By Jackie Dettling

When I was seventeen years old, I aborted my baby. Abortion had never previously crossed my mind. I thought I would be a virgin until I fell in love, like the women in the novels I read from the public library. The ones with the handsome man riding up on a horse. Women in the 1970s devoured these new romance novels, featuring explicit depictions of sex, selling millions of copies. I started reading them in elementary school. I knew sex outside of marriage was a sin. In my books, however, sex happened before marriage. Marriage came at the end, when they lived "happily ever after."

Getting drunk was expected in high school. A boyfriend was also expected. I thought about boys more than God, school, and current events. Weekends were for getting drunk and hanging out with the boys. No one mentioned God in my public school. My family was Catholic. Mass on Sunday, grace before dinner. But no mention of God after that. Just be good.

After Confirmation, I never went to Confession or received any catechesis. I was thankful to be done; religion didn't seem to be important. I never heard abortion mentioned in Church teaching or any teaching. I never heard that abortion is murdering a child. I knew the Catholic Church opposed birth control. But I didn't know why. A friend said it was to bring more Catholics into the world, which at the time seemed right.

After the abortion, I went on with my life. I never told anyone. It was as if it never happened. The terror that my parents and the community would learn I was pregnant was all-consuming before the abortion. I could think of nothing else but getting the abortion as soon as possible. If I thought at all about what I was doing, it was "ending a pregnancy." It was legal, easy, and affordable. It must, therefore, not be a big deal.

The shame of pregnancy, accompanied by fear of public humiliation, gossip, and the loss of approval by my family and friends was overwhelming. Handling the situation on my own, without drama, emotion, or discussion seemed strong to me, and admirable. I got myself into this situation, I would fix it. No one needs to know.

So, I had the abortion and was back in school. Done. Don't think about it. I was one of the valedictorians and received other accolades, then a top Catholic college, and eventually a post-graduate program. I married, had three children, and started a successful career. I would say I was happy. I was actually used to being somewhat numb.

If I had to describe my life after the abortion, I would have to say, it was like watching myself live my life. I stopped going to Mass regularly. I rarely prayed. Once an older, Catholic woman who had many children and grandchildren, stopped and softly touched my newborn daughter with great reverence. I remember thinking it odd. I loved my children deeply, but she seemed to see something else, something sacred. I couldn't understand it at the time.

Thankfully, my husband is Catholic. We knew that our kids needed their sacraments because that is what Catholics do. I remember telling a friend that we went to Mass to teach our children values. Eventually, one of my daughters was preparing for Confirmation. The parents were invited to go to Confession with them. I had been attending Mass for years by then. I hadn't been to Confession since ninth grade. I confessed the abortion.

Some time after, I was at Mass and the Gospel passage "ask and you shall receive" was read. It had never dawned on me to ask for anything, really. I thought you just keep trying to be good; that's the way to God. I asked for faith that day. I knew I didn't truly believe. God was distant, not knowable.

But that was the beginning. Over the next several years, the Lord poured his grace over me. He opened my eyes. I read Scripture every day. If there was a Catholic Church nearby, I stopped in to pray in front of Jesus in the Tabernacle. I went to Mass on Sundays, and then daily.

I also went to Confession, and read the saints: A...