It is difficult to put into words the great peace and comfort that I received when I participated in the Day of Prayer and Healing for Siblings. Meeting six other retreatants who knew personally the pain and grief of losing a sibling to abortion made me feel less alone in my loss. As a child, I can remember feeling like someone was missing from my family. During my teen years, I pushed those thoughts away because it seemed not true or possible. Six years ago, when I learned my mom had an abortion four years before I was born, suddenly everything that didn’t make sense to me came into focus. I also instantly missed my sibling and instantly cried tears of grief. My mom felt the child she lost was a boy and she named him John Andrew. I had wanted and prayed for a sibling my whole life and

The story of how I came to a higher awareness of my aborted siblings feels like an unexpected one to write, but here goes.

While I was growing up, my mother used to tell me every once in a while that she had had multiple abortions before I was born. But she and my father were not practicing Catholics and we were not in the habit of going to weekly Mass. I really did not grasp the full meaning of a life and the spiritual depth of what she had shared with me. In fact, even after I became a practicing Catholic after college, I didn’t think about the four siblings I had lost to abortion, or even remember them.

Growing up in my family was very rough. There was domestic violence between my father and mother coupled with child abuse between my mother and my sister and I, and

From earliest memory, I had always wanted an older brother. Every weekend starting in the first grade, I would go to my friend Andy’s house and we would play in the woods, skateboard, and shoot each other with nerf guns.

Andy was a great friend and he had an older brother that I idolized as the man I always wanted. He would wrestle us (beat on us really), tell us jokes and listen to U2 and the Police, and he taught me how to ride a skateboard.

I loved every minute of being at that house, and when ever I returned home, I would joyfully tell my parents about how much I wished I had an older brother! Believe it or not I used to tell my parents this often until I graduated from college. It always seemed to me that this drive in my heart, which was so specific,

I am 62 years old and I have known since I was about 14 that my mother had two abortions prior to my birth. She told me this herself, as she was going through a complete mental breakdown, the effects of which eventually took her life at 57. I was told that this happened during or right after the Great Depression. For many years, I had a hard time understanding. Both my parents were dead by the time I was 16. Often times I thought how wonderful it would have been to have my lost siblings with me after our parents were gone. My mom told me there was a boy, whom she had quietly named Richard after the abortion. I still think about my brother Richard and what he would have been like.

My mom said at one time that the second abortion was done so early that they

For approximately 50 years I have silently carried a burden in my heart. Recently during my prayer time, I felt that the Lord was asking me to break that silence.

Much has been written and said about the suffering of both women and men who have been hurt by abortion. Yet, we rarely hear or read about the other silent victims of abortion : the siblings of aborted children.

It is not an easy task for me to write about my own painful experience with abortion. I am doing so in obedience to God, who I believe asked me to share it. I am also doing it in the hope of encouraging others who, like me, carry the same type of burden but have not come out publicly. We need to let everyone know, that each abortion leaves many victims, and I’m not just referring to the unborn baby, his or

Healing the wound of abortion has been, in many ways, the central spiritual task of my life. The conviction that my youngest sibling was a living, beloved human being would not let me go – even in my adolescent and college years, when I subsumed my grief and fear in affirming my parents’ pro-choice beliefs and attempting to secure their approval, love, and protection, which had been denied to my sibling.

The abortion happened when I was in second grade. I was already the eldest of four siblings. My parents were sunk in the turmoil of a young couple facing strained finances, crushing responsibilities, and limited family support. I wasn’t supposed to know about the abortion, but I overheard family conversations that piqued my suspicions.

When I was 11-years-old, I asked my mom if she had ever thought about having an abortion. She very gently and honestly said, “Yes.” We were

She was 15 when your life started, 16 when your life ended.
She said no one told her you were more than a lump of tissue.
I’m sorry for ignorance.
Your father would be 57 now.
She said he doesn’t know. I wish she told him.
I wish he fought for you. I wish somebody fought.
I’m sorry for secrets.
You would have been my half sibling.
Fourteen years older than me.
She took you from me before I even existed…before I could do anything.
I’m sorry for unfairness.
You would have been 34 years old.
You would have more than likely been married and have your own children.
I would have nieces and nephews, you would have a family.
But you weren’t even given a name.
I’m sorry for abandonment.
Maybe when my other siblings were telling me lies
and devaluing me, you would have spoken truth.
Maybe you

When I was a kid, my mom was very involved with the Right to Life movement. She volunteered with fundraisers, helped lead educational groups in our area, attended rallies, manned an educational booth at the county fair, and did other things I am unaware of because she didn’t really talk much about that work. What she did talk about was the value of human life, and the importance of protecting unborn babies, and I took her very seriously because she seemed to have a lot of knowledge through her work with Right to Life.

At the age of 12, my vision of my mom shattered. As she was driving me to a Bible club at our church, she brought up in conversation that she’d had an abortion at the age of 18 (before she was with my dad.) She gave me a brief bit of info on the abortion, including