There but for the grace of God go I
Posted by Catherine

It is strange living with abortion.  More than strange – something close to crazy-making.  How, why, what…  How do you come to do something you hate, don’t want and don’t believe in?  More to the point, how did I come to do that?  A peculiar blend of elements seemed to combine to enable such a nightmare.  The most salient factor seemed to be my youth, my naivety, my closeness to a kind of folly related to passion and desire, in the end.  What a sorry mess!  I have no justification for abortion.  It took place in circumstances of fear, pressure, abandonment and terrible dependency on my part, a dependency conditioned, I can only suppose, by my damaged and damaging childhood.

Fear seems to have been the driving force… fear of being alone with a child, fear of the responsibility of imposing suffering on a child, fear of not being married, with a partner.  In the general lack of welcome for my child, I too abandoned him.  Unconsciously.  Incredibly.  If I and my child had been welcomed, if we lived in a society in which abortion was anathema, unthinkable… of course I would never have thought of it myself.

So the lesson of all of this seems to be, must be, there but for the grace of God go you.  No-one could have cared more deeply about life than I did… no-one could have been less casual about what abortion was and meant.  And yet… and yet… somehow I felt it was the most responsible and only thing to do.  How tragic!

Please understand that the problem is not the people having abortions… the millions of people… the problem is the terrible lie and illusion of abortion, that it is some kind of solution to something.  Please try to imagine yourself in the shoes of someone young, ignorant and frightened.  Alone.  Armed with that compassion, try to take it to your whole understanding of pro-life work.

One Comment

  1. After years of rape and molestation, keeping my baby would have blown up the secrets, the suffering, the pain of my young body. My young, terrified me would not have been able to look after her: the lies, secrets and abuse would have come out but possibly no one would have believed me. My rapist uncle would have no such thing as him being found out.

    daisy true

    Posted by daisy true on January 24, 2013 at 8:16 pm // Reply to comment


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