My confession:

When I was 17 I got pregnant and had an abortion. I was in my second trimester.

The story:

My Father and I have fought since the day I was born. I was 10 years old the first time he yelled F*ck You in my face. Before that I was mostly ignored. His newspaper was more important to him than my kindergarden art work.

When he was told of my pregnancy he suggested I move in with him and give the baby to him and his new wife for adoption. This was not an option to me. I considered him the worst of parents. Never did he suggest I live with him and raise the baby myself. All or nothing. I guess he felt he was better able to parent than me.

My Mother when she found out I was pregnant suggested an abortion. It was the first words out of her mouth. She claimed the new family she had married into would be embarressed by my pregnancy. Never did she suggest I keep the baby. Never did she suggest an option. I did. We went to a place for teen-age pregnancies. She considered this place very prison-like and suggested to me that I would not be happy there. (We conflict on this story. She says I made my own choice. But she has said to me years later that she didn't want to help raise a baby anyway. That I knew)

I had the abortion.

Many years later my Mother informs me that my Father when he was sixteen had gotten a girl pregnant and she aborted the child. No he never counciled me with this information when I was in this same situation. He did not tell me how the abortion had affected his life. Never mentioned it. He is a Psychologist.

A year after that during a disagreement with my Father in which he claimed I did untold damage to him with my abortion I threw his own experience in his face and asked him when does the forgiveness start? He look on his face was priceless. You know that slapped/shocked pale-faced look? I did take some amount of pleasure from that. He just stated that he was young and left it at that. It has never been mentioned again.

A year or so after that I brought this subject up with my Grandmother on my Father's side. I told her about my own abortion. Even though this was many years ago I don't think I ever really talked about it with her. I also told her that I knew about my Father's own experience with abortion. She got that same slapped/shocked look on her face. That look felt good to me. I was finally being acknowledged. She then went on to tell me when she was a young adult she had her own abortion. Now I was shocked. That makes three generations. I am missing an uncle, a brother and a son.

I regret that my family chose secrets over truth. I regret that my family chose denial over love. But mostly I regret that I did not have the strength to think for myself. I regret not having the strength to break away from the family pattern. And I regret not having a baby to love and to share the joys of life with.

Abortion is murder.