THE TRUTH ABOUT THE ABORTION PILL

Medical Abortion the pill that kills

The Abortion Pill Reversal

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THE PILL THAT KILLS

What if you woke up and found yourself lying on the bathroom floor, face up, looking at the ceiling? Perhaps alone and cold, you have nothing but confused and fearful thoughts running through your mind. You’ve lost blood—a lot of blood—but have no way to quantify the amount flushed down the toilet or washed down the shower drain.

This is just a small part of one young woman’s story who believed the lie that one simple pill could erase the reality of her pregnancy and restore her life back to normal.

The “abortion pill,” which is a popular term used for a medication abortion, actually consists of two pills—mifepristone and misoprostol. The process by which the baby’s life is terminated takes place at the location of the mother’s choice—most likely at home.

Many women choose this option because they believe that it will preclude them from
the shame or embarrassment of having to disclose their unplanned pregnancy to others.

Clinics and doctors have touted the safety of this pill, with some states even permitting the abortion pill to be dispensed by mail.

However, there are countless untold stories of women who have experienced severe complications with little to no accountability on the part of medical professionals. Let’s continue to follow the young woman’s story as she shares her medication abortion process in her own words.

“I took the first pill of two, mifepristone, at the clinic. The first pill inhibits the production of the hormone progesterone, which is a key supporting component in sustaining the baby’s growth during pregnancy. Once I took the first pill, there was no turning back.

My uterus was now preparing to shed the protective lining it had created for the baby. I exchanged my $500 for an unmarked white paper lunch bag filled with the second pill, misoprostol, and paper work indicating home care instructions, cautions and emergency information should the need arise.

According to the nurse, all that was left to do was to go home, get comfortable, give myself a day or two and have some ibuprofen on hand after taking the second pill within a 24-hour window.

I was given the choice to go through my abortion with someone by my side or alone. Alone?

I took the second pill when I arrived home, as instructed. Once ingested, the misoprostol introduced prostaglandins into my system, promoting uterine contractions marking the next stage in ending life.

Shortly after taking the second medication, cramping began. I felt the urge to sit on the toilet several times as my body began expelling everything from within my digestive track. Cramping transitioned into intense uterine contractions putting me in a cycle of curling up on the couch and then sitting on the toilet cradling my stomach.

Throughout the hours to follow, my body labored to release my baby…little by little.

At that time, I did not understand the true nature of what I was actually experiencing.

 

According to the medical industry, it was just the premature ending of a pregnancy and a washing away of the evidence.

However, I now understand that my body was placed into a labor- induced state. I have since grieved for that mother and that baby who were pushed aside into darkness that traumatic week several years ago.

We were sent home, in the shadow of shame, so that I could birth my baby seven months prematurely in the isolation of a bathroom. There was no one there to hold my hand, provide solace or comfort. There was no one checking my vital signs or keeping track of the amount of blood I lost in the process. I could not share with anyone the graphic details of what I saw and experienced as there are images still too difficult to describe.

Within the 48 hours that followed my abortion, I fainted in the bathroom while attempting to shower before going to work. After I regained consciousness, I first called my mother. Then I called my employer to cancel my shift.

Lastly, I called Planned Parenthood with my concerns. Disappointed by the cool and dismissive response by the female voice on the other end of the phone, I hastily processed the two options she gave me: Take myself to the hospital, or come to the clinic to have my vital signs checked.

Where was her urgency? Her concern?

Now, I realize that I was no different from the countless women who had made the same call and were given the same set of choices. With no medical insurance to cover a costly visit to the hospital emergency room, I decided to return to Planned Parenthood.

According to the nurse, my vital signs appeared normal, and thus, I returned home to recover alone.

Although I attempted to go into work that week, the side effects of my abortion prevented me from doing so. I called out sick multiple days in a row stating that I had some sort of stomach flu that wouldn’t resolve itself.

How many women could openly share with her employer that she is taking a few days off to have an abortion, needing time for the procedure and recovery? Neither my employer nor my friends knew that my baby lost her life that week and that I could have lost mine.”

This young woman’s story is just one of thousands you may never hear because she may be still too ashamed to disclose the fact that she was ever pregnant.

Medication abortion is not a safe choice. The medical industry views pregnancy as an illness to be cured, therefore, offering a pill and labeling it “medical care.”

Unfortunately, women suffer because of misinformation and the lack of proper,
compassionate care.

The truth is that pregnancy is a beautiful gift from God. God’s very hands begin weaving together the tiniest of parts of a human being from the moment of conception. Every pregnant woman deserves to be provided with alternative options to abortion that will ultimately honor and maintain the dignity of all lives involved.

 

Crystals’s Story

 

THE FIGHT FOR MY LIFE

From Abortion to Restoration (Part 1)

In the middle of the week, in the middle of the day and in the middle of my crisis, I found myself lying on the bathroom floor, face up, looking at the ceiling. I heard the shower running as I regained consciousness. Alone, confused and cold, I unhooked my legs from the top of the tub, turned over and propped myself up against the toilet. I was met with extreme fatigue and light-headedness as I shifted my body. There was no one to call for help as I was the only one at home. As I slowly collected my thoughts, I carefully stood up and turned off the shower. I thought the process would be simple and straightforward. I believed that I would regain control over my future since my present had been smashed into a million pieces by someone I loved and trusted.

After two years of submitting myself to psychological abuse, manipulation, and lies, I gathered the courage to leave my dead-end relationship. Prior to this relationship, I had prayed to God for a husband. However, failed relationship after failed relationship stirred up in me a desperation that I would reach the age of 30 with no children and no husband. I felt that God had left my prayers unanswered during my greatest time of emotional turmoil and that I was essentially on my own in this area of my life. At the age of 27, I turned away from Christ’s plan for my life and set out to prove that my way was better than God’s way.

By the age of 29, I found myself pregnant, single, with no husband, no home and no financial stability. I had given up much of my life success for a chance at lifelong love. As I began to put the pieces of my life back together, I learned about my pregnancy. I told no one initially. I held out for one week or so before coming forward to my mother in tears. In the midst of great emotional upheaval, I emphatically rejected the possibility of having the baby of a man who took so much away from me. I would not have his baby and be bound to him in any way for the rest of my life. I would not be a single mother statistic after losing all of what I had built over my life time. It was the wrong time, wrong situation and wrong person. How would my dream family ever come to fruition in this way? I could not bear another blow to my broken heart and endure overwhelming shame without losing the rest of me. I truly believed that my baby would hinder my healing. I simply was not prepared to raise my baby without a father, therefore sentencing her to a life of emotional turmoil and financial lack. With no health insurance and no primary doctor, I headed to the first place I could think of—Planned Parenthood.

When I arrived at the Planned Parenthood clinic, I had no clear expectations. I entered a medium-sized waiting room mostly filled with women who seemed to divert their gaze from one another. That didn’t matter much to me as I was on a mission to handle business. I did not need or want any validation or push back from anyone. Once I entered the examination room and began speaking with the nurse, I went straight to the point. I had come to confirm a pregnancy. I silently prayed that a miracle would occur, and the results would come back negative.

As the nurse quickly dismantled my wishful thinking with the reality that I was seven weeks pregnant and that I had options, I was still all the more resolved to have an abortion. I imagine I may have used the language “I wish to terminate the pregnancy” distancing myself from any use of the words “kill”, “my” and “baby”. Neither presented with an ultrasound nor a solemn moment to consider the weight of my decision to keep or end a life, I left the clinic with information on medication abortion. I was initially amazed at how easy a medication abortion would be based on the information presented in the pamphlet. My seven-week pregnancy fell within the nine-week cut-off for “the abortion pill”. I had not consulted with anyone or read about anyone else’s experience to know the risks.

The truth is that I didn’t want to discover even the tiniest piece of information that would dissuade me from achieving my goal. Unable to cover the $500 cost of the abortion on my own, I asked family members for funds so that I could accomplish the unthinkable. With my heart still far from God and my spirit desensitized to the convicting power of the Holy Spirit,

I headed back to the clinic for my appointment finalizing plans to begin the process. I imagine that I signed papers and waivers but cannot recall. I imagine that I was asked once more if this was my final decision, but I can’t say with certainty. I want to believe that the staff and the nurses were truly concerned for my well-being and safety. However, in the days to come, they would be proven otherwise.

 

From Abortion to Restoration (Part 2)

I took the first pill of two, mifepristone, at the clinic. I then exchanged my $500 for an unmarked white paper lunch bag filled with the second pill, misoprostol, and paper work indicating home care instructions, cautions and emergency information should the need arise. According to the nurse, all that was left to do was to go home, get comfortable, give myself a day or two and have some ibuprofen on hand after taking the second pill within a 24 hour window. After taking the misoprostol, my body transitioned into a labor-induced state. I felt the urge to sit on the toilet several times as my body began expelling everything from within my digestive track. Throughout the hours that followed, my body labored to release my baby—little by little—as I moved through a cycle of curling up on the couch and sitting on the toilet cradling my stomach. I found myself alone with no one there to hold my hand, provide comfort or to check my vital signs while quantifying the amount of blood I lost in the process.

Within the 48 hours that followed my abortion, I fainted in the bathroom while attempting to shower before going to work. After I regained consciousness, I first called my mother. Then, I called my employer to cancel my shift. Lastly, I called Planned Parenthood with my concerns. As I spoke on the phone, I was disappointed by the cool and dismissive tone of the female voice on the other end of the phone. I hastily processed the two options she gave me: take myself to the hospital or come to the clinic to have my vital signs checked. With no medical insurance to cover a costly visit to the hospital emergency room, I decided to return to Planned Parenthood. According to the nurse, my vital signs appeared normal, and thus, I returned home to recover alone. Although I attempted to go to work that week, the side effects of my abortion prevented me from doing so. Neither my employer nor my friends knew that my baby lost her life that week and that I could have lost mine.

Over the following years, I rationalized and minimized my abortion likening it to a little stain barely visible on the bottom of a shirt. Surely, no one would ever notice if I kept the rest of my life tucked in all nice and neat. For ten years, while repairing my broken relationship with the Lord, I refused to bring my abortion before God with a humble heart. I thought that if I were to make myself emotionally vulnerable to God, I would have to totally trust Him. And if I let Him in, I feared that opening the flood gates would leave me consumed by the pain of my past. Influenced by false teaching regarding God’s character, I had feared God’s judgment, His removal of favor and my eternal demise if I failed to uphold unwavering standards in my Christian walk. However, with grace and gentleness, God masterfully laid a pathway toward my emotional and spiritual restoration.

In December of 2019, I disclosed my abortion on a volunteer application for a local pregnancy center. Because of my shame, I considered lying on the application in order to hide the sin of abortion that kept me in spiritual bondage. However, I knew I needed to be honest before God and before my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. So, I truthfully answered the questions and prayed for the best outcome. Following my application submission, I was immediately put in touch with Toni Weisz from My Ashes to Beauty Ministry so that I could begin my journey towards healing from my abortion. I immediately began attending the weekly Sunday conference calls where I listened to the stories and testimonies told by women like me. The more that I attended the calls and related to my sisters, the more confident I became in sharing my own abortion experience on the calls as God began a transformative work within me.

Next, I participated in the Surrendering the Secret bible study which is led by dedicated, godly women who demonstrate love, compassion and empathy. At no time did I ever feel judged. During the intimate and vulnerable conversations with my beloved sisters in Christ, I rediscovered my worth as a unique creation of our Heavenly Father written in the pages of the Bible. Psalm 139:14 tells me that I am “fearfully and wonderfully made”. Today, I truly believe those words with all of my heart. They are reflective of God’s love for me and every other person alive on this earth. The guilt and shame I felt when I first joined this ministry have been washed away as I’ve opened my heart to trust Jesus more and more with the fragments of my emotional pain. I am now able to talk openly with friends and family about how God healed me from my abortion. Participating in this ministry has also provided me with the opportunity to come alongside and support other women as they confront their past abortions and begin their healing journey. I pray that they experience the unspeakable joy of being set free by the God that sees them, knows them and loves them beyond measure.

 

Grace ‘s Story

 

TO GOD’S SONS AND DAUGHTERS

My name is Grace Zimmermann. I had my abortion when I was 22 years old. However, my story begins before the day I aborted my baby. I was born in Hialeah, Florida to a single mother and to a family who loves me very much. While raising me, my mom worked very hard to give me the best life and the best experiences she could. I attended a catholic private school, and I always looked presentable. My childhood memories are filled with having great times with my friends and always being active. While I had much to enjoy, I also experienced my father coming in and out of my life from childhood into the present. Being rejected by him in various ways resulted in my giving up on attempting to “fix” it all, which seemed like something I always had to do. While I was growing up, I always tried to do what was right, and I felt guilty if I didn’t. I made sure I was doing my best to meet other people’s standards and did not realize I was being a people-pleaser at the time.

During my high school years, I continued my attempts to measure up, but I was surrounded by alcohol, drugs and parties. Around the time of my junior year, I found myself dealing with depression and suicidal thoughts. I remember searching for something that would fill my void. At the age of 17, I was saved by my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He changed my life forever. I began seeking him from then on, and I experienced a peace that no other could give. I spent my first years of college truly devoted to Him. Around the age of 19, almost 20, I reconnected with a friend who I knew from high school. We would talk for hours on the phone, and we realized how much we had in common, especially a love for Jesus. We met over coffee and knew we wanted to be in each other’s lives. He shared how he had a problem with certain drugs, but I brushed it aside thinking “we all used to do things in high school that we regret”. So, I did not dwell on it.

Over a few months, our relationship and love for one another grew into a special bond. However, I could no longer hide the fact that I was dealing with an addict. I soon realized what addiction truly is and dealt with the pain that it causes resulting from the hospitalizations, incarcerations, robberies and more. I was committed to him, and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him before all of these things began to occur. I couldn’t leave knowing that the person I knew and loved was trapped inside of an addict. As the addiction took its toll, my life consisted of making sure he was okay. My anxiety and depression lingered while my school work, family and friends became less of a priority.

Around our second year together, my boyfriend remained sober for four months. Everything seemed to be on track—the way I wanted. I was still in school. I had a steady job. I was attending NAR-ANON meetings to help me cope, and I was attending church regularly with my boyfriend. In addition, he was attending his meetings and held a steady job. During this time, I constantly argued with my mother because I frequently came home late. I thought I was doing the right thing for myself and for my relationship. I believed that my mom was attempting to control my life. As a result of feeling threatened, I left my mother’s house and moved in with my boyfriend. Even though I feared leaving home, I felt comfortable being with him.

After living together for several months, I found out I was pregnant. In total shock, I never imagined I would bring a child into the circumstances we were experiencing. I will never forget the pure joy on my boyfriend’s face when I told him the news. Immediately, I rejected him and began my attempts to control the situation. I fell into a deep depression unable to stop crying for days. During this same time, my boyfriend relapsed. I knew that I had to leave and take control of my life again. I stayed up many nights trying to figure out where he was and when he would be coming back. I sought advice in the wrong places. I looked online for a way out convinced by others that my mother would not accept me because of this. I decided that abortion was my best option.

 

 

It wasn’t but a few years before my pregnancy that I was making the case against abortion on school papers and to other people. I never would have imagined myself to be in that very same position years later making the decision for myself. I went to Planned Parenthood seeking a solution and financial help. My abortion cost no more than $300. I was rejected by Planned Parenthood twice because my blood pressure was extremely high and had to be retaken. By the time I went in for my abortion procedure, I was seven weeks pregnant. The nurses assured me that it was safe and that I would be okay. Little did I know that I would almost lose my life a few weeks later.

I took the first pill in the doctor’s office. I then took the second pill at home accompanied with pain medication and antibiotics. As the medication took effect, there are no words to describe the pain other than it feeling like the life was being taken out of me. During this time of physical pain, I imagined my boyfriend’s emotional pain as the life was also being drained out of our relationship. That night, I was in and out of consciousness because of the amount of pain I was experiencing. The doctor earlier explained that I would bleed for a couple of weeks but that it would ease up in the following weeks. Two to three weeks passed by, and I stopped bleeding.

All of a sudden, while I was in the kitchen, I felt heavy streams of blood roll down my legs. I filled up three sanitary napkins in twenty minutes. I called my boyfriend’s mom asking her to please take me to the hospital. I could barely walk to the car because of the amount of blood I was losing. By the time I arrived at the ER, the car seat was a bloody puddle. As I stood up, the blood streamed down to my shoes. I was placed in a wheelchair leaving drops of blood on the floor as I rolled along. At that point, I began feeling extreme cramping—a pain that I could not bear. With blood clots the size of my hands, I would need surgery to remove what was left of the pregnancy according to the doctors. Their first choice, however, was to allow my body time to release what it could. I lost so much blood. With a blood count so low and my kidneys being monitored, I would need blood transfusions. The doctors later explained that my body was rejecting the pill in order to hold onto the pregnancy. I stayed in the hospital for a few more days until my hemoglobin level reached an acceptable number for my release. I could barely walk from the pain and weakness. I continued on bed rest for 3 months while I visited the doctor at the hospital for weekly check-ups.

That summer, I turned 23 years old in denial of what I had gone through emotionally, physically and spiritually. Satan had deceived, destroyed and killed many parts of me. I began to realize the gravity of what I had done. The guilt and the shame consumed me. By the power of the Holy Spirit, I knew God was still there even when I did not understand why He would be. I prayed for help from someone who would understand me. By the grace of God, a woman like Toni came into my life and spoke truth to me. She reminded me that what I went though was traumatic and not okay. I am now 24 years old and have experienced healing from abortion, only through Jesus Christ. Even though I am beginning my journey to heal from the pain and loss, He has already shown me the peace I can experience through His love. The choice of abortion took my daughter’s life, and it almost took mine leaving behind wounds in my relationships. I share my story with you hoping that you find a new perspective on your healing journey or that you reconsider any thoughts you may have of aborting your baby.