I WONDER if all those people talking and debating abortion, especially those who have themselves not been pregnant with an unwanted child, really know what they are talking about.
In 1968 I became pregnant to my then fiance – now my husband.
When I told him, he simply did not believe me. He ignored all obvious signs of my pregnancy and also made it quite clear that he would not be free to marry me if I kept pretending I was pregnant.
I was young, in love, and much too frightened to go to my parents who I feared would disown me (to this day they do not know of this).
I was absolutely frightened out of my wits. I went to doctors, midwives to terminate the pregnancy.
Of course, nobody would dare do anything about it. However, nobody offered any help either.
I went to the parish priest to help me – his reaction was merely tut, tut, tut – the fruit of fornication; you got yourself into trouble, get yourself out of it.
In the meantime I was growing absolutely desperate. So in my despair I provoked a miscarriage by inserting a knitting needle into myself until I felt that the waters broke.
At that stage I could not have cared less whether I lived or died. I then went to hospital where I was left alone until the miscarriage was complete, which took more than 24 hours and under excruciating pain.
Of those 30 odd hours I cannot remember much. I was probably half unconscious for most of the time.
However, I cannot ever forget that I did in fact terminate this life, irrespective of how desperate I was at the time. I cannot even begin to recount the pain, the guilt, the nightmares I have suffered since.
So perhaps you understand that I believe the issue is not so much the “evil woman who in her recklessness wishes to be rid of the fruits of sin”, but to find a suitable regime to help the expecting mother and the family to accept the responsibility of the child.
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