I was pregnant and only fifteen. How was I going to tell Mom and Dad? My parents would never agree to marriage especially to the father of this child. He was nothing but a dope addict. He told me he would marry me if I wanted to. I really thought I loved him until it came down to commitment.
However, he mentioned another alternative called abortion, a term I was not familiar with. He said it didn’t hurt and it would stop the pregnancy before the baby was formed. I agreed to it and decided to keep it all a secret from my family. I told them I was going to Ottawa to find a job and live common law. Mom said to go ahead, that it was no use to try and stop me, that I would probably go anyway.
A million thoughts raced through my head on that long trip from Campbellton to Ottawa. I had finally convinced myself that abortion would be the best thing for my life and that no one was going to change my mind. The sad part is that nobody even tried.
I was admitted to hospital on February 15, with the idea that it was just a simple procedure – or so I was told. The next day I was given a saline abortion. This is where the salt solution is injected into the womb and it literally burns the baby to death. I was given no explanation about this or any other types of abortion available. I was told that this procedure would serve to loosen a blob of blood from the wall of the uterus, that I would have a heavy flow of blood (much like menstruation) and then it would be all over.
I found out differently after eight painful hours of labour that saw me deliver my dead baby boy. That’s right – no glob of blood – a real little boy. He was placed on my stomach because I was haemorrhaging and they had to work rapidly so I wouldn’t bleed to death. I saw them pick the baby up like a piece of waste and place him in a bedpan for disposal.
From that day on I completely blocked that horrible experience from my mind. I tried desperately to pretend it had all happened to someone else.
One year went by and I was pregnant again. As soon as abortion was mentioned, memories flooded back to me. I vowed never again to go through that anguish. So I ended up with a beautiful baby girl. We called her Paula and she was so precious. Her father and I fought a lot for the time we lived together and I finally decided to raise Paula on my own.
Three years after my abortion, I met the perfect man (for me). We were married in April 1977. Strangely enough, his birthday is the same day I had murdered my baby.
We were happy but that guilt kept creeping back to haunt me. What I had done tormented me more and more until I even contemplated suicide to free myself from this torment.
In July 1980 I had a beautiful baby boy. Surely God had forgiven me, I thought. But I sure didn’t feel forgiven and I felt I didn’t deserve my son at all. So I continued to sink into a deep depression. My family did everything short of standing on their heads to cheer me up. My husband was a very patient man and my love for him was the only thing that kept me from taking my life. He didn’t deserve to be put through that kind of misery.
I accepted him
I praise God that He knew I was at the end and was ready to give up. So He sent my daughter’s Sunday School teacher into my life. She came over one night to meet me and discuss how Paula was doing in classes. She introduced me to Jesus and that night of September 21, 1981, I accepted Him as my personal Saviour. He forgave me for my sins and began a healing process for past hurts such as the sin and scar of abortion.
I still regret what I have done but I know that I was forgiven and finally set free from the chains of guilt that I suffered with for so long.
Jesus also opened the doors to show me a way to help other women who had come down the same painful road as I had. I’ve started a group called W.E.B.A. (Women Exploited By Abortion). I counsel them or just plain talk with them about their lost loved one. Most of all I show them that I love them and that I understand what they feel.
If only someone would have told us that abortion was murder, if only someone would have told us the truth, the horrible reality about abortion.
I know there are many angry women out there who have learned the ugly truth too late. The sad thing is that the truth is still not being told in the hospitals today and as a result we have a surplus of mentally ill women in the special wards of our hospitals today.
The W.E.B.A. chapter in Moncton is the first of its kind in the Maritimes. I am praying its membership will grow large enough and its voice will be strong enough so that the doctors and the leaders of our country will have to stop and take a second look at the horrible truth of abortion.
Women Exploited By Abortion and Antoinette Wasson can be contacted at 358 West Brook Circle, Moncton, N.B. E1E 2M2 (506) 384-8410.