I’m an old lady now, but I have had experience with abortion and feel a responsibility to tell about it—as often as anyone will listen. I knew little about abortion until I was in nursing school in the late 1960s. I assisted with surgical abortions through the third trimester. In addition, I took care of women admitted in labor following back street abortions. They were induced on Friday night, by moonlighting licensed midwives and doctors, but planned to be back at work by Monday. Around 40 years after nursing school, I asked myself why I never objected to assisting with abortion. All I could think was that I was a naive virgin, who felt sorry for young women that feared being estranged from parents. It never crossed my mind to question my assignments.
What caused me to cross over from being pro-abortion to being pro-life happened when I was 37—fifteen years after graduation. Evangelical friends gave me a paperback, red letter, New Testament. If ever my faith wanes, or I wonder if I should relax from being a pro-life advocate in a hostile world, the memories of my past rise up to convict me anew.