Abortion Testimony free ebook:

"To live or to kill a life"

- Chapter One -

 

 

 

CHAPTER 1

Behind the window-panes I find myself staring at the sky and contemplating its vastness and the colours of its sunsets, never to be the same again. Playful and melancholy, the sky seems to reflect the mood of my soul. Today the sky is sad, too, and reflects all my thoughts and images I entrusted it with.
Once again, I think about my life and of all the experiences I’ve had to face and that have left a bitter mark, experiences which have been difficult to overcome, but that I’ve never been able to avoid. I fought my mother’s battle against leukaemia, which appeared in its most acute form, the bone marrow transplant she decided to undergo with the probability, indeed the almost certainty, that she would never come back home. Days and days of waiting, of aggressive therapies, of joy for her brief returns to her family, of kisses stolen from her when, her being kept in isolation, I was allowed to come close to her only after adopting the appropriate precautions (even being close to her was denied to me) and, eventually, the fulfilment of our hopes.
I have seen my teacher dying of a tumour and my dearest friend Francesco, only a few years older than I. A newborn cousin and uncle Matteo, too consumed with illness. I no longer have my maternal grandparents, who used to be strong points of reference in my existence and an endless source of love, which survived time and the forced separation...
I find myself listening to a song or remembering a fragment of the past spent together and I still feel deeply moved, I still cry in silence, I still look for them, I still suffer... A huge sense of impotence overcame me for not having been able to relieve their suffering or keep them with me forever, for not having been able to give them anything but my company, my smiles and 


my love. “This is life and God’s will,” I have continually repeated to myself to find the strength to help me accept everything.
The atmosphere I was breathing in my house was not happy, either: The continuous arguments between my parents, between myself and my father, had upset me for many years until a few months ago, when I witnessed an unhoped-for family reunion (my father had gone to live at my grandparents’) and I started to enjoy the company of two parents who were so much in love as I had never seen them before.
And what about my disappointments? I’ve had so many! Like everyone else, after all.
Yet, in every recalled circumstance, I have fought, I have tried to be brave, to display true grit and, above all, I have never lost either my optimism or my love for life.
But there is a place in my heart which it is impossible for someone to know, not even if he wanted to. I did not know it existed and it came up when I decided to accept the meanest and most gruesome compromise of my life: to reject the Love of my child by taking away its life in exchange for my freedom and peace, or so I thought. But what peace! What freedom! Wounds heal, disappointments can be overcome... Whereas, now, I have been trapped by regret because I did not have the patience to reflect and understand what would have been right for me and for my child. It is a remorse that weighs and crushes like a boulder.
On November 2nd, 2006 I came across hell...
A little longer than a year has gone by since that cursed day, and yet I go through every moment again with painful lucidity; every time, a renewed suffering causes me unspeakable pain.



The more I try to forget , the stronger the memory. It thunders in my heart and I alone can listen to it, because I alone know what happened in that hospital, when I couldn’t even invoke God’s mercy, because I was unworthy of his mercy. I knew I was sinning, but only now I do realize that I killed. Myself of all people, considered to be sweet, sensible and sensitive by everyone, I killed my child – because this is what it is about. Myself, who should have protected it, I was instead its executioner...
I couldn’t have known how true the words of my friend Liliana would become. After I told her about my decision, she had mentioned these words more than once: “Think about it. You won’t be able to go back...”
I knew very well it was not about an “agglomerate of cells”. During a lesson of forensic medicine at my University, I saw with my own eyes a tiny embryo just one month old extracted from a deceased woman who did not know she was pregnant. My teacher at the time, who was strongly against abortion, had “preserved” it at the institute and had wished for everyone to see it so that they could realize the dishonesty of those who, because they are in favour of abortion, hide behind dishonest and false terminology. It was one of the most exciting and strongest emotions I had ever felt. Fantastic! The embryo, already formed, as small as a thumb, had a head, arms, tiny legs, mouth... Only the fingers were still stuck together, the eyes were closed and the sex unknown: in fact in its place there was a little hole. I told this story to everyone I met with a particular emphasis, mainly to spread the message that my teacher, during the lesson, had wanted to reaffirm in a loud voice, “Yes to life. No to abortion.”
How much tenderness the vision of that “puppy” – as I called it - had stirred up in me. “I would never do it. A baby, any moment God’s willing, would be a blessing!” This is what I said.

I have respected nothing of what I was.

I rejected what would have been my unconditional happiness. 
What is more loathsome than a mother who takes away, deliberately, the life of her own child, blood of her blood, flesh of her flesh?
Is there anything dirtier than me? I stained myself with MY CHILD’s blood because of a crime that I cannot undo.

 

 
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