What Happened After Sharing My Abortion Story
No, getting an abortion is not the easy way out.
I recently shared my abortion story.
I was scared, and waited four and a half years to do it. As I’ve already said, the timing was perfect. I couldn’t have done it any sooner. And now that I’ve shared it, I’ve realized there was absolutely nothing to fear.
As I’ve pondered with a friend of faith, what’s the worst that could happen? Excommunication? I’ve always been a radical-black-sheep type anyhow, never ticking off a box when asked which denomination I belong to. Who would kick me out? And do I want to be in their club to begin with?
Somehow, though, I couldn’t have truly known there was nothing to fear until I shared the story. As my faith friend said, bravery exposes deceit. Fear is powerful, but love is infinitely more powerful.
Not long after publishing here, I shared it with my Facebook network.
Between the feedback here and there, I have been nothing short of amazed. I am blown away, one, by the sheer amount of responses I’ve gotten. And two, by the outpouring of love.
By and large, responses have been kind and supportive. (Though I’m still prepared for more negativity. And I absolutely welcome every type of response. How could I write of love and grace, and not allow each person to act freely, as themself?)
There was even one person who said he didn’t support absolutely unrestricted abortion, but he still showed me compassion, and wished me well on my journey through grief and healing. (Felt like high-fiving this guy!)
There have been two types of responses, though, that have stood out to me most.
“Thank you because, me, too.”
After sharing the story on Facebook, I had not one, but two women send me a private message saying they each had also had two abortions, and had been struggling with shame, mostly alone, ever since.
Here’s the real kicker for me: one of these women is American (living in the US), and one of them is African (living in East Africa). It doesn’t matter where we are, this is an issue for all of us women.
I asked both of them if I could share a little of what they shared with me, and they were ok with the idea.
The American told me she has kept her abortions a secret, and that she would take her secret to the grave. She said she was never able to receive grace from the people closest to her, including her own mother who still doesn’t know.
“I wasn’t even able to give (grace) to myself. The most bothersome part for me all of these years is that I wasn’t sad. I felt that I had made the best decisions given the circumstances.” ~The American woman
This is one of kindest women I’ve ever met. She is also now a loving mother.
The African told me that reading the essay “allowed” her to talk about it again, with her partner, and progress a little farther along the healing journey. She thanked me for helping lift a heavy burden.
“I had lived with shame and self-hatred for so long. Your article allowed me to know it is ok to grieve.” ~The African woman
Again, this is one of the kindest women I’ve ever met. And she is also now a loving mother.
As I received these messages, and others from women who had similar stories, I couldn’t help but wonder how many more of us there are. I’m guessing a few.
You took “the easy way out”.
I had to read this person’s response several times. He is a person I’ve known for a long time. He made it clear that he loves me, and that I am absolutely allowed to grieve. But somehow, I felt wildly misunderstood.
I’m not interested in criticizing this person in return, or rehashing every comment that stung. Again, if I want to be a person of grace, I must allow this person to be himself, in love.
But I will say this. If a woman has been trying to heal, from having an abortion, for 4.5 years (and also 22 years), and is now writing and sharing a public essay posing the question, “Am I allowed to grieve?” is it safe to assume she has had an incredibly difficult time dealing with her choices?
Grief, by definition, is to experience “deep sorrow” or “deep and poignant distress”. If I am saying I need to grieve, I am acknowledging a lot of things. “Pro-lifers” might do well to try and understand that.
That’s just one thing.
I will point out that he used the phrase “the easy way out” when referring to abortion. I cannot stay silent on this. For myself, and any other woman who has chosen to abort:
Abortion is never the easy way out.
Again, I can’t understand how that’s not evident at a personal level, in my essay, and in the fact that I’ve been struggling to handle my emotions for the last few years.
On a broader scale, this is what I have to say in response.
A woman who has chosen to abort is going to have plenty of other issues to deal with, other than raising a child. (I’ve outlined a few: shame, grief, depression, but I could and maybe will list more, such as suicidal thoughts, etcetera.) There are even women who abort whom already have children, who will then need to learn how to cope with her choices while also being a mother. My mind CANNOT EVEN BEGIN to grasp this, and I am a woman.
A woman who has chosen to abort might actually have wanted the baby. Can we allow for that? I understand this might be impossible to fathom for some because they prefer black and white thinking, but that’s not the way life really is. She might find herself writing letters to her child in heaven, years later, seeking forgiveness, and doing her best to describe the place where that child was conceived.
A woman who has chosen to abort, according to my best guess as a woman who has chosen to abort, isn’t happy or relieved with her decision. She never once thinks of the decision as easy. In fact, it is most likely the most difficult decision she has ever had to, or will ever, make.
A woman who has chosen to abort will live with the consequences of that choice. If she doesn’t yet have children, she might be left wondering if she ever will, or if she even can. She will likely struggle with regret and grief and shame for the rest of her life.
Is it possible to do better? Is it possible to allow for each woman to have had a highly complex, maybe scary and painful experience when she chose to abort?
I think it is.
One of my favorite responses was a simple one: “We see you.”
To any woman out there suffering alone, in silence, I see you. And I’ll say it again: You are not alone. You are loved. You are allowed to grieve. May you experience profound healing and compassion.
Here’s my story:
