The daughter I lost and found

25/10/1997

The Abortion Act came into force 30 years ago. It has led in effect to abortion on demand in Britain. This is the story of one of those who thought ? wrongly ? that it gave her an escape from a pregnancy. Much later, she faced what she had done. It was in 1988 that I first faced up to the fact that my abortion had affected my life more than I was willing to admit. I was so worried that my family and friends would find out. This was one secret I was never going to tell. How could I? I had killed my baby. What would people think of me?

That was nearly eight years ago.

I have come to realise that through sharing my own experiences, however painful, I can be of some help to women in similar situations. There is a wide range of symptoms, and not all are experienced by every woman with post-abortion syndrome. These symptoms can be as diverse as our personalities, but all have one thing in common: we have lost a child, and were denied by ourselves and others the opportunity and the right to grieve that loss.

I had my abortion because I was unmarried, in the middle of my nurse?s training, and had no support from my partner.

When I woke up after my abortion I couldn?t stop crying. I felt so empty. I couldn?t understand what was wrong with me. Surely I should have felt relieved because I had chosen the easy way out? I felt the nurses were very unsympathetic. There was nothing else for it: I just had to get on with my life and put all this behind me.

I thought I could forget about it, and life would go back to normal. But I couldn?t forget. I started to drink too much, because it helped to dull the pain. I was desperate to find someone who would love me. But I had no respect for myself. Anyone was good enough for me after what I had done.

I couldn?t stop thinking about my baby. I had this longing for my child. I wanted to hold her, tell her how much I loved her. Of course that was never going to happen. I thought if I had another baby this longing would go away. I didn?t care who the father was. It wasn?t long before I was pregnant for the second time.

Here I was, pregnant, not married, still doing my training; in fact in exactly the same position as before. I was the youngest of six, and both my parents were dead. I felt strongly that once my family knew I was pregnant, through worry and concern about how I was going to be able to cope, they would try to take control of the situation. I never told anyone until I was nearly six months pregnant. I was determined because of the first abortion that no one was going to take this baby away from me.

I came to my senses, and started looking after myself. I stopped drinking and generally took better care of myself.

I had a fairly easy pregnancy, but a long and difficult labour. After 24 hours, on 11 July 1981, I gave birth to a beautiful boy. As soon as I held him I knew Colin was a person in his own right, and could never be a replacement or substitute for my first child. Unfortunately he was a difficult child, and cried a lot, but he also brought joy into my life. He is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I never regret having him.

I was still searching for someone to love me and Colin, someone who would make us a proper family. Because of my abortion experience, and the way I felt, my self-esteem was very low, and I was flattered when this man started to show an interest in me. He was a divorc? who had custody of his two children. Within a short time we started a relationship. He appeared to be a good father, and was good with Colin in the beginning; but then, as Colin got older, he seemed to be jealous. He became physically abusive, and was always putting me down. He constantly accused me of being a bad mother, housekeeper and partner. If you live with someone who criticises you enough, you soon begin to believe what they say.

By the time I plucked up the courage to leave him, Colin was seven. I didn?t think I would be able to cope on my own. I had no self-esteem and no self-confidence.

During the next couple of years I was busy trying to get a house together and make a home for Colin. He had to attend a psychologist because he had no confidence either. I was so busy that I didn?t have any time to think about myself and my problems, which suited me. It was easier to forget.

Eventually my life settled down, and I had to stop running. Some feelings began to surface which were unpleasant and frightening.

One night I was awoken by the sound of a baby crying. I was terrified and felt as if I couldn?t breathe. As it turned out the girl upstairs had given birth to her baby while I was away on holiday. But that crying triggered a series of nightmares which haunted me for a long time.

In one particular nightmare I was in a shop and there was a pram outside. There was crying coming from the pram, and the people in the shop were saying, That?s your baby crying, you had better have a look. I kept telling them that I didn?t have a baby, but they were insistent. I panicked, and ran out to the pram to look inside. The pram was empty, but the crying continued. It was like being in a horror movie.

In the daytime I went about my life as though there was nothing wrong. But there was an unknown weight dragging me down. What was causing this feeling of depression and indefinable sadness? Thoughts of the abortion would keep coming to my mind, but I would immediately try and block them out.

I was blaming everybody, my boyfriend, my GP, even my family, and they had not known anything about it. That was easier than owning up to my part in it. I was the one who had gone into hospital. I was the one who had signed the consent form.

I then went from one extreme to the other. I had been avoiding anything to do with the abortion. I wanted someone to say that I had made the right choice. But deep in my heart I knew the truth. The more I read the worse I felt. The books and articles talked about the baby in the womb, and how developed it was at only 10 weeks? gestation. I had blocked out this knowledge, and only listened to what doctors had to say. It wasn?t a baby, just a collection of cells. No one had said that it had a head, hands and feet, and a beating heart.

By this time I was confused, and didn?t know whom to turn to. I went to the doctor because I wasn?t sleeping, and my mood was very low. He gave me anti-depressants, but I had been on them before, and did not have any confidence in them.

Things got so bad that I confided in a priest in my parish. He was very understanding and arranged for me to see Margaret Cuthill at British Victims of Abortion. Fr McKenzie took me to Glasgow for the visit. I can remember thinking, I can?t tell all this to a perfect stranger, she?ll think I?m mad. Margaret listened, and it was a great relief to be able to talk about it for the first time. She reassured me, and told me all these feelings were normal, and had occurred as a result of my abortion.

It took about a year of weekly or fortnightly sessions with her for me to come to a place of reconciliation for what I had done.

Facing my responsibility for my baby?s death and my grief for my child was very difficult and very painful. The struggle was long, and many times I wanted to give up. But I knew once I had started there was no turning back.

Knowing Margaret was just a phone call away helped me through. I also found my relationship with God growing deeper as I learned to depend on him more and more.

Margaret encouraged me to think of the baby as a boy or girl, and give it a name. One night I had another dream: it was the same dream as before, except there was no crying, and when I looked in the pram there was a beautiful baby with dark curly hair. She was dressed in pink clothes and nestling under pink blankets. Excitedly I rang Margaret and gave her a name. I called her Claire, and started to think of her as my baby. She was part of our family.

I continued to see Margaret, but somehow I wasn?t moving on. Having taken Claire into our family, in order to continue with the healing process, I had to let her go, lay her to rest. I found this very difficult.

In March 1993 I went to Professor Philip Ney?s counselling course in Kidderminster. With support from the other group members I was able to let go. I know that Claire is with God, and we will meet some day. I know God has forgiven me, Claire has forgiven me, and the hardest was forgiving myself.

My next hurdle was telling Colin. What would he think of me? It was a lot easier than I had anticipated. Once I had told him, he wasn?t judgemental or critical. He had suspected something was wrong. We talk freely about Claire and about abortion, and he supports me in my work with British Victims of Abortion.

I find it a great privilege being able to help women to see that there is an end to the aftermath of abortion, however long it has taken them to face up to it.

This is an updated version of one of the stories contained in a collection published by the Educational Research Trust of the Society for the Protection of Unborn Children. The book has the title: ... and still they weep.