The Visit

I went to an abortion clinic today. I had always heard of Planned Parenthood. They were the people that came and gave talks in the schools. They did some other things too, but I really wasn’t sure what. Planned Parenthood as a place became real to me today. It is a good-sized brick building with very few windows. A wrought iron fence surrounds it. I believe this is for security reasons. As I pulled my car into the lot I had to pass two protestors. One was a middle aged man just standing there holding a sign that read, “I’m glad your mother was Pro-Life”. He was looking at me. I did not look back. The other was an elderly woman walking very slowly back and forth in front of the entrance. She wore a sign around her body that read “Abortion Kills”.

As I got out of my car, there were many nurses out front, catching a quick smoke. I walked past them to go inside and was met by a security guard behind the receptionist’s desk and I could see three sets of locked doors behind her. The guard asked me for the color of the reason I was there. On the counter was a paper with a list of all the services this organization provided and they were color coded blue, green and red. As I scanned down the list I saw the word Abortion under the green code. I told the guard I had a friend there for the green. They asked for my friend’s name and for my name as well as my I.D. I was on the list, but still was not allowed in. Each person is only allowed one person in the waiting room at a time, so they had to call the father out, so that I could enter in.

I was given his pass and allowed to go through the three sets of security doors, waiting for the one behind me to close before the next set would open. There was another reception desk in this room and a large waiting area for family and friends. There were about 75 people in that room that day. They were young and old, black and white, rich and poor. There were no smiles. Most people looked as if they were sleeping. I noticed that about a third of the girls seemed to have their mothers there with them and another third seemed to have a friend. Only a very few were accompanied by a guy and the rest were there alone. This was the waiting room.

My friend had been taken back into another room. There she could only go alone. No one could accompany her; not as her mother, or her friend, or even as the father of her baby. And so, I did not see the baby moving on an ultrasound to find out how far along she was. I did not hear the Doctor come in and tell her he would be with her in just a few moments and that the procedure itself would only take about three minutes. I did not smell the antiseptic hospital smell as they cleaned her in preparation. I did not taste the drugs they gave her to relax her and to help with the discomfort. I did not feel the headphones that were placed on her head to keep her from hearing the Doctor cutting the baby from her womb, nor did I feel the touch of a stranger’s hand holding hers while the baby’s forming hands were pulled from her body. Instead, I sat alone by a small entrance near the security guard’s desk and waited.

Many women came out through those doors, leaving a to all pages lot more than just that building. Each one carried a brown, paper sack and most of them moved pretty slowly. Some of them whispered to the person they were with that they were starving and others commented that their cramps were awful. But not one of them would look at me. Not even to nod or smile or say hello. Each one averted their gaze from my eyes in what seemed an effort to remain hidden and anonymous from what had just happened through the doors behind them. My friend came slowly out with her brown bag in hand and her eyes away from mine. She handed me the brown bag and inside I found a pad for soaking up the remains of the procedure, some pain pills to dull the physical discomfort of the procedure, and some birth control pills to prevent the need for the procedure to happen again. I looked again and found nothing to comfort and heal her soul. It was not until we left the confines of the brick building and the wrought iron gate that surrounded it that she closed her eyes and laid her head on my shoulder. We both just cried.

Knowing God