Pro-Choice Catholic Testimony

Growing up in a Catholic and Southern Baptist household, sex was a taboo topic, let alone abortion. Conversations about reproductive health were nonexistent, and the message was clear: Sex outside of marriage was a sin, and abortion was unforgivable. It wasn’t until I was 19, after my first abortion, that I even began to learn about sex education. My first pregnancy wasn’t planned — it was a result of rape within an abusive relationship. The trauma was overwhelming, and to make matters worse, my pregnancy was high-risk. I was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum, a condition that caused severe and constant nausea and vomiting, sending me in and out of the hospital. I was sick all the time, barely able to function, and my body was deteriorating. Yet, despite all this, I felt trapped by the beliefs I had been raised with — that no matter the circumstances, I had to carry the pregnancy to term. I put my pregnancy before my own life because I didn’t know there was another way. As my health worsened, I reached a breaking point. I spent nights curled up on the bathroom floor, throwing up repeatedly, my body utterly exhausted. I knew I couldn’t go on like this. That’s when I decided to have an abortion.

But finding a clinic wasn’t easy. Living in Marion County, Florida, there were very few options, and I didn’t know where to begin. I thought of Planned Parenthood, but I still felt lost navigating the process. Eventually, I found a local clinic. It was like walking into a fortress. The clinic was locked up tight, surrounded by barriers to keep out protestors and anyone who might want to do harm. It was intimidating and isolating. By the time I went for my consultation, I was already 12.4 weeks pregnant. I was told I had to wait a few more days due to mandatory waiting periods, something I didn’t fully understand at the time but felt like yet another obstacle in an already difficult journey. Because I was too far along for a medical abortion, I was referred to a clinic in Tampa for a surgical procedure. The drive felt long and heavy, but when I arrived, I was met with kindness and compassion. The staff at the Tampa clinic were wonderful — understanding, nonjudgmental, and professional. For the first time, I felt like I was in a space where I wasn’t being judged for my decision. They made me feel human again.

Even after the abortion, I couldn’t escape the guilt. The teachings from my family and my faith loomed large over me, making me feel like I had committed an unforgivable sin. I spent countless hours in church, praying for forgiveness and searching for some kind of peace. I felt like I had done something wrong, even though deep down, I knew it was the only choice I could have made to save my life. It took years to work through the shame I had internalized. For so long, I carried that burden, unable to forgive myself for a situation that was never my fault.

As time passed, I began to heal, and my perspective shifted. The turning point came when I became an abortion care worker myself. Helping others who were in similar situations as mine was eye-opening. I saw their fear, their struggles, and their pain. I recognized my younger self in them — the shame, the confusion, the isolation. But I also saw strength, resilience, and the necessity of having access to compassionate care. Being on the other side of the experience gave me clarity. I realized that I had done nothing wrong. I had made the choice that was right for me, a choice that ultimately saved my life. Slowly, I let go of the shame. Working in abortion care allowed me not only to heal but also to make sure others didn’t have to go through what I did alone. I learned that no one should have to justify their reasons for choosing an abortion, and everyone deserves to feel supported and cared for, no matter their circumstances. Today, I am committed to ensuring that people who need abortion care can access it without the guilt, shame, or judgment that I once felt. My journey taught me that we all deserve compassion, understanding, and the right to make decisions about our own bodies. Looking back, I see my abortion not as something to regret but as an act of survival. It was a decision that allowed me to reclaim my life, and now, through my work, I help others do the same.