Aloneness of abortion helps fuel this sad industry

For years, I’ve been watching women walking into and out of the abortion facility here in the Red River Valley. But despite this scene playing out hundreds of times in my experience, I’ve only recently pondered the sheer aloneness of it all and how that very thing fuels so much of this sad industry. For they not only walk in and out, but they do so alone.

Recently, a friend sent me a segment of EWTN’s “The Journey Home” with Kerstin Pakka as guest, which ran on June 5, 2023. Pakka is a convert who is also post-abortive and now helps run Project Rachel, a post-abortion healing ministry.

I always appreciate these conversion stories, but this one was especially touching—and troubling. Pakka shared how she and her husband decided to abort their second child because the pregnancy had come too quickly after their first was born. Additionally, one of her grandmothers had worked for Planned Parenthood and promoted abortion as a necessary and good option.

Despite an ill-formed faith, Pakka sensed that abortion wasn’t right. Her husband could have stopped the procedure but didn’t. After the abortion, they fell into a pattern of being angry at each other for years and not understanding the root cause.

But what struck me most in the story was when Pakka describes the day of the abortion. Though we are near the place of these procedures, we sidewalk advocates have little information about what happens inside the facility. We just see the walking in and out.

When Pakka shares how her husband dropped her off but wasn’t allowed to come in, I thought of the many times we’ve seen the men waiting in their vehicles. I’d never really thought before about how this messes with the psyche.

In what other instance would a family member or spouse not be allowed even to walk into a clinic to be with their dear one heading into a medical procedure? I suspect having another set of eyes and ears might be a problem. What if they try to talk her out of it?

So, Pakka was alone and led into a series of waiting rooms. “Every step you took in this building, you were alone,” she said, describing a lifeless environment with no pictures of children or families. “You’re just alone with your thoughts and your fears.”

After watching a video to learn about the procedure, she was led into the ultrasound room. The technician forgot to turn the screen, so she saw her baby moving, but by then fear had made retreat unthinkable.
She was affirmed multiple times that the abortion would be safe and quick; she’d be home and back to her normal life in no time. But that wasn’t the case. Pakka was further along than they’d thought, and there were complications, making for a terrifying experience.

The recovery room was the first time she was with other clients. “You’re surrounded by a bunch of women who’ve been drugged,” Pakka said, everyone “out of it,” drained, and not themselves.

Once in the parking lot, she said, “I immediately realized that what I had done I wanted to undo,” noting that she was aware of “missing someone,” and feeling that God was angry. “This was not just a little mistake. This was a big deal. And I didn’t know what to do with that feeling.”

Her husband was waiting for her. She got into the car, their now-six-month-old child in the back seat. “And I just went back into my life,” she said. “We didn’t talk about it.” She didn’t think her husband would understand, after all, since he hadn’t been there.

It took me a while to see, but now it’s so clear. The aloneness of abortion is one of the Evil One’s best tricks. If he can get us to be alone and stuck in our own heads, unable to access the voices of those who can bring life and hope, he can convince us to move toward death.

Pakka had chosen to go to the abortion facility that promised the absence of protestors. She didn’t want to hear the voice of God, she said. Thankfully, she’s since reconciled to him and helping others hear truth and love.

That’s why we’re there, too. Since the facility moved, many believe there’s no more abortion in North Dakota. We need to remind them that’s not true, and to continue to raise our voices of hope for the women who’ve been deceived.

The Father of Lies will do what he can to have us join his aloneness. Let’s not let his voice of isolation be louder than the beautiful voice of accompaniment.