I’ve Had 2 Abortions and Zero Regrets
How the Men Who Lied to Me, Inspired Me to Tell My Story
A twenty-one-year-old woman recently said that she wasn’t worried about abortion rights because they had always been available in her state.
As a seventy-two-year-old woman living in her state, I remember a time when I needed an abortion and it was illegal.
If you weren’t alive in 1969 or can’t understand the heartbreak of not having control over your own body, this story is for you.
I met Regis through my youth group at church when I was 17. He was a friar-in-training at our local monastery. He claimed to be in his early twenties but most people believed he was older. I belonged to a protestant church; we were young and idealistic about uniting all religions.
The Vietnam War was raging and the government had instituted a mandatory draft. All young men were required to register when they turned 18. They were given a number and if their number was chosen they had to report for active duty in the armed services.
Some young men felt they could not in good conscience kill another human being and exceptions were made for them. They were called conscientious objectors. One of the options open to them was joining the novitiate class to become a friar in the Catholic Church.
When my church youth group visited the Franciscan Monastery in our town, we found a group of compassionate, young men with similar ideals. We bonded over discussions of religion, philosophy, and psychology. Together we believed we could make the world a better place.
My friend, Linda, and I spent a lot of time at the monastery and going out with our new friends. We collected food for the Cans of Hope program and furniture for women who were restarting their lives after working as prostitutes. We felt in our hearts that we were making a difference.
After Linda and I graduated from high school, we chose to attend a local college. Our lives still revolved around our friends at the monastery. We always went out together as a group, so I felt uneasy the first time Regis asked me to go to a movie with him, alone. I insisted that we include Linda. Later, I found out he had also invited Linda to go out alone with him, and she accepted.
Much later, they would both come to me and confess they had been having sex, but that God had spoken to them and said I was the one who was supposed to be with Regis. They explained the scenario where God had conveyed this information and I remember feeling skeptical. Still, in my naivete, I reluctantly considered the possibility.
By now, Regis had left the monastery. When I spoke to Father Bill, the priest in charge, he assured me Regis had been asked to leave much earlier.
It was under these conditions that I agreed to date Regis. Not long after, I would lose my virginity to him, reassured that he was sterile and could not produce children.
When I missed my next period, I found my way to Planned Parenthood and they confirmed my worst fears. I wish I could convey the shock I felt when they told me that I was pregnant.
When I confronted Regis, he wasn’t shocked. He was overjoyed. I will never forget his words. With great glee, he said, “Now you will have to marry me!”
When I asked him about being sterile, he laughed and said he must have been wrong. It was then I realized that he had lied to me. I told him I was working and going to college and didn’t want to get married and have a child right now. He told me I didn’t have a choice.
And, initially, it seemed he was right. Abortion was illegal in Rhode Island.
I made my way back to Planned Parenthood, and through sobs told them what had happened. Their kindness has remained with me. The doctor sat down with me and held my hands. She explained that even though I could not end the pregnancy in Rhode Island, it had recently become legal in New York.
I told her that I could not bring a child into this world under these circumstances. Regis had lied to me and I didn’t want to be married to someone who had been so deliberately deceitful.
The doctor said she understood and there was a way to help me. She was legally not allowed to discuss abortion with me, but she could give me a phone number to speak with someone who could help me. She also asked me not to tell anyone because we could all be in trouble if authorities found out.
Now, in addition to being tricked into a pregnancy that I never wanted, I found myself having to break the law to get the help I needed.
I called the phone number and spoke to a woman who did not identify herself. She said that everything we discussed needed to be confidential. She asked me repeatedly if I was sure of my decision. She listened to my story and reassured me that she could help.
At the end of the call, she arranged an appointment with a clergy member who had volunteered to help women in my situation. I was surprised to find out who he was when we met. He was part of an underground group set up to provide counseling and a connection to resources that were legally unavailable in my state.
The pastor swore me to secrecy and gave me another phone number to call in New York. The unidentified person who answered the phone explained the procedure and gave me an address and an appointment. She told me to bring one hundred and twenty-five dollars in cash.
Driving alone to the train station on the morning of my termination, felt surreal. I was aware of my surroundings, but detached from them in some odd way.
Regis had told me that if I went through with the abortion he would tell all of our friends and I would be condemned to hell. When I told him of my intentions, he hit me across my face. With blood pouring down my face, I knew I was making the right decision.
He told our friends and they sympathetically explained to me that Regis was right. I was committing a sin and they could no longer be friends with me. I accepted their decisions and whatever consequences my actions would cause. I had no doubts that I was doing the right thing.
Still, as I sat alone on the four-hour train ride into New York City, I couldn’t stop crying.
When I got to New York, I flagged down a taxi as I had been told. I gave the piece of paper with the address to the driver. I still have no idea where in the city he took me. I had only been to New York City once on my eighth-grade field trip.
We stopped in front of a tall brick building. It didn’t look like a hospital or medical building. It looked like an office building. I followed the instructions I had been given and took the elevator up several floors.
I entered a mostly empty room with one woman sitting behind a desk. I gave her the cash and she called for someone to take me to the back. A young man led me down a hall, suddenly stopped, and told me to take off all my clothes. I stood there frozen. He laughed and said it was a joke.
I was so scared that I didn’t know what to think. He led me into a large room with a few privacy screens separating some beds. A woman helped me onto the bed and put my feet into the stirrups.
A man introduced himself as a doctor and explained what he was about to do. There was no anesthesia. Someone held my hand and consoled me during the procedure. I remember a lot of pain and blood and wondering if I was going to die. I realized that no one, not even me, knew where I was.
Somehow, I found my way back to the train and cried for another four hours until I reached Providence. I drove myself home and fell into bed. The pain worsened during the night and I was losing so much blood I thought I might be hemorrhaging. I hadn’t told my parents what I had done. There was no one to talk to about it. As I fell asleep, I hoped I would still be alive in the morning.
I had lost my friends and gone through the most terrifying experience of my life, but I knew in my heart that I had made the absolute right decision. I have never for one moment doubted my choice.
Even through the whole experience, I believed that god or some higher being was with me, surrounding me with love and compassion. I felt that god understood my decision and was by my side to support me.
About eight years later, my boss began propositioning me at work. His behavior would now be considered sexual harassment, but no one stopped him even though management knew what he was doing. He said he was on the verge of a divorce from his wife of ten years because she wanted to have a child and he was medically unable to give her one.
We ended up having sex one night and I ended up pregnant again. I confronted him with the news. To my surprise, he wasn’t surprised at all. He was thrilled. All he had to say was that he guessed it wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t conceive, it must have been his wife’s problem.
I couldn’t believe that I was in the same situation again. How could I have believed another man who claimed to be unable to produce children?
This time, things were different. I went to my gynecologist and told him I wanted to end the pregnancy and start taking contraceptives immediately. I wanted control over my body. Thankfully, abortion was now legal in Rhode Island. However, I wanted to take full responsibility for making sure that I would not get pregnant again unless I felt it was the right person and the right circumstances.
My doctor agreed to end my pregnancy and wrote a prescription for birth control pills.
I went back to my company, told upper management what had happened and why I would not be returning to my job. No one tried to stop me from leaving and I’m pretty sure my boss didn’t suffer any consequences. Still, I knew I had made the right decision and thanked god/the universe for helping me again.
I haven’t talked about these painful memories for almost 50 years. But, today, I put the Harris/Wahl’s bumper sticker on my car and I wrote this article.
A woman’s right to have control over her body is in jeopardy. I know firsthand what it’s like to be confronted with this situation. I don’t want the government telling me that I have no choice. It’s my body, my life, my decision.
I am seventy-two years old now. I’m long past the age where getting pregnant is an issue for me. But, I worry about my children, grandchildren, and the younger generation. I don’t want anyone else to go through what I experienced.
I have always been grateful to Planned Parenthood and supported them with donations when I could afford it. I am indebted to the individuals who created a secret organization to help women in need. They risked their careers and reputations, defied the law, and provided a choice where none existed.
Now, it’s my turn to be brave and return the favor.
The idea that a man is boasting about overturning Roe v. Wade is appalling to me. The stories of women being denied medical assistance and dying in parking lots break my heart. The threat of returning our society to a time when women couldn’t make decisions about their own bodies, makes me outraged.
I have to say something and do something. I am joining the other women who have lived through these times and spoken about it. We won’t go back.
To the young women who think this couldn’t happen, please know, that it did in the past and it can happen again.
We have an election coming up.
We have to choose between choice or no choice.
I believe Kamala Harris will protect our choice.
For this reason, Kamala Harris is my choice.
