Abortion

Abortion and future children: a letter to my aborted half-sibling

Editor’s note. The following was sent last year to National Right to Life. It speaks volumes about a part of the abortion battle that is rarely discussed: its impact on siblings. 
About a week ago my mother told me that she had an abortion before I was born. It devastated me. Mourning someone I have never met seems bizarre to me, yet I am so sad. To help me find closure I wrote my half sibling, that I will never meet, a letter.

I think there is a lot of focus on the baby, the mother, or at most the father, which is great and needed, but I also think pointing out the effects an abortion can have for future children would prove to be very impactful. I did not even exist when my half sibling was killed, yet it has affected me tremendously.


Below is the letter:
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. 14 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 would have stood up for me when no one did. I’m sorry for life being devalued.
Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never even met?…because my heart longs for you. It longs for you to have life. I’m sorry for death.
I wish you could have come to my graduation, I wish I could have gone to yours. I wish we were friends. I wish I could call you right now. I wish we could share all of our joys and griefs. I wish we were at least given a chance.
I’m sorry for selfishness.
It’s just so unfair for you…for us. How could she have killed you? How could our grandmother drive our mother to the clinic so that they could murder you? I’m sorry for silence.
I miss you. I love you.
I’m so sorry no one loved you.

Source: NRLC News