Testimonies of Women Who Have Had Abortions

Testimonies of Women

Who Have Had Abortions

*(Presented to show a side of the abortion issue

you wouldn't otherwise learn about.)*

Life Research Institute *4279 Armand Drive, Concord, CA 94521 April, 1995*

Testimony of Lori Nerad, former national president of Women Exploited by Abortion Well, despite the hospital setting, every thing wasn't fine. For starters, the doctor dilated me with a series of metal rods that literally ripped up my cer-vix. It hurt horribly, but they gave me nothing for the pain. Then he stuck the vacuum aspirator up inside me and turned it on. It had this piercing sound, like a fork grating across the bottom of a sink. I kept grabbing my tummy every time he scraped the suction tool around inside, and could feel my stomach rise and fall. I was crying and screaming in pain, but the doctor kept telling me to hold still, to keep quiet. The nurse pinned me down, and ws constantly pushing my arms away. And then the doctor told me to quit being so hysterical about something that was just a 'blob of jelly.' As if to prove his point, he kept smearing bloody bits of the child and placenta on the sheet beside me. 'See, there is no baby,' he said, wiping his hands on the cloth. 'Of course not,' I yelled. 'You just pulverized it! You just ground it to hamburger before my eyes!' The bigger pieces he put in a glass jar beside my leg. It was filled with four inches of blood.

And then after it was all done, the doctor looked down at me with his funny look in his eyes. I was still up in the stirrups with my legs spread. With a twisted grin he said, 'If your husband found you in this position, you'd probably get pregnant all over again.'

Lori says that after the abortion she and her husband lied to everyone about it, trying to hide from the guilt. They never talked about it. They both wanted to forget the incident, but couldn't--in part because of the nagging pain.

'I was hemorrhaging terribly and having constant cramps. The pain kept getting worse. I wanted to go back to the doctor, but I couldn't bear any more humiliation and exploitation. So I just toughed it out. Finally, two weeks after the abortion, I went into labor. The contractions were horrible. I staggered into the bathroom. And there, with my husband beside me, I delivered a part of my baby the doctor had missed. It was partially decomposed, and only about the size of a quarter. But there was no mistaking what it was. It was the head of my baby. . . .'

'I began to abuse my children, my husband, my home and my own body. I didn't hold or cuddle my children, because of the strange looks I thought they were giving me. It was as if they knew what I had done and they hated me for killing their brother or sister. . . .

Sometimes I still set the dinner table for three children instead of two. Or I'll wake up in the middle of the night, thinking I hear a baby crying. And I still have nightmares in which I am forced to watch my baby being ripped apart in front of me. But that's not the hardest thing to deal with. The most difficult aspect of the whole experience is perhaps the most normal. I simply miss my baby. I con-stantly wake up wanting to nurse my child, wanting to hold my child. And that's something the doctor never told me I would experience. He never said I'd go through anything like this.'"*

From Rickly Christian, (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 1985) 165.

MATERNAL DEATH FILE

Seventeen-year-old LaTachie Veal's parents weren't prepared to be grandparents, and she wasn't interested in being a mother on November 2, 1991 when abortionist Robert Crist killed LaTachie's 22-week-old child. But LaTachie and her parents got more than they'd bargained for. Within hours after the death of her child, LaTachie would be rushed too late-to Ben Taub Hospital. Before arriving she had already bled to death.

Attorney Richard Haynes, in his complaint against abortionist Crist, states that mill staff repeatedly responded to cries of pain and severe bleeding by reassuring the dying high school girl that it was "normal." Crist, who specializes in killing both mother and child, did not monitor LaTachie's vital signs, and did not respond to a dramatic drop in blood pressure that might have given trauma surgeons an opportunity to save her life.

A spokesman for Planned Parenthood reacted to the news of LaTachie Veal's death by insinuating that the uterine laceration that caused nearly 90% of Tachie's blood to drain from her body was the result of poor planning on the part of the young high schooler. A baby-killing agency that routinely advertises its willingness to kill children as old as LaTachie Veal's stated, it was "unwise of the girl to have opted for her 22-week abortion.

Additional information on LaTachie Veal's death at the hands of abortionist Robert Crist can be obtained through The Houston Post, 11-7-91, The Kansas City Star, 11-6-91, and The Wanderer, (cross reference under Olhausen). *

From "Life Advocate," June 1992, page 19.

* Testimony of a woman of Women Exploited by Abortion I had to wait for the abortion because they said that I was only two weeks past my period and that I had to wait two weeks before I could get scheduled. Before leaving, I asked two questions: Will it hurt? and Was it a baby?

Her reply to my first question was that I would feel pressure and then something that felt like menstrual cramps. Then, she drew a picture of a uterus and placed a circle inside and said it was no bigger than a quarter. *It was like a tumor* - easy enough to be removed with a little discomfort.

While in the hands of the abortionist, I received no medication for pain, no medication for anxiety, nor was I anesthetized. I did not have enough money for these "extras." Some girls were given low doses of Valium for their nerves. That cost money too, more than what I had. I paid for the operation right up front - CASH ONLY, please.

The pain I felt during the abortion was *the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced in my life.* I could feel the baby being ripped from my womb. I yelled in pain and the nurse told me to relax - that I was tightening up - and to stay quiet. What empathy they feel for you before they take your money. Everyone was so pleasant in the beginning. But, once the sale is closed, money in hand, *you're just another person lying on the assembly line waiting to have their product of conception slaughtered.*

*When the abortion was over, I felt humiliated, embarrassed, guilty, ashamed and violated all at the same time. I quickly justified my actions and my feelings. I suppressed those feelings, deep down, for ten years.

Three days after the abortion, I awoke in a pool of blood.* I had a temperature of 103, abdominal pain, nausea and a migraine. I was rushed to the hospital where I received an emergency D&C. The doctor said I had blood clots. I was sent home with antibiotics.

Shortly after this horrifying experience, I started to experiment with drugs. Soon, I was doing them on a regular basis. I would fall into deep depressions. I lost job after job. There were times when I would not get out of bed for weeks at a tine. I did not eat. *I went from 108 to 89 pounds.* I could not sleep and, when I would finally fall asleep, I would suffer from nightmares. *Drugs were the only release and escape from the feelings I could not deal with.*

At the age of 22, I stopped doing drugs. I met someone new and started what seemed like a healthy relationship.

One year I later, I was engaged. I had to move the wedding date up because I was pregnant *(it seems the pill was not as effective as we were told in school).* Four-ninths into the pregnancy, I was rushed into the hospital and into O.R. and had an immediate surgery. I had an ectopic pregnancy. The doctor told me my tube was deformed. After the surgery, I felt I was being punished for my abortion. Friends convinced me that my earlier abortion had been the best thing. Wanting to believe this, I suppressed my feelings of guilt and remorse. Shortly after this, I ended my relationship.

At 25, I met a man I truly loved. He came at one of the most crucial times of my life. He helped me through my father's illness and death. Shortly after my father's death, I found myself pregnant again. I wanted to keep this baby. My boyfriend had other ideas. He used my friends to try and talk me into having an abortion. When this didn't work, he used his family. Then he threatened to leave. I could not bear the thought of losing another person I loved, so I had the abortion.

Shortly after, at a check up, my doctor told we the most devastating news. He explained why I was having problem such as severe cramping during menstruation and ovulation. *He told me that some women experience this after they have had an abortion. He also explained about my ectopic pregnancy. He told me that it was also common among women who have had abortions.* The infection I had had damaged the fallopian tube and the suction apparatus, combined with the tearing of the placenta, caused scaring. These problems have left me with a 70% to 80% chance of never being able to get pregnant again.

*Did the Planned Parenthood counselor ever mention that these problems could happen? NO!*

After hearing this, I began to research what my doctor had told me. I have read documents on the physical and emotional damages to women due to abortions. I have met women who are sterile and some who had to undergo further operations that left them sterile. This was all due to abortions. *Were any of these women told that this could happen? The ones I spoke to said NO!*

*Healing was a very difficult step to take. I had to admit to myself what I had always known.I killed my children* - One of the hardest things to accept is that these children could be the only ones I will ever have. I am now 31, married and still have no children.

The next step was forgiveness from the Lord. This helped to release the feelings of damnation. But the hardest thing was forgiving myself.

*Post-abortion therapy was the best experience I ever had.* It brought me closer to the Lord as well as healing my wounds. Like *many women* who *find help after an abortion*, I want to help other women to not make the same mistake I made. I also want to help women who have had abortions deal with the painful process of healing. People need to understand abortion exploits women, kills the life of their child and damages the spirit that each one of us has. *Abortion not only kills life, it also hurts women physically and emotionally.*

*It starts with sex education ends with dead babies and shattered lives. We must put a stop to this tragedy.* *

(Underlining is not in original.)

From February 1992, p. 5. Phone 914 473-3316.

*

Testimony of Janet Willis My husband left me when I got pregnant. I had been on a mild tranquilizer before conceiving, and my doctor convinced me that the baby would be born with severe birth defects. I did not want an abortion, but I was so confused that I couldn't think clearly, so I went along with everyone else's advice. My family was just as misinformed as I was, and they thought abortion was best for me at the time.

I expected the abortion clinic to tell me a little about what would happen during and after the abortion. All they did was take my $225.00, give me a 5mg. Valium, and ask me please not to cry and appear so upset.

All I wanted to do was leave, but I remember not being able to move out of the chair. I have wished so many times that I could have left with my precious baby.

*After the abortion, I grew more and more depressed. Two weeks later, I couldn't take it anymore. I tried to commit suicide by cutting my wrists.*

I was rushed to the hospital, and they said I had suffered a nervous breakdown of unknown origin. I knew the origin, but to talk about it hurt too much.

*I was sent to a state mental institution, where I was kept in a locked ward for five weeks.* By the time I got out I had built such an impenetrable wall around myself that no one would hurt me again, and I wouldn't have to think about the abortion.

*My physical problems continued: pelvic infections, low-grade fever, continuous bleeding, they never ended. Then I began to have nightmares.

I'd wake up in a cold sweat because I'd hear my baby crying for me but I couldn't find him. Or I'd hear suction machine over and over again.* [Many women can't ever again even vacuum their rugs.]

David, my present husband, and I had just begun dating, and after a couple of months I was pregnant. David was very upset and blamed me. He said he would pay for an abortion. My family was worried about me and again thought this was the perfect solution. All I kept thinking was that I barely made it through the last abortion and I can't go through that again.

"I won't have any more children if I have it done again," I told them.

Oh, sure you will," they told me.

I knew better.

My second abortion was performed on July 23, 1977 at the same clinic where my first abortion was performed just nine months before. I had to go into the hospital four days after my second a for acute Pelvic Inflammatory Disease (PID), painful infection in my fallopian tubes. The infection spread into my ovary, and seven days after the abortion, there was no way to control the infection. One tube and ovary, about to rupture, had to be removed.

*For six months, I ran a low-grade fever and bled continuously. Finally, in February, 1978, my doctor performed a complete hysterectomy. I was 19.

The psychological problems were numerous. I couldn't see a baby without seeing my dead babies first. David and I couldn't even talk about the abortion without physically abusing each other. We continued to abuse each other for seven years.*

Then we adopted a daughter. I was so proud of her. I loved this child with every ounce of my being, but she was a constant reminder of the two precious babies that should have been playing with her but were not. I lost my ability to love her - temporarily - because I hated myself for what I had allowed to happen.

In 1985 my worst problems came out. *I found myself crying for two weeks with no end. I became anorexic, slowly starving myself to death.* In September, 1985, I was placed in a psychiatric ward at the hospital.

I had repressed the memories and feelings about the abortion so far that I couldn't imagine they were the cause of my problems. When I was released, things weren't any better, but this time, something in me wouldn't allow the memories to be suppressed any longer. David and I tried to talk several times, but it always ended up in a brutal fight. We became abusive to our daughter verbally, and I became physically abusive to her. My heart was breaking in two, and I was dying inside. Just dying.

My health had steadily gotten worse. *My weight continued to drop from a once 160 lbs. to 90, then 85. 1 was going to avenge my kids' deaths with my death. Then they took my daughter away from me and said I couldn't have her back until I was well enough.

I finally ended up at New Orleans Hospital in July, 1986 in heart failure, dying from self-starvation. They were surprised I was even alive at this point.* Then I realized that the Lord had other plans for my life.

My feelings were awakened through an organization whose counselors listened to women like me and did not judge. They simply came and loved, unconditionally. I've found healing in Christ Jesus. I asked for His forgiveness and He freely gave it to me.

After 10 years of sheer Hell, Jesus Christ became my personal Savior, and I have now forgiven myself. I am free. *I no longer see my babies in pieces in a jar. I see them as whole, beautiful children, sitting in the arms of Christ.* My abortions are laid to rest in Christ's forgiving arms. The abuse in my home has ended and the anger and the guilt are gone.

The area that I still find difficult is this. What will I tell my child when she asks Momma why I must tell the truth about abortion?

*I want my child to know the truth-that I did not want to have either abortion, and that Momma was lied to.* I want to be able to tell my daughter that Momma continues to speak out because life is very precious to me.*

(Underlining is not in original.)

From published by Legal Action for Women. Phone 800 962-2319.

"Horror on Beacon Street"

by Barbara Bell

Planned Parenthood hates me. Every Saturday morning I stand outside their abortion clinic and minister to the women going in. Sometimes they listen to me. A few change their minds and give life to their babies instead of death.

On the rainy morning of December 18, 1990, I was in front of Planned Parenthood again, talking with the girls who were going into the clinic. But that Tuesday was a tough morning. The girls did not want to hear the truth about the life inside of them.

About 8:30 a.m., a pretty, blond girl about 18 years old was making her way to the clinic. I saw her coming across Beacon Street with a young man. I went over to her and said, "Please don't go in there, they kill unborn babies. I can help you." The girl said nothing.

All of a sudden, I looked down at the ground and saw blood coming out from the bottom of her pant leg. She was wearing white loose-fitting sweat pants. I said, "Honey, you're bleeding. Can I help you?" Without a word she walked into the clinic.

Then I looked out into the street where she came from, and there in the middle of Beacon Street lay a very tiny infant. I couldn't believe my eyes. I ran over to the baby, picked it up with a handkerchief, and put the baby in my rain scarf. A few inches away from the baby was the laminaria (a seaweed packing that is inserted into the woman to dilate the cervix) that was put into a plastic bag. I took both the infant and the laminaria, put them in the back of my car, and took off. I had to get the baby away from there, because if Planned Parenthood had gotten ahold of the baby, they would have thrown it down the garbage disposal or something.

I was never so scared in all my life. I thought Planned Parenthood people might be coming out to follow me. I was praying my heart out.

There I was, with a precious, tiny infant in the back of my car, crying my eyes out, trying to keep calm so I could drive. I decided that I would take the baby home and call Bob Delery, a very close friend and fellow sidewalk counselor (thank God he lives right around the corner). This man is like a grandfather to me, and I respect and trust his decisions in everything.

From Beacon Street in Brookline to Medford is about a twenty-five minute drive, but on this day to me it felt like a two-day drive. At this point, I didn't know what to do, so I started praying again. I was praying, "Lord, please let Bob be home, (the night before, Bob told me he would be going to a funeral.) I don't know what to do with the baby, and I know he will be able to help me, by Your grace."

Finally, I made it to Medford. The Lord answered my prayer and Bob was home. It was about 9:00 a.m. in the morning when I got there. I rang the doorbell, and Bob opened the door not knowing what to expect. I was standing there crying, trying to tell him about the nightmare at Planned Parenthood.

I went into the house, closed the door, and told him that a girl went into labor and delivered a dead baby in the middle of Beacon Street in front of Planned Parenthood. I said, "Bob, I have the baby and the laminaria in the car." He could not believe it. After sharing this with him and his wife, we all were standing in the dining room in a state of shock and crying. Then Bob asked me to get the baby. Bob laid a white sheet on the table and very gently we unwrapped the rain scarf and placed the baby on the sheet.

The baby was a perfectly formed little boy. I could see his tiny little fingers, toes, cars and everything, just as God had designed.

Bob baptized him, and I named him Joshua Jonathan. (Joshua means 'God is Salvation' and Jonathan means 'Given by God'). I do believe for some reason God allowed me to be at the clinic to adopt this abandoned little helpless unborn baby boy, and even now I think about him all the time. Next to Joshy, we placed a beautiful red rose. The red rose means life in pro-life circles. Although Joshy was dead in the physical, I knew he was in the hands of God. *

A Mother's Anguished Letter to Her Aborted Child

Even after years have intervened, a woman cannot forget the life that her decision took.

Ten years ago yesterday, I carried you beneath my heart. Ten years ago today, I stopped the beating of your heart. I, your mother, the one who gave you life, also gave you death.

It's been a decade and still my blood runs cold and I catch my breath whenever I hear the word "abortion." There's an emptiness inside of me that can never be filled, a chill that has never quite been warmed, a grief that will never end. To me you will forever remain an unfinished song, a flower that never bloomed, a sunrise clouded by rain.

Even during your last fragile moments of life, I wondered, "Is my baby a boy or a girl?" The question ran through my mind again and again as I tried to block out the sickening sounds of you being suctioned from my womb and from my life. I seemed to have a burning need to know whether I would have had a son or a daughter, yet somehow I couldn't bear to ask such an indelicate question of the doctor who stood smiling above me. Instead, I simply nodded in defeat and sadness as this man in n white patted my trembling hand and said, "Now - aren't you glad it's all over?"

As I lay there drowning in my own blood, tears and sweat, I could hear the nurses chattering about coworkers, new cars and clothes.

To these people, the extermination of your life was simply a job - "making a living by destroying the living." To those gathered in that sunny room in Philadelphia 10 years ago, it was just another day. To me, it was the darkest day I had ever known.

"The Abortion" - the most heart-wrenching, terrible experience I had suffered through in my 18 years; certainly the most painful experience suffered by you in your three short months. It has taken me all these years to get over it.

Now - as my eyes fill with tears, I realize that this is something I will never "get over." That fateful April day

Even in my distraught state of mind, I knew that there were other choices. I was simply too scared to consider the alternatives. Still a child myself, I "wasn't ready" to be a mother.

What I didn't realize then was that I already was a mother. You became my child at the moment of conception; my love for you began when your life began, and although your life ended, that love has never died.

Your silent screams have awakened me from sleep many times over the years, and I have lain in the dark and mourned the loss of the baby I killed. There have even been times when I've contemplated ending my own life as I ended yours.

It's been 10 years and still I haven't forgiven myself. Have you forgiven me? Has God forgiven me for destroying a being created by Him?

I've had many nightmares through the years. Scenes of a tiny fetus in a trash bag haunt my subconscious. I've awakened in a cold sweat, again feeling the excruciating pain of that long-ago day. I recall the intense physical pain of the abortion - but those 10 minutes of hurt were nothing compared to the 10 years of pain I've lived with since.

For years my heart has ached to write you this letter, but whenever I attempted to put my feelings into words, I

Perhaps this letter was meant to be written in order to help others to avoid the agony I experienced, to help

If this letter prevents even one abortion, it will have served a purpose. But Baby, my purpose in sending this letter to you is to let you know that I love you - whoever you are. And I'm sorry.

Love, Mommy > *

From Human Life Alliance of Minnesota with permission from and Linda Oatman.

* Testimony of Joanne Culbertson

I am a surgical technologist in a small hospital. One day we were doing an operation on a young woman. She had a tubal pregnancy. When we opened her abdomen, the tube had expelled the inch-long fetus, about four to six weeks old. It was still alive inside the sack. Dr. Dobson that tiny baby was waving its little hands and kicking its little legs. It even turned its whole body over. There is no way anyone can tell me that was not a human being. I also knew there was no way we could save it. As the doctor clamped the tube, and the baby grew still, I whispered, "That breaks my heart." Joanne Culbertson Lockhart, S.C. *

From , August 1991, back page.