By David A. Wemhoff
I remember the day the Chicago radio station announced the Roe v. Wade decision. There was a sound of shock and pain from my parents as they both said, "Oh, no!" Little did anyone know at the time that abortion would strike our family, and that I would someday lose my son to that evil.
Harry Blackmun and six of his colleagues said the "right" to "terminate a pregnancy" was guaranteed by the Constitution. We can believe that they knew what "terminating a pregnancy" would do to the baby. Yet nowhere in the 60-plus pages of their opinion does it address what aborting a child would mean to the relationship between a man and a woman, and to the child's father. Nor did Blackmun and the rest discuss abortion's long-term effects.
"Emma" (a pseudonym) and I met when we were in our early 20s. We were crazy about each other. Despite our upbringings, we lived in a time and place where the books, magazines, movies, and music told us we could do what we wanted, as long as it felt good, and it didn't "hurt anyone." These same voices told us that each of us was the center of the universe. Heck, they told us we were the universe.
We fell into this stupidity, and when our son was conceived, we were faced with the question of what to do. His fate was decided not by a painstaking, frank discussion, but with two short answers to two questions exchanged in the middle of the night.
Emma and I did not know what we were doing, and we did not know what our son's loss would do to us. We did not understand the feelings we had after the abortion, nor did we know how to deal with them.
If we tried to discuss his loss there was anger, yelling, accusations, or outright dismissal of the subject with a joke or quick turn of phrase. I think that we believed by ignoring what had happened, the whole thing would just "go away" and things could go back to the way they were.
But things couldn't, and wouldn't, ever be the same. We drifted apart, and the relationship ended as most do when there is an abortion.
For nearly 15 years, I struggled with enormous guilt and pain over the loss of Emma and my son. Yet I never really examined what were perhaps the most profound events of my life. Later I came to understand that down inside, I felt the best had come and gone, and that I questioned my worth.
This carried over into all that I did. And as time went on, I grew angry. I did not let anyone else in. For a very long time I avoided anything that might remind me of what had happened. I buried the losses and denied they ever existed.
I carried the weight of the death of my child alone until just recently. That is very common, and there are reasons for it.
A man is not supposed to feel anything for the loss of a child through abortion, according to the mandarins of American society. After all, they say, we men can't get pregnant and the Supreme Court said the choice to abort belonged solely to women. The court made it clear that not even a woman's husband has any say in the matter.
While more and more women are publicly admitting their abortions as part of a healing process, it is almost unheard of for a man to admit to being a father to an aborted child.
And finally, a lot of our family and friends, as well-meaning and decent as they are, have trouble accepting or understanding. Many very good people don't know how to talk to or be around a man - - or a woman, for that matter - - who has lost a child to abortion. I remember many comments that discouraged me from opening up for fear of the opprobrium I might receive.
The statistics from the pro-abortion Alan Guttmacher Institute show that by the age of 45, 43% of all women, and hence about the same number of men, will have lost a child to abortion. Women who abort are sometimes called the "walking wounded," but there are millions of men as well who carry this pain in their hearts. We are everywhere, yet almost all of us remain alone in our pain.
Dr. Theresa Burke is the co-author of the excellent book Forbidden Grief and founder of the Rachel's Vineyard ministries for post-abortive men and women. Dr. Wayne Brauning is the founder and director of Men's Abortion ReCovery (MARC). Both of them discovered that all of those suffering from loss through an abortion need to grieve this profound loss.
To grieve, we have to face what happened. That can be very difficult, because it means reliving the events of many years ago. In my case, I needed to be in a safe environment where I would not be condemned for what I had done. I am very blessed because I found this refuge with many people - - my parish priest, my best friend, and the loving staff at a Rachel's Vineyard retreat.
I could talk and talk and talk about what I felt and still feel. I could start to remember everything and understand what happened and why it happened. I could accept it all, and I could cry for my lost son and for the pain that Emma must have felt.
I could begin to forgive not just Emma, but perhaps, most importantly, myself. I could start to roll away the stone that had tortured and crushed me all those years. I could be set free.
Free almost 17 years after his death to recognize my son by naming him Matthew Peter. Matthew is the first Gospel, and it means "Gift from God" in Hebrew. Matthew would have been born on Peter's feast day. So I name my son, Matthew Peter.
Though he died before birth, I understand that he is still my son. He is part of the family. Even though I never got to hold him or talk to him, I was blessed with him. Fr. John Patrick Riley, my pastor, surprised me one day when he said my Matthew Peter was in heaven praying for me. What a wonderful thing to know, what a great comfort.
The loss of Matthew and Emma was the loss of my family, and the sorrow will remain. But while I shall never forget, I am no longer incapacitated by that memory nor am I tortured by guilt and shame.
The process of grieving and healing has taught me much, such as why abortion is in this land, and the importance of restoring legal protection to our unborn children. I know that we must also change the culture that allows abortion to exist.
I understand why people mistakenly choose abortion, and that those who do are hurt people in need of our love and care. I understand the beauty and value of the gifts that we all need: healing, hope, rest, and peace.
I am now free to live my life again, fully and happily. Free to love and laugh, to hope and dream. Free to start anew and to build better than ever before.