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I was a single mom in 1981 when I found myself pregnant. After several conversations with friends, I opted for abortion. That night I spent with a friend on her couch, crying silently for the baby I just killed. Hoping against hope he was still alive. Later that year, I became pregnant again and reached out to an adoption agency I found in the phone book. I told them I had an abortion earlier and didn’t want to do that again. Due to red tape, I opted for abortion again. Since so much time had passed, I was beyond 12 weeks and referred to an abortionist in the hospital. The procedure was explained, and I had lamination placed. I felt my baby kick that evening. I went back the next day for the abortion. I heard someone say as I was being wheeled into the OR suite “doc has 20 minutes before his next case.” They sent me home that day after surgery. When I got home I started to experience severe cramping and called the after hours number twice, stating worsening symptoms—and that if I hadn’t just had an abortion, I would swear I was in labor. I called back a third time to let them know I just pulled my mutilated baby out of the toilet. A nurse came and took my child’s body, never asked if I was ok, and never even checked my vital signs. About 9-10 years later, I went to work in an abortion clinic as an RN thinking I could help women not go through what I did during my second abortion. I learned there that I should never have left the operating room, because part of the abortion procedure is to bring the aborted baby to the lab to make sure it was all there. Things I saw in the clinic as well as my own experience showed me the barbaric practice of what some want to label as “health care.” I thank God my eyes have been opened, and I have been forgiven through the blood of my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Age: 65
Location: Monroe, NC
Date: October 23, 2024