The media would have us believe that abortion is safe and rare, but that isn’t the truth. The truth is that nearly 80% of women suffer depression after an abortion, some even to the point of killing themselves. A percentage of women also suffer from complications including future miscarriages, infertility, and death. Abortion has been linked to cervical and breast cancer. Though this story is fictional, it is based of true stories, but the good news is that God has the power to heal and forgive. If you liked Gosnell, you need to read this book.
Where It All Began (Book 2): excerpt
The lump in my airway grew, and I swallowed it down and nodded. My legs shook as I pushed up from the chair and stumbled in her direction. Weights like anchors pulled on them. Were they even part of my body? A screaming erupted in my head, urging me to flee, and I froze. My eyes tore about the room, but there was no one screaming. What am I doing? I turned to flee, but then I remembered Peter’s ultimatum, and the fact that I couldn’t raise this baby alone. It’s for the best. The mantra started again and propelled me to the waiting woman. Up close, she was even more harsh looking. Ice for eyes, no smile, a don’t-mess-with-me aura, hair pulled back in a tight brown bun. Executing a nearly perfect three-point turn, the nurse spun as soon as I reached her and marched into the back. Shoulders down, I followed, even as a small voice pounded in my head to turn around.
The nurse turned into a tiny room with a bed, a stool, a hard plastic chair, and a tray with instruments. “Undress from the waist down and put this on,” the nurse said as she picked up a gown off the tray. She shoved it unceremoniously into my arms, and then she left the room.
The cold sterility of the room tightened the fear on my heart, but somehow I managed to pull off my clothes and fold them on the chair. I slid on the paper thin gown, wrapping it around my body. I shouldn’t be here. I thought about bolting, but what good would it do? Instead, I climbed up on the bed, the paper crinkling beneath me. Surely, something in the room would calm my nerves. I glanced around, but there was nothing on the stark white walls, not one picture. No beaches, no calming words. Just a harsh white. Why did the walls present nothing calming? Surely other women felt the same anxiety.
A knock at the door arrested my attention, and I jumped. An older man with bushy white eyebrows and a wrinkled forehead entered along with the hardened nurse. I waited for a comforting word, but none came.
“Lay back,” the nurse pointed. I acquiesced and focused on the white tiled ceiling. No comfort there either. “Legs up.” I positioned my legs in the cold, metal stirrups and shivered again.
“Am I going to be awake?” I asked as the fear squeezed ever harder.
“Yes, did you think we would put you out?” A sharp stare from the icy eyes.
That was exactly what I had expected. I didn’t want to be awake for this. If I got up to leave now, would they let me? A sharp sting caused me to suck in my breath.
“That was a local anesthetic. It will help.”
A weight like a stone rolled on my chest, and it grew hard to take a breath. I squeezed my eyes shut, but that only intensified the sound of the clanking metal instruments. I opened them and began counting the holes in the tiles. One, two, three, “Ouch!” Tears filled my eyes as the pain intensified. Why had no one warned me about the pain?
“Hold still.” A cold hand held my legs apart, and the freezing sensation crawled up my leg. Then the scraping started. I bit back the screams, though moans escaped, and tears flowed freely down my cheeks now. Scrape, tug, scrape, tears, moans, scrape, tug. My hands clutched the side of the bed. The scraping stopped, and I sighed with relief. Surely this was almost over. Then the whirring started, and my heart stopped. More suction, more tears, and still no comfort. The sound stretched to eternity; the pain never ceased. And then it was silent.
“You can get dressed now,” the nurse said, and they left the room. The doctor had never spoken; I didn’t even know his name. How different from all the doctors I worked with, who always introduced themselves. I tried to sit up, but my body fought me. The feeling of being punched repeatedly in the abdomen kept me prone. Then the guilt crept in. What had I done? A feral moan reached my ears. Was that me? And then a baby’s cry echoed throughout the room. My eyes darted about, but I was still alone. The cold returned and hungrily licked up my body. Crossing my arms, I hugged my own shoulders, wishing I had never entered this vile place.