From death to life: a teeanage abortion survivor tells her story
This is my written testimony on May 21, 2001 that I wrote in The B.C. Catholic newspaper and I’m here and inspired to share this to all to promote the sanctity of life.
This is what the Lord says; “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping. Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are no more.”
“Restrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears, for your work will be rewarded, ” declares the Lord. “They will return from the land of the enemy. So there is hope for your future,” declares the Lord. “Your children will return to their own land.”(Jer. 31:15-17)
This is the start of the story of Jasmine, my sweet angel. I knew all along God had a bigger plan for my life, because I believe He will never allow these trials if not for a purpose. In writing this story I ask God to guide me in this calling, it’s a calling because I would not be telling you my life story if not for His glory. God seems to have designed my heart this way. Deeply, I don’t have shame, guilt, fear or desire to be secretive about this situation because in my heart I believe the truth will set you free! Nothing is hidden in His eyes, and I will gladly serve others by my experience if it will bring forth good fruits.
I was living in the Phillippines when it happend; I was just 14 when my parents decided that we would be moving to California. My parents left ahead of me, and I was left under the supervision of my brother. Unfortunately, my brother was quite over protective and insecure. He was physically and verbally abusive towards me. Due to confusion and abandonement, I became a rebel. I had a boyfriend and decided to take revenge on my brother. On my brother’s birthday I dared my boyfriend to make love to me. What a dumb idea but at that time I needed love and validation. I became pregnant.
My parents returned from California. They were worried about the family’s reputation, and my father and brother told me that I had to choose to either marry my boyfriend or abort the baby. I was very depressed, because I wanted to keep the baby but did not want to get married. The next thing I knew my brother and sister took me to a stranger’s house. I can vividly picture the house of that abortionist. There were lots of statues of saints, and in the bedroom where she did the abortions there were fetuses inside the jars, in alignment.
I was very shocked and hurt to see this. I never uttered a word. It was like going to a death sentence. She asked me to lie down and inserted a catheter. I was numb and mentally blank. I felt abused and was dying inside. She told my family that the baby would not be expelled until the next day, so we left. We went to my other brother’s house, because my parents didn’t want me back home. Around 3 o’clock in the morning I was bleeding and in extreme pain. I went to void and felt something. I looked and in the toilet and there was a little mass of blood. Shocked, I screamed at my sister and she flushed the toilet. I was hemorrhaging. My brother wrapped me in a blanket and ran for a taxi, carrying me all the way.
They returned me to that abortionist, and she performed a D and C without anaesthesia. I was in agony but my agony was about losing my baby not about the physical pain. She said I was the only person (on whom she had performed such a procedure) who didn’t scream in pain. She didn’t know that I was dying inside. After a couple of weeks I returned to my parents. But I felt lonely, because nobody talked to me. It was as if everybody was avoiding me. I started isolating myself to the point of not leaving my room for a month. I went into a deep depression. I remember my sister said to me “I missed your laughter, what happend to you?” The vibrant teenager that they knew was gone. In my loneliness I continually blamed God and angry at the world. I wanted to die.
Finally, my family couldn’t handle me anymore, I went to hospital and stayed for a month, being treated with strong anti- depressant medications. I started seeing a Psychiatrist and was put into therapy. I remember I wrote a letter addressed to my family and titled it “Open book,” about my feelings. It was a beautiful book and I wish I had kept it for you to know how a teenager feels when she had been stripped away of her rights. A right to give life!
The story didn’t end there my depression stayed with me till 18 yrs of age. I came to Canada and stayed at my brother’s place for a vacation. I found out that they were unable to have children. They were married for 10 yrs, I really felt bad about it. I said a novena to Our Lady of Perpetual Help for them.
I got pregnant again. This time I did something right. I hid it from my family for six months so they could not kill my child. I dedicated my baby to my brother. Every night, I talked to my child and told him that I’m doing this because of love. I knew I couldn’t provide for him, and he wasn’t going to have a father if I kept him because again I didn’t want to commit. Matt Anthony was born and he was a gift from God. I told God that this is my offering for the abortion that I had when I was 15. Even though it wasn’t my plan to commit that hideous sin, I still felt responsible, because it was my body that was used. The guilt that I was carrying was lifted off my shoulders. When Matt was two months old, I gave him to my brother.
I had an awesome revelation during a retreat I recently went on. I know God wants me to do something about my experience. I was reading Jeremiah in my Bible and thought that Rachel sounded familiar. I remembered seeing Project Rachel on the bulletin board of Our Lady of Mercy church. It is an organization that helps women with post-abortion issues. I talked to my parish priest and ask him “where do aborted babies go father?”He replied, “in the palm of God’s hands!” My heart leaped for joy knowing Jasmine, my sweet angel, is with God waiting and praying for me.