Motherhood
Interrupted
A Catholic Ministry
For Post Abortion Healing
For Post Abortion Healing
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The Father of mercies is
ready to give you his
forgiveness and his
peace...You will come to
realize all is not definitively
lost...
The Gospel of Life
Pope John Paul II
ready to give you his
forgiveness and his
peace...You will come to
realize all is not definitively
lost...
The Gospel of Life
Pope John Paul II
A Journey of Love
I don’t remember the Supreme Court decision in 1973. I do not have
any direct knowledge of abortion. I do remember the discussions that
followed in the years to come, but the way abortion would change my
life is both a curse and a blessing. The curse was an exercise of free
will, as was the blessing. The later was a gift from God; the former
was a rejection of His love and mercy.
I am a cradle Catholic, Baptized on Christmas day in 1960 fifteen
days after my birth on Oahu, Hawaii. My father was a career Army
officer and my mother a stay at home mom. I’m the oldest of four
children. We had a wonderful childhood, brought up in the faith,
receiving the sacraments, attending parochial schools and going to
Mass every Sunday. We moved regularly never staying longer than
three years in any one place. Our “home” was my paternal
grandmother’s in Michigan.
The most difficult event of my early life was my dad being sent to Viet
Nam in 1969, or perhaps it was his return. Dad was changed and our
relationship was forever altered. I learned that the most effective way
to receive attention from him was disobedience. This was a sad
lesson that took many years to remedy. While living in California I
soon lost the innocence and peace in my heart, it was replaced with
sex, drugs and rock & roll. The practical aspect of my Catholic faith
was being replaced. I attended Mass under supervision and lied to
avoid it whenever possible. We moved from Marin County to
Germany between my sophomore and junior year of High School, out
of the frying pan and into the fire. Whatever difficulty existed in
obtaining alcohol and drugs were removed.
After arriving in Germany the crowd I searched out was less than
savory. Rock concerts, free flowing depravity and non-existent
morality were where we lived. I thought I was with the “In” crowd. I
started seeing a girl who was very nice to me and who liked most of
the same things I did. We started an exclusive relationship that soon
led to where I wanted it to go- we began having sexual intercourse. I
finally lost what I thought of as a millstone around my neck. It wasn’t
long before the inevitable happened, after going to see her one
afternoon her mother said she had something to tell me. Her
daughter was pregnant. She told us/me that she was going to help us
by taking care of the problem. They would be going to Amsterdam to
have an abortion. I do not remember much about my reaction or my
response. It was explained as the best way if not the only way. I’d like
to say that I offered to marry her but I cannot say that I did. I’ve
thought about it for thirty years now and the details are just gone.
Part of it was the abuse of drugs and alcohol. I believe part of it was
taken from my memory, but I don’t understand that part.
She and I continued to see each other for at least another year. Her
family moved to northern Germany after graduation and I soon
followed. I was allowed to live in their house when I first arrived in
Bremerhaven. We weren’t cohabitating, but it was pretty close. It
wasn’t long before she was pregnant again. She had learned about a
liquid diet solution a woman could use to induce a miscarriage. This
time I knew before her mom did. I did not stand up to the challenge.
She had the miscarriage and got pretty sick because of the
overdosing of the diet drugs. I want to say this changed me, I cannot
say it though. I continued to abuse drugs and alcohol. To make it
worse, I started having sex with any girl/woman who would have me.
Our relationship ended when she decided that she had put up with
enough. I soon returned to the US. We spoke on the phone a couple
times and then lost touch.
I joined the Air Force after returning stateside. I went from woman to
woman in a never-ending cycle of weekend binges of sex and drugs
and alcohol. I’m not sure what changed in me when I was stationed in
Wyoming. I started going to Mass at least a little bit. I became aware
that something was missing in my life. I decided I needed to find a
woman to marry and settle down. The problem was I didn’t really
know how to go about that. I did not look for this woman of my dreams
at church, not even at the off-base parishes. I fell back into the old
habits, bars and parties. Thankfully I did not fall all the way back
down, I did not want to be dishonorably discharged from the military. I
met woman who was Catholic at a party. Wow, game on, I figured
after a few weeks we should probably get married. My younger
brother was talking about it and I could not let him beat me to the
altar. She agreed to my less than memorable proposal. We had
known each other for four months and we set a date for six months
later. We were going to have a Catholic wedding in her hometown!
She called me three days before our wedding from St Louis. She had
run away with a man she was working with, a traveling salesman. She
told me she did not think she could live up to my expectations. This
was before cell phones. My family was coming from east and west. I
was still hung over from my bachelor party. Her family was helpful to
me but guardedly, as one would expect. I met my family after their
journey to tell them the news. We were all devastated but we made
the best of the situation. Everyone went home after the allotted time. I
was alone again. I almost made the right decision, but no. I went to
Mass a couple times. I did not get any immediate solace. I expected
results, fast. My will be done, not His. I answered my own questions. I
did not seek help. Booze worked pretty darn well. Bars and late
nights, but somehow I avoided the sex part, probably because I was
too pathetic and needy at that point to be desirable. I became very
belligerent and obnoxious.
The song goes, “Some girls don’t like guys like that but some girls
do”. I met her after a couple months of, “looking for love in all the
wrong places”. We did hit it off; we were both rebounding from bad
relationships. We started having sex on our third date and she
moved into my bachelor pad after a couple months. We talked about
the future but not marriage specifically. She knew about my past, all
of it. There were some secrets she kept that I only learned later
during binge drinking that was a pretty normal part of our lives. We
did not do a good job of discerning marriage, but we did it anyway,
sort of. I proposed in a very surly and disrespectful way and to my
dismay she said yes. We were wed about five weeks later, after
knowing each other for less than seven months. We did not waste
time or money. We went to a judge. Her parents knew, I had asked
for her hand from her father. I called my parents after the deed was
done. I said to them, “Guess what I did this morning”? They didn’t
even know I was in a relationship. “I got married, here say hello to
your new daughter in law”. Yea, I was mister smooth. I was as much
of a jerk to my new wife too, I’m sure. We weren’t real good for each
other but we did share a lot of things in common. We were also really,
really stubborn. She stopped taking birth control after we’d been
married for a few months. We did want children; we learned to love
each other but on our own human terms. Children did not come. God
was not really part of our lives. We did go home to visit my family and
everyone loved my new wife. We went to family reunions back east
and everyone who knew me told us how much of a wonderful
difference she made in me. We seemed to be doing all right.
My new wife and my baby sister really got on well. Neither of them
had sisters to share with so it was a natural. My sister told us that my
dad did not consider us to be married. We were living in sin. What?
Oh yeah, isn’t it a sacrament or something? We talked about the
alternatives and there was only one, she would convert to
Catholicism, we’d get our marriage blessed and everything would be
okay. Would this change me, would I finally get back into the boat?
No, not even a chance. She faithfully converted and was on fire for
the faith. I ignored her zeal, even threw water on it. Sure we
occasionally went to Mass; yea I went to confession before entering
Holy Matrimony, but embrace the faith? No, life was too good to mess
it up with spending time in church or with people who did. My mom
started sending books and magazines, religious ones, for Pete’s
sake. Who was she kidding? The books went on the shelf, the
magazines on the coffee table. They prayed, sent Mass cards and
loved us.
We wanted children. We figured five years was long enough to wait
for the normal means to work. We used Natural Family Planning, in
reverse. Then we fell all the way down and spent countless
thousands of dollars on any method of infertility that showed promise.
We went into debt and started to really fight about everything. Then
in 1992 a miracle seemed to be about to unfold. She became
pregnant, no crazy methods. We were broke and paying off the debt.
Ultrasounds showed a normal pregnancy! We were ecstatic. We
wanted to tell everyone, but held off telling anyone except her folks
because they were helping to support us. We started telling people in
March of ’93 and it wasn’t long after that when problems began to
start. We made it to mid term before the miscarriage. We delivered
then had a funeral for our little miracle, Faith Marie. We hoped it was
a good sign for the future. We were able to get pregnant twice more.
The last time was ectopic and ended with my wife having emergency
surgery and an ovary removed. This event turned out to be the
beginning of the end of our marriage.
We moved to Colorado looking for a fresh start in 1999. The people
we were close to were close only when we were partying. After
moving to Ft Collins we joined a new parish and started going to
Mass regularly. I went to Confession and finally confessed
everything. This started my reversion to the Faith; unfortunately my
wife did not have the same desire. I learned this much later. I began a
series of career changes that continues to this day. I had been in the
printing industry for fifteen years, hating it. I was injured on the job
and then unjustly fired months later. I had to fight for unemployment
benefits but I did prevail. I took this as a sign from above for a need
for change. We talked about alternatives and mutually decided real
estate sales would be a good fit. I went to school, got my license,
found a good office and started a new career. After six months I quit
my day job and went full time, things were beginning to look pretty
good.
I don’t remember the Supreme Court decision in 1973. I do not have
any direct knowledge of abortion. I do remember the discussions that
followed in the years to come, but the way abortion would change my
life is both a curse and a blessing. The curse was an exercise of free
will, as was the blessing. The later was a gift from God; the former
was a rejection of His love and mercy.
I am a cradle Catholic, Baptized on Christmas day in 1960 fifteen
days after my birth on Oahu, Hawaii. My father was a career Army
officer and my mother a stay at home mom. I’m the oldest of four
children. We had a wonderful childhood, brought up in the faith,
receiving the sacraments, attending parochial schools and going to
Mass every Sunday. We moved regularly never staying longer than
three years in any one place. Our “home” was my paternal
grandmother’s in Michigan.
The most difficult event of my early life was my dad being sent to Viet
Nam in 1969, or perhaps it was his return. Dad was changed and our
relationship was forever altered. I learned that the most effective way
to receive attention from him was disobedience. This was a sad
lesson that took many years to remedy. While living in California I
soon lost the innocence and peace in my heart, it was replaced with
sex, drugs and rock & roll. The practical aspect of my Catholic faith
was being replaced. I attended Mass under supervision and lied to
avoid it whenever possible. We moved from Marin County to
Germany between my sophomore and junior year of High School, out
of the frying pan and into the fire. Whatever difficulty existed in
obtaining alcohol and drugs were removed.
After arriving in Germany the crowd I searched out was less than
savory. Rock concerts, free flowing depravity and non-existent
morality were where we lived. I thought I was with the “In” crowd. I
started seeing a girl who was very nice to me and who liked most of
the same things I did. We started an exclusive relationship that soon
led to where I wanted it to go- we began having sexual intercourse. I
finally lost what I thought of as a millstone around my neck. It wasn’t
long before the inevitable happened, after going to see her one
afternoon her mother said she had something to tell me. Her
daughter was pregnant. She told us/me that she was going to help us
by taking care of the problem. They would be going to Amsterdam to
have an abortion. I do not remember much about my reaction or my
response. It was explained as the best way if not the only way. I’d like
to say that I offered to marry her but I cannot say that I did. I’ve
thought about it for thirty years now and the details are just gone.
Part of it was the abuse of drugs and alcohol. I believe part of it was
taken from my memory, but I don’t understand that part.
She and I continued to see each other for at least another year. Her
family moved to northern Germany after graduation and I soon
followed. I was allowed to live in their house when I first arrived in
Bremerhaven. We weren’t cohabitating, but it was pretty close. It
wasn’t long before she was pregnant again. She had learned about a
liquid diet solution a woman could use to induce a miscarriage. This
time I knew before her mom did. I did not stand up to the challenge.
She had the miscarriage and got pretty sick because of the
overdosing of the diet drugs. I want to say this changed me, I cannot
say it though. I continued to abuse drugs and alcohol. To make it
worse, I started having sex with any girl/woman who would have me.
Our relationship ended when she decided that she had put up with
enough. I soon returned to the US. We spoke on the phone a couple
times and then lost touch.
I joined the Air Force after returning stateside. I went from woman to
woman in a never-ending cycle of weekend binges of sex and drugs
and alcohol. I’m not sure what changed in me when I was stationed in
Wyoming. I started going to Mass at least a little bit. I became aware
that something was missing in my life. I decided I needed to find a
woman to marry and settle down. The problem was I didn’t really
know how to go about that. I did not look for this woman of my dreams
at church, not even at the off-base parishes. I fell back into the old
habits, bars and parties. Thankfully I did not fall all the way back
down, I did not want to be dishonorably discharged from the military. I
met woman who was Catholic at a party. Wow, game on, I figured
after a few weeks we should probably get married. My younger
brother was talking about it and I could not let him beat me to the
altar. She agreed to my less than memorable proposal. We had
known each other for four months and we set a date for six months
later. We were going to have a Catholic wedding in her hometown!
She called me three days before our wedding from St Louis. She had
run away with a man she was working with, a traveling salesman. She
told me she did not think she could live up to my expectations. This
was before cell phones. My family was coming from east and west. I
was still hung over from my bachelor party. Her family was helpful to
me but guardedly, as one would expect. I met my family after their
journey to tell them the news. We were all devastated but we made
the best of the situation. Everyone went home after the allotted time. I
was alone again. I almost made the right decision, but no. I went to
Mass a couple times. I did not get any immediate solace. I expected
results, fast. My will be done, not His. I answered my own questions. I
did not seek help. Booze worked pretty darn well. Bars and late
nights, but somehow I avoided the sex part, probably because I was
too pathetic and needy at that point to be desirable. I became very
belligerent and obnoxious.
The song goes, “Some girls don’t like guys like that but some girls
do”. I met her after a couple months of, “looking for love in all the
wrong places”. We did hit it off; we were both rebounding from bad
relationships. We started having sex on our third date and she
moved into my bachelor pad after a couple months. We talked about
the future but not marriage specifically. She knew about my past, all
of it. There were some secrets she kept that I only learned later
during binge drinking that was a pretty normal part of our lives. We
did not do a good job of discerning marriage, but we did it anyway,
sort of. I proposed in a very surly and disrespectful way and to my
dismay she said yes. We were wed about five weeks later, after
knowing each other for less than seven months. We did not waste
time or money. We went to a judge. Her parents knew, I had asked
for her hand from her father. I called my parents after the deed was
done. I said to them, “Guess what I did this morning”? They didn’t
even know I was in a relationship. “I got married, here say hello to
your new daughter in law”. Yea, I was mister smooth. I was as much
of a jerk to my new wife too, I’m sure. We weren’t real good for each
other but we did share a lot of things in common. We were also really,
really stubborn. She stopped taking birth control after we’d been
married for a few months. We did want children; we learned to love
each other but on our own human terms. Children did not come. God
was not really part of our lives. We did go home to visit my family and
everyone loved my new wife. We went to family reunions back east
and everyone who knew me told us how much of a wonderful
difference she made in me. We seemed to be doing all right.
My new wife and my baby sister really got on well. Neither of them
had sisters to share with so it was a natural. My sister told us that my
dad did not consider us to be married. We were living in sin. What?
Oh yeah, isn’t it a sacrament or something? We talked about the
alternatives and there was only one, she would convert to
Catholicism, we’d get our marriage blessed and everything would be
okay. Would this change me, would I finally get back into the boat?
No, not even a chance. She faithfully converted and was on fire for
the faith. I ignored her zeal, even threw water on it. Sure we
occasionally went to Mass; yea I went to confession before entering
Holy Matrimony, but embrace the faith? No, life was too good to mess
it up with spending time in church or with people who did. My mom
started sending books and magazines, religious ones, for Pete’s
sake. Who was she kidding? The books went on the shelf, the
magazines on the coffee table. They prayed, sent Mass cards and
loved us.
We wanted children. We figured five years was long enough to wait
for the normal means to work. We used Natural Family Planning, in
reverse. Then we fell all the way down and spent countless
thousands of dollars on any method of infertility that showed promise.
We went into debt and started to really fight about everything. Then
in 1992 a miracle seemed to be about to unfold. She became
pregnant, no crazy methods. We were broke and paying off the debt.
Ultrasounds showed a normal pregnancy! We were ecstatic. We
wanted to tell everyone, but held off telling anyone except her folks
because they were helping to support us. We started telling people in
March of ’93 and it wasn’t long after that when problems began to
start. We made it to mid term before the miscarriage. We delivered
then had a funeral for our little miracle, Faith Marie. We hoped it was
a good sign for the future. We were able to get pregnant twice more.
The last time was ectopic and ended with my wife having emergency
surgery and an ovary removed. This event turned out to be the
beginning of the end of our marriage.
We moved to Colorado looking for a fresh start in 1999. The people
we were close to were close only when we were partying. After
moving to Ft Collins we joined a new parish and started going to
Mass regularly. I went to Confession and finally confessed
everything. This started my reversion to the Faith; unfortunately my
wife did not have the same desire. I learned this much later. I began a
series of career changes that continues to this day. I had been in the
printing industry for fifteen years, hating it. I was injured on the job
and then unjustly fired months later. I had to fight for unemployment
benefits but I did prevail. I took this as a sign from above for a need
for change. We talked about alternatives and mutually decided real
estate sales would be a good fit. I went to school, got my license,
found a good office and started a new career. After six months I quit
my day job and went full time, things were beginning to look pretty
good.
