Testimonies of Women
Who Have Had Abortions
*(Presented to show a side of the abortion issue
you wouldn't otherwise learn about.)*
Life Research Institute
*4279 Armand Drive, Concord, CA 94521
April, 1995*
Testimony of Lori Nerad,
former national president of
Women Exploited by Abortion
Well, despite the hospital setting, every thing wasn't fine. For
starters, the doctor dilated me with a series of metal rods that
literally ripped up my cer-vix. It hurt horribly, but they gave me
nothing for the pain. Then he stuck the vacuum aspirator up inside
me and turned it on. It had this piercing sound, like a fork grating
across the bottom of a sink. I kept grabbing my tummy every time he
scraped the suction tool around inside, and could feel my stomach
rise and fall. I was crying and screaming in pain, but the doctor
kept telling me to hold still, to keep quiet. The nurse pinned me
down, and ws constantly pushing my arms away. And then the doctor
told me to quit being so hysterical about something that was just a
'blob of jelly.' As if to prove his point, he kept smearing bloody
bits of the child and placenta on the sheet beside me. 'See, there
is no baby,' he said, wiping his hands on the cloth. 'Of course not,'
I yelled. 'You just pulverized it! You just ground it to hamburger
before my eyes!' The bigger pieces he put in a glass jar beside my
leg. It was filled with four inches of blood.
And then after it was all done, the doctor looked down at me with his
funny look in his eyes. I was still up in the stirrups with my legs
spread. With a twisted grin he said, 'If your husband found you in
this position, you'd probably get pregnant all over again.'
Lori says that after the abortion she and her husband lied to
everyone about it, trying to hide from the guilt. They never talked
about it. They both wanted to forget the incident, but couldn't--in
part because of the nagging pain.
'I was hemorrhaging terribly and having constant cramps. The pain
kept getting worse. I wanted to go back to the doctor, but I
couldn't bear any more humiliation and exploitation. So I just
toughed it out. Finally, two weeks after the abortion, I went into
labor. The contractions were horrible. I staggered into the
bathroom. And there, with my husband beside me, I delivered a part
of my baby the doctor had missed. It was partially decomposed, and
only about the size of a quarter. But there was no mistaking what it
was. It was the head of my baby. . . .'
'I began to abuse my children, my husband, my home and my own body.
I didn't hold or cuddle my children, because of the strange looks I
thought they were giving me. It was as if they knew what I had done
and they hated me for killing their brother or sister. . . .
Sometimes I still set the dinner table for three children instead of
two. Or I'll wake up in the middle of the night, thinking I hear a
baby crying. And I still have nightmares in which I am forced to
watch my baby being ripped apart in front of me. But that's not the
hardest thing to deal with. The most difficult aspect of the whole
experience is perhaps the most normal. I simply miss my baby. I
con-stantly wake up wanting to nurse my child, wanting to hold my
child. And that's something the doctor never told me I would
experience. He never said I'd go through anything like this.'"*
From Rickly Christian, <The Woodland Hills Tragedy,> (Wheaton, IL:
Crossway Books, 1985) 165.
MATERNAL DEATH FILE
Seventeen-year-old LaTachie Veal's parents weren't prepared to be
grandparents, and she wasn't interested in being a mother on November
2, 1991 when abortionist Robert Crist killed LaTachie's 22-week-old
child. But LaTachie and her parents got more than they'd bargained
for. Within hours after the death of her child, LaTachie would be
rushed too late-to Ben Taub Hospital. Before arriving she had
already bled to death.
Attorney Richard Haynes, in his complaint against abortionist Crist,
states that mill staff repeatedly responded to cries of pain and
severe bleeding by reassuring the dying high school girl that it was
"normal." Crist, who specializes in killing both mother and child,
did not monitor LaTachie's vital signs, and did not respond to a
dramatic drop in blood pressure that might have given trauma surgeons
an opportunity to save her life.
A spokesman for Planned Parenthood reacted to the news of LaTachie
Veal's death by insinuating that the uterine laceration that caused
nearly 90% of Tachie's blood to drain from her body was the result of
poor planning on the part of the young high schooler. A baby-killing
agency that routinely advertises its willingness to kill children as
old as LaTachie Veal's stated, it was "unwise of the girl to have
opted for her 22-week abortion.
Additional information on LaTachie Veal's death at the hands of
abortionist Robert Crist can be obtained through The Houston Post,
11-7-91, The Kansas City Star, 11-6-91, and The Wanderer, (cross
reference under Olhausen). *
From "Life Advocate," June 1992, page 19.
*
Testimony of a woman of
Women Exploited by Abortion
I had to wait for the abortion
because they said that I was only two
weeks past my period and that I had
to wait two weeks before I could get
scheduled. Before leaving, I asked
two questions: Will it hurt? and Was
it a baby?
Her reply to my first
question was that I would feel
pressure and then something that felt
like menstrual cramps. Then, she
drew a picture of a uterus and placed
a circle inside and said it was no
bigger than a quarter. *It was like a
tumor* - easy enough to be removed
with a little discomfort.
While in the hands of the
abortionist, I received no medication
for pain, no medication for anxiety,
nor was I anesthetized. I did not
have enough money for these
"extras." Some girls were given low
doses of Valium for their nerves.
That cost money too, more than what
I had. I paid for the operation right
up front - CASH ONLY, please.
The pain I felt during the
abortion was *the most excruciating
pain I have ever experienced in my
life.* I could feel the baby being
ripped from my womb. I yelled in
pain and the nurse told me to relax -
that I was tightening up - and to stay
quiet. What empathy they feel for
you before they take your money.
Everyone was so pleasant in the
beginning. But, once the sale is
closed, money in hand, *you're just
another person lying on the assembly
line waiting to have their product of
conception slaughtered.*
*When the abortion was over, I
felt humiliated, embarrassed, guilty,
ashamed and violated all at the same
time. I quickly justified my actions
and my feelings. I suppressed those
feelings, deep down, for ten years.
Three days after the abortion, I
awoke in a pool of blood.* I had a
temperature of 103, abdominal pain,
nausea and a migraine. I was rushed
to the hospital where I received an
emergency D&C. The doctor said I
had blood clots. I was sent home
with antibiotics.
Shortly after this horrifying
experience, I started to experiment
with drugs. Soon, I was doing them
on a regular basis. I would fall into
deep depressions. I lost job after job.
There were times when I would not get out of bed for weeks at a tine. I
did not eat. *I went from 108 to 89
pounds.* I could not sleep and, when
I would finally fall asleep, I would
suffer from nightmares. *Drugs were
the only release and escape from the
feelings I could not deal with.*
At the age of 22, I stopped
doing drugs. I met someone new and
started what seemed like a healthy
relationship.
One year I later, I was engaged.
I had to move the wedding date up
because I was pregnant *(it seems the
pill was not as effective as we were
told in school).* Four-ninths into the
pregnancy, I was rushed into the
hospital and into O.R. and had an
immediate surgery. I had an ectopic
pregnancy. The doctor told me my
tube was deformed. After the
surgery, I felt I was being punished
for my abortion. Friends convinced
me that my earlier abortion had been
the best thing. Wanting to believe
this, I suppressed my feelings of guilt
and remorse. Shortly after this, I
ended my relationship.
At 25, I met a man I truly
loved. He came at one of the most
crucial times of my life. He helped
me through my father's illness and
death. Shortly after my father's
death, I found myself pregnant
again. I wanted to keep this baby.
My boyfriend had other ideas. He
used my friends to try and talk me
into having an abortion. When this
didn't work, he used his family.
Then he threatened to leave. I could
not bear the thought of losing
another person I loved, so I had the
abortion.
Shortly after, at a check up, my
doctor told we the most devastating
news. He explained why I was
having problem such as severe
cramping during menstruation and
ovulation. *He told me that some
women experience this after they
have had an abortion. He also
explained about my ectopic
pregnancy. He told me that it was
also common among women who
have had abortions.* The infection I
had had damaged the fallopian tube
and the suction apparatus, combined
with the tearing of the placenta,
caused scaring. These problems have
left me with a 70% to 80% chance of
never being able to get pregnant again.
*Did the Planned Parenthood
counselor ever mention that these
problems could happen? NO!*
After hearing this, I began to
research what my doctor had told
me. I have read documents on the
physical and emotional damages to
women due to abortions. I have met
women who are sterile and some who
had to undergo further operations
that left them sterile. This was all
due to abortions. *Were any of these
women told that this could happen?
The ones I spoke to said NO!*
*Healing was a very difficult
step to take. I had to admit to myself
what I had always known.I killed my
children* - One of the hardest things
to accept is that these children could
be the only ones I will ever have. I
am now 31, married and still have no
children.
The next step was forgiveness
from the Lord. This helped to
release the feelings of damnation.
But the hardest thing was forgiving
myself.
*Post-abortion therapy was the
best experience I ever had.* It
brought me closer to the Lord as well
as healing my wounds. Like *many
women* who *find help after an
abortion*, I want to help other
women to not make the same mistake
I made. I also want to help women
who have had abortions deal with the
painful process of healing. People
need to understand abortion exploits
women, kills the life of their child
and damages the spirit that each one
of us has. *Abortion not only kills life,
it also hurts women physically and
emotionally.*
*It starts with sex education
ends with dead babies and shattered
lives. We must put a stop to this
tragedy.* *
(Underlining is not in original.)
From <National Stopp News,> February
1992, p. 5. Phone 914 473-3316.
*
Testimony of Janet Willis
My husband left me when I got pregnant. I
had been on a mild tranquilizer before conceiving,
and my doctor convinced me that the baby would be
born with severe birth defects. I did not want an
abortion, but I was so confused that I couldn't think
clearly, so I went along with everyone else's advice.
My family was just as misinformed as I was, and they
thought abortion was best for me at the time.
I expected the abortion clinic to tell me a
little about what would happen during and after the
abortion. All they did was take my $225.00, give me a
5mg. Valium, and ask me please not to cry and
appear so upset.
All I wanted to do was leave, but I
remember not being able to move out of the chair. I
have wished so many times that I could have left with
my precious baby.
*After the abortion, I grew more and more
depressed. Two weeks later, I couldn't take it
anymore. I tried to commit suicide by cutting my
wrists.*
I was rushed to the hospital, and they said I
had suffered a nervous breakdown of unknown
origin. I knew the origin, but to talk about it hurt too
much.
*I was sent to a state mental institution,
where I was kept in a locked ward for five weeks.* By
the time I got out I had built such an impenetrable
wall around myself that no one would hurt me
again, and I wouldn't have to think about the
abortion.
*My physical problems continued: pelvic
infections, low-grade fever, continuous bleeding, they
never ended. Then I began to have nightmares.
I'd wake up in a cold sweat because I'd hear
my baby crying for me but I couldn't find him. Or
I'd hear suction machine over and over again.*
[Many women can't ever again even vacuum their
rugs.]
David, my present husband, and I had just
begun dating, and after a couple of months I was
pregnant. David was very upset and blamed me. He
said he would pay for an abortion. My family was
worried about me and again thought this was the
perfect solution. All I kept thinking was that I barely
made it through the last abortion and I can't go
through that again.
"I won't have any more children if I have it
done again," I told them.
Oh, sure you will," they told me.
I knew better.
My second abortion was performed on July
23, 1977 at the same clinic where my first abortion
was performed just nine months before. I had to go
into the hospital four days after my second a for acute
Pelvic Inflammatory Disease (PID), painful infection
in my fallopian tubes. The infection spread into my
ovary, and seven days after the abortion, there was
no way to control the infection. One tube and ovary,
about to rupture, had to be removed.
*For six months, I ran a low-grade fever and
bled continuously. Finally, in February, 1978, my
doctor performed a complete hysterectomy. I was 19.
The psychological problems were numerous.
I couldn't see a baby without seeing my dead babies first. David and I couldn't even talk about the
abortion without physically abusing each other. We
continued to abuse each other for seven years.*
Then we adopted a daughter. I was so
proud of her. I loved this child with every ounce of
my being, but she was a constant reminder of the two
precious babies that should have been playing with
her but were not. I lost my ability to love her -
temporarily - because I hated myself for what I had
allowed to happen.
In 1985 my worst problems came out. *I
found myself crying for two weeks with no end. I
became anorexic, slowly starving myself to death.* In
September, 1985, I was placed in a psychiatric ward
at the hospital.
I had repressed the memories and feelings
about the abortion so far that I couldn't imagine they
were the cause of my problems. When I was released,
things weren't any better, but this time, something in
me wouldn't allow the memories to be suppressed any
longer. David and I tried to talk several times, but it
always ended up in a brutal fight. We became
abusive to our daughter verbally, and I became
physically abusive to her. My heart was breaking in
two, and I was dying inside. Just dying.
My health had steadily gotten worse. *My
weight continued to drop from a once 160 lbs. to 90,
then 85. 1 was going to avenge my kids' deaths with
my death. Then they took my daughter away from
me and said I couldn't have her back until I was well
enough.
I finally ended up at New Orleans Hospital
in July, 1986 in heart failure, dying from
self-starvation. They were surprised I was even alive
at this point.* Then I realized that the Lord had other
plans for my life.
My feelings were awakened through an
organization whose counselors listened to women like
me and did not judge. They simply came and loved,
unconditionally. I've found healing in Christ Jesus. I
asked for His forgiveness and He freely gave it to me.
After 10 years of sheer Hell, Jesus Christ
became my personal Savior, and I have now forgiven
myself. I am free. *I no longer see my babies in pieces
in a jar. I see them as whole, beautiful children,
sitting in the arms of Christ.* My abortions are laid to
rest in Christ's forgiving arms. The abuse in my
home has ended and the anger and the guilt are gone.
The area that I still find difficult is this.
What will I tell my child when she asks Momma why
I must tell the truth about abortion?
*I want my child to know the truth-that I did
not want to have either abortion, and that Momma
was lied to.* I want to be able to tell my daughter that
Momma continues to speak out because life is very
precious to me.*
(Underlining is not in original.)
From <Abortion Malpractice Report> published by Legal
Action for Women. Phone 800 962-2319.
"Horror on Beacon Street"
by Barbara Bell
Planned Parenthood hates me.
Every Saturday morning I stand
outside their abortion clinic and
minister to the women going in.
Sometimes they listen to me. A
few change their minds and give
life to their babies instead of
death.
On the rainy morning of
December 18, 1990, I was in
front of Planned Parenthood
again, talking with the girls who
were going into the clinic. But
that Tuesday was a tough
morning. The girls did not want
to hear the truth about the life
inside of them.
About 8:30 a.m., a pretty, blond
girl about 18 years old was
making her way to the clinic. I
saw her coming across Beacon
Street with a young man. I went
over to her and said, "Please
don't go in there, they kill
unborn babies. I can help you."
The girl said nothing.
All of a sudden, I looked down at
the ground and saw blood
coming out from the bottom of
her pant leg. She was wearing
white loose-fitting sweat pants. I
said, "Honey, you're bleeding.
Can I help you?" Without a
word she walked into the clinic.
Then I looked out into the street
where she came from, and there
in the middle of Beacon Street
lay a very tiny infant. I couldn't
believe my eyes. I ran over to
the baby, picked it up with a
handkerchief, and put the baby
in my rain scarf. A few inches
away from the baby was the
laminaria (a seaweed packing
that is inserted into the woman
to dilate the cervix) that was put
into a plastic bag.
I took both the infant and the
laminaria, put them in the back
of my car, and took off. I had to
get the baby away from there,
because if Planned Parenthood
had gotten ahold of the baby,
they would have thrown it down
the garbage disposal or
something.
I was never so scared in all my
life. I thought Planned
Parenthood people might be
coming out to follow me. I was
praying my heart out.
There I was, with a precious,
tiny infant in the back of my
car, crying my eyes out, trying to
keep calm so I could drive. I
decided that I would take the
baby home and call Bob Delery,
a very close friend and fellow
sidewalk counselor (thank God
he lives right around the corner).
This man is like a grandfather to
me, and I respect and trust his
decisions in everything.
From Beacon Street in Brookline
to Medford is about a
twenty-five minute drive, but on
this day to me it felt like a
two-day drive. At this point, I
didn't know what to do, so I
started praying again. I was
praying, "Lord, please let Bob
be home, (the night before, Bob
told me he would be going to a
funeral.) I don't know what to
do with the baby, and I know he
will be able to help me, by Your
grace."
Finally, I made it to Medford.
The Lord answered my prayer
and Bob was home. It was about
9:00 a.m. in the morning when I
got there. I rang the doorbell,
and Bob opened the door not
knowing what to expect. I was standing there crying, trying to
tell him about the nightmare at
Planned Parenthood.
I went into the house, closed the
door, and told him that a girl
went into labor and delivered a
dead baby in the middle of
Beacon Street in front of
Planned Parenthood. I said,
"Bob, I have the baby and the
laminaria in the car." He could
not believe it. After sharing this
with him and his wife, we all
were standing in the dining room
in a state of shock and crying.
Then Bob asked me to get the
baby.
Bob laid a white sheet on the
table and very gently we
unwrapped the rain scarf and
placed the baby on the sheet.
The baby was a perfectly
formed little boy. I could see
his tiny little fingers, toes,
cars and everything, just as
God had designed.
Bob baptized him, and I named
him Joshua Jonathan. (Joshua
means 'God is Salvation' and
Jonathan means 'Given by
God'). I do believe for some
reason God allowed me to be at
the clinic to adopt this
abandoned little helpless unborn
baby boy, and even now I think
about him all the time. Next to
Joshy, we placed a beautiful red
rose. The red rose means life in
pro-life circles. Although Joshy
was dead in the physical, I knew
he was in the hands of God. *
A Mother's Anguished
Letter to Her
Aborted Child
Even after years have intervened, a woman cannot forget the life that
her decision took.
Ten years ago yesterday, I carried you beneath my heart. Ten years
ago today, I stopped the beating of your heart. I, your mother, the
one who gave you life, also gave you death.
It's been a decade and still my blood runs cold and I catch my breath
whenever I hear the word "abortion." There's an emptiness inside of
me that can never be filled, a chill that has never quite been
warmed, a grief that will never end. To me you will forever remain
an unfinished song, a flower that never bloomed, a sunrise clouded by
rain.
Even during your last fragile moments of life, I wondered, "Is my
baby a boy or a girl?" The question ran through my mind again and
again as I tried to block out the sickening sounds of you being
suctioned from my womb and from my life. I seemed to have a burning
need to know whether I would have had a son or a daughter, yet
somehow I couldn't bear to ask such an indelicate question of the
doctor who stood smiling above me. Instead, I simply nodded in
defeat and sadness as this man in n white patted my trembling hand
and said, "Now - aren't you glad it's all over?"
As I lay there drowning in my own blood, tears and sweat, I could
hear the nurses chattering about coworkers, new cars and clothes.
To these people, the extermination of your life was simply a job -
"making a living by destroying the living." To those gathered in that
sunny room in Philadelphia 10 years ago, it was just another day. To
me, it was the darkest day I had ever known.
"The Abortion" - the most heart-wrenching, terrible experience I had
suffered through in my 18 years; certainly the most painful
experience suffered by you in your three short months. It has taken
me all these years to get over it.
Now - as my eyes fill with tears, I realize that this is something I
will never "get over." That fateful April day
Even in my distraught state of mind, I knew that there were other
choices. I was simply too scared to consider the alternatives.
Still a child myself, I "wasn't ready" to be a mother.
What I didn't realize then was that I already was a mother. You
became my child at the moment of conception; my love for you began
when your life began, and although your life ended, that love has
never died.
Your silent screams have awakened me from sleep many times over the
years, and I have lain in the dark and mourned the loss of the baby I
killed. There have even been times when I've contemplated ending my
own life as I ended yours.
It's been 10 years and still I haven't forgiven myself. Have you
forgiven me? Has God forgiven me for destroying a being created by
Him?
I've had many nightmares through the years. Scenes of a tiny fetus
in a trash bag haunt my subconscious. I've awakened in a cold sweat,
again feeling the excruciating pain of that long-ago day. I recall
the intense physical pain of the abortion - but those 10 minutes of
hurt were nothing compared to the 10 years of pain I've lived with
since.
For years my heart has ached to write you this letter, but whenever I
attempted to put my feelings into words, I
Perhaps this letter was meant to be written in order to help others
to avoid the agony I experienced, to help
If this letter prevents even one abortion, it will have served a
purpose. But Baby, my purpose in sending this letter to you is to
let you know that I love you - whoever you are. And I'm sorry.
Love, Mommy > *
From Human Life Alliance of Minnesota with permission from <Our
Sunday Visitor> and Linda Oatman.
*
Testimony of Joanne Culbertson
I am a surgical technologist in a small hospital.
One day we were doing an operation on a young
woman. She had a tubal pregnancy. When we opened
her abdomen, the tube had expelled the inch-long fetus,
about four to six weeks old. It was still alive inside the
sack. Dr. Dobson that tiny baby was waving its little
hands and kicking its little legs. It even turned its whole
body over. There is no way anyone can tell me that was
not a human being. I also knew there was no way we
could save it. As the doctor clamped the tube, and the
baby grew still, I whispered, "That breaks my heart."
Joanne Culbertson Lockhart, S.C. *
From <Focus on the Family>, August 1991, back page.
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