This week I went to Dr. Emily’s abortion center on 149th
Street four times. This morning I spoke to a man who has experienced abortion
personally. The conversation started when I asked him what he would say to a
girl who was planning to have an abortion. He claimed it was her choice,
whatever she wanted to do was fine because it was up to her. Then he told me
that a few years ago his girlfriend had become pregnant. She wasn’t ready for a
child, he wasn’t ready for a child, so she aborted that baby. He still thought
that it was up to her, but he said he felt bad – he believed it was a human
life that had been destroyed, but still felt that he had no right to stop her
from doing what she wanted. I asked him how she was now, did the abortion help
her? His face grew serious and he shook his head vehemently and sorrowfully.
“No, she’s not doing good. She’s pretty bad. She knows now that it was a human
life and she’s really sorry.” When I asked him again what he would do if he
could give a girl advice, he said he’d try to stop her. He would want to take
that child, he’d tell her to let him take the child and take care of him or
her, because he’d want to protect the child and that girl. Then this man
started to tell me how he felt about his child that had been murdered. He keeps
the sonogram in his Bible and sometimes he’ll take it out and tears will come
to his eyes. Sometimes it will happen when he’s watching TV or listening to a
song… I explained to him about Post-Abortive Stress Syndrome and when we said
goodbye he planned to look up SilentNoMore.org and learn more. Even if you
don’t get the opportunity to speak to a woman about to have an abortion, just
standing outside, willing to talk to anyone passing by, can help. This man has
two nieces – before this morning he would have let them do what they want. Now
he knows that his feelings are right, abortion is harmful to the mother as well
as the child, and he won’t let his nieces or any other woman have an abortion
without knowing what they’re getting themselves into.
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