Tag Archives: post-abortion trauma

Woman Speaks Out About Abortion Regrets

A woman who aborted her child is speaking out in the London newspapers.

Lora Bishop went to the Daily Mail newspaper after a pro-abortion columnist wrote a piece claiming that her decision to kill her baby via abortion was “no big deal.”

Lora told the Daily Mail about how after her abortion the guilt pounded her to the point that she took an overdose of drugs.  She said that before her abortion the doctor told her not to look at the screen showing her baby on ultrasound because the doctor was concerned she would change her mind and give her baby life.

The Daily Mail also talked to other people who were directly impacted by abortion and shared their stories of the pain that came from the decision to end a child’s life.

A woman named Mary shared about how her life has been tormented following the abortion on her 22-year-old daughter.

“I grieved for the grandchild I would never hold,”  Mary said.  “I understand that women can have very mixed emotions when they have had a termination: relief and sadness.  But I hope that someone can spare a thought for the people who have no say in the matter and do their best to support their daughters, but, ultimately, would rather hold a grandchild in their arms.”

Mother Thankful Abortion Attempt Failed

A British woman whose daughter survived an attempted abortion says that she will “always regret” attempting to kill her daughter.

A doctor told Shannon Skinner to abort her child when she became pregnant with her second child because of complications with the first pregnancy.  The 20-year-old went home and took a handful of abortion drugs and waited for the miscarriage to begin.

“I told myself it wasn’t a baby yet,” Skinner told the Christian Institute.  “I was out of my mind with worry that the abortion pills had affected the baby, but it wasn’t until I saw the 3D scan of my daughter on Christmas Eve that I fell in love with her.  Once I’d seen her face, everything was different.”

However, doctors weren’t done trying to get her to kill her baby.  Doctors told her because she had taken abortion drugs that the baby would likely be deformed and that she should undergo the abortion process at 20 weeks.

“To see your daughter’s face and then be told you can still go through with an abortion…how can you?” Skinner told the London Daily Mail.  “To survive the first abortion, my daughter obviously wanted to be here and I couldn’t go through with a surgical abortion. It didn’t matter to me if she was born healthy or not.”

Skinner says she will have to wait to see if the abortion drugs had any impact on the long term mental health of her daughter Amelia, but she doesn’t care either way.

“Every time I look at her I think: ‘She really shouldn’t be here.’ But now that she is, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 6)

Because I’d never had an ultrasound, I didn’t know the gender of any of the children I aborted, so don’t ask me how I knew this; I can’t tell you. But somehow I knew in my heart that the voice I had just heard belonged to my son. He would have been my firstborn.

Now, on the beach, I understood why God had wanted me to hear the radio broadcast of “Tilly,” and why he had spoken to me in the voice of my unborn child for the second time. He had already forgiven me, but he wanted to begin a healing process in me.

I remember hearing a preacher say once that God does things in the heavenly realm that there are no earthly words to describe. I believe that with God, all things are possible. Whatever it takes for you to be healed, that’s what he will do for you. That’s what it took for me. I needed to hear that voice. Needed that reassurance. Continue reading →

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 4)

Sunglasses could not hide the tears streaming down my face, and I was glad the beach was not crowded that day. I walked toward the water, oblivious to the warm ocean breeze or the strident call of the seagulls. My shoulders slumped under the weight of the reality that now settled on me. Dear God, what have I done? My feet were leaden, my legs would no longer hold me. I sank to my knees in the hot sand, completely devastated. I murdered my children!

A man and a woman passed by me and discarded the remains of their picnic lunch into one of the large trash bins dotting the beach. It occurred to me that I had thrown my children away, almost as unthinkingly as they tossed their soda cans in the garbage. I had killed my babies to keep my husband. A husband I wound up losing anyway. A husband who had betrayed me and abused me, again and again. Continue reading →

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 3)

Babies? I had steeled myself not to think of them that way. Planned Parenthood had said they were blobs of tissue. I knew better, of course—at least on some level. But that’s the only way I could live with myself, to think of them as “problem pregnancies,” the flotsam and jetsam of an untimely conception, not as babies.

Heaven? Until that moment, I had vaguely thought of them as formless blobs out there in the universe somewhere. Were they really babies, really in heaven, as Melissa had just said? Continue reading →

Joy Came in the Morning (pt 1)

“Jamie Charles Bakker was born December 18, 1975.” Jim was pretending to narrate a biography of his son.

The four of us— Jim and I, Jay and Amanda—were traveling from L.A. to Muskegon, Michigan, for the Bakker family reunion, and Jim was using the occasion to fill me in on some of the family history. Jim continued his story, but my mind stopped and focused on that date. December 18, 1975.

“Lori, you sure got quiet,” Jay said after a few minutes. “Are you carsick? Or just mesmerized by our life stories?” The others laughed.

“No, I…Sorry, Jay, I just had a major reality check when I heard your date of birth.” I swallowed hard. “You’re the same age my firstborn son would have been.” That realization had hit me like a ton of bricks. If I had carried my first pregnancy to term, the baby would have been born in late December ’75 or early January ’76.” I was looking at a flesh-and-blood son—soon to be my son, or at least my stepson—with his arm around his girlfriend, and he was the same age my firstborn would have been. “You guys could have been really good friends,” I said wistfully.

The moment passed awkwardly, Jay didn’t know what to say, and Jim simply looked sad. He reached over and took my hand. As much healing as I have had, the old, familiar grief can still reach out and squeeze my heart in a split second. IT doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it is very real. Every time I looked at Jay for the next few hours, I thought of the son I never had because of my own choices. Gradually those thoughts faded.

Such thoughts, while painful, no longer overwhelmed me because of a deep inner healing I had experienced in 1994. That event remains the single most precious moment of truth in my life.

…..more to come.

Joy Came in the Morning – Part 2
Joy Came in the Morning – Part 3
Joy Came in the Morning – Part 4

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 7)

Because I’d never had an ultrasound, I didn’t know the gender of any of the children I aborted, so don’t ask me how I knew this; I can’t tell you. But somehow I knew in my heart that the voice I had just heard belonged to my son. He would have been my firstborn.

Now, on the beach, I understood why God had wanted me to hear the radio broadcast of “Tilly,” and why he had spoken to me in the voice of my unborn child for the second time. He had already forgiven me, but he wanted to begin a healing process in me. I remember hearing a preacher say once that God does things in the heavenly realm that there are no earthly words to describe. I believe that with God, all things are possible. Whatever it takes for you to be healed, that’s what he will do for you. That’s what it took for me. I needed to hear that voice. Needed that reassurance.

God knew I could never have taken all the guilt and grief at once. So he restored me bit by bit, patched my broken spirit piece by piece. I did not get up from that experience energized and with a burning zeal to speak to women about abortion. In fact, over time, I almost forgot what God had shown me that day. Yet, I always remembered hearing that voice, and I remembered it as a healing time, a moment when God, in his infinite grace and mercy, put a Band-Aid on my bleeding soul.

After my hour alone on the beach, I was able to pull myself together. I got up, brushed myself off, and walked back to where Bobbi and the kids were soaking up the sun. I had lost the exuberance with which we had started the trip, but I was functional again.

Yet, it would be another five years before I would fully grieve for the loss of my children. And that would be the third and final time I heard my son’s voice….

…I heard Adam’s voice for a final time. “We’re waiting here for you, Mommy, and one day you’ll be here too, and we’ll spend forever together.” The voice was very comforting, and I knew I wasn’t crazy. The inaudible voice was really God speaking to my spirit; I heard it as a child’s voice—my son’s voice—because that was what I needed for my healing. God had prepared me for this moment by letting me hear that voice years earlier.

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 4)

Sunglasses could not hide the tears streaming down my face, and I was glad the beach was not crowded that day. I walked toward the water, oblivious to the warm ocean breeze or the strident call of the seagulls. My shoulders slumped under the weight of the reality that now settled on me. Dear God, what have I done? My feet were leaden, my legs would no longer hold me. I sank to my knees in the hot sand, completely devastated. I murdered my children! Continue reading →

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 3)

Babies? I had steeled myself not to think of them that way. Planned Parenthood had said they were blobs of tissue. I knew better, of course—at least on some level. But that’s the only way I could live with myself, to think of them as “problem pregnancies,” the flotsam and jetsam of an untimely conception, not as babies.

Heaven? Until that moment, I had vaguely thought of them as formless blobs out there in the universe somewhere. Were they really babies, really in heaven, as Melissa had just said? Continue reading →