testing, which made the examiners obviously nervous. They weren't used to having men present, and they showed blatant hostility towards him. To them, men were the problem. So they all pretended that he wasn't even there. We were led to another room, where I would take the first pills to induce the abortion. Outside of the door, we heard the employees laughing and joking about something. Contrary to my assumptions, this place was not seen as a necessary evil by these people, but as a money-making career they prided themselves in. They were not disturbed by the deaths, or the plight of the women who felt forced to make this decision. I felt like I was in a funeral home, surrounded by sociopathic, murderous undertakers. Again, I felt alone.
The walls were once again littered with information on birth control, vaccinations, and what I already knew to be false information about both. When a female doctor came in to begin the procedure, she offered various forms of birth control at no cost. They were included in "the package". It was almost as if I was purchasing home insurance. The reality of my decision was delayed by the shock that I experienced at this facility. The lady spoke about the effects of the drugs, and then asked me if I was sure. "Good!", she said with great enthusiasm. There was no mention of alternatives, and no attempt to try and convince me otherwise. This was a business, and the legal requirement for counseling prior to an abortion just got in the way.
When given the first pill (mifepristone), I knew that there was no turning back. If this abortion drug failed, it would cause deformities in my child, so they would have to switch to another abortion procedure if it failed. I took the pill, and I was given multiple prescriptions to help fight the nightmarish effects of the drug. Anti-nausea drugs and painkillers are the standard procedure. I rode 30 minutes home, and threw up almost immediately. The first drug was supposed to have no effects. They lied. I became very sick, but took the next two pills (misoprostol) the following day, as ordered. Swallowing them will result in almost instant vomiting, so people are instructed to hold them in the mouth, that they may go straight to the bloodstream. Then, the true nightmare began.
Vomiting was intermittent, with agonizing pain in my pelvic region. I felt a repeated deep stabbing sensation. The painkillers weren't helping. In fact, when I researched them later, they were little more than Tylenol. The pain was the most extreme that I have ever felt. I laid in bed, crying, shaking, and convulsing. It was an experience too horrific to describe. The pain would reappear on numerous occasions over the next few days, and I eventually needed a midnight trip to the emergency room. The painkillers I was given by Planned Parenthood did nothing to relieve my anguish, and they were never really intended to. They knew how much pain I would experience, but stronger drugs have greater legal risks, and they don't want any more bad publicity. They basically took their chances with sugar pills instead. Contrary to what I was promised, my abortion experience continued for around two weeks, with random pains, nausea, vomiting, blurred vision and severe headaches.
On one night, I felt a strange sensation, only to go to the bathroom and output a round piece of flesh that would have otherwise grown into my child. I called the Planned Parenthood after-hours number, and they explained that this was "fairly normal". I was never warned about this possibility.
When all of my physical symptoms were over, I was wrought with grief, guilt, and feelings of loss. I remembered the websites that claimed I would not suffer emotional trauma, and the others that said I would forever be haunted with guilt. While I had hoped that the former sites were more accurate, deep down I knew that this was not something that would be easy to live with. Those were the sites that usually had a financial interest in abortion. In reality, images of my child haunted my waking hours, and my dreams. It is something that became easier over time, but it is still the loss of a loved one.
One of the most difficult parts of abortion was the lack of honesty that I encountered. I never really got informed consent, because no source would give honest, unbiased information. Nobody told me what I would experience, without trying to manipulate my decision or opinions. Some of those people and websites had noble intentions, but resulted in shifting me further away from them by being dishonest. Perhaps this story will help others who are now facing these issues, and enlighten them to what awaits in the twisted abortion industry.