We were standing around a bonfire at a remote beach, a group of Catholic college students surrounded by the sound of waves and the light of stars and nothing else. The conversation flitted past religion to politics and there we were talking about Planned Parenthood and the lies they tell and the women they hurt1 and somebody mentioned reluctant women being shepherded into the building by insistent boyfriends or husbands. All the usual pro-life rhetoric, recycled by people who were used to being agreed with.
“That’s what happened to me.”
And a pause. And I stepped toward her and she fell into my arms and wept. Wept and wept like a mother who’s lost her child. And the chatter stopped. As I held her and spoke gently to her, the dozen people circling us stood in silence and I knew—knew—that we were cocooned in prayer.
“Oh, dear heart. Your baby forgives you. You are beautiful and you are so loved. And this doesn’t define you. Nobody blames you. Your baby loves you. God forgives you. And he loves you so much.”
I don’t remember exactly what I said. It must have been five minutes that I held her, friends and strangers lifting us up in prayer, before she relaxed her grip and we stepped back.
“Have you been to confession?” I had to ask. Not for judgment but for healing.
“Yeah, two years after it happened.”
“Then you are forgiven. Absolutely and completely forgiven, like it never happened. And these people here? They love you. Just as much as before—more, even. And if anybody—anybody—ever tries to hold this in your face you hold up the cross that Jesus hung your sin on and you call them out as a heretic. Because that’s not yours to carry anymore and saying otherwise is just plain heresy. You’ve been made new. And one day you’re going to meet your baby and there isn’t going to be any judgment or shame, only joy.”
And she told us the situation—a school that would have kicked her out and a boyfriend who threatened to kill himself and her friends who’d chosen life and how jealous she was. And then she said that it’s hard to hear people talking about Planned Parenthood and not feel attacked. And we promised her that we were saying just what she felt—that we wanted her not to have thought that was the choice she had to make. We wanted her loved and supported through a pregnancy, not shuffled along to a procedure she’ll never stop regretting. And we listened and eventually laughed and the conversation moved on.
It was a beautiful moment. A healing moment. There was so much grace. But it’s a reminder: you never know. One in four women is post-abortive. And you probably have no idea. Be careful, be very careful—even when you’re preaching to the choir—that nothing you say ever sounds like anything but love. This beautiful woman had the courage to tell us her story. How many don’t? How many suffer in shame because pro-lifers glibly recite the arguments they all have memorized? Those arguments whitewash the pain of millions of mothers and fathers, some of whom maybe be standing on the edge of your self-congratulatory conversation. Speak in love.
If you have had an abortion, please know this: you are loved. God is pouring his mercy on you. The Church has nothing but forgiveness to offer. Please seek healing, through confession, through counseling, through a Project Rachel retreat. And please forgive us for the times we hurt you by forgetting your pain in our zeal for the unborn. We love you. You matter. And you are not alone.
This speaks to every single one of us. Thank you dear Meg.
Oh, how much I want to hold that young woman! My mother’s heart longs to take away all her pain! I cry just thinking of the suffering she must have done. Please, God, let it bring her closer to You!
I have had 2 abortions as a very young emotionally fragile woman. What I think pro-life people don’t understand is that when it happens, in my case I was 22 and in college the first time, the news is as devastating as a diagnosis of uncurable cancer. I was hysterical, with an abusive mother, that there was no way I was going to tell, I wanted out of the ‘situation’, actual life does not even come in to it. The second time it happened a year later, I planned on trying to go thru with it or perhaps adoption, but my mother said if I dared to, she’d push me down the stairs and make me miscarry, so I had a second and final one. Both were degranding nightmares.
Fast forward 30 odd years, and I am in my mid 50s now and most days do not go by where I do not think of my two dead children and what they may have turned out to be, not with me, because I can barely take care of myself, but perhaps with a loving family wth children of their own.
Some days I feel like a monster and pure evil, other days I feel like I was nothing but a scared, fragile, nervous little girl, who was afraid of Mommy’s wrath and just had to get out of the situation any way possible.
I just hope the Lord sees it that way as well.
Elizabeth-Anne, I’m so sorry for how you’ve suffered. God knows exactly where your heart was and he understands your fear. More importantly, he forgives everything, no matter what. He will never stop loving you and never stop pouring out his mercy on you. Please know that you are not a monster and you are not evil. You are a deeply loved child of God and nothing you do will ever change that. God bless you, dear heart. Praying for you tonight.
Thank you for sharing this. I have forwarded this on to several women whom I know need to hear these words. Thank you.
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Thank you for this.
This will be first time I’ve ever shared my story outside of a very few close family/friends. Maybe because it’s somewhat anonymous here, maybe because I feel like I won’t be judged.
I got pregnant at 15. I was terrified. I never told my parents. I never spoke with an adult. My family wasn’t church going, and so there was no pastor or priest to speak with. I think I convinced myself it wasn’t *really* a child. Not yet. Not that early in the pregnancy. I had an abortion. It was ridiculously easy to get one. I think it cost $300 and my boyfriend paid for it. There was no counseling, no consent required from a guardian. And no support after.
I put it out of my head for many years. I was always ashamed, but continued to sort of deny that it was a child.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve thought about it more and more. My child would be 26 now, had I chosen life. And I’ve realized more and more that I killed my child. 2 years ago I converted to Catholicism and it really hit home then. Of all the sins I’ve committed in my life, and some were very grave, nothing else compares to this to me. When I was baptized, I know I was forgiven by God. Later, I confessed it anyway, because the guilt still ate away at me. I know had it not been washed away in baptism, I would have been forgiven in confession. God may have forgiven me, but I have not forgiven myself, and the more time goes by, the worse I feel about it.
One of the reasons I am pro-life now is because I wouldn’t wish for any other woman to ever feel this guilt, to ever have this stain on their soul. Sometimes the guilt is so bad it feels like I’m going crazy from it. It’s my fervent prayer that women will choose life. Abortion destroys two lives, not just one.
Friend, I’m so sorry not to have commented till now! Thank you so much for sharing your story. I know it’s hard to feel forgiven, but you absolutely are. Even if you had known exactly what you were doing (which you didn’t), even if you weren’t at all sorry (which you are), even if you hadn’t been afraid and under so much pressure (which you were), you would still be forgiven because the love of God is bigger than the worst possible sin we can commit. I’ll be praying that you’ll begin to feel the forgiveness that’s already yours. It might help to get to know some Saints who did terrible things and still became great Saints: https://www.piercedhands.com/god-works-miraculous-conversions/
God bless you!