Mother Confesses: I Killed Two of My Children

Rarely do you read something that feels like a punch in the stomach. But today, I read a blog that was so powerful, I just had to share.  It begins:

… The bumper sticker read, “Having an abortion does not make you un-pregnant, it makes you the mother of a dead baby”. The word “mother” struck me because “mother” is such a powerful word. It conjures many meanings, and when a woman becomes one she is fundamentally changed. “Mother” as a verb means to nurture, care for and protect. “Mother” as a noun means a female person who is pregnant with or gives birth to a child; or a female person whose egg unites with sperm, resulting in the conception of a child.

By this definition if you’ve ever been pregnant you are a Mother. Even if you’ve had an abortion you are still a Mother… a grieving Mother.

“A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loud lamentation; Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be consoled, since they were no more.” Matthew 2:18

There is no consolation to be had for the mother that loses a child. She will grieve in her heart for the rest of her life. Abortion; however, not only robs a child of it’s life and a mother of it’s child, it also robs the mother of her grieving. She is not allowed to grieve because she cannot publicly claim the title Mother.

Then, she gets personal.  Really personal.  She shares a secret that she’s been holding inside her for fifteen years.  Head over to her blog to read her story and maybe leave a note of encouragement.  I just wish I could hug this woman for having the courage to really speak out against the evils of abortion.

Read “Fifteen Years Later and Silent No More” and share it with a friend. Her message needs to reach as many people as possible.

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  • Bob Woelfel

    Where can I buy this bumper sticker????

  • huntingmoose

    This blog hits it right on the head, and not so much for the ‘I murdered..’ part but for the mental tormenture later when it all is well and done.

    The catholic church takes the moment of conception, the legal system uses the moment of birth, for Obama you are not alive if the administrative decision was made before you were born to kill you,Ezekiel Emanuel who Obama wanted for health care policy advisor thinks life starts when you are 5 years old or something like that and I like many others, admit I don’t know the answer but like many others prefer to err on the save side.

    Unfortunately, many will when confronted with unplanned pregnancy choose what seems easy at that moment but not so easy mentally afterwards.

    There is a lot of attention spend to prevent contracting diseases like AIDS. They should also spend a lot of attention to this mental disease you will get from an abortion, immediately after or at a later time.

    With AIDS, abstinence is the only sure preventive measure. With unplanned pregnancy, abstinence is not the only preventive measure; you can also prevent this mental disease by choosing life.

  • http://julie@borkowskifamily.com politicaljules

    Thank you. So many of us suffer in silence thinking the ‘choice’ was supposed to make it all better. It didn’t. You could not turn to any side for consolation. Or so I thought. It has been the pro life side that grabs you and hugs you tight saying it will all be ok. That is some of the most amazing healing that has ever come my way. No judging. No screaming at me. Just hugging, and telling me to know I am forgiven.

  • Joanne Mayo

    I, too, was silent for many decades. The grief was very intense and painful, but God in His graceful forgiving ways brought me to a full productive life. Now I have my own grandchildren to cherish and be extra thankful for. The pain slowly scars over but I think God allows you to remember some of it so you can reach out to others who are hurting and say “I know—I’ve been there”. The realization is predominant to me that since I deserve hell, my future reunion in heaven with my little one will be covered totally by God’s grace and His grace alone.

  • http://bastionofliberty.blogspot.com Francis W. Porretto

    Pilar hesitated before the sacristy door. Gail Borden turned to her with eyebrows raised.

    “They’re waiting for you, P.”

    Pilar nodded and looked down. “I know. I just don’t know how ready I am for this. Gail, couldn’t you…?”

    The big blonde woman took her by the shoulders and squeezed gently. “It’s your show, P. They all know it’s your show, not mine. You’re the sparkplug, and it’s time to fire. Do you need a glass of water or something?”

    “No, I…” I need to be somewhere else. Somebody else. “Okay, let’s go.”

    Gail looked at her critically for an instant longer, then took her hand and led her out into the church. They were greeted by applause of surprising volume and duration.

    Gail left her standing there at the altar rail and squeezed herself onto a front pew. Pilar was alone and defenseless before the crowd.

    And a crowd it was. Every pew was filled to capacity. Both walls were lined with standees, and more clustered at the back before the tall oaken double doors to the church. There were at least five hundred people there, all of them watching her, awaiting her words.

    It is not for me. I am no one. It cannot be for me.

    “I…”

    They are here because they care, or because they bear a guilt like mine. But it is not for me.

    “I…”

    I cannot do this without Father Keane!

    She clamped her lips together and prayed swiftly for strength. The church was silent.

    “You are here,” she faltered, “because you care about the unborn. You have seen and heard and read about the slaughter around us until it has sickened you to the core of your soul. Thinking about it makes you want to rip out your heart. And you want to do something about it. You just don’t know what to do.

    “I must confess this to you: I don’t know what to do either.”

    She waited for a cry of protest. None came.

    “We know what not to do. We know not to do it because we have done it, and it has not worked. Politics. Protest marches. Letter-writing campaigns. Carrying angry signs in front of abortion clinics. We have tried all of that, and the blood still flows.

    “I am not the smartest of women. I clean other people’s houses for a living. I have no husband, no children, and no education. I live in an apartment so small that I must fold up my bed before I can set up a table to eat on. I am no one and nothing.

    “But I am smart enough to know that one does not continue with what does not work. We must try other ways.”

    The crowd’s murmur flowed caressingly over the church walls.

    I must give them what I have, or I have called them together for nothing.

    “I know a woman who stopped an abortion once. She had a friend, not a Catholic, who confided to her that she had betrayed her husband with another man, and had become pregnant. The friend could think only of killing her baby to save her from the shame of her sin. But the friend had never had an abortion, and did not know what to expect. The woman knew, for she had had one, even though she was a Catholic.

    “The woman told her friend of the event, the fear that came before and the terrible shame that gripped her after. She told her friend about being opened to the instrument of death, feeling it enter her and suck out her baby to feed its hunger. She told of the horror, the guilt, the sense of having been disconnected from God. And because she had spoken from her heart, from the truth her sin had etched into her bones, her friend listened, and believed, and changed her mind.”

    A second murmur raced around the room. The attention of the huge crowd was riveted upon Pilar, compelling her to complete the story she had not known she would tell.

    “The woman…” Her voice cracked and fell to a whisper. “The woman who’d had the abortion was me.” She bowed her head.

    There had never been a silence like the one that filled St. Gregory’s in that moment. It was a thing of such palpable grief that it seemed the church might fail to hold it, might burst to let it mushroom through the city, down every street and into every home for miles around.

    Dear God, give me strength enough to face them.

    She looked out once more across the throng that filled the church. The sea of faces was still fixed raptly upon hers. The eyes were uniformly bright with the glitter of tears.

    “So we know…we know it can be done. We know we can reach them, awaken their hearts to what they propose to do to their babies, if we have the truth, and the desire. We will not always succeed. But we know it can be done. And I think this is what we must try.

    “We should talk about our attempts, whether they succeed or fail. We should keep records. We should invite others not of our faith to join us in our efforts. We should be warm to those we counsel, not scold or threaten. We should be good confidants, and good allies, and good friends.

    “That is what I am going to do. It is all I know how to do.” She spread her arms to encompass the gathering. “Will you help me?”

    The church exploded with the thunder of clapping hands and the music of joyous cheers. Dozens of men and women surged forward to embrace Pilar. They lifted her off her feet and bore her aloft, down the center aisle, through the great double doors and into the sunset glow like an icon of life and hope.
    ————————
    May God bless and keep you, always.

  • http://reddit.com asena

    truth is god’s mind.
    we are but little beings with very primitive faculties to perceive the world around us, our perceptions show us only so much. with such a limited understanding, we must not claim to know god’s mind. truth superceeds your thoughts about the truth. i reiterare: truth is god’s mind.

    now language is another story. 8 out of 10 pregnancies self abort. Many miscarry. These people do not lose a child. They lose an undeveloped organism with the potential.

    A dead child is a REAL PERSON, dying in a burn unit because she can’t have skin from embriyonic stem cells. some people ignore the facts and insist god gets upset. can god be this petty?

    god already knows who will survive. why insist on turning ALL of those 2/10 of pregnancies into human beings? why risk women’s lives because an imbecile pharmacist doesn’t understand and egg IS NOT a chicken. a chicken has eyes, lungs, wings, needs, fears. an egg does not have these. an embriyo is no more a child than a baby is an old man with alzheimer’s.

    • http://reddit.com asena

      i’ve been through abortion. if you don’t make it into something it’s not, it’s alright.

      i insist: god cannot be this petty.

      Do you know what happens to a baby whose mother “resents” the baby once born and neglects/abuses the little one for the first two years?

      BAM! Psychopath. They cannot bond aanymore: No empathy, no compassion, no consciense.
      not good for lord’s flock i tell you what..


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