Before I proceed, I should tell you that this is not a story about abortion rights. It’s not a story of morality of two cultures and how one culture takes advantage over another. We can discuss that in another article. This story is about a personal experience, a personal morality issue, and the responsibility that I bear. This is a story about overcoming mistakes that, at the time, seemed like mountains. Mistakes that I thought I would never get over. Mistakes that got so blown out of portion and still gets some people bent out of shape. But mostly it’s a story about…a miracle and God’s Grace.
About 19 years ago, I found myself in a doctor’s office waiting impatiently for the doctor to return with some routine lab results. I was experiencing what I thought were bad cramps. I had no idea at that time, that my life was about to take me through the most difficult and yet most rewarding times of my life.
I was an Airman in the Air Force and was stationed at Clark Air Base in the Philippines. It was my first assignment, my first time being out in the big world away from home. Although I was 21 years old when I joined, in no way was I prepared for the City of Angels. The City of Angels, or Angeles City, surrounded Clark AB. At that time, Clark was the major source of income for the city. Off base you could find bars upon bars, one right after another, open 24 hours, seven days a week. In every bar there were either half-naked girls or fully-naked girls. Some bars specialized in certain things I really don’t want to discuss here. Drinks were real cheap…25 to 50 cents each. We didn’t worry about drinking and driving because taxi service was cheap. I think just about everyone frequented the area. My friends and I went out partying almost every night and if we didn’t it was because we were working. The scene was wild and I went wild. (Actually I was probably tame in comparison to what else was going on but for me it was wild because before that I was Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.)
I had been stationed there for about a year on that fateful day when the doctor returned with my results. She came to the office very excited.
“Congratulations, Paula. You’re pregnant.”
That poor doctor, she didn’t even noticed that I had marked “Single” for marital status in my medical chart. She caught on quick though when I didn’t jump up for joy. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was in shock, I probably would have fainted. But I didn’t.
This was the first of the many awkward moments I had to look forward to. The doctor recovering from her faux paus explained the details. She said I was about 3 to 4 weeks pregnant. I couldn’t believe it. I was on the Pill. But she told me that the Pill wasn’t 100%. (Duh, but you never think that you’re the .01 %.) She also briefed me on all my options: I could keep the baby, have the baby and give it up for adoption, get an abortion in Japan, or go home and have an abortion. (Military hospitals do not perform abortions and I was not allowed to go off-base and get one due to the quality of medical care.) I didn’t decide right then but I was leaning towards the later option because I was scared shitless.
As I was coming to grips with my final decision, I waffled several times. I wanted to keep the baby and then I didn’t. I even had suicidal thoughts. I knew I messed up and that it was my fault but I was scared and down-to-the core embarrassed. It was a big fall. I finally broke down and called my parents because I didn’t want to go to Japan. My parents were surprisingly supportive. My mom wanted me to have an abortion because she was afraid that they would make me leave the military. (I told her they wouldn’t but she didn’t trust them.) My father said that either way he would support me. So I decided to go home and have an abortion.
It didn’t take long before everyone I knew found out about it. I worked in the communication squadron and even I should have known better than to have one of the telephone guys set up my call back home. Of course he eavesdropped and told everyone. Boy was that tough, having friends look you straight in the eye and not saying a word as they walked right passed you or having complete strangers come up to you and ask if you know who the father is. Getting married was out of the question. We were not in love and he had an assignment to another base and was leaving within the month. To give him credit though, he did offer and I have no hard feelings towards him whatsoever.
Now to be able to go home, I had to have so much leave (vacation time) to take military hops (flying space available on military planes which only cost $10) to the states and then back again. (A commercial ticket at that time would have cost thousands of dollars which I didn’t have). I didn’t have enough time saved up either. To get additional leave (basically go in the whole), I had to meet with the commander and get his approval. He knew what was going on so it was awkward as hell. Although my personal life was a mess, my professional life was squared away. I just had a high performance evaluation, and was commended for completing my training ahead of schedule. (In the military, each career field has several courses of study that you must complete prior to being awarded the next experience level…sort of like going from an Apprentice to a Journeyman.) I worked in a facility that was responsible for all communications going on and off the base…back in the day before digital and local area networks. I loved it and being in the military. The reason I am telling you this though is so you can understand (or not if you have no idea how the military works) how difficult it was for me to go through my chain of command to get that additional leave approved. But it seemed at the time that I had no choice.
The commander gave his approval and I found myself heading home. I was in misery. For some reason I feel that I must stress this. I am not apologizing; I already repented to the One that matters. But I want you to understand the despair that I went through. I felt like I had fallen through a crack and could think of no way out. I was not skipping happily to the abortion clinic as if I was on a picnic. My point of view had become so narrow that I could barely see what was in front of me. My world came to a crashing halt. I could go on and on about how I felt at the time, just know it was bad with a capital B.
When I arrived at the airport my parents were there with open arms. Although my parents and I don’t always get along, they were glorious. They fully supported me and accompanied me the next day to the women’s health clinic. I will never forget that and even now when I get angry at them, I just recall those days and how they came through.
The clinic was being picketed by several local churches. For some reason I was not afraid of them…actually they made me more determined. We walked through the large group of dissenters; some called me names and others pleaded with me as we entered the clinic. I don’t know what goes on now but back then you had to wait for several hours before they would perform the abortion. They wanted you to be absolutely sure and they made you read all this material. There were several other women in the waiting room with me. Some were single, but most were married. There was only one teenager. I will never forget her. Her father was one of the pastor’s outside the clinic and she was so worried he would find out. Each woman had her story to tell and everyone was somber. The whole time while we waited, you could here a sucking sound like a vacuum cleaner going on but we knew what it was. Then, finally, it was my turn.
The assistant lead me to the office where I had to disrobe and put on a gown. I was told to lie on the table and wait for the doctor to come in. I waited and waited. To make the time go by, I remember counting the little black holes in each ceiling tile. I think I was in there another hour before the doctor came in. She briefly introduced herself and then proceeded to do a pelvic exam. When she finished, she looked straight at me.
“I can’t perform the procedure. You are at least 12 weeks pregnant.”
I sat up and asked her to repeat what she said. She then proceeded to tell me that I was too far along for her to perform the abortion. I was floored. I asked her if she was sure because I hadn’t even missed a period. But she sais she was positive. She then told me about this clinic in another city that performs late abortions but it would cost twice as much. Although the thought made me sick, I admit I was contemplating it. At that exact moment, I felt this overwhelming presence of pure Joy. I don’t know why or what it was all about, I just knew everything was going to be okay. I didn’t know too much about God then, I just knew that something that I could not fully understand…happened. I now know that He had sent the Comforter.
I got dressed and left the office. Tears started pouring down my face and my parents were really scared when they saw me. I told them the great news. They gave me a big hug and shouted.
“Hurray! We are going to be grandparents.”
When I got back to the Philippines, I had my first checkup. A different doctor (than the first) told me that I was NOT… get this…NOT… 16 weeks pregnant but only about 8 weeks pregnant. If the abortion doctor didn’t make that mistake, my son would not be here today.