What I Want You to Know is a series of
reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their
personal stories, in the hopes of bringing greater compassion to the
unique issues each of us face. If you would like to submit a story to
this series,
click here. Today’s guest post is by  an anonymous reader.


I am a happily married mother of three small children under age five. My
husband and I both agreed we didn’t want to have any more children
after our third was born. Our family felt “complete” with her arrival.
Three children is about all I can handle, since my husband works long
hours and travels a lot too. I have had some health issues in the past,
so we knew how blessed we were when our third arrived healthy. We talked
about him having a vasectomy, but I have to remain on birth control
pills for other reasons so we weren’t concerned.

We are both Christians and are
raising our children in the same way. We attended church regularly and
our children are enrolled in Christian preschools. The only thing
different about my beliefs than most of my girlfriends, is that I believe in
the right to choose. I don’t believe anyone should regulate my choices,
although I have never had to make this decision before now. I just knew
what I believed, and kept those beliefs private.

When I realized
that my birth control pill as well as breastfeeding hadn’t stopped me
from ovulating and getting pregnant, I was shocked. We really hadn’t had
intercourse more than a handful of times since our daughter’s birth. How
could I be pregnant?

Between small periods of exitement and bouts of
crying, my husband and I decided to talk to the doctor first before
deciding what to do. This wasn’t “our” plan. Our plan included three
children and all the expenses that come with those three. I had started to
lose some weight and buy new clothes (after five years of babies and
nursing, you know how exciting this was!) I had given away ALL our baby
things- swings, mobiles, toys etc. To make matters more difficult, one
of our other children became gravely ill and had to undergo emergency
surgery – the same week I had my ultrasound scheduled. We had to call our
out of town parents to come and help babysit while we were at the
hospital. This meant our time to discuss and figure out what to do was
limited – we had family everywhere and we didn’t want to involve them
yet – if ever – in our decision.

The following two weeks are a blur
to me. I don’t know how, but I agreed to an abortion.

Between thoughts
of being overwhelmed with the current three and the financial burden of a fourth child, I agreed. I agreed to taking pills and aborting our perfect
little pea pod. It sounded easy, right? Take one pill and 12 hours
later, insert two more pills vaginally. Done.

Now I can never go back. I will
never be that person again. No one told me about the depression that
sets in as soon as you do it. The daily episodes of crying, hating
myself. Masking it all though because I clearly cannot tell anyone. How
can I even consider myself a good mother when I killed one of my
children?

I believe in the right to choose. Just not for me. I
want you to know that I am sure I did it for some reason or other, to
better my current children’s lives. To be a better wife to my husband.
To be the best person I can be, but I am not there. I don’t know if I’ll
ever get there. I look at the ultrasound picture and can’t stand
myself. I nurse our daughter and cry about what could have been. I hope
that one day I will be able to accept what I have done as the best
possible choice for our situation, but I am far from there now.

So when
you hear, see, or read about someone having an abortion, please don’t
pass judgement on them. Even though it may be best for their situation,
they may be falling apart inside. I will never be the same person I
was, for better or worse.