Aborted Women: In Their Own Words

A Small Grave

by Kym R

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If I had seen photos of aborted babies, at even 5 weeks of age, I never could have gone through with it.

My husband and I had two children, we were financially very well off and easliy could have afforded another child. Our youngest was over two, marriage was rocky, so we decided to have an abortion. It did not seem like a baby at the time, just an unplanned surprise.

I went to the obstetrician, and after a talk we decided on a D&C. ... I think I have blocked out much as I cannot remember details. This I do remember. My husband drove me to her office, he sat in the waiting room while I went back into a "room". Something like seaweed was inserted to dialate me. At that second the horror began. It was to late, I had to wait 24 hours to come back for the D&C. During that time I knew I was killing my baby, my husband did not care. There are no words to explain how I feel about feeling my child getting ready to die while still inside of me. The next day I went back, my husband stayed in the waiting room while I was led back to the room. I was placed on the table, a nurse came in with a rolling metal tray, on it was a clear glass jar with a hose hooked up to it ... there were other instruments ... I do not know what. I was given no sedative, no pain killer, nothing ... But what stands out most in my mind was the loud vaccum sound, and seeing the glass jar fill with blood. That is when I knew my baby was being sucked into that jar. I do not know what was more intense, the unexpected physical pain (I was told what a good girl I was for not screaming -- yesterday they had a patient pass out) or the pain I feel now.

My thoughts are not clear. I remember my husband taking me to a motel. I remember buying a tiny plastic baby doll in a little pink blanket and having him drive me 70 miles from the city to what I consisdered to be a "holy place". I crawled beneath some cedar trees and dug a small grave for my little aborted baby, and then I placed the little plastic baby doll in the grave. Lying on the ground sobbing and the indifference of my husband is what I remember. Going back there with flowers over the years, baby booties on Christmas trees. But most of all, I still hear the vaccum and I still see the blood filling up inside of the glass jar.

I can not write about my other aborted little boy, not yet. He was buried beside his sister.

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Posted 12 Sep 2000.

Copyright 1999 by Kym R. Used with permission.
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