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Published: Tuesday, 1st December 2009
Fr S: So, Mary Bernadette, you want to share your experience of how you, to use
your own words, were forced to have an abortion, is that correct?
MB: Yes. Not so much that I blame…I blame myself as well, Father, for going
there, but I think that when I got there they could’ve handled the situation better than they did.
Fr S: Okay. So as we begin then maybe you could give us a little bit of your
background, maybe a little about your situation. What was going on?
MB: Well, Father, I’m 35 years old and had thought that this would never, ever
happen to me. I feel that if it could happen to me, it can happen to anybody because I’m from a staunchly religious background, have always been a practicing Catholic, and have always been totally opposed to abortion.
It was fear that took over. My marriage had broken down, and I found myself in a crisis pregnancy with someone who was not my husband. I think that the fear of what family would think and the fear of the sickness that I take when I’m pregnant, and everything had sort of pushed those other things out of my mind. Abortion, at the time, seemed the only way out.
I realise now at the other end of it that it definitely wasn’t. Not only did it wreck the baby’s life, but it has wrecked my life. My other children’s lives in years to come will be affected. Basically, everyone in and around me has been affected because of the way I’ve been afterwards.
Fr S: How long ago did you have the abortion?
MB: Five weeks.
Fr S: And how long were you pregnant?
MB: Seven and a half weeks, and I have counted everyday since the abortion. I
want to do the interview because I’ve been in that situation where the fear has taken over—the fear of the pregnancy, and the fear of everything has been paramount in my mind. I just wanted to do it so that anybody in a similar situation thinking about an abortion, now that I’m on the other side of it, will realise that abortion doesn’t solve anything. In effect, it makes everything worse, and the nine months that would probably have been hell, as it would likely be for a lot of people who find themselves in a crisis pregnancy, would’ve been easier than how I feel and how I’ve been left after the abortion.
Fr S: Can you just describe that a little bit more; how do you feel as a result of the
abortion?
MB: I really feel as if somebody has from the neck down taken the life plain out
of me. I feel that not only has the abortionist taken the baby but that he’s taken a piece of my heart or a piece of my soul with him. I’m never going to be the same person that I was before. If I had continued on with the pregnancy and had the baby it would’ve been hard, but I wouldn’t have had the effect that I’ve had. I’ve been really depressed and have suicidal thoughts which I’ve never had at any point in my life. Only for my other two children, I don’t think that I’d be here now.
Fr S: Had you spoken to anyone about your thoughts of having an abortion and the
troubles that were going on in your heart?
MB: No. No one, Father. The fear just seemingly took over. I had been speaking
to another priest in Confession in the days afterwards. He just said that he knew by looking that I was still scared even in the few days afterwards. He knew by looking at me that if I had of been speaking to anybody like yourself or Bernie Smyth or anybody at all that could’ve helped that I most likely wouldn’t have went ahead with it but that the fear had taken over. When you’re scared you do things that you wouldn’t normally in your right frame of mind do.
Fr S: Yes. So you didn’t speak to anyone prior to having the abortion, why?
MB: In a state of panic I phoned the Marie Stopes Clinic in Manchester. They told
me from the beginning that they had wanted me over as quickly as they could. Basically, the appointment was made. I had made one appointment then cancelled it. But the fear was still there and it was building and building. I had cried to the lady on the phone making the first appointment, so she obviously knew that I wasn’t sure of the decision. But she encouraged me to come ahead anyway, even knowing that I was in a state of turmoil. She didn’t advise me to go and speak to a counsellor here prior to going.
She said that the procedure would last only six minutes and that there were no long-lasting effects. She said that you might feel a bit down in the following days not because you lost your baby but due to hormonal changes. They never acknowledged at any point that there was a baby there. They had referred to it as cells and said it was not scientifically a baby. They never explained about the post-abortion trauma that I now find myself in.
Fr S: Did they offer you any counselling?
MB: They didn’t. They eventually got a counsellor to ring me, but only because I
asked for it. But I feel now the advice he gave me was bad advice because he was obviously working for Marie Stopes. It was all down to money. They wanted me there because they just wanted the money.
Fr S: What advice did the counsellor from Marie Stopes give you?
MB: I was crying to him very tearfully on the phone. He said if you are worried
about God forgiving you, surely if you are religious you believe that He is a loving God. If you find yourself with your back to the wall and you felt that you had no other choice that He would forgive you. You should be looking at it like that, that He would be all-forgiving and that He would understand why you had to go down that road.
But I now think they should’ve at least advised me to speak to someone independent here before I left—to make sure I was in the right frame of mind to make that decision.
I only learned afterwards from speaking to a pro-life organisation that they are legally obliged to have you speak to two doctors to make sure you are in the right frame of mind. They didn’t do that. Had I gotten proper counselling before, I might have changed my mind. But they ignored all the laws, even knowing that I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to have the abortion.
Fr S: Did you tell me earlier that all of this happened within a span of 24 hours?
MB: Yes. They didn’t really give me time to think. They just wanted me to act.
They didn’t give me any advice. They didn’t give me any literature. Basically, they just kept saying that there was very little risk and that it wasn’t a baby at this stage and that it was better to have it done sooner than later. But I think that that was because I was tearful and unsure. They thought I might be the kind of person to change my mind. They just wanted the money.
FR S: Then what?
MB: The whole way through prior to my arrival at the clinic they kept telling me
that they were for the women’s rights and for women’s health and that they would look after women. I scheduled the appointment and found afterward that it is not the case.
I don’t feel the Marie Stopes clinic was sterile, and they didn’t adhere to proper procedure. It was only afterwards that I realised this. They are putting women very much at risk by the way they are carrying these abortions out.
Fr S: So what do you think of the term safe, legal abortion?
MB: No! I don’t agree with it all. I’ve been there, and I’ve seen it. Unfortunately,
I’ve come out the other end of it. I don’t think there is such a thing as safe, legal abortion.
It wasn’t like other surgical procedures I’ve undergone. Simple things: I had chipped nail polish on. They didn’t ask enough about my own medical history. They even let me take pain killing tablets from another patient while I was still supposedly in their care.
Then, as soon as the abortion had been carried out they had me out the door without the proper medical care. They had even advised me that I should take no sedation because it would be a quick recovery, and I stayed awake during the whole thing. I found out later that this has added to my trauma, and they would’ve known that. They don’t recognise that post-abortion trauma exists, and it very much does. They just thought I should be glad it was all over.
Fr S: Where was the baby’s father through all of this?
MB: Actually, my partner travelled with me to Manchester. I have a certain
amount of anger towards him. I think that if I wasn’t in my right frame of mind, that he should’ve been there to stop me from going ahead. I did cry to him in the waiting room about there being any other way. Obviously, he too was afraid of my family, but he was worried more for what they’d think about me in the situation. But he has come to realise now, too, that the nine months of carrying the baby wouldn’t have been as bad as where we find ourselves now.
Fr S: What happened once you arrived Marie Stopes for the abortion?
MB: They breezed through some paperwork with me. It was evident that I didn’t
read it. They ushered me into one waiting room. Took one fee for a supposed consultation which was only with a nurse who had no interest in my state of mind.
Fr S: Why do you say that?
MB: Because I started to tell her how I felt. I was crying during the consultation.
She asked me the reasons for coming for the abortion, and when I started to cry she just didn’t want to listen. She said, ‘well look, we’ll put it down on medical grounds’. She was putting the crying down to the fact that I was in an unwanted and unplanned pregnancy. She didn’t want to talk about my other children. She didn’t want to acknowledge that I was having a baby.
She put me on the bed for a scan. It was a very cold room with a single bed. The scanner had been turned away, so I asked if I could see my baby. She said no, it would be best not too. They wouldn’t let my partner come with me either because they didn’t want him to see the scan in case at that stage he would be able to persuade me to change my mind.
Fr S: Can I see my baby—those were your exact words?
MB: Yes. So they would’ve known that I did not see this as a just a block of cells.
I very clearly in my mind called it a baby. Even from the outset, I don’t think they were worried about what state I would be left in afterwards. I was told it was just like going to the dentist, and that the paperwork and all is just a formality. The risk is minimal. But what she didn’t say was that in the very same clinic a few months back a 14 year old girl had died from blood poisoning two or three hours after having a safe, legal abortion.
Fr S: When did you get to talk with the doctor?
MB: At no time did a doctor enter into the consultation. After the scan, they took
me into another waiting room where they took the rest of the fee. They gave me a receipt which I ended up coming out of theatre with still clasped in my hand, and that was what was left—the receipt for your baby which has added to the trauma of the abortion.
Fr S: Then what?
MB: I was still crying when the nurse came to take me down stairs to the very
bottom of the building. Again, it was very, very cold. They still wouldn’t let my partner come with me. They left me in a cubicle to take off underwear and change into a night shirt. They then took me into the theatre at which point I got very scared because of all of the equipment. Because I knew in my heart of hearts…I saw everything; I saw the stirrups; I saw the bed. It was really clinical and cold, and looking back now it was like something out of a horror movie.
At this point I realised that they were taking advantage of the state I was in. Because they had me with no underwear on, you automatically feel degraded as if you have no dignity. They related back to me all the things I told them over the phone. Obviously, they recorded them in their notes from the switchboard so that if I were having second thoughts they could repeat back to me everything that had scared me into the abortion in the first place.
When they told me to get up on the table, I was shaking and very, very scared and confused. I sat up, got off the table, and told her no I don’t want to do this. I was shaking badly.
Fr S: You literally got off the table and said no?
MB: I got off the table and said no, I don’t want to do this. I can’t go through with
it. I said I don’t want to put my legs up there in the stirrups. I just can’t physically do it because I’m shaking, I’m scarred, and I don’t want to have an abortion.
At this point, they really should’ve sent me up stairs to talk to my partner. I asked, but they said no. They reminded me again of all my problems. She used the fact of my religious background to scare me. She asked, ‘What is everyone going to think of you?’ ‘You have no support,’ she said, ‘and you’ll be on your own with two children.’ ‘Plus,’ she added, ‘you have that sickness during pregnancy, and there is a chance of the baby being stillborn.’ ‘You can have it over and done with now, and the doctor won’t be happy if you go out of here because you are holding everybody up.’
Fr. S: She told you the doctor would not be happy?
MB: Yes. She didn’t give me any time to think. After about a minute of that, she
took me back in. She and the staff along with the doctor all went into the corner to have a conference as if I weren’t there. I heard her saying to the doctor, ‘No, I’ll put my name to that because I know that it’s only fear.’
Obviously, at one point the doctor thought that I was seemingly not ready for the abortion, but she said that it was only fear and that she’d been speaking to me.
Fr S: Was it, in the end, your choice to have the abortion?
MB: I don’t know how to explain it. Because they’re medical professionals and
you’re there, I felt as if I were wasting everybody’s time if I didn’t do it. I felt coerced because I think at that minute she brought up everything that had scared me to begin with just in order to scare me again into going ahead with it.
Fr S: What was the abortionist like?
MB: He was so cold. I realise now in hindsight that he could’ve been no other way
doing what he does everyday. He didn’t acknowledge me as a person.
Fr S: How so?
MB: He came in with his mask on. He kept it on the whole time, I felt afterwards
that it was because he didn’t want me to see his face. I can understand now why because of the job he’s in. But he just didn’t say hello. He didn’t greet me. I mean I’ve been in hospitals before when doctors have asked as they are taking you down for any procedure, are you relaxed, are you okay? At the very least they’ll say hello and ask you how you are.
He spoke to me via the nurse. But he never spoke directly to me once the whole way through. His hands were cold. He was just cold.
Fr S: What did he say to you through the nurse?
MB: He said, ‘You better tell her to stop shaking because if I slip . . . .’ He never
looked. He never made eye contact. But I couldn’t stop shaking. It was the nurse who explained that I was going to feel a cold sensation, and in six minutes it would all be over.
It’s hard to explain. It’s like your body is there, but you’re like a zombie. I know it sounds daft because you’re there to kill a baby, but it was only then that I realised that if I was feeling so much pain from the metal dilators, how much pain did my baby feel?
The nurse told me that it wasn’t a baby, but just like a big period. Having looked at the pictures of babies after eight weeks of development, I know it was a baby. They wouldn’t even tell me what they were going to do with my baby’s remains. I had to turn my head away from the tray. They didn’t care that I could see it. I can only assume they did something awful with it which haunts me day and night.
When the abortion was over, there was just a deafening silence. The doctor didn’t say anything, and the staff just wanted to get me out of there as quickly as possible.
Fr S: You mentioned that you wanted to say something to girls thinking about
an abortion about how Marie Stopes treated you just after the abortion was completed.
MB: That’s right. Whenever you’re finished, it’s like a cattle market. They put
you on a bed outside. They’re like sun loungers in a leisure centre. They throw on top of you a heated pad. They don’t give you a pain killer. They don’t give you any advice. I asked about antibiotics and was told you don’t need them or the doctor would’ve given them. After one girl died, you’d think they’d take precautions, but it must be because of the money. I had to take pills from another patient, and the clinic didn’t care. I was out the door in ten minutes. They said, ‘you can go shopping now.’
At the very least, when you go for a D&C they keep you in the hospital all day. I could’ve taken sick anywhere. But it was like a conveyer belt. In and out as quick as possible.
Fr S: Then you had to make the journey home. What was that like?
MB: As soon as I left the clinic, I cried on the steps. My partner had to hold me up.
I was walking into bins and walls. People on the street were looking because of how bad a state I was in and how much I was crying. I was in an absolute daze. It was the worst feeling I ever had in my life. I don’t remember—and that’s without any drugs.
On the plane ride home, I couldn’t stop crying thinking that I’ve left my baby in Manchester.
Fr S: So, you make it home. Did you feel any better?
MB: There’s just been this feeling from the neck down that someone has just
sucked the life out of me. There have been very, very low points afterwards to the point where I was physically sick. I went to sleep that night. There were dreams about babies, about a baby who couldn’t scream. I knew the baby wanted to scream but couldn’t. That’s been going on since the very first night. When I woke up the next morning, it has to be the lowest point of my life. There was the feeling that yesterday there was a baby, and today there is not.
I just can’t explain to any lady enough that even though you think it’s not what you want—I was 110% convinced that I didn’t want another baby. I was trying to convince myself that it wasn’t a baby. And now, there’s nothing I want more than to be able to go back, and to be pregnant.
If there’s a girl who is reading this and is thinking about the fear she feels, I know that people can tell you who’ve never been through it, you know, don’t have an abortion. You might think, ‘What would you know?’ But I’ve been through the other end and just cannot reiterate enough how much I’d rather be sitting pregnant and have that fear and all that comes with it rather than sitting as I am today.
And it has gotten worse, Father. There’s been days that I’m trying so hard not to cry. It’s a real struggle every morning just to get up. I have a 7 year old who has been late for school every morning since and has even missed a few days. My son too.
I just feel so bad about myself that if I didn’t have the children to come home to, I don’t think I’d be here anymore. I’d never been suicidal; I’d never been depressed. Everything seems to be going wrong. Those days afterwards were the worse. I had the fear that I’d been touched by evil. I was scared to be alone, to be in the dark. Things that had never bothered me before.
Fr S: You knew you needed real help?
MB: It was only when I got in touch with Precious Life that I got a wee bit of hope
because they had pro-life counsellors, people who were warm and caring. They’ve been helping me through it. I’ve been getting comfort from people like you and from Precious Life who have really been my life line.
Because Marie Stopes offered one free counselling in which I was told to put the abortion clinic and the abortion in my mind like a video tape, and whenever I think about hit fast forward. Essentially, they were telling me to bury it which could’ve resulted in my being worse.
I now feel lucky to an extent because I am receiving counselling, I am receiving help, and I’ve been told about Rachel’s Vineyard and various other things. It’s been a comfort to know that I have support from the Church because that would’ve been my one fear. Afterwards I was ashamed to go to Mass. I went to Confession half expecting to be thrown out.
Fr S: You contacted Marie Stopes to express you dissatisfaction. How did they
respond?
MB: They told me to stay away from pro-life organisations—the same
organisations that I was initially embarrassed to go to—but they are the only ones offering me help and support. They’ve never once mentioned fees or money for counselling like the abortion place did. I would’ve been lost without them.
Fr S: Pro-lifers are often accused by the pro-abortionists and the media as being
uncompassionate, harsh and judgemental. But that’s not your experience.
MB: No. That’s not my experience. The abortion clinic was cold. Even with lot’s
of cloths on. But when I met a representative from a pro-life organisation, she immediately put her arms around me. It was only then that I was struck how warm and caring a person that she was. She didn’t ask questions. She was never judgmental. Even when I went to meet with her after when she was outside the Family Planning Association trying to stop other girls from making the same mistake, she made sure that the pictures were hidden out of my view to spare me any undue upset. She’s been nothing but a help and a rock.
Fr S: That was Bernie Smyth?
MB: Yeah. That was Bernie Smyth from Precious Life. The first time I felt any
warmth and that I would make out of the black hole I was in was when I met Bernie. To say that they’re lacking in compassion—no way! People can say they’re lacking in compassion because of the abortion pictures. As I’ve said, I was advised not to look at them in my situation. But unfortunately it is the harsh reality of abortion, and it is what happens. I still think five weeks after that she’s right to use them, but as I say she covered them up for me. Bernie has gone out of her way to make sure that I am getting the help I need to get better.
Fr S: As you know, there is a movement to liberalise and legalise abortion in all-
Ireland so that women would no longer have to travel out of state. What are your thoughts about it?
MB: I would be first in line with any organisation trying to stop it from going
ahead. I know that people might say that I’m a hypocrite that you’ve done it and your problem has been sorted, that I have no business telling others not to do it. But I think that it’s not until you’ve done what I’ve done that you realise just how bad, how low, and how awful you feel afterwards. I would really try to talk her out of it in the hope that no other girl would ever have to feel like I’m feeling now. I hope that they don’t legalise it and work to promote it here. I hope somebody will stand up and say no because it doesn’t make things better. It’s been a hundred times worse for me.
Fr S: One last question: Certain crisis pregnancy counselling services like Precious
Life, Ask Majella and others that reject government funding are accused of being rogue agencies. RTÉ recently allied themselves with pro-abortion agencies in a scathing attack on Ask Majella. That is because private crisis pregnancy counsellors present life as the real positive option and share, basically what you’ve shared so courageously. Had you gone to any one of these private agencies prior to your abortion how do think you’d have been treated?
MB: I think I would’ve been treated just as Bernie Smyth has been treating me—
with warmth and compassion, and I think that if they had steered me in the direction of keeping my baby that my whole life would’ve been a hundred time better. I just wish that somebody had pointed me in that direction before I made my final decision to go to England. I don’t think that to label them as rogue crisis pregnancy advisors is the truth at all. I think it’s the opposite. I’m speaking from experience because these same people are there for me.
This feature is categorised under Life Matters